11. Dans le Noir
Alexander
I’m still shaken by the kiss I just shared with Sam.
My lips are still burning from her touch.
For a moment, I forgot where I was, and who was watching us. There was only her and me. Her breath against my mouth. Her body pressed against mine. That small moan she let slip, the one that almost made me lose all control.
It was supposed to be for the photos.
A staged kiss.
But damn it—there was nothing professional about the way she melted into me. About the way she kissed me as if she wanted me.
Do I really want to examine what she stirs up inside me?
No.
I’m not ready.
Not when my life is falling apart. Not when I’ve just discovered Kristel’s betrayal. Not when I’m broken and don’t even know who I am anymore.
I step away a few paces, pretending to check something on my phone. In reality, I need space. Distance. To think. To breathe.
When my phone rings, I glance at the screen automatically.
Kristel.
My stomach knots. My jaw tightens.
I hesitate for a second before answering, and despite myself, I look for Sam’s gaze before picking up.
She’s watching me, eyes wide with worry. Emelyne whispers something in her ear, but she isn’t listening. Her attention is completely fixed on me.
“Good evening, Kristel.”
My voice is cold. Controlled. Nothing like how I feel inside.
“Oh, Alexander! Finally. I was so worried,” she exclaims. “How are you, my love?”
My love.
How dare she?
“How do you think?” I ask harshly.
Silence.
I can hear her breathing on the other end. Fast. Nervous.
“I… listen, I’m sorry, okay? This—this isn’t what you think.”
Predictable.
“Didn’t you fuck Grégoire?”
I ask the question calmly.
Another silence. Longer.
“It… it doesn’t mean anything. It was a mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I love you.”
Her words echo in my head, absurd, insulting.
“If that’s what you call love, then we don’t have the same definition of it.”
My voice trembles slightly. With anger. With disgust. With sadness.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam hesitate, as if she wants to comfort me, but knows this isn’t the moment.
“Listen, we need to talk,” Kristel pleads. “Don’t forget everything we shared, you and me. You’re not going to destroy our relationship over one small mistake.”
“I’m not the one destroying it. You did that when you decided to sleep with someone else.”
I keep my voice low, aware the others might hear.
Her tone turns plaintive, almost desperate.
“And our engagement? You were supposed to propose, remember? We had plans. A life together.”
“Forget it,” I cut her off sharply. “There will be no engagement. It’s over.”
The words come out cold. Final.
I hear her breath hitch on the other end.
“What? Alexander,you can’t—”
“Yes. I can. And I am.”
Her voice hardens.
“We’ve already started circulating rumors. Investors and the public are expecting an announcement. You need me. The CEO of MatchMapping can’t back out, Alexander. That would be a major strategic mistake.”
There it is.
The mask slips. The real Kristel emerges, calculating, threatening. And to think I once admired that in her.
“Don’t worry about me,” I reply. “I’ll handle my company.”
My voice is calm, steady, even though inside me everything is chaos. My free hand trembles. I clench it into a fist.
She laughs. A nervous, incredulous laugh.
“Fine. I can see you don’t want to listen,” she says. “You’re not being rational. I’ll give you a few days to calm down, then we’ll talk and clean things up. I refuse to give up on you.”
“There’s nothing left to save, Kristel. It’s over. Accept it.”
“Alexander—”
“Don’t call me again.”
And I hang up.
I grip my phone so tightly my knuckles turn white.
The woman I loved bears no resemblance to the one I thought I knew. She tried everything: to charm me, to invalidate my feelings, to make me feel guilty.
How could I have been so blind?
My friends look at me, unsure what to do. Then Oliver steps closer.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” I finally answer. “I’m fine.”
I straighten, force down the negativity.
“All right, guys—how about we go grab dinner somewhere in the city?” I announce. “My treat.”
My voice is too cheerful. But no one calls me out.
“Where do you want to go?” David asks.
I smile—this time, a real one—and turn to Sam.
“I don’t know. That’s for my fiancée to decide.”
Sam blushes at my words, and I admit it stirs something in me.
She seems to think for a moment, and in her eyes I see a mischievous spark I know well.
“How about Dans le Noir?”
“What?”
David frowns, confused.
She smiles—a bright smile that transforms her face.
“It’s a restaurant where you eat in complete darkness. No visual cues. Every sensation becomes more intense…”
I laugh. Of course she’d want something like that. Always chasing a unique experience. A different emotion.
“You’re serious?” Mara asks skeptically.
“Completely. Come on, it’ll be amazing! We’ll discover the food purely through taste, touch, smell. It’s like a sensory work of art.”
Oliver snorts.
“‘A sensory work of art,’” he repeats, laughing. “All right, let’s try it!”
“Perfect!” Sam exclaims, radiant.
The taxi van drops us in front of the restaurant.
