Chapter 13 #4
Juliana let the smoke trail out of her lips in slow, rippling streams that stirred the fur around her neck.
A soft, blue glow from the lights inside the café fell on her face, making her green eyes shine alluringly.
Bastien had grown used to her charm by now, he’d had no choice.
But other men hadn’t. He saw as a couple passed by, the man nearly tripping over himself while gaping at Juliana.
Chuckling, Bastien dragged the chair back and sat opposite her. “You know, Jules, there are people who like both women and men.”
“And I’m not one of them,” she said evenly.
“A shame.” He rubbed his hands together. “Why are you sitting out here? It’s freezing.”
“Some painter’s models were putting on a better show than the girls on stage.” She parted her coat and pointed at her own costume. “I’ve seen enough bare legs for one day. I needed a break.”
“I haven’t,” Bastien protested.
“Have your fill, mon cher.” She swung her legs to his side jokingly, then leaned forward, pinching a strip of purple ribbon that had clung to the sleeve of his shirt and letting it curl on the pavement—“Looks like your modelling career is going well.”
The response was a flat, humourless huff.
“On the bright side,” Juliana continued, “once you win, you won’t have to sleep on my chaise anymore.”
A bright side, indeed. Though he didn’t miss the hint of chagrin in her voice. “I’m sorry, Jules,” he said, “I appreciate your hospitality, but it wouldn’t kill you to put me in something that spans at least half of my height.”
“That’s why you’ve been spending your nights elsewhere?”
“Well…” Bastien toyed with his incisors, trying to bite back a smirk. There had been a third reason why he’d been making heart eyes at Elana in the studio. Other than the fact that she was competition and unbelievably gorgeous, her bed was marvellously soft.
Juliana stretched out her leg and playfully kicked his shin. “Ungrateful brat.”
“You try sleeping on that chaise and not complain.”
“This was your doing,” she reminded him. “Consider it part of your punishment.”
“As if I’m not suffering enough.”
Though he wasn’t suffering half as much as Celine.
Not that he would ever admit it, but concern for her might have crossed his mind once or twice.
Maybe three times. He knew she was wearing herself thin, having to sneak out and lie, while also having less time than the others to finish her gowns in secret.
Wearing a pretty dress and standing still was the easy part.
“You like it, don’t you,” Juliana teased, nudging his foot with hers. “Playing dress-up.”
Bastien blinked himself into the present. The purring and honking of motor cars driving down the street and the clinking of tea cups on the tables around came into focus again.
“It’s not just dress-up.” But he knew she understood that.
Jules knew about his mother; knew how much he had loved going to her studio when he was younger.
Bastien sniffled and extended his hand, wriggling his fingers for a cigarette.
“I didn’t realise how much I missed her until I saw her designs framed. ”
Juliana offered a small smile, then gave his foot another nudge. “Stop it now. I forbid you to look sad wearing that sweater. You’re going to have our table swarming with girls wanting to pet and hand-feed you until you stop pouting.”
His habitual smirk returned. “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself? You know I’d let you hand-feed me anytime, Jules.”
“You wish.” She produced a lighter from somewhere in her fur coat and handed it to him. Then levelled Bastien a sly, inquiring look. “And your little designer friend?”
He scoffed. “Celine is more inclined to poke me than pet me.”
Juliana chuckled. “No, I meant, how is that going? Have you set your evil plan into motion yet?”
Bastien considered it a moment. He hadn’t had much time to do anything concerning his brother and Celine.
His mornings were occupied at the studio, his afternoons at the old house, his evenings at the Ga?té, watching Elana up on the stage, and his nights stretching his limbs on her silk sheets.
Truth be told, he had forgotten about it—that he needed to even the score between himself and Jacques.
He let out a long exhale. Smoke curled out of his lips as he answered at last. “The evil plan has been postponed for a while.”
His friend’s eyes flashed green, all-knowing. Bastien had learned to dread that look.
“I told you you’d have a change of heart.”
“You know what’s at stake.” He shook his head. “If Jacques finds out about that competition, your chaise will bear a permanent imprint of my ass on it.”
Juliana drew her brows together. “There goes my resolution not to spend the rest of my life with a man.”
“Aww, Jules.” Bastien reached forward, took her hands in his, and placed a dramatic kiss on her knuckles. “I will be a good husband, I promise.”
“Shush, you.” She drew her hands back, smiling. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, though. Who knows, this fashion thing might inspire something in you.”
Unlikely, Bastien thought. He let his gaze wander away from their table and out onto the street, in the direction of Maison Baudelaire. Another challenge awaited them tomorrow. Strangely, he found himself excited for it.