Chapter 28
“Thank you for inviting me,” I said with the same fake smile I had used the day before when we met.
My mother raised me well.
“Before you leave,” he blurted out, “I’ve arranged a flight for Sebastian, the girl my daughter is with, and for you. You’ll be leaving tonight. Elo?se told me you’re all in a hurry to leave. They’ll pick you up after dinner.”
After dinner. A few more hours in that house and I would be back in London. I thanked him again, with more feeling than before, and left the room.
The hallway was empty. I decided to go back to the lounge. If I couldn’t leave the house until after dinner, it would be better to leave my travel backpack in the room where I had spent the night. I didn’t want my things scattered around that mansion full of strangers.
Unpacking, changing clothes, and packing them away again would keep me busy enough not to think about Enzo.
The word “games” was still stuck in my head. I shook my neck as if I could rid myself of it.
It was around four, and it seemed that everyone who had attended the brunch had retreated to their rooms until evening or until the storm passed.
I had just reached the first floor when I heard the sound of high heels on the carpet, a dull but repetitive tap-tap-tap.
There was only one person in the lounge.
Elo?se Hawtrey-Moore was pacing back and forth, her phone wedged between her head and shoulder, arms crossed in a tense posture.
Her voice was soft, yet the closeness made her words distinct:
“Enzo didn’t know about the money,” she said.
I froze at the bottom of the stairs. Elo?se had her back to me and hadn’t seen me yet.
I backed away, retracing my steps, but instead of leaving (since it was clear that she was having a private conversation), I went back down the last few steps and rushed towards the curtain that divided the lounge in two.
The girl’s words echoed in my chest. I hid among the shadows of the curtain just in time to see Elo?se turn on her heels and walk in my direction.
“Everyone is in their rooms. My father is in his office,” she continued, confirming my suspicions. She hadn’t seen me hide. “It’s the only time I’ve found to answer your calls, Tim.”
Tim? Was Elo?se talking to Timotheo Larousse?
As she passed by me, I could hear a man’s voice through her phone’s speaker, replying to something I didn’t quite catch. It was Larousse, no doubt.
“Am I sure about my brother?” Elo?se said, moving away again. “Of course not! But he won’t tell me anything more. I’ve interrogated him about it. He says he knows nothing. The money is still missing.”
Another pause, followed by:
“The girl who came home… yes, her. She works with Julian’s lawyer, I know. It can’t be a coincidence.”
My chest tightened as my pulse hammered against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears. Elo?se stepped closer, and I swallowed hard, fearing that the wild thudding in my chest might betray me.
“Nothing…” was all I could make out from Larousse’s words.
Elo?se drifted away, her gaze sweeping the room without pausing, as if I were just another shadow in the corner.
“What should I do now? This case will never end.”
They were talking about me. About Enzo. About Julian. Why? Why was the money connected to all of this?
Someone pulled my arm back, causing me to stumble. I almost toppled over, but a firm hand pressed against the small of my back, steadying me just in time. I caught my breath as I slipped through the curtain’s edge, emerging on the other side of the lounge, hidden from Elo?se’s view once more.
A startled “oh” escaped my lips before I could stop it. Shouting would’ve been far worse, but I still cringed at the noise. The man reacted in an instant, his other hand shooting up to cover my mouth, silencing me with a firm press of his palm.
If I didn’t scream, it was because I recognized those arms.
Bastian whispered a “shhh” in my ear, a mischievous smile parting his face as he pressed his palm against my mouth.
Elo?se stopped mid-sentence.
“Chérie?” Larousse said on the other end of the line, raising his voice. “Is something wrong?”
The girl took a brief break before continuing.
“No, nothing,” she murmured. “As I was saying…”
Bastian’s hand eased away from my mouth, and I shot him a sharp, questioning glare.
My eyes searched for his, demanding answers.
Instead, he just shrugged. Satisfied that I wouldn’t blow our cover, he loosened his hold on me and backed off, making a subtle gesture for me to follow as he slipped further into the mansion.
Elo?se’s voice faded into the background as we crept through the concealed section of the lounge. The stairs creaked beneath our feet, and we stayed silent all the way to the top floor. Bastian pushed open the door to a room and ushered me inside. The door clicked shut behind us.
Once inside, he let out a long sigh.
“I hope you have an explanation for kidnapping me like this,” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest.
Bastian ran a hand over his face. He looked tired.
He wore a suit without a jacket: grey pinstripe pants, a white shirt, and a sleeveless red vest with maroon embroidery.
Despite the dark circles that clung to his eyes, I couldn’t find it in me to look away.
His sharp jawline, tousled hair, and the way the vest hugged his frame all screamed wariness.
Even in his dishevelled state, he had a dangerous kind of charm, and I tried to push the thought that plagued my brain aside.
I had already committed too many mistakes in one weekend.
He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his elbows in his knees.
“The staff was in the kitchen, roaming the lounge,” he said. “They would have seen you soon enough. They are all pretty fond of Elo?se.”
“They hadn’t seen me yet!” I replied, raising my voice.
Bastian responded in a calm tone, like explaining a simple concept to a stubborn child.
“It was only a matter of time, Vera.”
“And what if the staff saw me?”
“They would have reported you to Elo?se immediately.”
Bastian’s room was a mirror image of mine: same pale walls, the same ornate bed frame, and the same heavy drapes that swallowed the light.
It was as if the Dubois had ordered every piece in bulk, stamping out the guest rooms like replicas in some impersonal assembly line.
