“If you weren’t a businessman in commercial real estate, you would be a . . . ?”
“Chef.” I grin. “Or a stripper at one of the clubs on Bourbon. Another toss-up.”
“Ten years ago, how did you picture your life today?”
I don’t even have to think about that one—successful business. Beautiful wife. Two kids. Maybe a third on the way. The picturesque family.
The timer on my phone alarms us to the end of my two-minute questioning. I couldn’t be more relieved. I’m not sure I could bring myself to admit that I only have a portion of the life I wanted. And now it’s too late to make the rest happen.
I regret so many of my decisions now that I know I don’t have a long, healthy life ahead of me. I would have done things so much differently. Worked less. Found a woman to love instead of settling for meaningless sex. Started a family.
“Your turn. Ready?”
“Go for it.”
I like her questions. They were a good introduction. “Color?”
“Black.”
“Well, that’s a little depressing. I expected pink or something bright and cheery like that.” But I guess I should have known. She wears black a lot.
“Black was one of yours.”
She has me there. “True. Food?”
“Steak. Filet, cooked medium.” I didn’t expect a tiny little thing like her to name a red meat as her favorite food. This girl is just full of surprises.
I hesitate when I try to recall her questions.
“Alcoholic drink,” she prompts. “Prosecco.”
“Very girly. Place to visit?”
“Any beach with blue water and white sand where I can spend the day in the sun.” I bet she wears a skimpy bikini. She’s sure got the body for it.
“Song?”
“‘Drifters’ by Zaac Pick.”
“Never heard it.” But I plan to. “Movie?”
“The Notebook.” Figures she’d like a chick flick.
“How long since your last serious relationship?” I’m very glad she asked me this question because I’ve sort of been dying for some kind of explanation about her dating situation.
“I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
Really?
Really?
She’s almost twenty-three. Stunning. Entertaining. How is that possible?
“Come on, Bastien. Time is running out. Next question.”
Next question? What was it?
Oh, yeah. Job. “If you weren’t planning a career in business and income didn’t matter, you would want to . . . ?”
“Be a social worker.” She grins. “Or a stripper on Bourbon. It’s a toss-up.”
“Ten years ago, how did you picture your life today?”
She hesitates a moment before answering. “I didn’t have a lot of encouragement or aspiration to be anything. Life wasn’t great for me at that point. Or at any point, really, until I met Vale.”
The timer alarms on my phone ending this round of probing. And for one of the first times in a long time, I want to know so much more about a woman.
Vale has been impressed with her progress over the years. In terms of confidentiality, she hasn’t shared much about how she found Rose.
It’s as if it’s a veiled secret, which feeds my intrigue. Who is she?
Why wasn’t her life great? She’s so clever and funny. Why did no one in her life inspire her to reach for the stars the way my family did?
And she’s never had a boyfriend? She’s a virgin? Or . . . let’s not go there.
Strangely, I feel relieved that her time and company belong to me now. I will inspire her and encourage her to be whatever she wants to be. Something tells me she deserves that.
Chapter Nine
__________________________________
Rose Middleton
∞
Bastien cooked dinner for me before his party. Steak—and not just any steak. Prime-cut filet mignon cooked to perfection with sides of mascarpone mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus. Literally the best meal I’ve ever had.
It’s possible Bastien missed his true calling. The man can cook.
Every bite was delicious. And the gesture was really sweet. But I had to eat dinner alone. And now I’m sitting here by myself. I should have called one of the girls and made plans when I knew Bastien was leaving, but of course, it’s too late now.
It’s silly to be bothered that he didn’t ask me to go with him. It’s his company party. I wouldn’t have had anyone to talk to while he was busy being the boss. And my presence would have forced him to address who and what I am to him. Which I’m certain would have caused a lot of tongue wagging around his office. I’m betting Wendy would have been the main one.
Maybe she’s the reason he didn’t take me.
I’m guessing she wears a sexy dress tonight. And I bet she flirts. Will probably drink too much and try to sleep with him. I don’t guess it’s called trying if he goes along with it. And why wouldn’t he? He’s single. Horny, I’m sure, and he knows he’s not getting it from me.
It’s none of my business if Bastien gets hammered and screws every one of his employees tonight. I don’t know why I’m even sitting here thinking about it. Silly.
I wash and put away my dishes before seeking entertainment on the couch in front of the TV. I flip through channel after channel but my only choices two days before Christmas are holiday movies.
I’m on my third show when Bastien comes home. Almost midnight. Must have been one heck of a party to have lasted six hours. Again, not my business.
“You’re still up?”
“It’s hard to go to bed early when you slept ’til noon.”
“Understandable.”
“Plus I fell into The Hallmark Channel trap. I was going to watch one Christmas movie but one turned into two and then two turned into three. And every one of them were totally predictable. I’m already certain that this man who hates Christmas and this woman who adores it are going to fall in love, and she’s going to convert him into loving the holidays. They’ll probably take over as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. I know this and yet I can’t stop watching. These stupid, unsurprising movies are like crack cocaine.”
