Chapter Fourteen

Antoine

I wish everything I felt while kissing Kristen was just horniness. The little head, trying to have its way. My dick’s very insistent, even if it’s incapable of vocalizing its wants.

I lifted weights, then ran until my muscles felt like rubber and my stomach was ready to heave. Normally I would just crash now. But no. I still can’t sleep. Because if I’m honest, I know it’s not about the restlessness or wanting to work it out with sex or even just simple lust. And every time I close my eyes, Kristen’s scent and taste invade my mind. Along with the hurt and anger on her face.

So now I’m at a bar near my place, finishing my third martini. I’m not worried about Kristen’s safety. I managed to lure a few paparazzi away from the penthouse when I left, and Tolyan said he’d be more than happy to relieve me for the night. He’s a scary motherfucker. I wouldn’t want to fight him because I know he’d rather die than yield. The only thing he cares about is winning.

A ruthlessness like that can come in handy. If I were that callous…I would’ve been able to get up and leave before being stupid and kissing Kristen.

I signal for another martini, then scroll through the contacts on my phone, wondering if I should just hook up with someone. That might do the trick. At least I wouldn’t be horny anymore. Or annoyed. Or restless.

“Hey, lover!”

My thumb pauses over the screen, and I look up. The blonde sidling up close to me is vaguely familiar. She has bright green eyes and the kind of well-carved cheek bones that cameras love. Her body is a marvel, an hourglass tight enough to tempt a saint, while her soft facial features somehow make her look like she’s barely legal…although she has to be legal to be in the place with a drink in her hand. But where have I seen her before…?

Then I remember. Cindy. She and I hooked up last year…I think. She was a redhead back then, her hair cut short. A tomboy with a killer body, and an aspiring actress. I don’t recall a whole lot about my time with her. We were together only for like a month, and she was mainly interested in talking about her aspirations—the biggest one being she wanted to be the most famous actress in Hollywood—and screwing my brains out. I didn’t mind on either count.

Cindy’s in a stretchy emerald dress that brings out her eyes and shows her to her best advantage…even giving me a little peek here and there, depending on how she angles her body. She twirls her long hair around a finger as she smiles.

“Hi, Cindy,” I say, hoping my grin looks cheery.

“Hey! I had no idea you were still in L.A.”

“Well, you know… Work’s in L.A., and I gotta keep paying the bills.”

“I hear that.” She leans forward. “So what are you doing here by yourself?”

I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re really tight. No wonder.”

I should be okay with the touch. But somehow it feels off. I like it less as she starts kneading the muscles. “I was in the gym, that’s why,” I toss out a nonsensical explanation as I gently wrap my hand around hers to get it off me.

“I know a great way to solve insomnia.”

She looks into my eyes. I should just take what she’s offering. But my dick suddenly shows zero interest in fucking. What the hell is wrong? I love blondes. And Cindy is certainly willing.

Except she smells off—rose and licorice. And she’s blonde, and her eyes are green.

When I don’t answer immediately, Cindy frowns. “What’s wrong?” Then she tilts her head. “Is it a woman? Someone else you’re with right now?”

“No.” Kristen isn’t a woman. And she and I definitely aren’t together.

Oh, but she felt like a woman for sure, my dick reminds me. Fucking traitor.

Cindy laughs. “Come on, Antoine. I’m not stupid. The only time my charm doesn’t work is when men are gay or taken—”

“I’m not taken,” I say tightly.

She waves that away. “As in, his heart is with someone else.”

I almost spit out my drink. My heart isn’t with Kristen. How could it be? I mean, I like her, sure, and watch over her…but it isn’t like that. I couldn’t give my heart to someone I can never have sex with. That doesn’t make any sense. Male evolutionary instinct is all about fucking and spreading our seed. You can’t do that if you’re in love with a woman you can never have.

Before I can formulate a suitable response to Cindy’s ridiculous assertion, I hear the familiar, overly breathless greeting. “Antoine! Fancy running into you here.”

Oh, for— I almost pull something as I whip my head around. It’s Maman, in full makeup and a light summer dress. Her hair’s twisted into some kind of updo that must’ve taken hours, and she looks like a single woman on the prowl to get herself a guy.

Except for the ring she hasn’t bothered to take off.

She studies Cindy with the satisfaction of a cat who’s discovered a fresh canary buried in her bowl of cream. Cindy stares back, her expression slightly wary.

Maman tilts her head slightly. “Are you going to introduce me?”

“Uh…this is Cindy. A good friend.” I wrap a hand around my mother’s arm and pull her away, mouthing, Sorry, crazy relative, to Cindy.

I drag Maman away to a café a block down. It’s one of those places that never closes because of late-night coffee addicts and big law firms in the area with their associates working until the half-circles underneath their eyes become permanent facial features. Sure enough, the place is somewhat crowded despite the late hour, but it’s private enough for a conversation.

“How did you find me?” I ask, after I get an iced tea and take a table.

Maman smooths her skirt, then crosses her legs demurely. A blueberry muffin sits in front of her, but I know she won’t touch it. She usually buys one just in case she wants it, but she never eats the damn things because she’s gotta maintain her figure.

“Easily enough. I had you followed.” She sips her cappuccino, her eyes on me.

“What?”

“Do you think you’re the only one who can do mysterious, clandestine stuff?” She laughs prettily. “Nicolas hired people to follow you around to figure out who you’re seeing. I guess he’s trying to sabotage your…efforts. Don’t worry. I’m having my people follow his people and him.” She smiles, looking at me expectantly.

Maybe I should clap—or something—at this spectacular waste of resources by two people who should know better. But this explains those cars on my tail.

“So. Who’s the girl?”

“Weren’t you watching?” I wouldn’t put it past her to eavesdrop.

“Of course not. I wasn’t following you myself, Antoine. I receive reports and make a move when I think it’s time.”

I can’t help but wonder if there’s some action movie soundtrack playing in her head when she says stuff like that. “I told you. Cindy. A good friend, but not someone I’d consider marrying or dating.”

Maman laughs again, the sound almost too musical…and creepy. “You’re so funny. Not her. The other one.” She leans forward with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “You’re aiming for Kristen King, aren’t you?”