6. CHAPTER 5 #2
We bought oranges, apples, cherries that reminded me of summer markets with my grandmother, when my brothers and I were younger. My mother disliked the idea of us parading the summer markets. It’s no place for heirs and heiress, she’d say.
Yves and I had planned to eat the fruits later, but by the time we reached the hotel entrance, I’d given them all away to a group of children playing near the steps. They accepted it with delighted little smiles, and that briefly lightened the weight sitting on my heart.
Yves didn’t ask why I gave the fruits away. He just watched me, smiling in the way he sometimes did that made me feel seen and misunderstood at the same time.
The small hotel was more like a rental house. It was small and white, with a view of the water and not much else. A simple bed, a tiny kitchen, a balcony that looked out over rocks and sea.
I loved it immediately. I hated that I loved it. If only these little precious moments weren’t part of a grand illusion I’ve created for myself.
Yves said it was temporary as he dropped the bags inside the door with a sigh of victory.
Tomorrow we’ll be on the move again to a different destination. I wasn’t sure where next, but I was going to see his plan through with him till the very end. I was going to give him that at least. I was going to allow myself to enjoy this… for now.
“We did it. Round one: us.” He said proudly.
I smiled, but my chest ached at him—again, believing that this was a game. Scorekeeping against an opponent he didn’t understand.
I stepped onto the balcony, trying to breathe past the tightness in my chest.
The wind smelled of salt and a speck of possibility. The horizon looked far enough away that, if I squinted, I could pretend there was a world out there where my name didn’t matter.
Tucked between my sketchpad and a folded sweater was the burner Yves had given me on the train. My real phone has been off since I left home and I couldn’t help but think of Isolde and Céleste. They would worry about me.
I could call them to put their minds at ease.
If I called, they’d tell me I was being rash and brave and stupid in equal measure. On second thought, calling them would mean dragging them into this mess with me. I didn’t want anyone else involved.
Yves came to stand beside me, his gaze on my face.
“Who are you thinking of?” he asked.
“Isolde. Céleste.” I pressed my lips together. “They’ll be worried.”
He frowned. “You can’t tell them where we are.”
“I know that.”
“They’ll slip,” he warned. “Not on purpose. But they’ll tell someone something, and that someone will tell someone else. That’s how your world works, isn’t it?”
He was correct about the way our world worked. No one could keep a secret. But I trusted Isolde and Céleste to keep mine.
“Okay,” I yielded. “No calls.”
He exhaled, relieved, like he’d just won an argument we weren’t having.
Hours later, after we’d unpacked badly and bought groceries from a tiny market where no one looked twice at us, we ate dinner sitting on the bed. Cheap pasta, crusty bread, and wine from a bottle with a label I didn't recognize that somehow tasted decent.
Yves watched me over his thick-rimmed glass. We'd found a pair in one of the kitchen cupboards, tucked behind a stack of mismatched plates.
“You’re somewhere else,” he said.
“I’m here.”
“Part of you is,” he added. “The rest is in Paris.”
True. Even though I was trying really hard to keep all of me here.
“The rest is waiting,” I told him.
“For what?”
“For the consequences.”
Even as we seemed relaxed here, I was tense with the knowledge that this might be the last time I’ll ever do anything without permission.
He winced. “Can you not talk about your father like he’s a storm system or a reckoning waiting to happen?”
“That’s what he is,” I said. “You just haven’t seen him at full strength.”
And it was nothing compared to the Kades’.
Yves set his wine down and reached for my hand.
“Hey,” his voice gentled. “Listen to me.”
I did.
“I love you,” he reassured me. “Whatever happens, whatever they do—they can’t take that from us. Not unless you let them.”
His eyes showed how much he meant every word. He was right. I knew the dangers before I agreed to run with Yves. There was no place for fear here, just love.
I smiled, small and tired. “I know.”
He leaned in and took my lips in a slow kiss. There was something careful about it, like he was asking instead of claiming. It felt nice.
My mind wandered forward—past my family, past the Kades. Toward the version of this story where I lived for myself. Making love in this tiny borrowed room and shedding my old life along with my clothes.
A single decision. One choice that was entirely mine. Setting aside the marriage contract and the blind loyalty to the stiff dynasty I was born into. Just my body, my will, and this man who looked at me like I was a person instead of a transaction.
We lay back on the bed. His hands moved up my thighs carefully, and almost painfully patient, turning the air heavier between us.
He kept pausing to check my face, probably to make sure I wanted this.
Since we started dating four months ago, we haven’t had sex. We’d attempted a few times, after I had told him I was still a virgin, but for some reason, it never happened.
We’d only stop at oral like it was a line we couldn’t cross.
Giving it away tonight would be my choice. The last piece of myself that didn’t belong to the Fernández family vault.
But why was I still hesitating?“
Are you okay?” he whispered. “Tell me if you’re not okay.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
I was nervous and split in the middle—torn between the thought of having sex, and the conflict raging inside me. One half of me wanted to fall into this and drown there, while the other half counted down the hours until black SUVs pulled up outside the building surrounded by my father’s men.
What twenty-five-year-old is nervous about having sex? Come on, Léonie.
I cupped his face and kissed him harder. Half in a bid to convince myself that I could do this.
After a while, he pulled back, breathing heavily.
“We don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he swallowed. “At least not like this. I want it to mean more than just running away.”
The relief I felt was sudden enough to make my head spin.
“Okay,” I breathed. “Not yet.”
He hovered close, his smile touching my lips. “We have time…lots of it”
No, we don’t, I thought, but I let him believe it.
I pressed my body into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and the distant hush of the sea waves. Fantasy was easier in the dark.
He held me tight, whispering future plans for us. Beautiful things I could only dream about but never have. A sadness washed over me as I listened, and I held him tighter.
This was the only place I could feel ordinary, so I let myself pretend we existed in a pocket of time my family couldn’t penetrate.
For a few hours, I let myself believe this was a choice, not a delay.
My mind spiraled around my rules, my carefully built boundaries, my long list of red flags. No thoughts of the unhinged madness my brothers are, or what they’ll do once they find us.
I just stayed in this moment. Because this… running away, this ridiculous, short-lived rebellion with Yves… it wasn’t a solution. It was a pause. An inhaled breath before the world came crashing back down to pieces. It was only a matter of time.
As I drifted off, my thoughts fought me. They’ll find me.
And when they did, Yves’ promises, his plans, my rules, this temporary freedom…none of it would matter.