The Butcher (Fifth Republic Series Book 1)

Bastien didn’t text me.

He said I would see him tomorrow, but tomorrow was today, and there was no sign of him. I didn’t text him because I didn’t want to smother him with my neediness. It was a casual relationship and he didn’t owe me anything, but his silence made me wonder if his flame for me had been extinguished. He said his longest fling was a week, and we’d been going at it for a month now. So I assumed that he would pull the plug any day, that he would get tired of me when he found my replacement on his midnight adventures.

I didn’t want it to end, not yet, but holding on to him tighter would just push him away quicker.

So I didn’t text him.

I was alone in my apartment with the TV on, the darkness pressing against the windows while it rained. An ambulance drove by, and the sound reverberated against the buildings as it passed and then faded as it crossed the bridge. The divorce papers were on the dining table because I would submit the paperwork tomorrow.

I didn’t have a shift at the bar tonight, but I wished I did just to stay busy. I knew I needed to find a job better than that one, something that paid enough for me to start a new life. I grabbed my laptop and searched job listings in the hope I would find something that paid well and that I was remotely qualified for.

But it was slim pickings.

Bastien texted me. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

I was relieved and disappointed by that message. When I asked for space, he gave it to me without an interrogation, so I did the same for him. Most guys would have just left me hanging, and then if I asked about his silence later, he would have called me clingy or annoying. But Bastien didn’t do that. He was different. He treated me like I was important even though I was someone whose name he would forget in a couple months. If he settled down someday, whoever he gave his heart to would be the luckiest woman in the world. You know where to find me.

I went to the courthouse the next day and submitted the finalized paperwork. Once it was processed, the divorce proceedings would move to a hearing. Adrien had earned most of his wealth while he was married to me, so we had to settle all the communal property, from the house in Paris to the one we owned in the Loire Valley.

But I didn’t want any of it.

After that, I went on a few job interviews I’d set up, but I could tell by their reception of me that I had no chance of getting the positions. One was for a clerk at the courthouse, another was for an assistant at an art house, and another was an office job for an investment company.

By the time I made it back home, it was evening and time for dinner, but I had no food in the apartment. I decided to head downstairs to Poppy Café to order some fondue fries and have a smoke, sitting alone while groups of friends met up together after a day at the office, having a drink and a smoke before heading home to their apartments.

Bastien texted me. I’m in the neighborhood.

My heart did a little dance inside my chest, and that gave me a jolt of fear. When did my happiness become so dependent on this man? When did I become so attached? I should be heartbroken over Adrien, and despite what he did, I should still miss him. But now, all my thoughts were occupied by the man who’d picked me up in a bar. I’m having a smoke at Poppy Café.

Sounds like you had a rough day.

You could say that…

See you in a sec, sweetheart.

The black SUV appeared a moment later, and the behemoth of a man appeared. In a long-sleeved black shirt and dark jeans with boots, he approached my table on the patio, drawing attention from the other women seated nearby and the pedestrians who walked down the cobblestone street toward the mall. He did something he’d never done before—and leaned down and kissed me.

I saw cold stars and felt hot flames on my lips. A surge of affection that started in my core made it to my throat and my heart. The attachment I feared had just increased tenfold.

He took the seat across from me and pulled out a cigar before he lit up. Nonchalant, he got the attention of the waitress and ordered one of his stiff drinks, oblivious to the mark he’d left on my mouth—and my heart.

He took a drink before he took a puff of his cigar. The smoke rested on his tongue for a long time before he released it through his mouth, creating a big cloud of smoke around us. He crossed his arms over his chest, the cigar resting between his fingertips, and he stared at me for a solid five seconds.

I knew he wanted to know about my day but didn’t want to pry. “I submitted the paperwork—for the last time, I hope.”

“It will be.”

“I guess it feels different this time because I know it’ll go through.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I’m happy to be free of Adrien, but it’s the first time I’ve truly realized that I’m getting divorced. I’m going to court and everything. Going to take back my maiden name. I was so busy being angry that I forgot what would come afterward.”

He watched me for a while, his arms still crossed over his chest. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared. I just… It’s hard to start over.” I’d lost most of my friends. I loved his parents, but now they would never speak to me again, even though I was the victim in the marriage. I loved his entire family, felt like they were my family, and now I would never see them again. It fucking sucked.

