10. Bastien
Chapter 10
Bastien
I entered my mother’s house and was escorted to the drawing room. Like she was a queen and I was a peasant, I waited for her to join me.
Nearly twenty minutes later, she graced me with her presence, fully done up like she expected a male suitor. Luminous pearls hung around her neck, and she wore a gray and black ensemble, like she was ready to go out rather than spend the evening at home.
“I hope I’m not interrupting your plans for the evening.”
“You’re never an interruption, dear.” She came to me, and I had to bend my knees so she could kiss me on each cheek. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”
I was too busy to sit down for a meal. Had been too busy even to see my girl. “I need to speak with Godric.”
Her eyes glazed over with disappointment. “I helped you once. I won’t do it again.”
“It’s important?—”
“It’s always important.”
“I just need his number.”
“Your brother is already not speaking to me. I know in time he’ll come around because I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place with you two. But if I give this to you, it’ll take even longer for him to come back to me.”
“He doesn’t need to know you gave it to me, Mom.”
Her hands came together at her tight waist, her nails done in French tips. “Don’t put me in the middle.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are. All I want is to be a mother to my two sons, not be a soldier on the battlefield, fighting in a war I don’t support. What I want is for the two of you to reconcile, to put aside your differences and be brothers?—”
“We weren’t brothers when we were kids, we aren’t brothers now, and we’ll never be brothers.” I didn’t mean to be harsh, but I needed my mother to understand that her wish was hopeless. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The details don’t matter.” He betrayed me and I betrayed him. Simple as that.
She continued to stare into my eyes with a slight plea. “I won’t help you, Bastien.”
“I have no intention of harming him. I just need to speak to him.”
“With your grand shadow across this city, I’m surprised you don’t have the resources to find what you seek on your own.”
It was far more complicated than she realized. “If I pursue him myself, one of us will end up dead. Out of respect for you, I’ve kept my distance so I won’t kill him and he won’t kill me. If you want it to stay that way, then you’ll give me his number.”
She gave a sigh as she looked away, frustrated that she was in the middle once again. “When we had Godric, your father was satisfied he’d gotten his son and had no desire for more children. I insisted on another because I didn’t want Godric to be alone when we were gone. But it looks like that’s going to happen anyway.”
My father never showed love to either one of us. We’d always been workers in his anthill. We had one purpose, to continue the family business under the Dupont name, like it was some kind of fucking legacy. “I won’t tell him you were the source.”
“Then what will you say?”
“Trust me, he won’t ask.” Any respectable man wouldn’t ask for his enemy’s playbook. Too much pride. Too much stubbornness. And Godric had a healthy dose of both those things.
“You already spoke to him, Bastien. What else needs to be said?”
“That’s my business.” I wouldn’t rattle my mother by telling her someone had put a hit on me. That someone could be out for revenge or someone wanted to remove me from power and take my place. Right now, I didn’t know, and none of my contacts seemed to know either. Godric wasn’t part of my world, so he might know something. “Mom.”
She looked away again, the frustration bubbling in her eyes. “Fine.”
I sat in the back seat parked at the curb, raindrops breaking their contact with the window and streaking down. The phone was to my ear, and I listened to it ring a few times before my brother answered. “Yes?”
“It’s Bastien.”
There was a pause—but that pause said so much.
“I’m sure you heard what happened the other day.”
He said nothing, either confirming that fact or pretending otherwise.
“You said people wanted me dead. Looks like you were right.”
“What do you want from me, Bastien?”
“Tell me who—because you obviously know who it is.”
He was quiet for a long time, probably sitting at home in one of his many apartments. He owned a vast portfolio of real estate in Paris, so it was hard to know where he was at any given time. “I warned you to walk away.”
“You know I don’t walk away from anything.”
“Then there’s nothing else to discuss.”
I hadn’t expected to get much out of him, but I’d expected more substance than this. “You’d have to be pretty heartless to look the other way while someone tries to kill your only brother.”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “Not as heartless as killing my own father.”
The insult rushed right past me, and I felt no remorse.
Godric said nothing else.
A thought had been at the back of my mind for a long time, for years, but I’d never had the opportunity to ask for answers. “Why haven’t you told Mom?” I had no doubt she didn’t have any idea, because if she knew, she’d never speak to me again.
He didn’t say anything.
“Why?” I pressed. “She’d turn her back on me if she knew. That’s exactly what you’d want, right?”
He remained quiet.
I waited for him to explain.
“Because it would kill her, Bastien. Don’t think for a fucking second that I’m protecting you. I’m protecting her—because she’d swallow a bunch of sleeping pills and never wake up if she knew it was you.”
I let his words bite into me with sharp fangs. I felt no guilt for my actions, but I felt like shit for what I’d done to my mother. I’d made her a widow decades sooner than she needed to be. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Godric.”
