Chapter 17 #2
Celine tried tugging her wrist out of his grip, but her efforts were rendered useless.
Bastien continued to hold her caged between his arms. For a treacherous moment, the soirée and everyone in attendance wafted away from her mind like steam from a tea cup.
All that occupied her focus was Bastien—his firm body pressed against hers.
The hand that had dropped one of her wrists was snaking around her waist now, sending shivers up her spine.
“You forget that you followed me out here, Celine.” Bastien insisted cruelly. “And since we’re on that subject, why did you? If you were jealous…though you have no reason to be, do you?”
The excuse spilled from her lips effortlessly. “I was simply looking out for Jeanne. Knowing your ways, I didn’t want her to be the leading lady of the rumours over brunch tomorrow.”
“That’s impossibly sweet of you, baby vamp. But you needn’t concern yourself with who I leave a party with. Unless you want that girl to be you.”
“I would rather be dead.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
His mouth curved. “Stop lying, Celine. That’s not rage in your eyes.”
“I’ve crossed to homicide now.”
Before he could respond, something shuffled around the bushes on the edge of the pavilion. Then footsteps treaded up on the wooden platform.
Giving Bastien no time to protest, Celine pushed him forward with all the strength she could muster. Their positions switched. Bastien’s back was pressed against the tree while her chest was pressed against his. And they were both hidden from view.
His brow creased in disbelief. “And you accuse me—”
Celine’s hand shot to his mouth to stop the rest of the words from flowing out. Her ears perked.
“Celine?”
Jacques must have come outside to search for her.
“Merde,” she muttered under her breath and felt Bastien’s lips curl into a smile against her palm.
She had half a mind to slap that cocky grin off his face, but the smack would give their position away.
“Utter one sound,” Celine mouthed, “and I will find the dullest knife your cook has and cut off your tongue. Understood?”
Bastien’s eyebrows knitted distraughtly, but he moved his head slowly in a nod.
Good.
Jacques’s footfalls stopped.
Celine held her breath. She could feel Bastien’s heart thud against her chest, while his eyes used the moonlight that filtered through the leaves to study her face. Caught off guard, her palm slipped, freeing his lips.
That’s all he needed.
“I wonder what he’ll do if he finds us like this,” Bastien whispered, his words a slur of inebriation.
Celine brought her hand up again, but he caught it swiftly in his.
Then turned them around, lithely pinning her arms above her head.
“Or like this. I have to admit, I expected more heated protests on your part, Celine.” To their left, the dogs had started barking again, demanding Jacques’s attention.
Bastien glanced in their direction, then back at Celine.
He assessed her, mouth kicking up in amusement.
“Maybe we should let him find us like this. It will bring a quick end to those engagement plans, that’s for sure.
And considering you don’t love him…I would be doing you a favour, really. ”
“Stop talking,” she seethed, her temper boiling.
“Come on, Celine. Be a good sport. Stay.” Suddenly, his hand let go of hers and dropped to her hip, sneaking around her waist to where her dress dipped so low that her entire spine stood bare.
He dropped his head lower, brushing his lips against her neck.
“Tell me”—he whispered, nudging his mouth to leave small kisses along her collarbone—“do you get goosebumps when Jacques touches you, or is the privilege only mine?”
Celine’s fingers curled into fists, gathering the fabric around them until her knuckles turned white.
“Does he even know how?” Bastien pushed.
“I could show you if you want, teach you a thing or two you can do with him. Consider it a friendly gift.” Celine could feel her blood rushing through her veins; her heart pounding mutely, as though the sound was coming from inside her head.
She didn’t know why she wasn’t moving. Maybe the champagne she drank had finally reached her brain.
Bastien chuckled darkly. “You will certainly make for a better distraction than Jeanne ever could.”
Jacques’s last echo of her name snapped like a pair of scissors through her thoughts. All her previous anger returned. Celine’s skin grew cold, no more crawling with invisible fingers, even if Bastien was still running patterns all over her back with the pad of his thumb.
“No, she is not in the garden,” Jacques’s voice floated distantly from the open balcony doors.
Once she heard his footsteps retrace back inside, Celine made to step away, but Bastien didn’t let go of her wrist. “Stay,” he whispered.
“Forget it.”
His grip tightened. “Stay. What’s one girl for another?”
Celine’s lips curled in disgust. “This is what you had in mind when you said you wanted to be friends?”
“Honestly,” he assessed her, “I was imagining you with less clothes.”
Freeing her left hand at last, Celine collided it with his cheek. The slap echoed through the empty garden. Hyde and Jekyll started barking from their kennel. Bastien swayed backwards from the impact.
“You forget who you’re talking to,” she gritted vehemently. “If you think you can pull stuff like this and expect me to keep quiet every single time, you’re wrong. I’ve only played along because of the competition—”
“Because you need me,” Bastien corrected, pulling his hand away from his face. An angry mark flared red above his cheekbone.
A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “So do you,” Celine reminded him calmly. “Touch me like that again and our deal is over.”
“Like I care.”
“Really? So your grandfather called today to beg you to return home?”
It only took a few simple words to swipe an invisible hand over Bastien’s mien and straighten it into something sober and awfully serious.
“What, you’re not used to someone talking back?” she taunted. “I can play dirty, too.”
Bastien scoffed. He gave her a once over and stepped away from the pillar. “You’re too much work, Celine. It’s not worth my time.”
Quietly, he trodded back inside the mansion, leaving Celine to watch the empty space where he’d once been.
Music spilled into the dark garden when he opened the door.
Then, as quickly as the sound had flooded the flowers and bushes in a jazzy mirth, it was cut off by the door closing after him.
A moment later, she heard a car pull out of the driveway and all that echoed through the night was the screeching racket of tires.
Celine sniffled. She waited several minutes in the silence of the pavilion, breathing in the cool air.
Bastien’s words rang in her mind relentlessly.
What’s one girl for another? Too much work.
Not worth my time. What’s one girl for another?
Too much work. Not worth my time. She didn’t care what he thought of her.
When had Celine ever cared what people thought of her?
That was her mother’s job, anyway. Bastien didn’t know what he was talking about.
It shouldn’t matter.
Right?
Right.
So why did it feel like he had slapped her, instead of the other way around?
Celine kicked at the grass, dislodging and turning over a small patch of dirt. Not wanting to stand there like a fool, she returned inside to search for Jacques.