“He has plenty of entertainment.” I turned my head so the people around us wouldn’t hear, stretching my neck up. “What about Eloïse, won’t she get jealous?”
“You know that’s not how this thing between us works.”
“Right. I’m not interested in the details.”
Bastian cleared his throat, hastily changing the subject. He redirected the conversation to his territory.
“So, what are you doing here? You were in Cutnam lastnight. I don’t believe the story that your pre-teen buddy had an extra ticket and you flew over just to keep him company.”
“Oh, really? And why is that?”
I spun around on my feet. I placed my hands on his chest, while his returned to rest on my lower back.
“Just look at his clothes,” Bastian said with a dismissive wave. “A guy like that wouldn’t be able to afford two tickets to a place like this.”
I took a step back, irritation bubbling up inside me.
“He won them in a raffle,” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.
Bastian’s jaw tightened. “And he chose to give one to you instead of selling it? I don’t buy it.”
“Fine,” I said, bristling. “Then tell me what you think it is.”
Before he could respond, the speakers emitted a harsh screech, making me flinch. The music abruptly shifted from a lively beat to a slow, melancholic ballad. The sudden change in atmosphere felt like a jolt, and this time, Bastian took the initiative. He pressed me against him with a roughness that made me instinctively wrap my arms around his neck.
We were pressed together again, his mouth brushing my ear, my hands grazing the bare skin of his neck.
“I think… you’re the one who bought the tickets. I have no idea how or why.”
His eyes scanned my face as if reading the truth there. I was a blank page.
His words made my heart race, though I managed to maintain a relaxed expression. Did Bastian know something about the money? Did he know I had half a million pounds that belonged to Club Montari?
It was impossible. Bastian couldn’tbe involved… He was just, like me, a born investigator. He knew something smelled fishy.
“If that’s what you think…” I said, challenging him. “Take a guess. Why did I come? Why did I buy the tickets?”
If Bastian had reached any important conclusion, I needed to know. If he had made the connection between finding me at Club Montari last night and in Bordeaux today, he should know I was tracking the Dubois family.
I raised my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
Bastian moved even closer to me. I could feel his breath and heartbeat, his glasses almost bumping against my hair.
“Because of Julian Garros.”
“What?”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. I had Julian Garros’s trial in less than two days, and the case had been on my mind the entire time since it came into my hands… except in the last few hours. I had relegated my work almost completely to the background.
“Come on, Vera. Rumor has it the Dubois were clients of Garros.” He frowned. “You know that, right?”
No. No one had told me. But I couldn’t let Bastian know that.
“So that’s what you’re doing here? Is that why you’re with Eloïse?” I asked, balancing the scale in my favour.
Bastian gave me a half-smile.
“Now you get it. And I wouldn’t want you to tell André what you saw last night.”