“If you’re going to tell us how to do business, then yes, it needs to be this way.”
“You make it sound like you’re the one gunning for me.”
It was dead quiet wherever he was, so he must be at home, probably in front of the fire, a sleeping woman in his bed. There was no sound of his breath, like a cigar was squeezed between his lips and teeth. “I’m not. But I know who is—and I’m not going to stand in his way.”
I miss you, sweetheart. It’d been a few days since I’d spoken to her. I’d been so absorbed in tracking down the idiot who thought he could make me disappear so easily that I hadn’t even texted her.
She hadn’t texted me either, and I began to worry.
She’d already tried to leave me once because she wasn’t ready for something serious, because she didn’t want to be involved with a man who always had a target on his back. We’d moved past it, but I wasn’t sure if we would move past this. I’d never expected her to witness a showdown, and I was mad as hell that some asshole had made his move in front of my woman.
If she left me, that would be it. I wouldn’t chase her, and if she tried to come back to me, I would tell her we were done. Regardless of how I felt about her, I needed her to be like one of my boys, someone who would be there through thick and thin, who had the spine to endure the pressure and a stomach to tolerate the acid.
It took her a while to text me back, even though I knew she was off work. I miss you too.
Did she really? If I showed up at her apartment, would she dump me again? I shouldn’t make assumptions when we hadn’t discussed what had happened, but based on the way she’d taken off last time, it was fair for me to assume the worst. She’d already let me down once. I’ll be there in ten minutes . My driver was already around the corner from her apartment, but I wanted to give her notice.
Okay.
I stepped out of the vehicle and smoked a cigar on the sidewalk. People walked past, getting off work and in desperate need of a drink and a cigarette. I stared at the green door that led to her lobby as I finished my cigar, giving her time to prepare for my arrival. “Don’t let me down, sweetheart.” I stomped the cigar beneath my boot then went inside, and I made it to her front door.
I let myself into her apartment and found her in the kitchen, wearing the same outfit she must have worn to work, a tight pencil skirt with tights and boots, a long-sleeved blouse snug on her slender body.
She looked like a hot piece of ass, as always.
My body moved into hers like a magnet, and I kissed her as I held her close, one hand in her hair and one hand squeezing her tight ass, falling right back into old habits, despite the dread in my heart.
She kissed me back like she really did miss me.
When I ended the kiss, I swiped my thumb over her soft cheek and settled it on the corner of her mouth, her lips painted the color of her Bordeaux, her makeup dark and smoky, sexy. I stared at her for a while and forgot all the bullshit that required my attention.
Her hand went to my wrist, and she turned into my palm to kiss it.
As innocent as the affection was, it set me on fire.
She kissed me again then kissed the pad of my thumb, leaving a tiny mark from her lipstick. She gripped my arm with her other hand, like she wanted my flesh, my protection, my heat. Then she stepped into me and rose on the tips of her toes in her boots to kiss my mouth, to kiss me as if I hadn’t just kissed her when I’d walked in the door, as if the appetizer just made her hungrier. Her arms circled my neck, and she kissed me with tongue and breath, like she’d been aching for me every moment we’d been apart.
No other woman ever turned me on the way she did.
I squeezed her ass before I lifted her into me and carried her into the little bedroom down the hall, the one with the slanted walls because she rented the attic loft since it was cheaper. I laid her on the bed, slipped off her boots and yanked down the tights and the thong underneath.
Then I pushed up her skirt and kissed her pretty little pussy.
She sucked in a deep breath between her clenched teeth and then gave a pleasured sigh.
I hooked my arms under her ass, and I kissed her pussy as hard as she’d kissed my mouth, happy to be reunited with the one woman who had ever set me on fire, who had a pussy more addictive than the best heroin I’d ever injected into my veins, the best coke I’d ever snorted off a whore’s ass.
She dug her fingers into my hair, and she enjoyed it, slowly grinding into my face, her beautiful sighs filling her small apartment on the top floor. When she was close to the edge, her hands went to my wrists, and she squeezed me hard, silently asking me to stop.
I could eat her pussy all day, but that was never how she wanted to come, and that was just fine by me. I yanked off my shirt, ditched the boots, jeans, and boxers, and then moved on top of her on the full-size bed. She opened herself to receive me, squeezing my torso with her knees and hooking her ankles together at the top of my ass. I sank inside her paradise and squeezed through her slick flesh, reunited with the tightness that rivaled the strength of a clenched fist.
Her arms circled my neck, and I pressed my chest into her firm tits. Her mouth was to my ear, moaning at my thick invasion into her little channel. It was like our first time all over again, when she’d taken me home from the bar and fucked my brains out like she’d never get another chance to have me, when she’d embraced her pleasure with passion because she didn’t care if she looked eager or desperate.
