Tempt Me: Tattoos and Temptation Book 5

by Mia Monroe

  Now wouldn’t that be something?

  Felix

  After settling into the tiny twin bed I last slept in ten years ago, I dial my brother for a video call. It rings a few times, but then his face appears, drawing a smile to my lips.

  "Mon frère," I greet. “How are you?”

  “Felix.” His gleeful face warms my heart. “Safely at home?”

  “Yes.” My eyes shift around the room. “Feeling a bit of time warp. Nothing has changed about the room, but everything has changed about the person in it.”

  Lucien smiles. “I can imagine. Did maman smother you in kisses?”

  “Of course. Even Papa was a little much. It’s my fault, no? I was away too long.”

  “It’s not like they haven’t seen you. It’s just been a long time.”

  “Yes.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “It is a strange feeling, but a good one. I am happy to be here again. If only my charming older brother were with me.”

  “I know. It’s hard on me sometimes, but I’m doing good work here. Someone has to speak for people whose voices are never heard.”

  “It is important work, I know.” I exhale. “I just miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Your hair is so long.”

  Smiling, I drag it out through my fingers to show him. “It's past my shoulders now. I love it.”

  “It suits you.”

  “Merci. What urgent news did you have for me?”

  Lucien smiles. “I took some liberties on your behalf and spoke to Apollo. You remember him, yes?”

  Let’s see. Do I remember Greek god Apollo? His shiny black hair, piercing dark eyes, and knee weakening smile? Do I remember how his deep voice vibrated in me like bass turned up too high? Do I remember the electricity that shot through me the time he let me touch his tattoo? Do I remember the first crush my gay little heart ever had? Do I remember the fantasies I had that he would somehow see me as an adult and fall madly in love with me regardless of the fact that he is frustratingly straight?

  “I do,” I answer simply.

  “Well, he’s managed to get you a chat with the manager of a very popular bakery in one of the trendiest parts of town.”

  I sit up. “No. Vraiment? Is it true?”

  “True. Apollo works across from it, and he’s friends with most of them. They are amazing. I went out with them when I was there for a visit. We had a blast. Very LGBT friendly, and they are all friends. I think you would love it.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so tired of…” I pause, my brow furrowing when I see my brother’s expression. He worries deeply about me. “I am fine, brother. I am. I just got to the bottom of my well in France. It is so cutthroat. Everyone has a motive and wants their name in lights. I just wanted to make beautiful desserts. I was pushed too hard.”

  “By who?”

  “No one specifically. It is an environment you cannot escape. As you know, my ability is somewhat innate, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “There was so much jealousy and animosity when I would do well. I felt like I had a target on my back. That is not how I wish to live.” I exhale, smiling. “One morning, a few weeks ago, I woke up and I went through my routine. I walked down the street to the cafe, I got my coffee, and as I stood on the corner, gazing up at the Eiffel, suddenly it became so clear. I wanted to come home. I did not want another decade to go by living in a pressure cooker. I went into work, I walked up to my manager, the head chef of the most popular fine dining restaurant in Paris, and I said, ‘It has been an honor and a pleasure to know you, but I am done.'”

  “How did he take it?”

  “Not well, at first. We had a nice talk though, and he understood. I finished my shift for the day, and I didn’t go back. I have never felt so free in my life. I know it was the right choice.”

  Lucien nods. “I understand. I do. I chose a different profession, but there are pressures.”

  “Of course.” I tuck my knees to my chest. “I think also, I was ready for a cultural change. I want to be free to express myself and my style. I did not feel I could do that in France. Just being in Miami for one day, I can feel the energy seeping back into me.”

  “I love that. When you meet Apollo's friends, you will feel it even more. They made me feel like they had known me for years. I was so welcomed.”

  “I need that. A love life would not be bad either.”

  “You’ll find it in Miami. I am sure.”

  “I do hope. What of you? Are you in love?”

  “Not even close. It will happen for me someday though.”