“It’s okay to be scared, sweetheart. You can’t be brave if you aren’t scared—and you are brave.”

All the pain I felt was replaced by warmth, warmth that he put there. “How do you do that?”

“What?” He cocked his head slightly.

“You always know what to say.”

He gave a slight shrug. “I don’t bullshit, so you know I mean everything I say.”

“Maybe…” Maybe it was because I could trust him. He was the only person in my life I had to trust.

He took another puff of his cigar before he kept it in his mouth, let the taste absorb into his tongue. He let the smoke out from the crack between his lips.

I finished my cigarette and put it out, knowing I needed to stop the habit again. It’d gotten worse over the last few weeks. When I thought Bastien was trying to shake me, it got worse, going from one cigarette a day to at least five. “I had a couple job interviews. I didn’t get any of them.”

“They answered you that quickly?”

“No, but I could tell they weren’t interested. I wasn’t qualified for most of the jobs, so I’m not sure why they interviewed me in the first place.”

“What kind of work are you looking for?”

I shrugged. “Anything with decent pay, really. I’m tired of working nights too. Hard to believe, but I used to be a morning person before I started at Silencio.”

“Are you decent with computers? Spreadsheets, Excel, shit like that?”

“I suppose.” I owned a laptop, but I didn’t use it much. Had never worked in an office before. “I’m a fast learner, whatever is thrown at me.”

“I can get you a position at one of my investment firms. One of my finance guys needs an executive assistant—and he’s gay.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He smirked. “You think I’m gonna let my girl work for some asshole, wearing a tight pencil skirt all day? That ass is mine.” He took another puff of his cigar, and when he spoke, the smoke billowed out of his mouth. “It’s yours if you want it.”

“Your girl?” I asked without thinking, surprised that he’d said that.

He rested the cigar between his relaxed fingertips, lounging in the chair like he wasn’t the least bit stressed about the label he’d used so effortlessly. “I said what I said.” With confidence in his stare, he looked at me like he didn’t care how I felt about that. He didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of him, and that included me. “So?”

His words made my heart race in excitement, made my palms warm despite the cold night air. But it also made the fear worse, because the last thing I wanted was to be in the same position as the one I’d just left. “That’s really sweet of you to do that, but it wouldn’t be right.”

“How so?”

“I would be taking the job from someone actually qualified for it.”

“Let me give you a life lesson, sweetheart. When someone opens a door, you just walk through it. Don’t wait for it to close because it might be locked the next time you try to open it. Life is fucking hard, and you should use every advantage you have at your disposal. The advantage you have right now is me. Use me.”

Every moment I spent with him made me more attracted to him. The words he spoke, the confidence he showed, the straightforward, no-bullshit way he handled his life and everyone in it. The pull between us grew in intensity and had the strength of a black hole, sucking me further into his soul. I’d loved Adrien with all my heart and wanted to spend my life with him, but I’d never felt for him the way I felt for Bastien, a man I still considered a stranger in a lot of ways. I didn’t know how to process these feelings. I didn’t know if I should see it through or pull the plug while I still had the strength.

“I’ll tell him you’ll be there on Monday.” He tapped his cigar into the ashtray and let the ashes sprinkle the bowl before he took another puff, his jawline sharpening when he pulled the smoke into his mouth.

I was desperate for a job, desperate to be out of that bar where all the sleazebags hit on me all night long. I wanted to be in bed at a reasonable hour, not at four a.m., not unless I was with Bastien. “Thank you.”

He enjoyed his cigar in silence, looking at me across the table with his arms crossed.

“So…how have you been?” I knew he’d had a rough few days, judging by his clipped tone over text. He was usually playful whenever we spoke, and when he wasn’t, I knew something else was on his mind.

“Bunch of bullshit at work.”

I didn’t ask for specifics. If he wanted to share, he could.

“Some of my dealers continue to use trafficked women as free labor. I took down one of them, but he refused to roll on his supplier.”

“Roll?”

“Snitch,” he explained. “The guy has two teenage daughters too. How fucking sick is that?”

