12. Fleur
Chapter 12
Fleur
My heart was in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow it back. I was normally calm and collected, but I was in such an unstable period in my life that I wasn’t ready to make a good impression on anyone.
Especially his mother.
He said his mother was a classy woman, so instead of wearing something casual, I wore a skirt, tights, and boots with a long-sleeved turtleneck. I wore my nicest jewelry, a collection of rings and a gold bracelet.
Bastien was in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, looking the same as he always did. “Ready?”
I sat in the armchair in his living room, wishing we could stay home for the evening and have a quiet dinner. My confidence had been shot ever since I’d moved out of my house. Once upon a time, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me, and now I didn’t know who I was anymore.
He watched me for a second before he took a seat on the edge of the couch. He didn’t give me a lecture, just let me sit there.
I twisted the diamond stud in my earlobe, spinning it in place. “You’re lucky you don’t have to meet my parents.”
“I’d rather you have parents to meet than have no one.”
My fingers stopped playing with the diamond when what he said hit me hard. For a man of few words, he always knew what to say.
“Would you care if your parents didn’t like me?”
I stared at him.
“If they told you to find a nice guy who wears a suit to work and earns an honest living?”
Someone who hadn’t killed a hundred people. Someone who didn’t tattoo his arms to hide his track marks. Someone who wasn’t out all hours of the night because that’s when the criminals roamed. Someone who didn’t have twenty guns on display in the back of his closet. Bastien was the textbook definition of a bad boy, the guy who would make any mother scream, but I was in this for the long haul. “No.”
That handsome smile spread over his lips, making him so damn attractive. “Alright, then.”
The SUV pulled behind the gate of her beautiful estate, and then Bastien hopped out and took my hand.
I didn’t know a lot about real estate, but her property had to be at least a hundred million euros. She was obviously very wealthy from the empire her husband had run before he died. I wasn’t intimidated by her wealth, not after I’d stepped into Bastien’s world of aristocracy.
The butler greeted us at the door and ushered us into the drawing room, where appetizers were already set out on the coffee table. Music played from the sound system in the ceiling, light jazz that was on so low it was barely there, just in the background.
“Madame Dupont will be with you momentarily.” The butler gave a bow then left the room.
Bastien gave me a glass of wine and poured one for himself.
I looked out the back window and saw the gardens she had in the rear, ivy growing up the walls, sculptures surrounded by carefully manicured flowers.
“Is this where you grew up?” I asked.
“No. My mother sold that place after my father died. Couldn’t live with his ghost.”
I nodded in understanding.
“I like this place better anyway. I bought it for her. It was renovated a few years before she moved in, so it’s practically turnkey. And it’s a quiet neighborhood. Most of the neighbors aren’t even in residence a majority of the time.”
“So they just have these lavish properties because?”
“As an investment. Third or fourth home. A place to impress a mistress.” He took a drink of his wine.
“Did your father have mistresses?”
He didn’t acknowledge the question for a while, like he wanted to make sure his mother wasn’t about to round the corner. “Unfortunately.”
“Did that bother you?”
“If it did, he didn’t seem to care.” He took a couple of the appetizers in one hand and scarfed them down with his big mouth.
He always ate like a bear, and I found something about that so attractive. I guessed it was his manliness, how he needed to eat and eat because he was made of bricks and wrapped in human skin.
“Hello, dear.”
I turned to see his mother enter the room, wearing a long-sleeved dress and heels, her blond hair done in soft curls, brilliant earrings in her lobes. For a woman who had to be in her sixties or seventies, she carried herself like a woman still in her youth, who could do yoga, go for a jog, who had a distinct vitality.
“Mom.” Bastien quickly wiped the crumbs from his face before he greeted her, kissing her on each cheek. “Love the canapés.”
She chuckled as she patted him on the arm. “You love food.”
“You look nice, as always.”
I watched his interaction with his mother, seeing how gentle, kind, and respectful he was toward her. The last thing I’d expected him to be was a momma’s boy—and I loved it.
Bastien came to me, his arm moving around my waist as he showed me off with pride. Affection was in his eyes as he regarded me, like he wasn’t the least bit nervous about the two of us meeting each other. “Mom, this is Fleur.”
I extended my hand to shake hers. “Lovely to meet you.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t the same warmth she gave to her son. “Delphine. It’s lovely to meet you as well.” She pulled her hand away first and regarded me with a shrewd stare. “When Bastien told me about you, he said how beautiful you were—and he did not exaggerate.”
Bastien smirked as his hand inched closer to my ass, his mother unable to see because she faced me head on. “I didn’t need to.”
“Are you two hungry? I haven’t eaten all day.”
We entered the dining room, a table big enough to host at least fifteen guests, and she took a seat at the head while Bastien sat across from me. The moment our asses touched the cushions, the staff emerged to pour our water and wine and provide our first course, a small salad with grapefruit, prawns, and tarragon sauce.
The initial meeting had passed so I wasn’t as much of a mess, but my heart still palpitated with unease.
Bastien inhaled his salad then sat there and waited for the next course. “How are things, Mom?”
“Same.”
“And Pierre?”