  “Yes. Apollo? Is he married now?”

  Lucien’s smile drops. “No. He was engaged a few years ago, but it fell apart. He’s single and dating here and there, I think.”

  Engaging fantasy revival in three...two...one…

  “Is he still cool?” I ask, ignoring the way my heart rate speeds up. He’s still straight, you knob.

  “He is still wonderfully Apollo. Call him please? Straight away. He has the same number he’s had for years.”

  “As soon as we hang up.”

  “Good. I’ll be out for a visit as soon as possible. I must see you in person. I am so happy you’re home.”

  “Me too. I will let you know what happens with Apollo’s bakery friend.”

  “Please. Talk soon, mon frère.”

  “Talk soon.”

  After ending the call with Lucien, I lie on the bed, staring at Apollo’s number in my contacts. I shouldn’t be nervous. It’s been ten years, and I am a grown man. This is a job contact and perhaps, some friendship. I just have to ignore my raging hormones every time I even think about Apollo Onassis. You would have thought the impact faded by now, but apparently, I am more starved for romance than I thought.

  After a deep breath, I press the button and wait as it rings, the adrenaline in my body making me almost lightheaded.

  “Hello?”

  Oh, fuck me. His voice.

  “Hello?” Apollo repeats.

  “Apollo. It’s Felix Marchand.”

  “Oh my god, Felix! Hi. How are you?”

  The affection in his voice nearly undoes me. “I’m well. Home. How are you?”

  “Great, man. I’m so happy to hear from you. Welcome home.”

  Okay, he’s way sweeter ten years later. I was just an annoying teen the last time he saw me.

  “Thank you so much. Lucien said I should call you. You may have an employment contact for me?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Briar. He’s really excited to talk to you. He’s been looking for someone with fancy skills like yours for a while.”

  “Is that not a common skill in Miami?”

  “It is, but he says he has trouble attracting talent because there’s not prestige and the pay isn’t super high, I guess, but their shop offers benefits and a retirement plan.”

  “No prestige?”

  “No. Is that an issue?”

  “Far from it. It’s just a local bake shop, yes?”

  “Right. I mean, it’s very popular. They have more customers than they can handle. They have a waitlist.”

  “Mm hmm. I see. I am interested. I am not looking for prestige or accolades. I just want to make pretty things that taste good.”

  “Awesome. I think you’ll love it. They are really good people there. Briar is my boss’s husband, and he’s really talented and sweet.”

  “Wonderful. Lucien mentioned LGBT friendly?”

  “Oh yeah. Everyone in the shop is queer, pretty much. My shop too. It’s a very inclusive, diverse area. You won’t have issues with that.”

  “It sounds too good to be true.”

  “It’s all true. How are you?”

  “I am so happy to be home. France, even though I was born there, spent the beginning of my life there, still never felt quite like home.”

  “Well you’re here now. Are you up for grabbing dinner soon?”

  I swear all the blood drains from my body. “What?”

  “D
inner. It’s a meal typically eaten in the evenings. Sometimes you do it with other people. You want to?”

  My leg bounces on the bed. “Yes.” It’s the only word I can get out.

  “Cool. What about tomorrow? I don’t work on Thursdays.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Awesome. Where are you staying?”

  “Parents. I thought I would just crash here, spend a bit of time with them, then start looking for a place. I was thinking of roommates, if only to have company, but at nearly thirty, that doesn’t sound palatable.”

  Apollo chuckles. “No. I could show you some cool parts of town. A lot has changed since you left.”

  “I imagine so. I’ve changed too.”

  “I would hope so in ten years. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  He means as a friend. Just a friend.

  “Me too.”

  “Cool. Text me your parents’ address. I’ll come get you. I’ll text you Briar’s info too. Call him soon. He desperately needs you.”

  “Thank you so much, Apollo. It’s nice to feel like I have a friend here.”

