Chapter 8
Eight Months Earlier
My clock is striking midnight.I should have been in bed for a while now, but here I am on Pinterest browsing wedding photos. Cécile”s new couple has a nautical theme, so I need a board to organize my ideas and visualize the event.
It was élise who introduced me to this technique. When I was little, she used to do this with fashion magazines, cutting out whatever interested her. Since then, I”ve used it to make my ideas more real. I”m recording a new image when I hear a squeak. A shiver runs down my spine as I turn toward my door, quickly lowering my computer screen.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips as my dog makes her appearance, swaying her buttocks. I”m a little on edge. Tonight, I”m home alone. Charlotte is at a romance festival in Cannes. A dream come true, even if she”ll spend more time in the endless queues than enjoying the scenery. Manille informed me she”d be sleeping with one of her regular booty calls. I”m hopeful she”ll come back to the apartment, even if it”s a long shot. It”s childish, but I sleep badly when I”m alone. It”s as if the noise is amplified, and a monster could grab my leg as soon as I set foot on the floor. That”s why I”ve left all the lights on. It”s not good for the environment, I know, but I”ll make up for it.
I arch an eyebrow when my mobile rings. It”s Manille. Maybe she forgot her keys. I answer:
“Florence, I need you,” she whispers.
“Why are you whispering?”
She doesn”t have time to say anything when a knock is heard on the other side of the handset. Manille”s scream stuns me on the spot, accelerating the palpitations in my chest.
“What”s going on, Manille? Where are you? Who are you with?”
Out of bed, I pace my room. The lump in my stomach gets bigger as the seconds pass. My roommate doesn”t answer me. Only bits of her crying reach me. My hand in my curls, I”m out of time. My best friend is somewhere with a stranger and there”s nothing I can do.
“Florence, bring me the little blue box under my mattress.”
Immediately, I comply with her request. Phone to my ear, I bend down to pick up the object in question. My hands miss it, spilling the contents onto the floor. My eyes widen at the sight of tons of bills.
Is it her savings? Why does she need it?
I don”t have time to ask myself any more questions when a crash fills the silence.
“Why are you doing this to me, Manille! This is all your fault!”
“Get lost!” Manille cries.
I shudder to hear her tears. My heart beating a thousand miles an hour, I beg my friend to answer me as if it would change anything. Panic grips my guts. I should be there for her, showing her she can count on me, but I can”t. I”ve got to call the police. I”ve got to call the police, but where am I going to send them? I have no idea where Manille is. I should have asked her where she was going. It was stupid of me not to take the necessary information, or even remember what she was wearing. This whole situation is out of my hands. I need better help.
“Florence, are you still there?”
I sit up straight, listening to what he is saying.
“I”m here. I”m here. Please Manille, tell me where you are.”
“I”ve shared my location with you.”
My shoulders sag with weight.
“I”ll do that. I”ll send the poli?—”
“No, please, don”t. It”s a misunderstanding. As soon as you bring me the box, everything will be settled.”
“But—”
She hangs up before I can finish my sentence. My limbs trembling, I struggle to recover from the call. I have to get up, but my body can”t take the strain. Only upon regaining my footing do I realize my condition. Tears stream down my face, crushing my vision. My breath comes in gasps, crushing me on all sides, but I have to stay on my feet.
Manille needs me, and I can”t abandon her. Lola”s bark drives me to find the strength I have left to hold on. I”ll have plenty of time to lament later. With the box firmly clutched between my fingers, I rush into the kitchen and retrieve a knife. Manille refuses to let me call the police, which I don”t understand. However, I have to respect his request, so I”ll have to cover my own ass. It”s the best option, since she refuses police intervention.
I don”t want her to be mad at me or for the guy to freak out when he realizes they”re there. It”s a risky situation, but there”s no way I”m going to leave her to her fate, no matter how much it terrifies me. But I”ve got to confront the person holding her captive and put my fear aside.
I leave the apartment and pick up my phone to check Manille”s position. Hands shaking, vision foggy, I can”t read my screen.
I have to pull myself together.
My friend needs me, and this is how I am. On the floor against my door, crying like a loser. Manille called me for help and all I know how to do is cry. I”m the worst friend. An incompetent. If Charlotte were here, she could do something. She”d handle the situation better than I would.
“Florence?”