“I haven’t watched a Christmas movie in years.” Bastien removes his jacket and tosses it over the back of the chair before falling into it. The sound he makes leads me to think it may have been a long night for him. “Catch me up.”
“I just did.”
“Right. I guess you did.” He chuckles and kicks out of his shoes before propping them on the coffee table.
“How’d the party go?”
“Music was good. Food was good. Drinks were great. PPI had a good year so bonuses were generous. Everyone was happy.” I spot a smear of red lipstick on Bastien’s white collar and I’m pretty sure I can guess the names of two people who ended up a little happier than the rest.
“I’m glad you had a good time.”
“I thought about you after I got to the party. I felt really bad about leaving you here alone. I should have taken you with me.”
I’m guessing he wouldn’t have gotten that lipstick smear on his collar if he’d taken me with him.
“You would have been forced to explain me. You’re not ready to do that.”
“I had no way of knowing it before the party but after I got there, I realized that I wanted you with me, Rose. You’re not going anywhere so there’s no reason to put off introducing you to the people in my life.”
Is it wrong for me to like that he doesn’t plan on keeping me a secret? “What will you tell people about me?”
“I don’t want to lie about our relationship, but at the same time I don’t want to be completely forthcoming and tell them I traded a two-million-dollar debt so you’d agree to be my companion.”
Oh my God. I had no idea Vale’s remaining debt was two million dollars.
Why would Bastien do that?
Why would he give up that kind of money for me?
“We live together. That’s what I’m telling people. What they do with that information is up to them.”
“They’re going to assume that you’re my sugar daddy. And that we’re having sex.”
“I’m okay with that if it’ll get Wendy off my back.”
Maybe that lipstick on his collar is evidence of a botched attempt at seducing Bastien rather than what I assumed.
Or maybe that’s what I hope.
I shouldn’t have thoughts like that. It’ll only lead to inappropriate ideas.
“It makes zero difference to me if your friends and employees think we’re hooking up. Tell Wendy I’m your nymphomaniac girlfriend if her advances are unwanted.”
The sound Bastien makes isn’t quite a laugh or cough. “Umm . . . I might do that.”
I don’t know why but I like the idea of Bastien telling this woman that about us. “Go for it. Tell her I throw sex on you all the time and you’re gettin’ more than you can handle.”
He chuckles. “You’re funny, Rose.”
“Life is too short to not laugh.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
***
I wake to Bastien’s soft, soothing voice slowly seeping into my sleeping mind while his hand gently shakes my shoulder. “Rose. Rose. Wake up.”
“Bash?” My eyes are heavy and I struggle to wake. My tongue hasn’t quite caught up so only a portion of his name slips through my lips.
“You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”
It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory reliving itself through my subconscious. Just like it so often does.
There are always shadows in my dreams. A blurry monster I’m unable to remember. Yet incapable of forgetting. A foul fiend who touches me in darkness. A vile creature who causes me pain. A vicious assailant who brings me unimaginable shame.
Strands of wet hair are stuck to my face and neck. I’m a sweaty mess despite coolness in the room and the flimsy fabric of the cami and short sleepwear set I’m wearing.
I hoped so badly that my nightmares wouldn’t manifest this early in our relationship. I’m mortified. I’ve only been living with Bastien for a couple days, and I’m not ready to tell him about my past. I need more time.
“I’m so sorry I disturbed you.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about waking me.” He sits on the side of my bed and his body makes contact with my leg. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Lie. I’m completely shaken. I always am after the mysterious monster forces his way into my dreams.
“You didn’t seem fine just now. What was that all about?”
Oh, God. I must have been screaming if I was loud enough to wake him from a deep sleep in his bedroom across the hall.
I can’t deny this. It’s going to happen again. And again. It always does. I have to tell him so he’ll know what to expect.
“I have nightmares. Not every night but they happen a few times a week. I’ve been prescribed medication, but it only makes it harder for me to wake from the nightmare. It doesn’t stop the terror while I’m asleep. I feel really hungover the next day after taking it. It’s so bad that sometimes I can’t function—and I have to go to class—so I don’t take it.”
“You were thrashing around violently and screaming. If I’m being honest, it sort of scared the shit out of me.”
This is bad. Will he think this is going to be a problem and he needs to send me back to Vale? “I’m so sorry. I’ll take the medication so I don’t disturb you.”
“I’m not worried about being woken up. I’m concerned about your safety.”
“The thrashing and screaming is the worst of it. I’ve never hurt myself—or anyone else—during an episode.”
“What do you dream about that elicits that kind of reaction?”
I want to trust Bastien. I want to open up and feel the comfort that I think he can give me.
But I can’t. Not yet.
“I had a really bad childhood.” My words are barely more than a whisper. And all I can bring myself to say.
“More things I’d very much like you to share with me one day.”