  “You definitely have a friend. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  After we hang up, I exhale slowly. Managing a crush on my brother’s best friend isn’t new to me. I’ve been dealing with this since I first met him when I was all of fourteen-years-old.

  I still remember the last time I saw him in person. He came with my entire family to send me off to Paris. He gave me a silly purple beret as a going away gift, and I still have that damn thing all these years later. When I would get homesick, I would pull it out, along with my brother’s gift of a tiny American flag, Claudia’s gift of a plush croissant, and the family picture from my high school graduation.

  When Lucien and Apollo called me on video chat on my twenty-first birthday, it filled me with joy, but did nothing to squelch the burning crush. Every guy I’ve dated since hasn’t stood a chance while the memory of Apollo still lingered. I tried, but I never found the guy in France who could handle all of me.

  My phone buzzes. A text from Apollo with Briar’s info. I reply with my parents’ address, explaining it’s the same place it always was.

  Tomorrow night, I’ll be facing my lifelong crush. I need to remind myself that I am a grown man now. Apollo is not an option. Even if he was into guys, being Lucien’s best friend is another strike. I squeeze my eyes shut. Apollo is not an option. I’ll repeat it as many times as it takes my thick head to get it.

  With another deep breath, I peel my eyes open, ready to call Briar before the jet lag takes hold. I’m ready for a hot shower, my maman’s cooking, and a long sleep, but first, I need to secure employment. It will go a long way in helping me feel like I’m home again.

  I dial the number Apollo texted me and wait for someone to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Briar?”

  “It is. Who’s this?”

  “Felix Marchand. I’m a…friend of Apollo.”

  “Hi.” I can hear the smile in his voice, instantly calming my nerves. “Thank you for calling.”

  “My pleasure. I understand you may have an opening?”

  “Yes. Apollo said you do chocolate and sugar work?”

  I’m surprised for a moment, but Lucien must have told him. “Yes. I have a portfolio. I do French desserts as well, but I am well known for my sugar and chocolate work. Well, in France. No one knows me here.”

  “Right. Um, about that. Is that something you’re interested in? Being well-known?”

  “No. In fact, Apollo said it’s a local store. Popular, but…” I pause. “I just want to bake, Briar. I want to make beautiful things. I want to delight palates and wow them with beauty. I don’t need anyone to know my name.”

  He audibly exhales. “Great. We are a local bakery. We get on the news sometimes, but that’s it. We represent the Dulce Santo brand, so anyone looking to build their own following wouldn’t fit here.”

  “I’ve spent the last decade in France, working myself to the edge because it is so competitive. It is the only way to get and keep a good job, but I am done. I left to come back home for a simpler life. I am a hard worker. I can work for hours on a cake, and I will never complain. I don’t want a promotion or more responsibility or to be the executive pastry chef. I want to bake. That is all.”

  “Okay. That’s awesome. Can you come on Friday? Tomorrow, we’ll be out delivering for a wedding.”

  “Name the time.”

  “Ten?”

  “Perfect. I will bring my portfolio.”

  “Fantastic. Do you need directions?”

  “I will be fine.”

  “See you then, Felix.”

  “Thank you, Briar.”

  After hanging up, I smile. Less than a day, and I have a job interview and a dinner invite from my childhood crush. I felt like the right decision was to come home, but now, I’m positive.

  I’m already planning what I’m going to bake tomorrow to bring to Briar. Yes, I have a full portfolio of my best works, but nothing can sell my skills better than tasting one of my creations. Ah. I know. The mille-feuille. No one can resist my perfectly thin layers of puff pastry and delicate vanilla pastry cream. With fresh raspberries, it will be beautiful to look at it. As for what I’m wearing tomorrow night for dinner with Apollo, that is a harder choice. Do I ease him in slowly, or just be myself?

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I glance at my closet as a smile grows on my face. I promised myself when I moved home, that the one thing I would always do is be my authentic self, and only people who can handle that would have a spot in my life.