“What did you do?”

“He broke the law, so I had to execute him.”

“Even though he has a family?”

“I don’t give a shit if you have a family or not,” he snapped. “You want to deal in my city, then you follow the rules. That fucking simple.” He put out the cigar then grabbed the drink instead.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“If you don’t want to offend me, then don’t judge me.” Now his eyes were ruthless, and for the first time, they were ruthless for me.

“I wasn’t judging you,” I said calmly. “I’m sorry if I made it seem that way.”

His eyes flicked away and he took a breath, an attempt to calm himself. “I have to maintain order. If I let a family man live, then I have to let another man live. Then I’ll lose respect and authority, then the Republic will fall, the old order will return, and Godric will rule this city. Trust me, no one wants that—even if you aren’t in the game.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I was afraid if I said anything else, I would provoke him again. “I missed you these last few days—and the last thing I want to do is upset you. So please forget I said anything.” I didn’t like his angry side. I loved his intense and playful side, the way he smiled when I complimented him, the way he smothered me in his affection even when he didn’t touch me.

Slowly, his anger passed like a storm cloud moving over the sky. Light came back into his eyes like the rising sun. He raised his hand slightly and gestured for the check. “My place or yours?”

“Yours.” My apartment was small, the walls were slanted and restrictive for a man his height, and it was messy and cold. I loved his home, loved the soft sheets on his bed, his enormous bathroom with an expansive vanity, the view of the Eiffel Tower from the window of the terrace. I loved the large fireplace in the sitting room, the way it warmed my naked body when we fucked on the couch.

When the tab came, he slipped a wad of cash inside, way too much for the drinks and fries we’d ordered, and then he pulled out his phone and fired off a message to his driver. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

When we walked into his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a rock-hard chest and stomach covered in black ink. His shoulders were like mountains, and his biceps looked like grenades.

He came at me with that look that could kill before he pulled my sweater over my head and unclasped my bra. He lifted me into him so he could smother me in kisses, kissing my shoulder then my collarbone, kissing the hollow of my throat then my chest. He carried me to the edge of the bed and dropped me on it before he moved for my boots and jeans, tugging everything off, taking my thong with the jeans.

He grabbed my ankles and placed my feet against his chest before he dropped his jeans and boxers, letting them fall to his knees before he grabbed my hips and tugged my ass to the edge. He moved in a rush, like it was the first time he had me, the first time he got to bury himself inside me and release. He folded my knees against my waist then pushed inside with a satisfied sigh. “Fuck, I missed this pussy.” He grabbed one of my tits and squeezed hard as he started to thrust inside me, my ass over the edge, giving me his full length like he wanted it to hurt.

I reached out my hands for his hips, and I tried to grip them to pull myself back into him. It’d been days of separation but it felt like weeks, and having him inside me felt so damn good, no matter how much it hurt. It was like a glass of cool water on a hot day. A warm meal on a winter night. Exactly what my body needed to feel good.

His hand left my tit and went for my throat. He squeezed it as he fucked me, one hand still pinned underneath my thigh, folding me like a pretzel because I was flexible enough to bend the way he wanted.

Once he started, he didn’t let up, like he wanted to fuck me into a fast climax because he was eager to come. His handsome face tinted red, and the cords started to pop in his neck and his forearm. “Play with yourself.”

My nails continued to dig into his hips as I held on, his dick even fuller at this direct angle, filling me up completely. Watching him work and thrust to fuck me was enough to make me come, and I was already at the threshold.

“Show me.” He squeezed my throat.

My fingers went to my clit, and I started to play with myself, rubbing in a circular motion, applying the pressure that I liked. I tried to gasp, but he tightened his grip and my words disappeared into the void.

Less than a minute later, I finished, bucking against my fingers, his big dick ballooning inside me even more as he watched me reach the clouds.

He grabbed on to my hips and tugged me hard against him, giving me all his length as he came, as he released deep inside me and made one of his biggest deposits. He gave the sexiest moan when he finished, his eyes locked on me possessively. “Turn over.”

Lost in the haze of the lingering climax, I didn’t understand what he said.