I raise my head. My eyes meet Corentin”s worried ones. He”s kneeling in front of me, his face inches from mine. Seeing him fills me with a sense of security, and I collapse into his arms in a fit of tears. He holds me close, his hands caressing my back and hair. His warmth feels good, as if he”s going to pull me out of this nightmare. Unfortunately, all this is real and there”s nothing I can do to change it.
When my crisis subsides, Corentin pulls me away from him and cups my face.
“Florence, what”s going on?”
Help me. Help Manille. We need your help.
Words struggle to find their way into my throat. I can only pronounce my roommate”s first name. He remains silent, waiting for me to find the strength to tell him everything. Despite the stuttering in my voice, I manage to formulate what happened.
“We”ve got to call the police,” he says, my story finished.
“No,” I exclaimed, calming myself so as not to wake the neighbors. “She said no. I have to get her some money. And if need be, I”ve got the means to defend myself.”
He shifts his gaze down to what I have in my hands. His face becomes more serious as I do my best to channel my emotions. I can”t lose control now. Not while my best friend is with this person. I”m already on the brink. If I let it get to me, I won”t be able to get back up.
“Florence, this is beyond our predisposition. The police would be much more efficient.”
He”s right. Of course he”s right, but I can”t.
“She said no and I”m going to respect her right. I don”t even know why I told you, I shouldn”t involve you. I”m going to get Manille.”
I pull myself up with the help of my door. I”m as surprised as he is by this burst of courage. With a lump in my stomach, my feet make their way to the stairs on their own. My brain is on pause, my body alone in control of my movements. I don”t have time to descend a step before someone grabs my arm.
Eyebrow arched, I swivel toward him.
“I don”t agree with her choice, but I don”t intend to let you go alone either. I”ll go with you.”
His face is serious.
“It”s not necessary, Corentin.”
“Florence, it wasn”t a proposal. I”m coming with you, end of story.”
His hand in mine, I let him take control of the situation. He picks up my mobile to check Manille”s position. The journey to the address is made in complete silence. My brain imagines a thousand and one catastrophic scenarios. I don”t want to assume the worst, but I”m afraid he may have hurt Manille. Or worse. I hope I haven”t gone on too long, and my friend is all right. Panic twists in my body.
As if sensing something is wrong, Corentin tightens his grip on my hand. With his eyes fixed on the road ahead, he doesn”t turn to see me, but I feel his protective gaze, silently watching over me. My neighbor is an outsider to this story, but he”s dived in headfirst. I blame myself as much as I thank him for being there for me. His presence soothes the panic devouring me from within.
Once there, he turns in my direction.
“You stay here.”
Eyes wide open, I face him. “There”s no way I”m letting you go alone,” I protest.
Corentin wrinkles his eyelids. “I appreciate your concern, but in your condition, you”ll be of no use.”
A thorn digs into my chest at his words. They take me back to a time when my heart was his punching bag. Now is not the time to rekindle those memories.
“I”ve got something to defend myself,” I say, showing him the knife.
Fingers around the handle, I hold it tightly. As if loosening my grip would expose me to the harsh reality of this ordeal.
“Because what do you think you”ll do with it? Intimidate him? Stab him?”
“If need be, I”ll do it.”
I don”t mean a word of what I”ve said. Panic speaks for me and despite my fears, I can”t listen to it. The only thing I hear is my brain screaming at me, I”m a liability again.
I”m scared.
Afraid to be alone. Afraid he”d leave. Afraid something bad will happen to Manille. But I can”t bring myself to give up. Not this time.
“You”ve got to be kidding me! Are you going to kill someone?”
“Why not? I wouldn”t hesitate to defend Manille if he gets violent. Don”t look at me like that; your judgment isn”t needed. You can”t understand.”
Corentin furrows his brow, his jaw twitching. I burst into tears at the gesture, which brings back too many bad memories. The pain is so strong I lower my eyes, waiting for what comes next.
Please don”t hurt me. Don”t hurt me, too.
“Because you think I don”t care? You don”t know how many times I”ve wanted to put my fist through guys I was supposed to be defending. The disgust I have for people who don”t feel the slightest remorse for their victims and who would do it again if they hadn”t been arrested. They are monsters and I have no sympathy for them. As I have no empathy for the asshole who makes your best friend suffer. But violence isn”t the answer. You and I have already had this conversation,” he snaps.