  That philosophy extends to Apollo. If we’re going to be friends, then he has to accept me for who I am.

  I’ll never compromise on that again.

  Apollo

  Pulling up in front of the home I spent much of my younger years at, brings a smile to my face. Sure, I’ve been here a few times over the years with Lucien, but the nostalgia never stops pinging. My own parents moved far away from here, opting to downsize once all the kids left, so it’s nice to visit my old haunts now and then.

  After parking, I shut off the car and walk up to the front door. I’ve been wondering all day what Felix looks like now. As a teen, he was on the chubby side, as were all the Marchand siblings, but he’s the only one who never seemed to care, while Lucien tried his hardest to fight it back at the gym. I admired that about Felix. His ‘zero fucks’ attitude about things that usually caused a lot of teen angst. The only thing that bothered him was being teased about his accent.

  I ring the bell, smiling when Mrs. Marchand opens the door.

  “Apollo.” She pulls me into a warm embrace. She’s one of the nicest women I’ve ever met. As I stand back to greet her, a feeling of comfort settles over me. She’s still a beautiful woman, elegant with her dark hair pulled back and stylish blouse and capri pants, like an Audrey Hepburn throwback, although there are a few more crinkles around her eyes than the last time I saw her.

  “Mrs. Marchand. How are you?”

  She rubs my arms. “I am well. You?”

  “Things are good. I’m excited to see Felix.”

  Her smile grows. “He is excited as well. Would you like water or tea?”

  “No, no, I’m good. We’ll eat soon. Mr. Marchand good?”

  “Oh yes, very well. He’s in DC for a conference.”

  “Ah.”

  We both twist at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. When I see him, my smile grows. Wow. That is not what I was expecting.

  Felix grins, waving as he finishes his descent. “Bonjour, Apollo. Long time, no see.”

  “Felix.” I grab him as he approaches, hugging him hard. “Oh my god. You’re all grown up.”

  Felix laughs. “Time does that, no?”

  “Wow. Yeah. So awesome to see you.”

  Felix, whose style I think could always be described as unique, is wearing a white pantsuit, with a
silky, light-blue blouse under the jacket. He’s much shorter than me, I’m guessing around five-eight to my six-foot, but as I take him in, I’m pretty sure he’s wearing a heel of some kind, though the pants are long enough to cover his shoes. His light-brown hair is long, hanging in big waves a bit past his shoulders. The biggest surprise is the makeup, and not only a little gloss or mascara. It’s full makeup, the eyeshadow and mascara highlighting the green of his eyes, a sharp contrast to his light scruff and pale, slightly freckled skin. He’s dripping in numerous necklaces, big diamond stud earrings, and a wrist full of bracelets and a watch. He’s as elegant as his mother. It’s like he’s giving a big middle finger to the world’s gender norms, and I dig it.

  “You look awesome.”

  He seems to relax as little, releasing a whoosh of breath as he smiles. “Thank you. I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  “Why would it?”

  “I might get some attention.”

  “I can’t imagine you wouldn’t, looking like a supermodel.”

  Felix laughs. “You are kind.” His eyes take me in. “You look oddly the same, but edgier. More tattoos, certainly.”

  “Kind of addicted.” I tear my eyes away to realize his mother is still standing nearby. She’s staring at her son with damn near hearts in her eyes. I’ve always loved how supportive his parents are of all their kids. “I guess we’ll get going.”

  “Yes.” Felix turns to his mother, rattling off a bunch of words in French. She waves, and then we’re off. “Where are we going?” Felix asks as we head to my car.

  “This really cool place near my house. They call it New American, whatever that means, but it’s basically like fancier versions of American staples.”

  Felix grins. “I could use some American food.”

  “I’m glad I picked it then.”

  Using the key fob, I unlock the doors and slide into the driver’s seat, waiting for Felix. As he gets his belt on, my eyes drift to his feet to see the high-heeled, open-toed boots he’s wearing. Once he’s settled, he sort of bounces in his seat.