13. Bastien
Chapter 13
Bastien
It was the shortest week of my life.
Fleur never felt like a visitor in my home. Habits and routines were formed almost immediately. She set an alarm every morning and let it snooze three times before she finally got out of bed. She never had breakfast, just had Gerard make her a coffee to go in one of the thermoses I’d never used in my life. He made her lunch too, and she told me she looked forward to lunch every day because she knew she had a gourmet meal waiting for her in the fridge.
When she came home and I wasn’t there, she took a bath and soaked in the tub, enjoying chocolate-covered strawberries and a glass of champagne. As much as I wanted to stay home with her, I had too much to do, and I couldn’t get distracted just because a fine piece of ass was now with me full-time.
I’d been living alone for fifteen years, didn’t even have a roommate when I moved out, so I thought sharing my space with someone would irritate me at some point—but not with her.
I actually looked forward to seeing her every time I came home. Sometimes she was already asleep in bed, but I didn’t hesitate to roll her over, fold her legs to her chest, and wake her up in the best and most savage way possible.
We had dinner together most nights. Watched TV on the couch together. Fucked in the shower, on the bathroom vanity, on the couch, and even once on the terrace in the fucking rain. If she just moved in and never said a word about it, I wouldn’t say a word either. It would be an unspoken agreement between us.
But I knew she would leave—and I dreaded that.
The moment finally arrived when we were having dinner at Chez Georges. Sandwiched between two other tables and a room full of people talking about their day, we enjoyed our wine and bread as we waited for our entrees.
“I’ve been feeling a lot better,” she said. “I think I’ll go home tomorrow.” She traced the edge of her wineglass with her finger, a mark from her lipstick visible along the glass. She followed the movement with her eyes just to avoid looking at me.
I didn’t protest. Let her steer the ship—or, at least, think she was steering it. “There’s no rush if you need more time.”
“The nightmares have stopped. I don’t really think about it anymore.”
Would I be an asshole if I said I wished those nightmares haunted her every night? Just so I could be the one to chase them away. “Good. I’m glad you’re feeling better. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Her eyes lifted to look at mine, her dark hair tucked behind her ear, the low cut of her dress showing the cleavage line where my dick belonged. “Do you mean that?”
“Which part?”
“That there’s nothing to be scared of.”
“I’m the one they want, not you.”
“And I’m not the best way to get to you…?”
“That’s not how men like me do business. We leave wives and kids out of it. It’s the code.”
“Yes, that’s your code. But that doesn’t mean it’s their code.”
“Sweetheart, it’s a universal understanding. No one is gonna do business with a wife-killer or a kid-killer. Because if you cross that line, then you aren’t a respectable man. And regardless of the industry, you need to be respectable for anyone to work with you. Because everyone on this planet has someone they care about.”
Her eyes stayed on me for a while, and then slowly, her shoulders dropped and she shifted her weight in the seat to get more comfortable, like she’d been on pins and needles just a second ago. “I really enjoyed staying with you. Thank you for letting me do that.”
I wanted to ask her to stay, and if I knew she’d say yes, I would. “You’re welcome anytime.”
A little smile moved on to her lips. “It’s a shame you have that big tub and never use it…”
“It’s all yours whenever you want, sweetheart.”
She chuckled. “So, I just come by every day after work and use it for an hour?”
“As long as you fuck me before you go, you know that’s perfectly fine.”
She chuckled again then took a drink of her wine, like she thought it was a joke.
I was dead serious.
“I’m excited to check my mail when I get home. The finalized documents for the divorce should be in there. Never thought I would be so happy to be divorced.”
I wouldn’t tell her I’d spoken to Adrien, not unless she directly asked me. I didn’t want to involve her in our business affairs if I didn’t have to. And I didn’t want her to know what I’d learned either. That would probably just scare her off again. “What terms did you agree to?”
“I said I didn’t want anything, and he let it happen.”
If this were a couple weeks ago, I would have argued with her, but it didn’t matter what she got in the divorce anymore. Not when she would be a billionaire somewhere in the near future, her only job to either ride my dick or suck it. “You can finally put this behind you.”
“Yep.” She took a drink from her glass. “It’s been a crazy four months…really crazy.” She stared at me across the table, looking at me exactly the way she had when she saw me walk into Silencio all those months ago, like she wanted to sink her teeth into me and carve her name into my flesh.