It”s the first time I”ve seen him like this, and I”m the cause.
Why did I have to be like this? Why did I have to exist?
Everyone would be better off if I weren”t here.
“I”m so sorry.”
That”s all I know how to do. Once again, I crash. Corentin sighs. He grabs my chin to make me face him.
“Florence, promise me you”ll stay here, be safe. You”ve got to tell me.”
I want to protest, but his deep gaze prevents me from saying anything.
“I won”t move,” I whisper so softly I”m not sure he even heard me. “Promise me you”ll come back.”
“I promise.”
Like an idiot, I stay glued to my seat, watching him go helplessly. My legs bent against me, tears flood my cheeks. There”s nothing I can do. Manille has called me for help and here I am in this car, unable to make the slightest move. My brain is still struggling to process everything that”s happening. The only thing I can grasp is Corentin”s calm demeanor. I don”t even know if he is, after all, the lawyer is used to intense situations, but this is something else. With trembling limbs and struggling to catch my breath, I search my pockets for my inhaler. I remember I”m in my pajamas and left my medication at the apartment. With my hands on my temples, I try to suck in the air around me.
I”ve got to calm down, because I”m going to end up in the emergency room at this rate. Unfortunately, it”s hard, because two of my loved ones are in danger and there”s nothing I can do. As the seconds tick by, I”m running out of patience.
Calm down, Florence.
I roll down the window, savoring the cool wind against my skin. The icy weather makes me shiver and feels good. The sting of the cold makes me forget my existence for a moment. I gasp for air. My brain goes into survival mode, remembering my friend”s words. Manille warned me not to call the police, but if they”re not back in ten minutes, I will. Their safety is more important to me than keeping their word. I fiddle with my fingers when a creak catches my attention.
My body begins to tremble again in fear the man will appear to end my existence. Fortunately, it”s Manille and Corentin I see walking toward me. My friend”s top is torn, with a few reddish stains visible. Her hair is disheveled, and her face is marked by extreme fatigue. I don”t think twice, get out of the car and rush toward her. I notice a red mark on her cheek. Her right eye is half-closed, and purple appears on her skin.
“Manille—”
The pain in my voice activates her tears. She throws herself into my arms, holding me so tightly I can”t breathe. It”s the first time I”ve seen her so vulnerable. She”s the strong one in our trio, the one who holds us with an iron fist. Quite the opposite of me, the weakling of our group. It”s not me who consoles the others, but the other way around.
“Girls, we”ve got to get back.”
I lift my head to the lawyer and offer a faint grin as I thank him. His expression is stern, devoid of emotion, his eyes vacant. He seems detached, as if he”s disconnected from his own body. Is he upset with me for involving him in our affairs? It”s likely. But it doesn”t matter because I”m already feeling guilty.
In the car, I sit in the back with Manille. The journey is heavy and burdensome. This guy”s shadow looms over us, and talking would do us no good. Only my best friend”s tears fill the silence swallowing us up. I caress her back as I place kisses on the top of her head. I refuse to ask her what happened. I have to be there for her. I feel guilty I couldn”t save her.
I know there”s nothing I could have done to prevent this. I have no idea who this man is or how she met him. Nor do I understand why Manille didn”t want us to contact the police or give her the box. She has her reasons and I”m not going to question her. I”m not going to force her hand. Not tonight. She”ll talk when she decides to talk, and I don”t intend to insist.
When we arrive at our building, I carry my friend in silence. My heart skips a beat at the sight of the elevator. My steps slow and a hand rests on my shoulder. My neighbor”s breath comes close to my ear, making me shiver.
“Everything”s going to be fine. I”m here, Florence.”
His presence gives me enough courage not to run for the stairs. I grab Corentin”s hand like a lifeline. He tenses under my touch, but quickly recovers. As I touch him, I feel something unusual. I glance at his hands and frown when I see his bruised knuckles.
Did he fight!
The ding of the elevator stops me before I can ask the question. I follow Corentin, despite the lump in my stomach. I cling to the cabin wall. Despite our height difference, I hug Manille. On our landing, I breathe again. Barely in the apartment, Manille takes refuge in the bathroom. Seeing her like this breaks my heart, but I know there”s nothing else I can do except show up.