I wanted to take her hard from the moment I saw her, but now that I felt her underneath me, felt her want me desperately, I slowed down to savor it. To make it last. To listen to her breaths and feel her nails claw at my skin until the sweat made the cuts burn.
I sat at her round table in just my boxers. When I’d come over here in the past, the temperature had been frigid because she hadn’t wanted to use her heater, but now it was actually warm, which told me she was putting her new salary to good use.
She came out of the bathroom after she fixed her makeup, makeup I ruined by shoving her face into the sheets. She’d put on my shirt, and she took a seat at the table, her hair soft because she’d brushed out all the tangles from my knots. “Hungry?”
“Always.”
“I don’t have a butler to make us dinner, but I can order a pizza.”
I smirked. “Pizza sounds great, sweetheart.”
She grabbed her phone and made an order on a delivery app.
I wanted to take her to dinner, but when she put on my clothes and even my socks, I could tell she didn’t want to go anywhere.
She went to her cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine and a couple glasses. She set the table with plates, utensils, and water, the vase in the shape of a woman’s ass full of flowers pushed to the side so we could see each other.
I wished she lived at my house, was always there when I got home, was always there whenever I left. But I didn’t ask her because I already knew her answer would be no. It would cause unnecessary strife in a relationship that had only recently become easy.
Well, until the other night.
She drank her wine then looked at me across the table. “You can smoke if you want.”
Her apartment was too small. It would become hazy like a London fog. I grabbed the wineglass and took a drink.
She continued to stare at me, her chin propped on her closed fist.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted. Just been busy.”
“It’s okay… I get it.”
“It’s not okay. I should have checked on you.”
She sat back against the chair and shifted her gaze elsewhere.
“How’ve you been?”
All she gave was a shrug.
Perhaps it was worse than I realized. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” She’d always been a confident woman who didn’t shy away from eye contact, so I knew something was amiss when she didn’t look at me.
She swallowed, her throat shifting. “I’ve—I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
I assumed.
“I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t scared to death, because I was.”
“That’s okay.”
She seemed to be more forthcoming when I welcomed her uneasiness. “I watched that guy bleed out right next to me…when you stabbed him. It all happened so fast, and then it was over just as fast.” Her eyes continued to focus on the surface of the table. “Does that happen a lot?”
“No.”
Her eyes finally found mine.
“It’s been a while since someone took a shot at me, especially in a public setting.”
Her eyes flicked away again.
“I’m going to be honest. Another reason I haven’t called is because I thought you’d tell me it’s over.”
Her eyes stayed down for a while, like the fear wasn’t ridiculous.
I studied her face, watched her cycle through all the emotions my statement caused.
After a long beat, she spoke. “I was scared. I still am scared…if I’m honest. But I’m not going anywhere.” She finally found the confidence to look me in the eye, with a subtle hint of uncertainty. “A week without you was far more terrifying than what I saw.”
My expression remained hard, but everything inside me went soft. I’d hoped she would stay, but I didn’t expect her to say those beautiful fucking words. Didn’t expect her to punch me in the chest with them. This woman had slipped through my grip countless times, but the chase had finally stopped. She was tethered to me now, the two of us connected by an unbreakable knot, a bond that I’d had with my boys, but never a woman. It meant the fucking world to me to hear that, so much that I almost told her how I felt, even though I knew she wasn’t ready for it. So I said something else. “I can’t promise that won’t happen again, but I can promise that I will never let anything happen to you.”
Her eyes were on mine, vulnerable and emotional, and they seemed to believe me. She was beautiful when she’d shown she wanted me when I entered the apartment, but she was more beautiful now when she was open with me, when she didn’t pretend to want me less every time she wanted me more. “Am I a complete idiot for actually believing that?”
I felt the smile tug at my lips. “No, sweetheart.”
I returned to Adrien’s estate. It was just before midnight when I passed the gates and checked in with his butler. When I looked at the wall where the wedding picture had been, I noticed it was still missing.
Instead of Adrien meeting me in the entryway as with all our other conversations, the butler escorted me into the living room. The TV was on and showed the news. Adrien was in an armchair in his sweatpants and t-shirt, his beard dark from skipping the shave for at least a week.
When he looked at me, his eyes were empty and glazed like he was either drunk or depressed—or maybe both. “Want a drink?”
I sat in the other armchair with the coffee table between us.
He had an empty glass on the table, just water on the bottom because the ice cubes had melted.
“I’m good.”
He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV before he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. The wedding ring he usually wore was absent from his left hand. He wiped the corner of his eye before he regarded me, looking half dead. “You want a drink?”
Fuck, how drunk was he? “You alright, Adrien?”