It was the craziest time of her life, but it was the calmest of mine. The first time I slowed down to listen to the raindrops pelt the windowpane in the middle of the night. The first time I drank wine to savor it. The first time I enjoyed being out of bed as much as I enjoyed being in it. My life suddenly had more depth to it, going from a shallow bank to a deep river. That kind of dedication should give my heart palpitations and tremors, but it gave me something else.
It gave me peace.
It was raining when I arrived at the house.
I had never made so many house calls for a single client.
The butler showed me into the drawing room, the same place where Adrien had slouched in the armchair, drunk out of his mind. The butler offered me a drink, which I took because I needed something strong to make this visit more bearable.
Adrien stepped into the room moments later, in a t-shirt and jeans, his wedding ring gone. He was subtly hostile but also indifferent to my presence. He took a seat in the other armchair, back perfectly straight, fully in control of his faculties.
I shook the ice in my glass before I took a drink. “You look better.”
“Better than what?”
I sat back in the armchair and sized him up across the room, wondering if he really didn’t remember our previous interaction.
“Adrien?” A woman’s voice came from behind me.
I couldn’t see her unless I turned in the chair, and I wasn’t going to do that.
His eyes flicked to her behind me. “Wait for me in the car.”
The sound of her heels came and went.
Adrien looked at me again.
Every other time I’d visited him, he appeared to be alone, his wedding ring his only company. But it seemed his attitude had changed. “You’re moving on. Good for you.”
He broke eye contact, like my words were sharp when they were meant to be soft. “Why are you here, Bastien?”
“Because this is the eleventh hour, Adrien. I’m meeting Oscar after this.”
His expression remained rigid, like that information didn’t matter.
“You weren’t receptive to my last warning, so this is my final attempt to save your neck.”
“Your last warning?”
He didn’t remember anything, did he? I chose to disregard the question. “You don’t know Oscar like I do. You don’t know the Aristocracy like I do. They will not stop until each of your limbs is ripped from your body. They’re proud of their history and their culture, and in their eyes, you’re shitting all over it.”
“I’m not breaking any rules?—”
“ Adrien . You’ve built a beautiful life for yourself. Retire or find something else. It’s that simple.”
He rubbed his palms together, his eyes on his hands.
“No amount of money is worth your neck.” Did I really need to convince him of reason? Did I really need to father a grown-ass man?
“I’ve been in this business a long time, Bastien. People threaten me all the time.”
“Oscar is different. He’ll put a bounty on your head, and I promise you, everyone but me will roll on you. Take my advice and stop.”
He lifted his chin and looked at me. “If you were me, what would you do?”
Probably jump off a bridge.
“You wouldn’t back down.”
“We’re very different men, Adrien. You sell artwork on the black market, and I rule a fucking city. Don’t compare yourself to me, not when I keep my word and you look your wife in the eye and lie.”
He winced like my words were a spray of bullets.
“I don’t give a shit whether you live or not, but my girl does. She’s the only reason I’m sitting here.”
“Does she know about this?”
“No,” I said. “Just because you aren’t married anymore doesn’t mean she wants you to die a brutal death. If you don’t have any other reason to step away, step away for her.”
He looked at his hands again.
“Adrien.” I felt my patience slip, like a teacher who couldn’t get through to a student.
“If we were still together, I would give it all up to keep her safe. But I don’t have her anymore.” He looked at me again. “I don’t have anything except for this. And if Oscar is coming for me, that just means I need to come for him first.”
I released an angry sigh. “Don’t be stupid?—”
“This is all I have.”
I wanted to argue, but that was like trying to drive a Mini Cooper through the side of a concrete building. Fucking waste of time. I gave a slight shake of my head but said nothing more, knowing I’d done what I could. When Fleur realized that Adrien had been murdered, she would withdraw once again and halt the crawling pace of our relationship. My concern was entirely selfish, but I was a selfish man, and I wanted that woman so fucking bad. “Good luck, Adrien.”
I met Oscar at the restaurant.
We were surrounded by regular people having dinner, unaware of the dangerous men sitting in the center of the room, having wine like civilized people when we were anything but civilized.
Oscar didn’t say a word, staring me down like he wanted me to get straight to the point because that was all he cared about.
We hadn’t even ordered yet.
“So?”
I gave a quiet sigh. “He wouldn’t see reason.”
His eyes narrowed, and he gave a slight nod in understanding.
“Give me some time, and I’ll try again?—”
“No more time, Bastien. He’s insulted the Republic of France long enough.”