“I said, turn over.” He pulled out and started to roll me over, getting me on my hands and knees. He grabbed my hips and tugged me to the edge of the bed again before he shoved himself inside me once more, just as hard as he’d been a minute ago. He fisted my hair and tugged me back like I was a horse, and he fucked me relentlessly. Then his palm struck my ass with a hard smack.

I cried out then moaned, hating the pain but loving the pleasure that followed.

He spanked me again, harder this time.

I cried out louder, feeling the sting of his palm against my flesh, feeling how hot and red the skin turned.

“Want me to stop, sweetheart?” His palm turned gentle, his fingers kneading my ass as he continued to fuck me.

“No.”

His fingers grazed over the flesh gently before he gave me another squeeze. Then he spanked me again, harder than before. “I didn’t think so.”

I woke up in the middle of the night to pee.

That was when I realized he wasn’t there. The sheets were cool, like he’d been gone awhile, like he hadn’t left for a moment to use the bathroom. I blinked a couple times to discern the darkness in the bedroom before I left the bed. I’d fallen asleep without any clothing, so I helped myself to a t-shirt from one of his drawers. My fingers grazed something cool, and that’s when I realized there was a pistol there. I stilled before I gently removed the shirt without touching the gun and pulled it over my head, the soft cotton immediately swallowing me whole like a blanket. I went into his big bathroom with the golden sinks and the dark wallpaper and did my business in the dim light. When I left, I looked through the crack in the door that led to the sitting room and found him sitting at his desk, the fire burning in the hearth and basking him in a gentle glow, his eyes out the window on the Eiffel Tower and the rest of the city.

I watched him for a while, seeing the heaviness in his eyes, the weight of his troubles.

He brought a cigar to his lips and took a drag as he continued to stare out the window. After a pause of several seconds, he released the smoke from his mouth, creating a cloud that hung in the room before it floated elsewhere.

I opened the door wider and stepped into the room.

His eyes immediately flicked to me like he didn’t realize I was awake. He immediately ground the tip of the cigar in the black ashtray on his desk to put it out. His striking blue eyes looked into mine with that usual calm confidence, a man who was always composed, regardless of what transpired underneath. “A little early for pancakes…”

The shirt was so big that one side of it slid off my body and exposed my shoulder. It almost hit my knees, fitting like a dress rather than a shirt. “It’s never too early for pancakes.” I gave him a slight smile before I approached his desk, my arms across my stomach because there was a cold draft in the room from where he cracked the balcony door to let the smoke out.

He left his chair and wordlessly shut the door, stopping the cold air from entering the room. He didn’t move behind the desk again but instead came straight to me, circling his arm around the small of my back and pulling me into him hard before he brushed a kiss over the corner of my mouth. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” He was warm to the touch, hot like the fire that burned in the hearth, bare-chested and covered in his black ink. His black sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he was barefoot.

“What about you?” I asked quietly.

“Not tired.” He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his large chest, his eyes showing the fatigue he claimed not to have.

“Something is bothering you.” As far as I knew, he was always beside me all throughout the night, whether he was awake or not. But something troubled him enough to get out of bed and stay there.

His blue eyes were locked on mine with that quiet confidence. “I knew what I signed up for when I took this job. It is what it is.”

“I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“That’ll be the easy part.” His eyes shifted past me, back out the window with the Eiffel Tower brilliant in the dark.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

He was quiet for a long time, letting the silence pass for so long it seemed like he might not say anything at all. “My job isn’t usually complicated, but in this case, it is.”

“Why?”

He gave a slight shake of his head before he looked at me again. “These are my problems, not yours.”

“I care about your problems the way you care about mine.” A cheating husband and an impending divorce were probably inconsequential compared to the stuff he had to take on, but he still seemed invested in my well-being—and I was invested in his.

He dismissed what I said with his silence. “Are you busy next Saturday night?”

“I think I have a shift at the bar.”

“You have a new job, remember?”

“Oh yeah… But I still need to put in my two-week notice⁠—”

“You don’t owe them shit. They’ll get another pretty girl to take your spot in a day.”

I still felt bad about taking the handout, but it wasn’t like I was taking cash straight out of his wallet. I needed to move on and rebuild the life that had been taken from me. “Why are you asking?”