“Will you stay?” I asked Corentin, pleadingly.
Stay.
Don”t leave me.
I need your help.
He runs a hand through his hair. I”m afraid Corentin will leave, won”t want to see me anymore. He”ll realize what a burden I am.
“Of course I”m staying. There”s no way I”m leaving tonight.”
I smile. Maybe it”s not all over. I hope it is because I can”t lose him. Strange as it may be, he”s my sunshine.
“Take care of your friend first. She needs you more than I do.”
I nod and let him pass. For a moment, I enjoy his lavish touch against my body. It”s a breeze, but it”s enough to electrify me. I pull myself together as I hear Manille”s voice. The door opens and she enters our room. I follow her in. I catch a glimpse of a mark on her back before she puts on a nightgown.
What did this monster do to her?
“I”m so sorry.”
My eyes widen at her words.
“You don”t have to be.”
“Of course I do. I got you into this. I should have handled the situation as I usually do. But I was so scared. Forgive me, Florence.”
My heart tightens as I see the tears rolling down her cheeks again. I feel like the worst person she could possibly think I didn”t want to be there. But especially since this isn”t the first time. She sees him often and alone. Without anyone to support her in her misfortunes. Manille is present for me, whatever the reason. Everyone is there to support me, but am I there for everyone else?
I”m incapable.
I press myself into her arms, letting her unburden herself. This embrace is our way of expressing love and commitment, we won”t let go. Above all, we”re here to comfort and remind one another that we can count on each other.
“Florence, can I ask you a favor?”
I walk away and nod.
“Tell me, I”ll do anything you want.”
She lowers her head, and after a moment”s pause, she shifts her gaze toward me.
“Charlotte can”t know about tonight.”
My eyes widen. I can”t hide something like this from her. How am I supposed to, and why? Charlotte was her friend first, before she was mine, and I feel bad not telling her for tonight.
“But Manille?—”
“Please, Florence. She”ll blame herself for not being there. I want us to forget what happened.”
Her expression is determined and leaves no room for negotiation. I”m amazed after all she”s been through, she”s able to show she can stand her ground. I have to admit I”m impressed, even if I don”t like it. This scumbag needs to be arrested or at least face justice. He doesn”t have the right to live his life as if nothing happened. Not after what he”s put my loved ones through and the trauma hanging over our heads.
“You have to file a complaint.”
“No. I can”t do this to him.”
I want to argue, but she encourages me to silence.
“My mind is made up, and I won”t change it.”
I sigh. I promised her I”d do what she asks. Manille knows I don”t agree with her decision. Still, I”ll have to live with it. Besides, I have no right to talk about what happened to her without her consent.
“Okay.”
A small smile appears on his lips. It”s not big, but it”s enough to fill my heart with joy. I take her in my arms again, begging the universe to preserve her soul.
“I”m going to bed,” she breathes tiredly.
I nod and leave the room to give her time to rest. She”s done enough for today. I hope her night isn”t filled with the guy who put her in this state.
“If you need anything, I”m here.”
She nods and I close the bedroom door. I shuffle over to Corentin in the living room. With a cup of tea in one hand and his phone in the other, he raises his head when he hears me coming.
“Is she all right?” he asks, straightening up on the sofa.
“I don”t know, but I hope one day things will get better. And how are you?”
He remains silent for a moment, then nods. “Now you”re safe, I”m fine,” he says, handing me a glass of water.
I drink it in one gulp, now slumped on the sofa. Now Manille”s in her room, my brain starts thinking dark thoughts again.
How could I? How could I have been such a bad friend? He”d told me, and yet I wanted to believe his words were false. But they weren”t. My old man was right about me: I”m a stupid, useless girl, incapable of defending myself or rebelling. I bring trouble into other people”s lives, as I did for him.
I”ve had it!
The sound of breaking brings me back to earth, and I immediately notice I”ve shattered the glass between my fingers. A gash appears on my palm, allowing blood to escape.
“Shit!”
Corentin approaches me calmly and quickly, takes my hand and examines it before leading me silently to the sink. He picks up the scattered glass fragments and disposes of them, while I lean over the sink, letting the water from the tap cascade over my wound. My gaze wanders aimlessly, lost in thought.
“We”ll take care of it,” he says gently.
