by Harper Bliss
“And you must understand,” Sybille leaned forward a bit, “that there are no limits to what I would do for you.”
“What about your girlfriend?” Juliette couldn’t help herself. Throughout all of this, there had been no mention of Sybille’s mysterious, well-off partner.
Sybille just shrugged. “Let me worry about that.” She didn’t look particularly worried about that aspect of her life.
“Just to be clear, Sybille.” Juliette couldn’t suppress a sigh she hated herself for. “We do understand each other?”
“You’re upset, shocked and conflicted. I understand.” Sybille brought a finger to her chin. “And I’ll be here whenever you need me, and I’ll still be here when you get over all of the things you need to get over.”
“That’s not what I mean—” Juliette stopped mid-sentence, watching Sybille get up and plant her palms on the side of the desk, leaning over so Juliette could get a good look at her ample cleavage.
“But you know what I mean.” She smiled a smile that could either be interpreted as shy or knowing. Juliette knew exactly which one it was, but she was no push-over—not today and when sober, anyway—and she had to nip this in the bud. Nor did she have any desire to share a bed with her assistant ever again.
“It will not happen again, Sybille.”
Sybille straightened her posture and took a few steps in the direction of the door. “Of course not,” she said, before turning to open it. Her words conveying one thing, while her tone spoke of an entirely different conviction.
Of all the people Juliette could have slept with. She watched the closed door, suddenly consumed by a deep understanding of why Steph had chosen to sleep with Dominique Laroche. Sometimes it wasn’t a choice. Sometimes it was a compulsion, or a mere opportunity.
She called Steph’s direct line and asked her to come to her office immediately. She had to tell her, if she hadn’t already heard from Nadia.
As soon as Steph closed the door behind herself, she said, “You have to get rid of her, Jules. If you don’t, she will destroy you.”
Evidently, she already knew.
“Let’s not exaggerate, shall we?” Juliette gestured at a chair. “Please, sit.”
“I know you don’t believe me and you think I have a beef with her over that picture she shot of me, but it’s not just that.” Steph was adamant. “You’re my friend. I care about you and I care about this firm. That girl is bad news. If she doesn’t get what she wants, she will take you down.”
“What is this? A revenge B-movie?” Juliette was more interested in finding out about Nadia, who Steph had clearly spoken to. “I’ll be careful, Steph, I promise.” Only now did Juliette notice the wide, dark circles under Steph’s eyes and the paler-than-usual complexion of her skin. “Is this keeping you awake at night as well?”
Steph sighed, her body sagging into the chair. “There’s you and Nadia, and Dominique and I had a fight, and…” Exasperated, she let her arms fall over the armrests of the chair.
Juliette knew she was being insensitive, but she had no desire to butt into Steph and Dominique’s clandestine love life. “What did Nadia say?”
“I’m not doing this, Jules. You’re my boss, but you’re both my friends and I can’t pick sides or convey messages. You’re both grown-ups and you can do your own legwork.” Steph regarded her with a stern glance for a second. “But obviously, she’s shattered by the whole situation. Go see her, Jules. Don’t wait.”
Juliette wondered what her life had become if she was now taking relationship advice from Steph. Then her phone started ringing, reminding her this was a work place. Juliette picked up.
“Dominique Laroche is here to see Steph.” The sarcasm in Sybille’s voice was impossible to ignore.
“Your girlfriend’s here,” Juliette said to Steph.
“What?”
“Laroche. She’s here to see you.”
Steph shot up out of her chair, hurrying towards the door. “Thanks,” she mumbled, in a very un-Steph-like fashion, before exiting Juliette’s office, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
STEPH
Steph didn’t have a meeting planned with Dominique, but, after their short but hurtful disagreement the day before, she could easily guess why the députée had shown up unannounced at Barbier & Cyr. She went by reception, where she found Dominique waiting for her. Most of the anger she had felt the day before had transformed into the sadness that comes with a blunt reality check.