He reached for a card on his desk, a champagne-pink invitation with gold writing. “I’ve got this gala at Luxembourg Palace. I’d like you to come with me.” He tossed it back on the desk.

“Do you normally bring a date to these things?” He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to attend parties in the first place, a man who lurked in the shadows with a gun tucked into his jacket.

“No.”

“It doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“If you don’t normally bring a date, then why are you asking me?”

“Because I want you to come with me.” He cocked his head slightly as he looked at me. “Is that a problem?”

I stilled at the power in his stare, the way he made me freeze with those blue eyes. “No.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Is this a black-tie type of thing?” I had been broke since the moment I’d moved out. The money I earned went to rent and food. I spent everything I made, and it wasn’t unusual for me to have twenty euros in my account until my next check came in. Thankfully, Bastien offered to pay for everything when we were together because I couldn’t even afford a drink most of the time. But a fancy party like this required a gown and diamonds and designer heels—all of which I didn’t have.

“Yes.”

I gave a slow nod, unsure how to handle this. “I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think I can make it⁠—”

“Cut the shit and be straight with me. I’m inviting you to a party, and you’re acting like I’ve got a gun to your head. Do I bullshit with you?”

Stuck in the headlights of his stare, I just stood there.

“Answer the question.”

“No.”

“Then don’t bullshit with me.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he managed to be absolutely terrifying anyway.

“I don’t want to make it awkward, but…I just can’t afford that right now.”

His eyes narrowed like he didn’t understand.

“I can’t buy a dress or heels right now. I know how these parties are, and I don’t have the means. I have stuff back at the house, but if I try to get it before the divorce, Adrien will be vindictive and stop me because he’ll know I’ll be using the stuff with you. And the last thing I want is for you to buy me anything⁠—”

“I’m your man. I’ll buy you whatever the fuck I want.”

A flush entered my cheeks, warmth and terror mixing together to form a cyclone in my heart. Never in my life had I been so scared of a single man, scared of the power that burned right at his fingertips. “That’s the second time you’ve said something like that.”

“Like what?”

“That this is more than casual.”

His blue eyes were locked on my face with a hint of viciousness. It was just a stare, but it was threatening, like he was sizing up an opponent rather than looking at the woman he was bedding.

My voice trembled from that ferocious stare. “Look…I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I moved out of my husband’s house two months ago. I’m not even divorced yet. I’m in no place to be anything more than…casual.”

He continued his ruthless stare, not blinking once since this topic had been broached. His arms remained crossed over his hard chest, the biceps of his arms enormous bulges under his dark ink. He didn’t say a word, but his silence was loud enough to be present in the conversation.

“I just…want to make that clear.” From the first time I’d seen Bastien, it’d been a whirlwind of passionate nights and heated kisses and ass-grabs. It was exactly what I needed right now, but I didn’t want anything more, not when my heart was still broken, not when I couldn’t imagine giving my heart to another man after what Adrien had done to me.

His head remained cocked and his eyes intense.

I waited for him to say something, and I swallowed the tension down my throat.

He continued to look at me, his thoughts a mystery, his reaction restrained. “Okay.”

“I can’t see myself in a relationship for a very long time.”

“Okay.”

Something about the way he spoke made it seem like his words were hollow, like they were meaningless. “What does that mean?”

“I said okay.”

“But the way you’re saying it… It’s like you’re dismissing me.”

He continued his hard stare.

“You mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to mislead you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re doing it again. It’s like you don’t believe me⁠—”

“He hurt you. I get it,” he said. “You need time.”

He seemed to accept what I said, said what I wanted to hear, but there was something to his tone, to his stare, that made me feel otherwise. Like my words made no difference whatsoever.

He pushed off the desk and walked around it to open one of the drawers. He grabbed a wad of cash rolled up in a rubber band and set it at the edge of the desk. “Buy whatever you need.”

The top denomination was a five-hundred-euro bill and there had to be at least twenty bills in the roll, so it must have been about ten thousand euros—just sitting in one of the drawers in his desk. Not even locked up in a safe. “I can’t take your money.”

He stared me down, a slight look of annoyance in his gaze. “You can take the money and save me a shopping trip—or you can be stubborn and waste my time.”

