On the left bank of the Seine, Bastien Ménard was driving off into the night, his mind reeling on the same thought over and over again.
Celine.
Chapter 25
Bewitched
“She is driving me insane,” Bastien huffed when he entered the apartment the next morning, shutting the door behind him with such force that Juliana, who was coming out of the kitchen, a heaping plate of noodles in hand, startled.
A wet squelch echoed across the apartment. It was followed by a furious gasp.
Bastien halted in front of her.
“You, heathen!” In the middle of the room, Juliana was standing in a blue chemise, a sad mess of noodles and stir-fry vegetables splattered on the floor. Glaring at him, she threw her head back with a whine. “I had been looking forward to that dish all week.”
Bastien grimaced. “Sorry, Jules. Although you’d be happy to know that I brought fresh bread,” he offered tentatively, hopping over the noodles and placing a paper bag up on the counter.
It merely earned a death-stare from her.
“I don’t want your bread.” Juliana sighed. She tucked her bobbed hair behind her ears and leaned against the counter. “You might as well tell me who has gotten you so vexed while you clean the floor before it stains.”
“You’re not serious.”
She pointed a threatening finger at him. Bastien swallowed.
“Fine—but you better not get used to me being your maid.”
“I definitely will, Bas,” she droned and slipped her fingers into the bread bag nonchalantly. “I only get one day a week to enjoy whatever I want, then I’m stuck munching on lettuce like a rabbit. You in a maid’s outfit will make up for it. I might even ask Celine to sew you one.”
A low, nettled groan rumbled in his chest. “Do not mention her name.”
It wasn’t enough that he heard a sufficient amount of it daily to last him for years to come. Now he had to hear it even when she wasn’t in the room.
Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine, Celine.
“Aha,” Juliana replied in a way that suggested she knew something Bastien didn’t. “Let me guess, she’s beenpokingyou again.”
Bastien could feel her eyes on him as he came out of the pantry, mop and bucket in hand. He recognised an inspection when it was taking place, and he knew that right now, he was being inspected.
“That’s one way to put it.”
Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he plunged the mop into the bucket, splashing water all over the floor.
“I see.” Juliana was still following his movements, eyes narrowing at every word coming from his lips. He had learned long ago that nothing good ever came from her inspections. For him, at least. Jules got her two hours of fun exacting mental torture upon him until he confessed everything. “I thought you were going to postpone your evil plan to break them up,” she went on.
“I was. I am.”
“And the reason is still the same? That if Jacques finds out, I’ll be stuck with your ass on my chaise forever?”
Dangerous territory.
“The reason…might have changed.” Hoping to avoid her scrutiny, Bastien started scrubbing more vigorously. “I like her. We are friends.”
“Friends,” Juliana repeated. Suddenly, she pushed off the counter and grabbed him by his cheeks. Bastien teetered forward, holding fast on the mop for balance. A wrinkle of consternation appeared on his brow.
“What are you doing?” His words struggled past her iron-like grip on his face.
Juliana angled her head. Her green eyes had narrowed into mere slits; her nose scrunched like a hound dog upon a rabbit. The probing gave results. Her gaze fell to his lips.