Without saying anything, Dominique followed Steph to her office. It took a few seconds after Steph had closed the door behind them for her to start speaking. She gestured at a chair, but Dominique remained standing.
“You,” she said, glaring at Steph, and shaking her head. “I’m sorry. My father always rubs me up the wrong way.” She put a hand to the navy blouse tucked tightly into her light-grey pencil skirt, just under her cleavage. “I’m sorry for asking you to leave. When he’s around, I seem to have a bit of a temper.”
Steph had wanted to stay angry at Dominique, just to make things easier. “I’m sorry for pronouncing the word ‘pussy’ in your office, but, in my defence, I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.” She couldn’t help it. That scowl on Dominique’s face had to disappear.
The tightness around Dominique’s lips slackened. She approached the chair on the other side of Steph’s desk while checking her watch. “I really don’t have time for this.” She looked up at Steph. “And obviously I shouldn’t be here, but I guess I just can’t stay away.” Dominique sat down and glanced at Steph, who stood leaning against the side of her desk, only inches away from Dominique.
The nearness of her morphed Steph’s insides into a fire pit, a flaming pool of nothingness where every sense of logic disappeared and left only dirty ashes. It was impossible for her to be strong in Dominique’s presence. Her brain knew exactly what needed to be done, because, now that they’d had their first weeks together, situations like the one in Dominique’s office would probably become more regular, taxing their… their what? Their love for each other?
“How can something that is such a bad idea, feel so damn good?” Steph asked.
Dominique sat motionless and mute, staring up at her, and in her glance, Steph saw that she felt exactly the same way. Dominique uncrossed her legs and pushed herself up out of the chair, facing Steph at eye-level.
“The smart thing to do, would be to end it,” she said, in the voice she used for TV interviews, when she really wanted to leave an impression. She didn’t touch Steph, just stood there, occupying most of her personal space.
The fire in Steph’s belly turned to a hot, quickly descending, throb.
“Then end it,” Steph said. “Walk away.” She realised that, because of this, because of the fire and the attraction, they’d barely ever had a real conversation. Dominique hardly knew anything about Steph’s life. She didn’t know that Steph didn’t do this. She kept things casual and easy. She protected herself.
“Who hurt you?” Dominique asked, her face so close, Steph felt her breath pass across her cheeks.
“What?” Steph hadn’t seen that question coming. She curled her fingers around the wooden top of her desk.
“Someone must have scarred you pretty good along the way for you to hang out with the likes of me.” Dominique started leaning against Steph, their pelvis making contact first. “What do you get out of this, Stéphanie? I ask you to hide, to make up lies about me, to pretend this isn’t happening, and you still stick around.”
“I see what you’re trying to do.” A flash of anger crackled through Steph’s brain. “You’re trying to make me push you away.” Steph shook her head, but kept her eyes on Dominique’s. “Coward.”
“Would I be here if I were a coward?” Dominique pressed her pelvis harder against Steph’s. “Maybe you’re the coward.” She brought her lips to Steph’s ear. “Maybe you want to be in the shadows. Maybe you want a relationship that can’t really be one, just so you don’t have to call
it a relationship.”
Steph grabbed Dominique by the shoulders and pushed her away from her pulsing body. She wasn’t sure if her flesh was throbbing with desire or anger—probably a mixture of both. “Walk away,” she said, unsure if she meant it.
“How can I, Stéphanie? We have a meeting tomorrow, remember?”
Steph should have known better than to challenge Dominique. Rising to challenges was basically what she did for a living.
“One week.” Steph held up a finger. “One week of only professional contact. You don’t text me, you don’t summon me, you don’t send me pictures of your cleavage.” She pushed herself away from the desk. “Then we’ll see who comes crawling back.”
Dominique chuckled. “Are you breaking up with me, Stéphanie?”
“No, I’m saying you can’t break up with me.”