My eyes shifted away when I couldn’t handle that stare.

He took the wad of cash off the table and walked over to where my purse sat on the armchair. He dropped the money inside then headed back to the bedroom, a muscular behemoth who made the floorboards creak under his weight. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

When I woke up the next morning, he was already out of bed.

I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was noon.

I left the bed, used the restroom, and then found him in the sitting room, already dressed for the day like he’d completed his workout and showered while I slept like a baby. He was in an olive-green long-sleeved shirt and black jeans and boots—fucking delicious as usual.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He sat at the dining table, drinking a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. He patted his thigh for me to take a seat.

I smiled then dropped onto his lap, circling my arm around his neck before I kissed him. My shirt rose up my thighs, and his fingers grazed over the bare skin that was exposed. “Morning.”

“Hungry?”

“Assume I’m always hungry until told otherwise.”

He smirked, the morning light making his blue eyes shine. “I want to show you my favorite spot.”

“I find it hard to believe there are better pancakes out there.”

“You’ll have to be the judge of that.”

I got dressed and did what I could with my hair. My makeup had turned into a mess, so I washed it off and chose to have a clean face instead. I wondered if I should pack a bag whenever I came over here, but that felt too serious when I’d just told him I only wanted casual. Dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday, his driver took us to the restaurant in the 10th arrondissement and pulled up to the curb.

I read the sign out front. “Holybelly. I think I’ve heard of this place.”

“It’s an American breakfast joint.” He got out first and held the door open for me. “The French do everything better—eat, drink, fuck—except breakfast. The Americans take the gold for that.” He led the way, entered the restaurant first, and grabbed us a booth.

The place was packed with people. Not a single table was empty. I sat across from him, a bit self-conscious that I didn’t have any makeup on. It was different when it was just the two of us in bed or at his dining table. But in public, I felt like a slob. At least I’d brushed my teeth with his toothbrush. When he saw me do it, he just smirked and continued whatever he was doing.

He seemed to notice my mood because he asked, “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” I grabbed the menu and looked at the options. They had a sweet stack, pancakes topped with fruit and their homemade whipped cream, and they had a savory stack, pancakes topped with fried eggs and bacon. Everything looked good.

“Sweetheart.” He didn’t raise his voice, just changed his tone.

My eyes flicked up to his, seeing his hard stare. “I feel a little weird without makeup on…” I always wore makeup when I left the house unless I was depressed. When Adrien and I first separated, I didn’t have the drive to put any effort into my appearance.

“Why?” He cocked his head slightly.

“I just…look better when it’s on.”

“I’d fuck you either way.” He sat forward, his elbows on the table as if he didn’t need to look at the menu. He gave me that same intense stare that he did from the other side of the bar, eye-fucking me right on the spot.

The waiter came over and took our drink order. I got a coffee and Bastien did too.

We were left alone again, the tension still there even though the conversation had died away.

“Is this where you usually bring your girls?”

“My girls?” he asked.

“You know, the girls who stay until the next morning.”

He smirked like I’d told a joke rather than asked a serious question. “No. I come here with the boys.”

“You come to brunch…with a bunch of guys.”

“Why is that hard to believe?”

“Brunch is a girl thing, isn’t it?”

“Good food is good food. We usually meet up once a week, on Sundays. Talk shop.”

“That’s pretty cute.”

“Cute?” he asked.

“A bunch of guys meeting up on Sundays for pancakes. Pretty cute.”

He smirked again, his stare lingering on my face. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“What kind of ideas could I get?”

“I don’t do threesomes with men.”

“That’s not at all the idea I had,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m not interested in threesomes either, especially when I have you.”

His smile faded, and he gave me that hard look that had become his signature stare.

The waiter returned to our table to take our order, his long, curly hair pulled back in a bun.

“I’ll do the savory stack,” Bastien said. “She’ll take the sweet stack with a side of eggs and the baked beans.”

“You got it, Bastien.” The guy took the menus and walked off.

“Did you just order for me?” I asked.

“Trust me, sweetheart.” He took a drink from his coffee, his elbows on the table, the sunlight coming through the window behind me and striking his handsome face. Then he returned to his favorite pastime and stared at me like I wasn’t a person, but a painting on the wall.