“I want to. And I really hope I get to a place where I can.” But the storms in my head have driven me from the reach of everyone. I’ve built an ironclad protective shield around myself. I built it to never be penetrated and so far, it’s been successful. But what comes with my solitude is bittersweet. It gives me the ability to hold everyone in my life at a distance.
“I’m not leaving you by yourself after witnessing that episode.” Bastien gets up and walks around to the other side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and climbs in beside me. “I guess Vale was right about the clause thing. But don’t tell her. I can’t stand it when she gloats.”
I’ve never had a man in my bed.
“I won’t touch you, Rose. You have my word.”
He must sense the panic in me, and I despise that. There’s been no wrongdoing on his part. He’s been nothing but kind to me, and I don’t want him to believe I think otherwise. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I just crawled into your bed without warning and without your permission. It was thoughtless, but I didn’t comprehend how much until I saw your expression. I’m the one who owes you the apology.”
He wants to stay with me tonight because he’s worried about my safety. I appreciate that in a way he can’t possibly imagine. No one, besides Vale, has ever looked out for me before.
“I can go if you prefer.”
No. Please. Please don’t leave me. “I want you to stay.”
“Then I will.”
“Can you sleep if I leave the lamp on?”
“I can sleep anywhere under any circumstances. Can you sleep if I snore? I gotta warn you. I’ve been told I’m pretty loud.”
I have no idea. I’ve never slept with a snorer. “I think so. Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”
***
Bastien wasn’t lying. The man snores. Loudly.
I was awake for hours after he came into my bed. But the loud noise he was making had nothing to do with my inability to fall asleep. Far too many thoughts were whirling around in my head.
I’m a proprietor of a sadness held so tightly it’s penetrated my very being. It has wrapped itself around my heart in the form of barbed vines, daring anyone to touch it. I’m buried chest deep in filth—the filth of all the things I’ve been through. I’m the captain, and my pain is forever my first mate.
I wake to find myself clinging to Bastien while being held by his strong arms. His touch is comforting. I feel safe in the arms of a man. This man. It’s a first for me.
Bastien is still sleeping. And snoring loudly—proof he is unaware of our entanglement. I’m glad. I want to savor this close encounter for a while longer before I pull away.
He’s unaware of this moment. I steal it like a thief, using this time to study his face and what I can see of his body without his knowledge.
His chest under my head is hard, as is his stomach beneath my hand. There’s sparse hair between his pec muscles but he has a small patch on his abdomen trailing down into the front of his pants.
I gently lift my head so I can see his face. Long, thick dark lashes rest against his lower lids. Strong, square jawline—covered in dark whiskers, and a few sparse silver here and there, a little thicker this morning than last night. A tiny dimple in the center of his chin. Full, pink lips with a deep cupid’s bow. Straight nose, slightly asymmetrical to the right side of his face. Hmm . . . I haven’t noticed that until now. I bet it’s been broken. Probably playing football.
Even in sleep, Bastien’s face doesn’t completely relax. His brow remains wrinkled, the shallow crowfeet around his eyes slightly crinkled.
Lines and all, he’s handsome.
And stirring.
I quickly pull away and roll onto my side, my back turned to him before he fully awakens. I don’t want that awkward moment of waking and coming face to face, forced to discuss what led
him to come to my bed last night.
A few minutes later, there’s a brief dip in the mattress and then I hear the soft click of my bedroom door closing. He’s gone without a word.
I roll to my back and reach out to touch the spot where he was lying. Still warm. I scoot closer and press my nose into his pillow. Mmm. Woodsy. Earthy spice. Masculine. Bastien.
I like the warmth and smell that remains in my bed after Bastien’s departure. I shouldn’t . . . but I do. Very much.
Liking these things isn’t part of our agreement.
Bastien doesn’t want a romantic relationship. In fact, he’s very much against it, especially with someone my age. He said so. And I don’t want to ruin what we have. This companionship thing, so far, is working for me.
I like him. I feel safe with him. I think we can be very good friends.
Chapter Ten
__________________________________
Bastien Pascal
–
I think I scared the hell out of Rose last night. No, there’s no question about it. I know I did.
She looked like a frightened animal ready to flee when I got into her bed. We’ve only known one another a short time and I know there are many things I don’t know about her. And she knows nothing about me. But her terror? Her tangible horror? It slayed me.
I had to grow up very quickly.
Vale is my only family.
I had a really bad childhood. Bad?
Bullshit. Horrific things have happened to Rose.
She hasn’t said so but I see slivers of despair in her eyes. Hear fragments of sadness in her voice.
She’s never had a boyfriend, and Vale says she doesn’t date. Ever. She was insistent there be no intimacy between us. She wakes in the middle of night in a cold sweat—screaming and begging for someone to stop touching her.
This girl has been abused in some way.
I will ensure she always feels safe under my care. Always safe in my house. Always safe around me. She needs to be certain I’ll never hurt her. Not physically, mentally, nor emotionally. Except, can I promise to never hurt her emotionally when I already know how this is going to end?
Dear Agony Page 8