Dominique took a step closer, tilting her head before finding Steph’s cheek with her lips. “You’d make an excellent politician. Do you know that?” she whispered in Steph’s ear, before ducking down to grab her briefcase from the floor, turning on her heels, and leaving.
Steph didn’t really know what had just happened. Had they broken up? Gone on hiatus?
She didn’t have time to ponder the questions racing in her mind for too long. She had a briefing to prepare, in which she would explain to her bosses what her brilliant plan was to make Dominique Laroche win the elections unscathed by the news of her divorce. And her secret lesbian lover.
MARGOT
“This weekend, I’ll start looking for my own place to live.” Nadia scooped a large portion of spaghetti carbonara onto a plate for Margot—clearly fighting heartache with carbs.
“You can stay here as long as you like. I hope you know that.” Margot glanced at Claire, who suspiciously eyed the mountain of pasta Nadia had served her. “Claire has given me the key to her flat already, anyway.” Margot was desperate to inject some lightness into their dinner conversation, although it really wasn’t one of her specialties.
“Moving fast, I see.” Nadia sat down. “You’ll be booking that U-Haul in no time.”
“Are you serious, Nadz?” Claire didn’t appear to be in the mood for light conversation. “About finding your own place, not about the U-Haul.”
Nadia poured herself a large glass of red wine before she replied. “What choice do I have?”
“Just give it some more time.”
The conversation was going in the exact opposite direction than Margot had hoped. She’d had a rough day at work—a rough few days, actually—adjusting to Inez’ presence. She’d, wrongly, believed that inviting Claire for dinner with her and Nadia would have brightened the atmosphere. Now, she was tempted to go for another glass of wine as well, despite already having had two—her usual weekday limit—while Nadia was preparing dinner.
“Time for what?” Despite having cooked it, Nadia seemed quite reluctant to eat her dish. She’d been having a lot of liquid dinners, of late. Another conversation Margot dreaded. “Another round of cheating?”
Margot twirled some spaghetti around her fork, drowning out the conversation. If a new element were to find its way into the great Juliette and Nadia saga, she was sure she’d hear about it. Multiple times.
Maybe other people could come home to this after three surgeries, of which one didn’t end well, and listen to endless, going-around-in-circles conversation, but Margot wasn’t one of those people. Especially now that Inez had returned, to Saint-Vincent of all places, adding even more stress to Margot’s life.
Claire seemed like an extension of Juliette, fighting her best friend’s battle for her, in Margot’s home. All the while, Margot was convinced that Juliette and Nadia wouldn’t solve any of their differences as long as they couldn’t be in the same room together for at least thirty minutes without fighting.
“Is she going to Steph’s birthday party on Saturday?” Nadia asked. This question made Margot tune in again.
“Of course she is,” Claire said, before turning to Margot. “I forgot to tell you. Are you on call?”
Secretly, Margot wished she was, because there was no way that party could ever end well. “No, I’m free.”
“You’d better tell Juliette not to bring her new girlfriend. Steph hates her,” Nadia said.
Here we go again. “Where’s the party?” Margot asked, wanting to change the topic.
“L’Univers. Steph’s most-frequented hang-out, apart from Les Pêches,” Claire said.
A loud, crowded bar in Le Marais was not Margot’s favourite place to be on a free Saturday night, but she’d go for Claire’s sake.
“Don’t forget dinner at my parents on Sunday,” she addressed Claire, who had some cheese sticking to her chin.
“Moving even faster,” Nadia said, plastering a smile on her lips for the first time that evening. If that’s what it took.
“I’m not nervous at all,” Claire said, reaching for the bottle of wine. “No biggie.”
“They’ll love you. How can they not?” Margot held out her glass for a refill.
CLAIRE
Under normal circumstances, Claire would have looked forward to a party like the one she was headed towards, but normal seemed far away as she walked into L’Univers on Margot’s arm. Nadia and Juliette were barely on speaking terms. Steph had to celebrate her birthday without Dominique, who she clearly cared for, and Claire was having dinner with Margot’s parents the next day. Despite that being a positive direction for their relationship to go in, Margot had been more quiet than usual the past week, more lost in thoughts, some sort of darkness brooding in her eyes. Claire couldn’t shake the feeling it had something to do with Inez, but she wouldn’t bring up the subject as long as Margot didn’t.