I watched the people in the restaurant for a while, and when I looked back at him, his stare was still on my face. He was comfortable in the silence, content just sitting there with me like we’d known each other forever rather than the blink of an eye. “What’s the gala for?”

“Networking.”

“Doesn’t the Senate see each other all the time?”

“Not necessarily. President Martin will be there as well.”

“As in, the president of France?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?”

“Oh, I definitely know him.”

I didn’t get starstruck and I didn’t think of the president as a celebrity, but I had no idea what I would say to him if I met him. Didn’t follow politics. Barely understood the parameters of the Senate. I was too busy with my own shit to care about law and legislature. “I’m surprised they want to socialize with you publicly.”

“You know what they say…hide in plain sight. You could look corruption in the eye and have no idea it’s corruption’s gaze you meet. The public interacts with my world on a daily basis, but they’re none the wiser.”

“That’s a scary thought.”

“It’s our job to govern our citizens. It’s also our job to protect them. I like to think we do both—and make something for ourselves in the process. Instead of spending tax dollars sending the police after criminals they can’t possibly arrest, it makes more sense to profit from it. And those tax dollars go back to the citizens.”

“Well, some of it does.”

A slow smirk moved over his lips. “Yes. Some.”

“Do you pay taxes?”

“Not from the tariffs I collect. But I pay taxes on the revenue earned from my businesses, like the investment company.”

“How many businesses do you own?”

“Many.”

I understood his wealth and his power, but I didn’t understand how someone so young could have accomplished so much. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.” He didn’t ask the question in return, either because he already knew or because he didn’t care.

“That’s a lot to accomplish in thirty-three years.”

“Well, I’ve been in the game for a long time.”

“Ten years?” I asked. “That’s still not that long.” If he’d started in his early twenties, he was probably too young and immature to seem like a real threat to other men.

“It’s been more than ten years,” he said quietly. “It’s been my whole life.”

There was so much packed in those words, an epic tale I would probably never hear.

“Authoritarianism, rulership, power…it all runs in my veins.” His eyes flicked past me to the door, and that hard expression slowly softened like he recognized someone who just walked inside. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Two guys approached our table, both looking at Bastien like they knew exactly who he was. “You come here without us now?” The guy was tall with dark hair, fit and muscular like Bastien and just as arrogant. “I see how it is.”

“I don’t remember getting an invitation from you,” Bastien fired back.

“We were in the neighborhood,” the other one said, a tanned guy with jet-black hair. “And we were hungry.”

The first one looked at me, and after a long stare, he looked at Bastien—full of accusation.

“Luca, this is Fleur.” He nodded toward me.

Luca gave me a nod. “I’ve heard nothing but good things. Very good things…”

Bastien ignored him and introduced the other guy. “Gabriel.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I said, a little intimidated by these two equally strong and attractive men.

“Since you’ve got a booth, and we aren’t waiting fifteen minutes for a table—” Luca moved to my side of the booth to take a seat “—we’ll join you.”

Bastien snapped his fingers. “Get your ass up. You aren’t sitting next to my girl.”

He did it again—called me his girl.

Luca raised both hands in a form of surrender and left the booth.

Bastien took his place, sliding into the spot next to me and dropping his arm over the back of the booth on top of my shoulders.

The two guys slid into the leather seat across from us.

There was an awkward pause, both of them looking at me like they’d never seen a woman before.

I grabbed my coffee and took a drink.

Bastien broke the tension. “How’d it go last night?”

“Squealed like a pig,” Luca said. “Like they all do.”

“Hector Turner is the one who closed down the port,” Gabriel said. “People are saying he lost his mind because someone murdered his daughter, and he refused to let business resume until they found the killer. He wanted to put a target on the killer’s back, but he just put the target on himself.”

I had no idea what they were talking about, but they spoke freely in front of me, like I would never talk or I was deemed trustworthy.

“Heard about Peter,” Luca said. “His family put the house on the market and fled for Albania.”

“Good,” Bastien said. “They aren’t welcome in my city.”

“Martin is gonna snap,” Luca said. “I hear his collar is getting tighter by the day.”

