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“Are you still mad at me?”
“Should I be?”
“Belle, that was a long time ago. We were both practically kids. Get over it already.”
She couldn’t believe what she heard. A fresh surge of anger rose within her. Get over it? Even now, he was still a selfish, arrogant bastard. She didn’t expect an apology, but at least he could change his tone if he really wanted to make amends.
Belle forced a bitter smile. She was sure she looked like a corpse grinning in its coffin. “Don’t worry. I was over it a long time ago.”
Trent leered. “Then let’s start over. How about dinner one of these days?”
“I’m very busy.”
“Lunch, perhaps?”
“Can’t do. My boss is very strict.”
“Weekend. You can’t be working on weekends, too.”
“Hervé always has plans on the weekends.”
His smile vanished and was replaced with a scowl. “I don’t think you’re really going out with him.”
“Oh? Like I give a shit what you really think?”
“You two are just faking it.”
“If you want to talk about fake, Trent, I’d suggest you look at yourself in the mirror. Excuse me.” Belle brushed past him to fetch Hervé. She couldn’t stand another minute in this house. She had to get the hell out.
Trent followed her and seized her arm. “I’m not finished talking.”
Belle hissed. “Let me go.”
A moment later, Trent’s body was hauled and smashed against the wall. Hervé had come and yanked Trent off as if he weighed nothing. Belle gasped. She didn’t think Hervé was that strong. Trent was a healthy six-foot-three, ex-college football quarterback with an impressive build. Yet Hervé was able to throw him off casually as if he was swatting an annoying fly.
“Some friendly advice,” Hervé said icily. “I don’t like to see any man touching my girl. Is that clear?” He turned to Belle, offering his arm. “Shall we go, love?”
Her mother and sisters, who came to the parlour after hearing the commotion, watched Hervé in disbelief. They were too befuddled for words. Trent scrambled up from the floor and dusted his sleeves. He looked as if he was ready to pounce back on Hervé. Her mother quickly intercepted.
“Trent, dear, you’re too drunk.” Her mother crooked a finger at her sisters and ordered them to bring Trent upstairs to sleep it off. Clara and Sarah jumped at once, coaxing Trent. Surprisingly, Trent stalked off submissively.
The rest was a blur.
Belle didn’t remember what she did afterwards. Her anger had turned her blind. She was able to recollect herself again when she was in Hervé’s car. Her hands were shaking when Hervé started the engine.
“It’s over, love. Don’t be upset anymore,” he cooed.
All of a sudden, she wanted to cry. But instead, the only voice that came from her throat was a string of guttural rumbles. She quickly discovered it wasn’t a rumble. She was laughing. A deep, rough laugh like an evil villain from the movies. “It’s over. It’s so damn over.”
“You okay, love?”
Okay? Besides the sudden anger she actually felt so much better than before. In fact, for the first time in her life, she had stood up for herself. Usually, she would’ve cowered if somebody like Trent forced his will on her. But tonight, she had actually stood up in front of him.
Belle turned to Hervé and grinned from ear to ear. “Never better.”
Hervé slammed on the gas, sending his black and red Bugatti Veyron lurching from the driveway and into the street in a heartbeat. He couldn’t wait to leave this place. It reeked of the most obnoxious, hypocritical human he’d ever encountered. And those twin blondes. Hervé shuddered. They were malicious and cruel and as fake as their aesthetically enhanced exteriors. Hervé wondered how it was possible they were even related to her.
He stole a sidelong glance at Belle. She seemed more relaxed now the charade was over. Belle sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking demurely calm. She was one of those rare beauties who exuded grace and serenity to people surrounding her without even realising it. Unlike her loud-mouthed sisters.