“This is such a train wreck waiting to happen,” Margot whispered in her ear as they made their way to Steph’s table. Steph was flanked by Fred and a girl Claire had never seen before, but who seemed to know Steph intimately, the way she draped her arm over Steph’s shoulder possessively. That wouldn’t last long.
After hugging and congratulating Steph and being offered a glass of champagne, they sat down around the table. Claire was glad to get a few moments of respite before Nadia and Juliette arrived, which would surely sour the mood. She eyed Steph, who came across as happy enough, nothing in her demeanour betraying that she was pining for someone who wasn’t there—on the contrary. She whispered something in the girl’s ear. She had introduced her as Cassandra with a twinkle in her eye Claire had taken as a well-acted front. This Steph was a far cry from the one who had sat in Juliette’s office mere weeks ago, struggling, but unable to contain her feelings for Dominique.
When they’d had a meeting with Laroche earlier that week, it had been pokerfaces all around—usually not the way Claire preferred to conduct business, but in this case she had gladly made an exception.
“Who’s that?” Margot asked. “I thought she was seeing that politician.”
“Me too,” Claire replied, “but—” She was interrupted mid-sentence by Nadia’s arrival. Hot on her heels, as if they’d come together, Juliette walked into the café.
And thus the party begins.
Everybody exchanged cheek kisses, even Juliette and Nadia pecked each other on the cheek awkwardly, and then, after Juliette and Nadia had received their glasses of champagne, the silence descended.
“Oh fuck,” Margot said, with a twinge of panic in her voice, breaking the silence.
“What is it?” Worried, Claire turned to her, noticing Margot’s lips drawn into a stern pout. Around them, chatter broke loose—Juliette was in PR, after all, and being sociable in every circumstance was a big part of her job description. Of Claire’s as well, but she was currently transfixed by Margot’s reaction to something.
“That redhead over there by the entrance. That’s Inez.”
Claire scanned the bar until her eyes fell on a tall woman with a fiery mane of curly, shoulder-length hair. She walked towards the bar and ordered drinks from the b
artender as if she knew him well. Behind her a man with a full black beard put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something.
“I guess you’d better introduce me then,” Claire said, after the first shock had subsided. She’d do battle—the quiet kind, consisting of intimidating stares and possessive hand placement—if she had to.
Margot’s body had stiffened and Claire curled an arm around her waist. Maybe she should be worried, and she was a bit, but she wasn’t going to show Margot.
“Best get it out of the way before this party turns into a complete disaster.” Margot had found her steady, stern voice again.
As they made their way to the corner of the bar where Inez had taken up court with the bearded man and a bunch of other people, all of them seemingly standing around her in a circle, as if in the middle of worship, Inez looked in their direction and Claire’s eyes met Margot’s ex’s gaze for the first time. Inez’ lips crinkled up into a wide smile and, while Claire had seen pictures of her on the internet and should have been prepared for this moment, the brightness of her smile and the presence that radiated from her just standing there, knocked the wind out of her briefly.
Margot squeezed her hand as they approached, but it did nothing to squash the pangs of worry making their way through Claire’s brain.
Inez threw her arms wide, as if she didn’t see Margot every day at work and was, only just now, meeting her for the first time again after years of absence.
“Margot,” she yelled theatrically. “Quel plaisir.”
“You must be Claire.” She shot Claire a wink, as if they were in something undefined together, and hugged her like she was a long lost friend.
Inez introduced the bearded man as Manu and a slew of other people whose names Claire barely got. She was too busy gauging Margot’s reaction, who, obviously, at some point in her life, had been very friendly with Manu. She seemed to focus her attention on him rather than on Inez, who kept chattering away.