Page 32 of The Butcher

It was nearly three in the morning, but Bastien didn’t seem even slightly tired. He didn’t have bags under his eyes, had a distinct clarity to his gaze that made it seem like he’d woken up just a few hours ago.

The drinks were brought to our table, along with the burrata I ordered.

Bastien didn’t seem interested because he didn’t touch it.

“I haven’t eaten anything today.”

“Then you should have ordered more than the burrata.”

“I said I hadn’t eaten, not that I was hungry.” I grabbed a piece of bread and spooned the fresh cheese with the tomato on top, making my own version of bruschetta. I took a bite, struck by the subtle salt and the basil, the cheese so fresh it seemed to have been prepared just that hour.

With his fingers resting on the top of his short glass, his elbows on the table, he was a man far too big for such a small table. We were on the second level against the window, seeing the buildings lit up across the way.

I drank my glass of wine, enjoying the floral tones that masked the distinctiveness of the alcohol. After serving people fancy drinks all night, it was nice to enjoy one myself. I would have sat outside and enjoyed a cigarette if it weren’t so cold, but the dampness in the air would probably give me a chill.

“We can talk about it or not talk about it,” Bastien said. “Either is fine with me.”

I looked down at my glass then his, seeing the tattoos on the backs of his fingers, Roman numerals. It started off at I on his pinkie and then made its way to V on his thumb. Both of his hands were that way. “What do the Roman numerals mean?” I lifted my gaze to his eyes.

He didn’t look down at his hands to check what I meant. “The Fifth Republic.”

My eyes searched his for more information.

“The second-longest reigning political system in France—our current political system.”

I stared at his ink for another moment before I looked at him again. “And why is that important to you?”

He stared at me for a long time, his fingers resting on top of his glass. “Because that is the Republic that I serve.”

I’d been submerged in a depression that was colder than the Arctic, but my head popped out of the water when I heard what he said, when I understood it was important, even though I didn’t know why. “Adrien told me you’re dangerous.”

He didn’t react like he’d been caught in the spotlight, like he was red-handed in the midst of a crime. Adrien’s eyes had reacted in a distinctive way when I’d cornered him about Cecilia. He couldn’t lie his way out of it. But Bastien didn’t do that, didn’t stiffen like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I am dangerous,” he said. “But not to you.”

A warning flashed in my heart, but I ignored it—for better or worse. “How are you dangerous?”

He turned his attention elsewhere, surveying the other tables and deciding they were far enough away. “It’s a long and complicated story, but this is the headline you’re looking for—I kill people.”

This was the part where I should walk out and not look back, but I sat there and stared, the burrata forgotten. Adrien made his living in his nefarious ways, but it was a victimless crime because no one got hurt. But Bastien looked me in the eye and told me the truth—bluntly. Perhaps I was focusing on the wrong thing here, but that kind of honesty was damn refreshing. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

The seriousness of his face softened, his mouth possessing a hint of a smile. “You’ll get tired of my honesty after a while.”

“I don’t think I will.” It meant a lot to me to have that kind of respect, to be privy to information that a normal man would have concealed. “Adrien says there was no one else, but I don’t trust him. What I would give to hear his answer and know it’s the truth…”

His smile faded and his eyes hardened, like I’d said the wrong thing.

“What?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Where do the two of you stand?”

Marriage was sacred, and I didn’t blame anyone for wanting to fight for it until their dying breath. When I’d married Adrien, I assumed it would be forever. That we would have babies together, grow old together, and then be buried side by side in the cemetery. It was hard to accept defeat, but surrender felt like the right option for me. “It’s over.” It still made me sad to say that, to know that our relationship had been destroyed because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants until he came home to me. “I said I would try…but then we met with the marriage counselor, and it just went to shit.”

“Why did it go to shit?”

My eyes dropped down, remembering how many times I’d thought about Bastien as I sat there, unable to get those blue eyes out of my goddamn mind. It had been as if he were there in the room, watching the whole thing unfold. “There was a vase on the corner of her desk, and she accidentally knocked it over.”

He continued to stare at me, his fingers relaxed on the cool glass, giving no discernible reaction to that.

“Glass…everywhere.”

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