Pierre seemed to be a name of significance based on the way he said it.
“He’s been well,” she said.
Bastien looked at me and addressed the confusion he must have known I felt. “Pierre is her boyfriend.”
“Not my boyfriend,” his mother said quickly. “He’s this gentleman that I’ve been seeing.”
“Then he’s your boyfriend,” Bastien said.
“I’m too old to have a boyfriend, Bastien.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not true, Mom. You’re a very beautiful woman.”
And just like that, Bastien made me fall for him even more.
His mother tried to hide the smile that wanted to creep into her features. She covered it up by taking a drink of her water.
“You should have invited him to join us,” Bastien said.
“I didn’t want to detract from the purpose of this dinner—meeting your girlfriend.”
Bastien did not look like a man who had a girlfriend, but he didn’t reject the label his mother gave. “Then next time.”
“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally.
I noticed she didn’t eat much. She’d said she hadn’t eaten anything today, but she still picked at her salad like she didn’t have an appetite. The next course was a soup, and she only took a couple bites of that too, ignoring the bread in the center of the table. She was as thin as a rail and so petite, it was difficult to picture that she’d given birth to Bastian.
Instead of interrogating me, she talked about music and having tea with her friends and her favorite bakery. All the stress I’d had when I walked in here started to fade away when I realized she was a lovely person just like her son. Hard to believe she’d been married to a drug kingpin who exploited underage girls for free labor.
“I’m glad that my son’s career choice hasn’t deterred you.” The tone of the dinner seemed to shift when the main course arrived, roast chicken with fingerling potatoes and sauteed kale.
I tried to gather my response, debating on telling her the truth or saying what she wanted to hear. “It’s not ideal…but I know it’s a package deal.” Bastien told me he wouldn’t give up his lifestyle for anyone, that if a woman didn’t accept it, then she wasn’t the right person for him. I wasn’t sure what kind of future we had, but I didn’t want it to end before it had to.
I kept my eyes on my chicken so I wouldn’t have to see Bastien stare at me. I could certainly feel his look.
“Why does it bother you?” she asked.
Did she really just ask me that? “Well…wasn’t your husband killed because of his work?” I looked up from my dinner to see her guarded stare.
Like she was surprised I’d asked that.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said. “I just…that’s something that scares me.” I didn’t tell her what had happened with Bastien in the restaurant a couple days ago. Didn’t want to frighten her when she’d already been through enough. “Honestly, I’d rather be with someone with a more…traditional lifestyle, but…” I’d dug myself a hole, and I didn’t know if I should try to go back or just keep digging deeper. “Bastien is the man I want.” I kept my stare focused on her because I didn’t want to see Bastien’s face. I was dancing close to the sun, and I knew if I got any closer, I was about to get burned.
“You didn’t offend me, dear.” She released a sigh, as if letting old memories wash over her like a gentle breeze. “Because you’re right. It’s something that troubles me every day. To lose a husband is terrible. But to lose a son…or more than one…is unspeakable. But this is the life the Duponts are destined for. We were always meant to live extraordinary lives. And with extraordinary lives come extraordinary risks.”
“Was your husband already in the business when you met him?”
“This business goes back three generations,” she said. “As the eldest son, he inherited this world. When we met, he hadn’t stepped into the role yet, but my family was involved in the criminal underworld as well, so it was easier for me to swallow. Our marriage was supported by both families, a royal fairy tale in some ways.”
“So this is the only life you know.” I said it more to myself than I did to her.
“You could say that,” she said. “It’s given me a life I have no place to complain about.”
I wasn’t drawn to Bastien because of his wealth. We could live in my little-ass apartment, and I’d be just fine with that. With a man like Bastien to call mine, I already felt like a billionaire. “That’s a good perspective.”
“Bastien tells me you work at the investment company?”
“Yeah, I’m an executive assistant to one of his guys.”
“He’s gay,” Bastien added like it was necessary to do so.
His mother tried to cover up the smirk that crept on to her lips. “Of course he is.”
“He’s nice,” I said. “Easy to work for.”
“Because he’s afraid Bastien will kill him.” Delphine said it with complete seriousness, no hint of a joke.
I sincerely hoped that was a joke.
Bastien didn’t smile either.
“Bastien also tells me…” Her eyes drifted away as she tried to approach the subject delicately, like divorce was an ugly word. “That you and your husband are separated.”
“Yes,” I said. “We’re getting divorced. He and I finally settled our differences, so it should be filed soon.” I’d never told Bastien about my conversation with Adrien. I thought bringing it up now would make him ask for details, but he didn’t question me, at least not in front of his mother.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not,” I blurted. “Honestly, I’m glad he cheated on me.” Probably shouldn’t have said any of that, but it just toppled out of my mouth.
Delphine watched me, clearly wanting to press for more but too polite to do so. “I have a number of girlfriends who are divorced. I’ve never heard a single one of them say something like that.”
“ Mom .” Bastien didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was lethal.