He propped his chin on his closed fist and looked at me, suddenly having lines around his eyes and looking withered like a flower that had been chopped at the stem. “What do you want?”
“I came here to see if you’ve changed your mind about the business. I have to report to Oscar this week, and if I give him the answer he doesn’t want to hear, he’s coming for your head. Reconsider, Adrien.”
“Tell him to come. Like I give a fuck.”
“Adrien, your life is a lot more valuable than money?—”
“Is it?” he asked incredulously. “I lost the one thing that mattered…so nothing matters. My own family hates me for what I did. My father doesn’t look at me the same anymore. Now that I’m free to fuck around all I want, there’s not a single woman I desire except for the one who doesn’t want me anymore.”
I almost pitied him. Almost . “Just because you and Fleur aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you, Adrien. She doesn’t want you dead in an oil drum off the coast somewhere in the Atlantic.”
His eyes glazed over like he didn’t hear what I said. “Work is all I have, and I’m not giving it up.”
“Adrien—”
“I have nothing to live for. I love her with all my heart, but that doesn’t fucking matter because now she loves you.” He looked like he was on the verge of tears, about to cry in front of another man. That was how drunk he was. “I pleaded with her to give me another chance. Was about to get on my knees and fucking beg. And then she kicked my chest and cracked it in half and said she’s in love with you. So it’s over…it’s fucking over.”
I watched him writhe in pain, watched him fight back tears of weakness, but it was an out-of-body experience, my head floating in the clouds, my heart skipping beats several times in a row. A smile emerged on my lips no matter how hard I tried to fight it, an unstoppable smirk that reached all the way down into my chest. “She said that?”
He sank into the chair like he wanted to disappear into the cushions like melted butter. He stared at the blank TV screen without blinking as if he was reliving the horror of the memory behind his eyes. He was so drunk, there was no way he would remember this in the morning. If he were in his right state of mind, he wouldn’t have told me any of this, wouldn’t let me see him at his worst like I was his friend rather than his enemy. “Yes.”
I walked into the empty bar. It had closed an hour ago, so the counters had been wiped and the floor mopped.
Luca sat alone at a table, a drink in front of him that he’d made himself. He was texting when I walked in, and without pausing his message, he addressed me. “Bring me one while you’re up there.”
“You already have a drink.”
“Just do it, asshole.”
I smirked and made two drinks, a scotch on the rocks with a twist. I came back to the table and placed the glass next to his half-empty one.
Luca finished his message before he set the phone on the table. “Cameron doesn’t know shit, and Jeremy is a snitch and he still doesn’t know anything. I know they must run in circles with Godric and those fucking psychopaths.”
“And you’d be right.” I took a drink then licked my lips.
Luca stared at me for a hard second. “You talked to Godric?”
“He didn’t give me a name but confirmed what I suspected.”
“There’s gotta be something we can do to get your brother to talk.”
I took another drink.
“We hit him hard, torture him, and get that answer.”
“Luca, you know I’m not going to do that.”
“Why the fuck not?” he demanded. “Your nutsack is the one on the line.”
I took another drink, the glass almost empty already.
“Bastien.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“He knows who wants your head, and he ain’t saying shit,” he snapped. “He doesn’t give a damn about you.”
“But he won’t cross that line, and neither will I.”
He released a frustrated sigh as he dragged his hands down his face. “Now isn’t the time to be honorable.”
“My father deserved what he got. Not Godric.”
His fingers returned to the glass, and he looked out the window as he did his best to calm down. “What happened with your dad anyway?”
I ignored the question and let it die.
Luca didn’t repeat it. “Then what’s the plan?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know…”
“I’ll get him, Luca.”
“You should be a lot more worried about this, Bastien.”
I sat back in the chair and finished off the drink. Now I wished I’d made another and planned ahead like Luca.
He seemed to understand I wasn’t in the mood to talk shop, so he changed the subject. “What happened with Fleur? Did she run off again?”
“No.” I felt the smile creep on to my face, like an old friend that walked back into your life.
His eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because I’m happy, asshole.” When times got tough, she’d stuck beside me. Any reasonable person would advise her to leave me, but she chose to be unreasonable and stay. Chose me the way I chose her from the moment I saw her. “I’m gonna marry her.”
The shock was quickly replaced by a look of horror. “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?”
“Luca, you know what I said.”
“Bastien, you’ve known the girl for three months.”
“I’m aware.”
“You sound crazy right now. Crazier than usual.”
The smirk remained. “I know.”
“Look, I like Fleur and understand your fascination, but this is way too fast?—”
“I didn’t say now, Luca.”
He didn’t even bother to hide his relief at that statement. “Oh Jesus…”
“Not now, but someday, she’ll be my wife. And when that day comes, I want you to tell her this story. How the two of us sat in this empty bar at three in the morning, and I told you she was the one.”