He cuts off the crystalline flow and guides me back toward the sofa. His hand maintains a strong grip on the small of my back, but soon he”s compelled to encircle his arms around my waist and hold me securely to prevent me from collapsing.
Physically, mentally, I”m at my wits” end. Corentin lays me down on the sofa, then disappears into the bathroom, leaving Lola to cuddle up in my arms. Careful not to stain her with my blood, I caress her with love and tenderness.
My dog, like my neighbor, has the power to soothe me with a glance.
“Lola, move over. I have to treat your mistress,” my friend grumbles.
She moves aside and, care kit in hand, Corentin positions himself between my legs. Corentin positions himself between my legs, awakening a pleasant warmth in my lower abdomen despite the context, which doesn”t lend itself to it at all. I try to hide my confusion as best I can, but my breathing becomes more breathless as the centimeters shrink between us, our bodies so close, his fingers roaming over my skin.
I can barely feel the antiseptic Corentin is applying to my wound, too focused on his soft lips.
“It”s almost over,” he declares seriously, concentrating on his task.
“Thank God you”re here,” I breathe out in response.
He raises his eyes to mine and I could swear he knows the effect he”s having on me. His cheeks color, his breath becoming as labored as mine.
What”s happening to us?
He lowers his gaze, picks up a bandage, and I find myself eagerly awaiting his next touch. In fact, I”d love to snuggle up to him right now. To be trapped in his arms forever. He gently places the bandage in the palm of my hand, before placing a small but tender kiss on it, radiating his warmth all over me.
“Thank you, Corentin, for everything,” I stammer, confused.
He presses his fingers against my cheek to free the few curly strands there, and the gentleness of his gesture does me a world of good.
“I”m sorry,” I murmur, my gaze fixed elsewhere.
He glances at me, eyebrows raised in confusion, clearly puzzled.
“Why is that?”
“For tonight. I should have?—”
“Certainly not, Florence!” he suddenly snaps. “I”m not going there. I wouldn”t let you?—”
“It wasn”t your place to be there, Corentin,” I cut him off. “Because of me, you”ve thrown away your principles.”
He casts his gaze downward, his hands resting in his lap. My friend, still positioned between my legs, lets out a weary gasp.
“You”re being too cruel to yourself. The problem isn”t you or Manille, it”s this guy. Your friend needed you and you had the courage to talk to me about it. It”s not easy to ask for help and accept you can”t handle everything on your own.”
“It”s a bit cheeky of me to cry when Manille is the victim.”
“So are you. Because you haven”t suffered this guy”s blows doesn”t mean you”re not suffering too. Your emotions are valid, Florence.”
Once again, he wipes the tears from my face. His lips are pursed, his gaze stormy, but I think it”s not me he”s after.
“Thank you for being part of my life. I don”t know what I”d do without you.”
My voice is lost in a painful, barely stifled sob. The desire to snuggle up to him grows even stronger.
“You”d do as well, I”m sure.”
His eyes darken, growing deeper and more intense. He stands over me, staring at my mouth with unmistakable desire. He slips a hand behind my neck, our skin-to-skin contact sending an unbearable wave of shivers down my spine. Our breaths become short and jerky. I yearn for more, so much more of him, of us, and I can tell from his visible arousal he does too.
I inhale with difficulty as he runs a palm across my back, pulling me closer. His lips move to mine and slowly I close my eyelids, anticipating this sweet moment with longing and need, before finally feeling them on my forehead.
“I”m going home, you need to rest,” he murmurs with great difficulty.
“Please stay.”
My voice sounds desperate as I cling to his shirt to keep him from leaving.
“Florence.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales an immeasurable quantity of air. When he opens them again, an indefinable gleam has settled in his emerald irises and disturbs me beyond reason. “You”ve had quite an eventful evening, and I don”t want you to think I”m taking advantage of the situation. I can”t risk hurting you any more.”
I know he”s right; we have to stop playing with fire, but the idea of being separated from him makes me anxious. I need his presence and his protection.
“I”m—I”m scared,” I confess, embarrassed. “I don”t want to be alone tonight. Please?”
He fixes his gaze on me, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched, betraying the inner turmoil he”s grappling with. After a moment of tension, he finally relents.
“Okay, but I”m taking the couch.”
I sigh, relieved, then thank him with all my heart.