Page 17 of The Saint

Then she kissed me, kissed me hard, like she was far from done with me. “You’re so fucking hot. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

5

FLEUR

Bastien worked every single night for two weeks, and while I was disappointed he was gone so much, I didn’t complain. He’d bailed on all his responsibilities when I’d needed him most, so I couldn’t be greedy with his time.

I went through all the things that Bastien had retrieved from Adrien’s and put the clothes and shoes away in the closet in one of the additional bedrooms. It was more than a spare room, but a smaller primary that was worthy of an important guest. The walk-in closet was perfect for all my extra things. Adrien had also included my wedding dress in the contents. It was zipped up in a bag, so I assumed Bastien hadn’t noticed.

Even if that had been a special day, it felt weird to keep it, so I tossed it in the donations bag.

I could only organize my belongings for so many hours without getting overwhelmed, so I would take a book down to one of my cafés and read it while enjoying a midday coffee. I did cardio for an hour every day now because I was afraid I would gain a bunch of weight since I spent most of my time sitting on my ass. And Bastien was so fucking hot that I had to at least try to stay fit.

I’d thought I would be lost and bored without having a job to occupy my day, but it was the opposite. I didn’t miss staring at a computer screen and looking at spreadsheets and booking appointments for my boss. I didn’t miss the meetings and the mandatory luncheons and the bullshit.

I didn’t miss worrying about rent and what temperature I could afford to keep the heater and how much I could afford in groceries for the week. I didn’t miss hearing people argue down the hallway from my apartment because the walls were practically made of paper. I didn’t miss having to do my laundry in my kitchen. Now, I didn’t have to do laundry at all.

No laundry. No cooking. No dishes. Nothing.

When I’d been with Adrien, I’d still had to do everything else. I was a housewife, and I earned my keep by doing everything so he didn’t have to do anything. With Bastien, I felt like a queen in a castle whose only responsibility was to fuck the king when he came home.

I sat at the table at BO&MIE, a café that had café crème and raspberry croissants, my favorite. I was upstairs near the window, reading my book while I sipped my coffee. I normally went in the morning when it was quiet, but I’d come around lunchtime today and it was louder than usual with all the people, so I had my earphones in while I read.

The chair across from me was pulled out, and someone put down their tray of food, baked rigatoni and a croque monsieur sandwich.

I assumed it was some jerk who had come to make a pass, but my eyes lifted and locked on the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

He smiled at my surprise as he sat across from me, his tray holding enough food for two people, maybe even three. “Mind if I join you, sweetheart?”

I paused the music in my earphones and closed my book. “How did you know I was here?”

“I track your phone.”

“Oh…” I didn’t know that.

He grabbed his fork and started to eat his pasta. He seemed to pick up on my disapproval because he said, “It’s a two-way street. You can see where I am whenever you want.”

“I can?”

He took my phone from the surface of the table and tapped his name in my contacts. The map popped up, showing both of our dots in the same spot. “If you’re ever worried about me.” He returned the phone to the table. “Want any of this?”

It did look good, fresh pasta drenched in sauce with the cheese baked on top. “Sure.”

He scooped half of it onto the little place that held his croissant and slid it toward me. “I ordered cheesecake too, but the prick forgot to give it to me.” He gave me his fork and left to retrieve another one.

His sandwich looked good too, so I cut that in half and crammed it onto my plate.

When he came back, he handed me the fork then smirked when he realized I’d taken some of his sandwich too. “Attagirl.”

He was the only man in the world who encouraged me to eat. If I started to gain some weight when I was with Adrien, he wouldmake little comments to indicate he noticed, like asking me to make salads and soups for dinner, things that didn’t have carbs. He thought he was being clever, but he was just an idiot.

That experience had made me strict with my diet. I ate whatever I wanted, but I always kept it under a calorie limit. I usually had a coffee and croissant for breakfast then skipped lunch and had a big dinner with Bastien before he went to work.

“Why are you awake?” I asked.

“I’m off tonight, so I just took a nap.”

“You are?” I asked a little too enthusiastically.

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