“I just mean if he hadn’t cheated, then I wouldn’t have found Bastien,” I said. “I’ve only known Bastien for a few months and it hasn’t always been the smoothest, but I’m a lot happier with him than I ever was with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is.” After the last conversation I’d had with Adrien, I shouldn’t harbor so much anger toward him, but even though I’d moved on with someone else, it didn’t mean I wasn’t still mad about what he did. He was my best friend, and he still betrayed me—and I’d never forgive him for that. For making me feel so worthless.
I felt Bastien’s hot stare on my face, felt it pierce me with its intensity.
When I met his stare, he looked exactly as I expected. Staring at me so hard it was like the first time he saw me across the bar all over again. If his mother hadn’t been there, he’d probably kiss me or bend me over the table.
I looked at his mother again.
“Then it sounds like you’ve found the right man.”
Things had progressed far quicker than I’d wanted for a brand-new relationship, but we were too passionate and volatile to remain stagnant. We raced down the highway in a Maserati from the moment we met—and we still hadn’t stopped for gas.
I didn’t respond to that, too afraid to acknowledge what she said, especially in front of Bastien.
“Do you want children?”
“ Mom .” Bastien intervened again. “Don’t ask her that.”
“Why?” she asked. “It’s a harmless question.”
“It’s not harmless,” he said. “It’s packed with your agenda. You aren’t as discreet or clever as you think you are.”
Bastien and I hadn’t talked about that. I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. A couple months ago, I could have pictured myself with a brand-new baby in that big house, but now, kids were the last thing on my mind. We still had hundreds of miles of highway in front of us. I let her question die on the air between us because I really didn’t know what I wanted.
Delphine returned to her food, sidestepping the tension that she’d caused.
I looked at my food, but I was aware of Bastien’s stare. Felt the intensity of his look. Felt the way he reached across the table and grabbed me without touching me.
After dessert and coffee, we said our goodbyes in the entryway.
I thanked his mother for dinner even though she’d done nothing to prepare it—except pay for it.
“It was lovely to meet you, Fleur.” The night started with a handshake, but this time, she gave me a hug and squeezed me tight.
I didn’t expect her affection, not because she was a stiff woman, but because I didn’t deserve it. I was practically a stranger to her, a woman who was still technically married to someone else while shacked up with her son. “You too, Mrs. Dupont.”
“It’s Delphine.” She pulled away and gave me a smile. “I expect to see you again because my son wouldn’t have brought you over if he didn’t want you around for a long time.” Her smile remained, enduring and kind. “And I’m sorry if I asked too many inappropriate questions. When you get old, your mouth has a mind of its own.”
“It’s okay,” I said with a chuckle. “And you aren’t old. When I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were Bastien’s mother.”
She lit up like a firework at those words, giving a laugh as she patted me on the shoulder. “That’s sweet of you to say. But I can’t take all the credit—not when my doctor and my aesthetician deserve it more.”
“Bye, Mom.” Bastien kissed her on the cheek before he grabbed my hand. “Thanks for dinner. Set up a meeting with Pierre so I can interrogate him the way you just interrogated my girl.” He winked as he guided me to the car and opened the back door. He gave me his hand and helped me inside before he shut the door.
Delphine remained in the thirteen-foot-high entryway, watching her son walk around the vehicle with a slight smirk on her lips.
When Bastien got into the back seat beside me, the driver went through the gate and entered the quiet street that was devoid of traffic. The pavement shone from the rain that had fallen sporadically in the last few hours.
The stress was gone from my shoulders, and I suddenly felt light, like the worst had passed.
Bastien looked out the window, relaxed in the leather armchair, the ink from his tattoo visible past the end of his sleeve. “She likes you.”
“She does?” I asked.
“You would know if she didn’t.”
“She seems too classy to be confrontational.”
“She’s the daughter of an arms dealer, the wife of a heroin distributor, the mother of two criminal sons. Trust me, she has no problem being confrontational when she needs to be.” He turned away from the window and looked at me. “All you had to do was be yourself.”
“I don’t think she liked the fact that I was married…that I am married, technically.”
“She doesn’t,” he said. “But that’s not a reason to dislike you.” He looked out the window again, and we spent the rest of the drive in comfortable silence. We passed the historic buildings with Napoleon’s mark still present in the stone. Passed the cathedrals and the statues that made this city the most beautiful on earth.
We arrived at his home ten minutes later and took the elevator to the top floor so we wouldn’t have to endure the insufferable walk up the three flights of stairs. The second he walked inside, he changed out of his street clothes, always wanting to be in his sweats or naked whenever he was home.
I was the same way, so we had that in common.
But the pajamas I used at his place were his t-shirts and sometimes his socks if I was really cold. I helped myself to his drawer like it was mine, pulled out a black t-shirt that smelled like it had just been laundered.
He was on the couch in his sweatpants and his ink was his t-shirt. He had the game on. It was the second half, and the score seemed to be tied. He’d already made himself a drink and lit up a cigar like he’d been itching to do that all night but would never do it in front of his mother.
He was too focused on the TV to notice me.
To notice the way I stared at the side of his face…and wanted to stare at it forever. The way my heart had slipped past my ribs and attached to my sleeve like a flag that blew in the wind. The way I missed him even when he was just feet away.
But he didn’t notice any of that—and I was glad he didn’t.