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The chime of the doorbell startles me, and I hastily wipe my tears away. Bastien stands before me, concern etched across his rugged face. He kneels beside me, gathering me into his strong arms, cradling me like a fragile porcelain doll.
"Tell me, Lisette," he urges gently. "What is it?"
"Je ne sais pas quoi faire," I whimper, burying my face in his chest. "I care for you both, Bastien, but I don't know what to do. Everything feels so impossible."
"Listen to me," Bastien commands softly, his fingers brushing tenderly against my cheek. "We'll figure this out together, d'accord?"
"Oui," I sigh, gazing into his eyes, searching for hope within their dark depths. My lips find his, our mouths dancing together in a heated embrace, fueled by fear and longing. As we kiss, I dare to hope for an impossible happy ending - one where love could conquer all, even the dark shadows of the mafia that threaten to destroy us.
"Promise me, Bastien," I whisper against his lips, "that no matter what happens, you'll stand by my side."
"Je te le promets, Lisette," he murmurs, his voice unwavering. "Together, we'll face whatever comes our way."
Chapter Eight
Bastien
The scent of freshly baked bread fills the air as I watch Lisette, her delicate hands skillfully shaping dough with a tenderness that makes my heart race. The afternoon sun casts a golden glow over her, and I can't help but be entranced by the way it dances on her skin.
"Come on, Lisette," I say, leaning against the counter, "you've been working all day. You need a break."
She looks up at me, her eyes defiant yet vulnerable, and for a moment she hesitates. "I... alright, Bastien," she concedes finally, her features softening. "But only for a little while."
"Deal." I flash her a grin, and we work together to close up the shop. As I bring down the shutters, I can't help but notice the warmth of her body standing close to mine, the gentle curve of her hips brushing against me as she locks the door and we stroll to my bike.
I hug Lisette close as the Harley roars between our legs. The heat of her body nestled tightly behind me is distracting. She’s wearing my helmet, so I can’t tell if it’s distracting on purpose, but when I park the bike she gives me a coy look as she takes it off.
The French Quarter comes alive around us as we amble through its vibrant streets. Laughter spills from my lips, mingling with Lisette's melodic giggle as we trade stories and confidences, our connection deepening with each step. The New Orleans air washes over my skin, heavy with humidity and possibility.
"Did I ever tell you about that time Etienne tried to teach me how to shoot?" I ask, my voice lilting with amusement.
"No, what happened?" Lisette's eyes sparkle with curiosity, her laughter carrying a hint of anticipation.
"Let's just say I nearly shot his foot off," I admit sheepishly, and her laughter erupts like a symphony in the night. I can't help but join her, the joy of this simple moment washing over me like a wave.
As we continue our walk, the city's pulse thrums beneath our feet, a wild rhythm that seems to match the beat of my heart. I steal glances at Lisette, her laughter like music to my ears, and I can't help the desire that stirs within me.
