Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I went to the bar to get another glass of wine while Luca chatted with people he knew.
Bastien appeared beside me. “I’ve known Luca awhile now, and I’ve never seen him like this.” He turned to the bartender and ordered his drink. “Scotch on the rocks. Make sure it’s not a double. Wife wants me to cut back.” He turned back and looked at me like he’d just asked me a question.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Fucking happy.”
“You just saw us have a fight.”
“Come on, that wasn’t a fight. More like a misunderstanding.” He turned to the bartender and watched her continue to make the drink. “And I see the way you look at him.” He turned back to me and waggled his eyebrows. “I mean, he’s one fine piece of man, right?”
I burst out laughing because it was the last thing I expected someone like Bastien, a six-foot-something beast covered in tattoos, to say.
“Come on, you know I’m all in with my wife, but I appreciate a good-looking man.”
“Yes, he’s very good-looking. Actually, good-looking is an understatement.”
The bartender handed him his drink.
He left a hundred-euro bill on the table as a tip.
“Why does Fleur want you to cut back?”
“Because she wants me to live,” he said before he took a drink. “All those years of not giving a fuck really caught up to me.” The bartender handed me my glass of wine, and then Bastien left the counter. “Come with me.”
I followed him a few steps away, into a room full of large round tables with a stage erected at the front of the space. There were statues and paintings everywhere. History surrounding the modern-day French aristocracy.
“Between us, is this the real deal for you?” He confronted me head on and bluntly asked the question.
“Um…”
He continued to stare me down, inherently threatening even when he didn’t mean to be.
“Confide in me like a goddamn priest,” he said. “I don’t share secrets.”
“I think Luca knows how I feel about him.”
“Unless you outright tell him, don’t make assumptions.”
I’d told him I was falling so damn hard, and he smiled…and that smile was permanently etched into my mind. One of the happiest memories I’d ever had. “Why are you asking?”
“He’s a grown man who can take care of himself. But he’s my boy, you know? Just want to make sure that whatever he feels is reciprocated. Because if it’s not, I’d ask you to cut him loose.”
I chuckled. “As if it’s not reciprocated…”
His eyes narrowed.
“You promise you won’t tell him?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “You don’t know me very well, but believe me when I say this. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. Whatever you tell me will join me in the grave and rot for all eternity with my bones.”
“Not even Fleur?”
He shook his head. “My business is her business, but this is not my business.”
Maybe I was a complete idiot for believing Bastien, but he seemed like a man of his word. “I’ve been trying to keep it together since the beginning, and it’s so fucking hard. Because he’s just too good to be true, and I keep waiting for something to happen. For him to get tired of me…for him to meet someone else on his nightly prowls…for him to wake up and realize there are better fish in the sea. So, my heart is locked up tight, but those bars are bending and snapping, and I don’t have much restraint left.” When I’d told him I was falling for him, I’d almost said something else. “I haven’t had a home or a family in a long time, and he feels like both of those things.”
Bastien continued to stare at me like he really soaked all that in. For a man who policed the criminal underworld, it was like he had the depth to understand such a wordy answer. Then he gave a slow nod. “That’s beautiful. I hope you tell him that one day.” He took a drink from his glass then noticed someone in the crowd who grabbed his attention. “Late as always.”
“You’re lucky I’m here at all, asshole.”
I turned to look at a tall man with a woman on his arm. Dirty-blond hair and light-colored eyes. The details of his body were hidden underneath his tuxedo, but the definition of muscle was distinct. It took a second for the realization to come to me because it started off as dread in my stomach first.
And then it hit me.
Carvel moved to Bastien, and they greeted each other with that one-hand-grip maneuver. Then Carvel turned to look at me, the smile still on his face.
Please don’t remember. Please don’t remember. Please don’t remember.
His smile slowly fell. Deeper and deeper. Until he looked like a ghost.
Shit.
Bastien took a drink from his glass as he glanced back and forth between us. “This is the famous Aliénor.”