Page 64 of The Butcher

Gabriel gave me a nod before he walked out with Luca. They stepped onto the sidewalk, and then a black SUV appeared just like Bastien’s. They disappeared from the curb and drove down the street.

Bastien pulled out his phone and texted his driver. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Sure.”

He opened the door for me and stepped onto the sidewalk, sunshine visible between the buildings because it was a cloudless day, unusually warm for the spring. When he stood next to me, he was like the Eiffel Tower and I was the Seine. His friends were guys I would hit on in a bar, but they didn’t hold a candle to the man beside me, with blue eyes that were warmer than a summer evening.

“Your friends were nice.”

“They were assholes, and you know it.” He looked down the street and saw his driver coming around the corner. “You want to come back to my place, or should I drop you off?”

It felt like a trick question. Was he inviting me back to his place to be polite, or did he actually want me there? He said he was honest to a fault, so I just asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to fuck me then take a nap with me.”

I never had to wonder what he was thinking because he just told me—and that was refreshing. “Sounds good to me.”

Chapter 14

Bastien

I sat at the bar and drank alone as I waited for Luca to get there.

He walked in a couple minutes later, wearing his leather jacket with his motorcycle helmet under his arm. He took the seat beside me and placed his helmet on the counter. He tapped his fingers against the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “Gin and tonic.”

The bartender threw his drink together and served it with a smile that asked for more than a tip.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“No problem, babe.” She walked away to serve the people who had been waiting at the bar a lot longer than Luca.

“Where’s Gabriel?”

Luca shrugged before he took a drink. “I don’t fucking know.”

My fingers rested on the top of my glass, and I looked at my reflection in the mirror, saw the way Luca stared at the side of my face.

“So, you’ve got a woman now?”

“Is that a problem?” I turned in the swivel chair to look at him directly.

“She’s still married.”

“You act like she’s having an affair.”

“It is an affair—technically.”

“Even if it were an affair, I wouldn’t give a damn,” I said. “And I don’t give a damn that you don’t like her.”

“I never said I don’t like her.”

“You sure act like it.” I took a drink.

“I just think you shouldn’t get involved with a woman with so much baggage.”

“I can lift a car—so I can carry her fucking baggage.” I looked at the front of the bar again, seeing him stare at the side of my face in the mirror.

“When you called her your woman, she had this look on her face, like she didn’t like it…or she was uncomfortable.”

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