Page 19 of The Butcher

She smiled slightly, a blush moving into her fair cheeks, her eyes on the Seine. “Do what you love and never work a day in your life, right?” Her eyes found mine, and the second we made contact, her smile started to fade.

“You think I’m joking.” I’d be happy to make her my private whore, put her up in a beautiful apartment where her only concern would be to fuck me—and only me. Her husband had made the greatest mistake of his life sticking his dick in someone else, because now I was going to stick my dick in her every night.

She broke contact and drank her coffee. The silence trickled by as she did her best to act like that part of the conversation had never happened. “I’m not sure what direction my life is going. I don’t have an education and only have a little work experience. Most people are passionate about something. But to be honest, I’m not passionate about anything.”

“All I’ve seen from you is passion.”

Her eyes came back to me.

“You’re passionate about this city. You’re passionate about food. And you’re very passionate in bed.”

Her eyes dropped down to her coffee like she didn’t want to face the truth, that she was a vixen in bed who clawed my back until I bled. It seemed to bring her a heavy sense of shame.

“Why does that bother you?”

“What?”

“The way you fuck me.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” she said quietly. “I just…feel guilty about it.”

“Why the fuck would you feel guilty about that?” Her husband had ended their marriage the moment he betrayed her. She owed him nothing—not a damn thing.

“I know it’s stupid?—”

“It is stupid.”

She looked at me again. “We’ve only been separated for a month. I’m not one to keep receipts or hold grudges, so jumping into bed with someone else isn’t really me.” She wore heavy makeup whenever I saw her, but she looked just as beautiful without it, especially in the afternoon light. The fact that she didn’t care if I saw her without makeup was sexy. “But the moment I saw you walk into that bar…I wanted you.”

I felt a tightness all over my body, a flush of desire unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I’d already had her, and by now, I should be bored of her, but the desire only got worse. So much worse.

Her stare remained on mine, confident enough in herself to pull off such a statement. She never breached the territory of arrogance, never even coming close to that line. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Chapter 4

Fleur

Bastien’s driver took me home.

He pulled up to the building and let me out, and then I took the long walk up the stairs to my apartment. If Adrien was still watching me, and he probably was, he would know that I had been gone all night.

Which meant he was in my apartment right now, waiting to bulldoze me.

I got the key into the lock and stepped inside. When I walked to the dining table where I normally put my stuff because it was such a small apartment, I saw him on the couch, looking mad as hell. “This really needs to stop?—”

“We are still married.” He got to his feet, the volume of the choice making the glass shake. He was the maddest he’d been since the day I’d met him, his face red like a tomato. “You think I’m out fucking around?” He raised his left hand, showing the wedding ring he claimed he never removed.

“You were fucking around when we were married, so?—”

“Enough of this.” His hand tightened into a fist at his chest, doing his best to control the rage that enveloped him. “We are married, Fleur. Husband and wife. Till death do us part.”

“Our marriage ended the second you fucked someone else, Adrien. Just because the courts recognize us as legally married doesn’t mean our hearts are married. You can keep blocking the judge from granting the divorce, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. We are done.”

“You said you would think about it?—”

“I said I needed space. Don’t twist my words around.”

He stepped closer to me. “You said you would think about it until this asshole showed up. Who is he?”

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