“This city ain’t that big,” Gabriel said. “Especially for someone as big as Godric. He’s gotta be somewhere⁠—”

“Then why don’t you find him?” Bastien snapped.

A heavy tension fell across the table. Both men stared at him but said nothing.

The waiter returned when he noticed the guests and took their orders. It did nothing to break the tension at all. Even when he returned with the coffees, the discomfort was taut like a tight rope.

“Look,” Luca said gently. “You didn’t hear this from me…”

Gabriel released a sigh, as if Luca had just lit a firework.

“But some think you can’t find Godric because…you don’t want to.”

Bastien released a laugh, but it wasn’t a cute, playful laugh. It was dark and threatening, clipped and angry. “Like I would ever protect someone I hate so venomously.”

“They say blood is thicker than water,” Luca said.

“Put some red dye in water, and it looks the fucking same,” Bastien said. “You can tell whatever asshole company you keep that I’m not protecting him. And you better not tell me who said that, because I’ll fucking kill them.”

I knew it wasn’t an idle threat, not the way normal people teased each other with that phrase. This was completely real.

Luca stared at him for a moment. “President Martin.”

The table fell into another bout of silence, but this one was heavier than all the others. A standoff happened between Bastien and Luca, both of them staring at each other and having a silent conversation.

The waiter arrived a moment later and placed the enormous platters of food in front of us, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a scoop of baked beans. The hash browns were compacted into a ball rather than rolled flat, but they still looked good.

“Enough shop talk,” Bastien said. “Let’s fucking eat.”

“You guys met at Silencio?” Luca asked, his attention on me.

“I’m a bartender there,” I said. “Well, I was.” On Monday, I would report for my new job at nine in the morning. It’d been a long time since I’d been up that early. I needed clothes for it, but I really didn’t want to interact with Adrien at all.

“Where do you work now?” Luca’s plate was completely empty because he ate every little piece, every damn crumb. They both ate like Bastien, like they were starving at every meal.

“Some investment company,” I said, not wanting to admit that Bastien had hooked me up with the job.

“Some investment company?” Gabriel said with a laugh. “You don’t know what it’s called?”

“I gave her a job at the office,” Bastien said. “You fucking pricks.”

“Just trying to get to know your girlfriend a little better,” Luca said.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bastien said.

I was both relieved by that interjection and simultaneously disappointed. I walked that line every moment I was in Bastien’s presence. I’d never wanted a man more in my life, but that also marked him as the single most dangerous person in the world. The man who could burn down what little foundation I had left.

“Pussies have girlfriends. Men have women—and she’s my woman.”

He claimed me in no uncertain terms right in front of his boys. It was a turn-on, made me want to jump his bones right there in the booth, but I kept my eyes on the table and tried to be invisible. The warmth in my belly was quickly replaced by ice-cold fear.

Luca stared at Bastien for a long time, and a silent conversation passed between them.

What I wouldn’t give to know the details.

The tab came, and all three men threw a hundred-euro-bill into the pile, even though brunch couldn’t have possibly cost that much.

“We’re going out tonight,” Luca said. “You in?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Bastien said.

Luca scooted out of the booth first. “Nice to meet you, Fleur.”

“You too,” I said quietly.

Gabriel gave me a nod before he walked out with Luca. They stepped onto the sidewalk, and then a black SUV appeared just like Bastien’s. They disappeared from the curb and drove down the street.

Bastien pulled out his phone and texted his driver. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Sure.”

He opened the door for me and stepped onto the sidewalk, sunshine visible between the buildings because it was a cloudless day, unusually warm for the spring. When he stood next to me, he was like the Eiffel Tower and I was the Seine. His friends were guys I would hit on in a bar, but they didn’t hold a candle to the man beside me, with blue eyes that were warmer than a summer evening.

“Your friends were nice.”

“They were assholes, and you know it.” He looked down the street and saw his driver coming around the corner. “You want to come back to my place, or should I drop you off?”

It felt like a trick question. Was he inviting me back to his place to be polite, or did he actually want me there? He said he was honest to a fault, so I just asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to fuck me then take a nap with me.”

I never had to wonder what he was thinking because he just told me—and that was refreshing. “Sounds good to me.”