Nothing stood out, no hint of personality or warmth, just a cookie-cutter sameness that made the space feel more like a display than a place where someone might actually live.
“Wouldn’t they have seen you too?”
“The difference,” he replied, “is that everyone thinks I’m Elo?se’s lapdog. I can pretend that this has nothing to do with me. They were talking about you, Vera, and you were eavesdropping behind a curtain.”
“So what?” I burst out, my voice trembling with frustration. “I’m nothing more than Dubois’s puppet, Bastian. What does that make me?”
Bastian shot up from the bed, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. He stopped just inches away, the heat from his body rolling off him in waves that made my skin prickle.
“A fool,” he snapped, his words cutting like a blade.
“Don’t mess with me…” I warned, my breath hitching as I stared up at him, caught between anger and something dangerously close to it.
“But no more of a fool than I am,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a rough, almost quizzical tone. “We’ve both ended up here, Vera.”
“And whose fault is that?”
His brow raised as he lifted my chin with one hand. “Whose fault do you want it to be?”
I pushed him. And out of nowhere, Bastian’s hands were on my waist, my back, my neck.
As if on cue, my hands roamed his body with the same fury.
Our lips met like two storms colliding; my teeth bit into his inner lip with an anger that seemed reserved only for him, so consuming that I couldn’t discern where it ended, and desire began.
Our kiss was fierce, unrestrained, angry, and longing, until our clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.
We tore at the sheets, the fabric tangling around us as Bastian slid my dress off my shoulders.
He stopped for a heartbeat, drinking me in, and then his lips brushed my neck, sucking in all the way down to my breasts.
A moan escaped my lips, unbidden.
Bastian, as if begging me to be quiet, kissed me again, his tongue teasing my lips, frantic, starved.
Then, Bastian swung one leg over me, straddling my thighs and drawing a sharp breath from my lips.
His hands traced the curve of my waist as he leaned closer.
I held my breath, waiting for him to sink into me.
Bastian moaned against my ear as he entered me.
Warmth flooded my senses. A gasp left my lips, and my fingers traced his back, wanting more, more, more.
Then, with a twist, he pinned my hands back down.
“Slowly,” he groaned. “I want to savour you, Vera.”
His hips moved cautiously, settling the rhythm, and I closed my eyes, giving in to the feeling. His length stretched me with every thrust, sending ripples down my spine.
Our movements synced, his hips moving faster each time. Bastian’s lips let out a soft moan before closing around my lobule, sucking down all the way to my neck, my jaw, my chin, and stopping right before reaching my lips.
“Kiss me,” I said, my voice soft.
His gaze darkened, and then, his lips were on mine again, a hard thrust accompanying his tongue as it explored my mouth. My blood pooled down my belly, and I gripped his hips as pleasure rolled through me. My core burned with the need for release, and his movements became frantic in response.
I let go. Pleasure engulfed, claiming all of me.
His lips left mine, a deep moan replacing the sound of our tonges. His cock twitched inside me, and warmth flooded my tights as he slipped out.
Bastian lay beside me, our breaths shallow. But the moment didn’t last long.
I sat on the mattress. He copied my moves, and we stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, almost afraid to touch each other again.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. His full lips were reddened and swollen, bearing the faint imprints of my teeth.
His well-kept hair was now a wild, dishevelled cascade of curls, each strand defying order and gravity, falling in every direction.
I had never seen Bastian looking so… perfect, as if he had been sculpted in bronze.
His gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips, his breath mingling with mine, and this time I didn’t feel any hurry to taste him.
Instead, when his lips brushed mine—not for the first time, nor the fifth, nor the tenth, but for a number of times I could no longer count—with such softness, I felt at peace.
There was nothing more. Just us, the silence, the warmth, the fuzziness at the pit of my stomach.
Sometimes, it’s the simplest moments that carry the greatest surprises. In that quiet, shared space, I felt as though I had stumbled upon a new world, and, for a heartbeat, I wished we could stay there forever.
But the weekend hadn’t yet ended, and I knew that nothing about this whole situation was calm or soft. It couldn’t be. Not yet.
Bastian pulled away, stroking my hair with his fingers.
“We should get dressed,” he whispered. “Dinner will be soon.”
I didn’t respond, but I got up, picked up my clothes from the floor, and began to dress.
Bastian never took his eyes off me.
We both stayed silent, fearful of breaking the spell. At least, until I shifted towards the door, the subtle creak of the handle giving me away.
“Wait,” he said, his voice fading away like a dandelion under the spring breeze.
He sprang from the bed, and I flinched, his presence beside me almost unexpected.
Somewhere in the flurry of moments, he had managed to pull on his pants, but his tawny, chiselled torso stayed visible, the bare skin clashing with the intensity in his eyes.
My breath came in ragged, uneven gasps.
“Before you go…”
His lips found mine again. My body seemed to have learned the rhythm of his in the past few minutes with more ease than it should have, and I had to resist the urge to pull away.
His touch was a lightning bolt, and I craved its bite, no matter how dangerous, how wrong all of this was.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine.
“Later,” I said, my voice as trembling as his, “we need to talk about this.”
This.
The fact that we worked together. That we were both keeping secrets from each other. That Enzo and Elo?se were somewhere on the other side of that door.
There was no time for this, whatever it meant.
Not before Monday, anyway. Maybe not after Monday, either.
Our bodies broke apart, the gravity of what just happened sinking in. He nodded, his gaze falling to the floor and, before I could regret it, I opened the door and left the room.