The hostess welcomes us into an antechamber plunged in total darkness.
“From this point on, there are no visual references,” she announces cheerfully. “I recommend keeping your sense of humor and your patience. It helps a lot.”
“We’re screwed,” David mutters. “I have neither.”
Nervous laughter ripples through the group as we’re guided single file to our table. I feel Sam’s hand search for mine so she doesn’t trip. Her fingers slide into my palm, and a soothing warmth spreads through me.
“Alexander, I hope you know where you’re going,” she whispers.
Her voice is so close I can almost feel her smile against my skin.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
She bursts out laughing just as I bump into the back of a chair.
Witch. She’s mocking me.
Once seated, the waitress speaks:
“Tonight’s menu is a surprise tasting. Every bite will be a discovery. And each dish will be paired with a carefully selected wine.”
“Perfect,” David comments. “We’ll all end up drunk and lost, but happy.”
The first dish arrives.
I hear Emelyne sniff like a truffle dog.
“So… what is it?”
“I sense several textures,” Mara says. “Something vegetal, and something else…”
“This isn’t a medical exam,” Oliver snaps.
Sam snickers.
“So, teams? Three against three?” she suggests.
“With pleasure!” Emelyne replies. “I’m with Mara—she’s the best at solving riddles!”
“No way,” David protests. “You’re cheating already and we haven’t even started.”
“Fine,” Sam decides. “Mara with David, Emelyne with Alexander, and me with—”
“Oh no,” Mara cuts in. “The fiancés together. Emelyne, you’re with Oliver.”
“Aye aye, boss,” Emelyne replies, smiling. “Prepare to lose. Let the games begin!”
I bring a bite to my lips.
“It’s good,” I say. “There are… different flavors.”
“Thank you for that culinary analysis,” Oliver mocks. “We’re saved.”
“I’d say a vegetable tartare,” Emelyne says.
“Vegetable tartare?” David repeats. “What kind of heresy is that?”
“I’m noting your answers,” the waitress adds, amused.
“Oh great,” David groans. “We’re going to score zero.”
Sam thinks for a moment, then says softly:
“It’s an avocado terrine… and shellfish.”
“Yes, but which one?” the waitress asks.
“Shrimp!” Mara blurts out.
“No, it’s more delicate…” Sam murmurs. “I know, langoustine!”
“Correct!” the waitress praises.
“Admit it, I impress you,” Sam whispers conspiratorially.
Her laugh brushes my skin, light, warm, dangerously tempting.
What am I thinking? It’s Sam. There’s never been that between us.
It’s that kiss—it’s completely throwing me off.
The waitress sets a glass in front of each of us.
“This wine pairs perfectly with the dish.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Oliver declares after tasting.
“It’s… grapes.”
Laughter erupts—so contagious that even the waitress chuckles.
“It’s… kind of sweet,” Sam says, who knows nothing about wine.
“Sweet?” David scoffs. “How old are you? This isn’t soda.”
“Hey, that’s mean,” she retorts, offended.
I taste it in turn.
“It’s a Chenin blanc,” I murmur. “A demi-sec Vouvray, I think.”
“Correct!” the waitress congratulates me.
Sam lets out a little victory squeal and bumps her shoulder against mine.
“We’re awesome!”
I smile in the darkness.
“Yeah. We make a good team.”
The absolute darkness suddenly feels more intimate. More dangerous.
Dinner flows on in laughter and surprises.
I find myself forgetting everything that’s eating away at me.
The betrayal. The pressure. The stakes.
I’m just… here. With them. And I feel almost happy.
We stumble out of the restaurant, still disoriented from the darkness and the wine. The cool night air does us good.
“So, verdict?” Emelyne asks, stretching.
“I still see black spots,” David grumbles.
“That’s because you spent two hours trying to see what was on your plate,” Mara teases.
“Hey, it could’ve worked!”
Sam walks beside me, her shoulder brushing mine with every step. I can sense her smile without seeing it.
“I loved it,” she says softly.
“Me too.”
We call another taxi van that drops us off one by one. The ride is noisy, lighthearted.
Oliver sings off-key. Mara scolds him. David laughs so hard the driver laughs with us.
Sam tells us about the time she ate a flower salad. She found the experience incredible because there were “so many colors.” I laugh like an idiot.
The taxi drops the girls off, then stops in front of my building.
I wish David and my brother good night and step inside.
The night concierge greets me, then stops me.
“You have a visitor.”
Damn it. No.
Don’t tell me—
The elevator opens onto my penthouse floor.
A man is standing in front of my door.
I recognize that look, cold, calculating.
Arthur Chevalier.
Kristel’s father. Sam’s father.
“Good evening, Alexander,” he says, a smile without warmth stretching his lips. “We need to talk.”