by Rowan Shaw
When Héloïse brought the platter of beef tongue, I tried hard not to gag as I cast a quick glance at Emma. She, however, had no trouble showing her revulsion. She pursed her lips, and when she saw me looking at her, she pushed her index finger inside her mouth. The smell alone made my stomach heave.
Héloïse didn't miss a beat. "Emma and Enzo, you get a special dish, don't worry."
"A dish that will cover that awful smell?" Emma replied unhappily.
Probably used to her attitude, Héloïse ignored her and left to return with a large serving bowl of tabbouleh.
"Why do they get a special dish?" Amal asked.
"I'm a vegetarian," I said. "And Emma is vegan."
Florian looked between Emma and me, surprised we had bonded so quickly. Héloïse asked him if he'd cut the tongue while she went to get the béchamel sauce. He indulged her and served everyone their share while Emma and I tried hard to ignore what they were eating and focused on our own food. When Florian nudged my elbow discreetly, I raised my head to notice everyone staring at me.
"Sorry, did you say something?"
"I was asking what you could tell us about Florian in high school," Héloïse replied.
I smiled. "I don't have much to say, except he had a huge crush on Gaspard Ulliel."
"Who doesn't?" Amal asked with a laugh before Emma deadpanned, "I don't."
Amal laughed harder.
"That's hardly the dirt I was looking for," Héloïse said. "Not like what Raphaël had to say about their threesome the one time I met him."
Everyone stared at her and froze.
"Crap! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry, Enzo."
Emma rolled her eyes. "You and your big mouth."
I looked at Florian from the corner of my eye and began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Héloïse asked.
"Oh, nothing. Don't worry. I'm not jealous." Not anymore.
Florian didn't seem comfortable discussing his sex life in front of everyone, though. He fidgeted in his chair while Amal cleared her throat and blushed all over her face. Emma's lips twisted into a line of irritation.
A phone rang somewhere in the room, and everyone turned toward Florian.
"Crap. Sorry, I forgot to turn it off."
"Talk about rude," Emma let out.
Héloïse glared at her, but I had to agree with Emma. Florian knew how I felt about people answering their phone during meals. He turned it off without picking it up.
"Raphaël's dad," he signed. "I'll call him back later."
"Is everything okay?"
He shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine."
Dinner ensued with two more courses of salad and cheese before it ended with chocolate mousse along with coffee and mirabelle as a digestive drink. Florian passed on the alcohol since he was driving.
I stared in awe as Emma refused to eat the mousse because it contained eggs. I knew right then I could never be a vegan. My shoulders slumped. She must have caught on to my reaction because she grinned at me.
"Don't worry, you're already doing the best you can," she said.
I had to settle for that. I gave a tight-lipped grin, and the rest of the evening unfolded the same way, with everyone talking while I sat there unable to understand a single word.
When Florian and I finally got home, we returned to a mess of unpacked boxes and scattered furniture. We were too tired to take care of that. Thankfully, we'd already made the bed before leaving, even if the rest of the bedroom was still in chaos. I joined him on top and nuzzled his neck, curling up tightly against him.
"D'you know how often I've dreamed about this?" I signed.
"Not as often as I did," he replied.
"I doubt that."
I leaned into him for a kiss and parted his lips with mine. His mouth was warm and soft, still tasting of chocolate mousse and coffee.
"Are you too tired for sex?" he asked.
"If we are to live together, I think you need to know now... I'm never too tired for sex," I replied.
I wasn't too tired to finally start living the rest of my life with him. I knew it was too early for all that, but I did want the whole nine yards. I'd pondered it carefully since Paris and made my decision. I wanted kids and a wedding. Everything men like us had been denied for so long, I wanted it all. And I wanted it with him. And him only.
Florian gazed at me. "What are you thinking about?"
"Oh nothing." I gave a tiny smile. "Nothing at all."
Chapter 1
RAPHAËL
I wrung my hands like a kid standing in front of the door, feeling so damn nervous I could barely think. This was my last chance. The day was a disaster already. It was six P.M. I'd fallen asleep for an afternoon nap, and the alarm clock failed to wake me up. I had to rush through a quick shower before running all the way to the fourteenth arrondissement of Paris. I barely made it on time for my appointment, and now I was sweating. With my luck, the guy would take me for a slob and turn me down like every other prospect in the city.
Let's be honest, I doubted I could afford this place anyway. The rent had to be way over the top. The building had a concierge at the entrance who seemed to think he was a guard too—a stubborn-as-shit mastiff of a guy who wouldn't let me in until the man I was meeting acknowledged he was waiting for my visit.
The ad had said nothing about the rental fees either, which was suspicious enough, but at this point, I was desperate. I had no other choice. Since I couldn't stay at the hotel forever, and no one else wanted to rent an apartment to some provincial student who'd just landed in Paris, I had my back against the wall. My classes were starting in two weeks. It was my fault for waiting until the last minute to search for a place to stay.
Every day, I wondered why I'd decided to move here in the first place. I should have stayed in Nancy where I could afford lodging without risking starvation by the end of the month. In Paris, I'd be lucky if I could even buy a bottle of water after paying for my rent, but ENSA offered one of the best architecture programs, hence my choice to move.
I sighed as I rang the doorbell again, discreetly crossing my fingers as I closed my eyes.
The guy—Adrien or whatever his name was—sounded rather nice on the phone. I was probably foolish to think he'd give me a chance nobody else would, but I could only hope.
Whatever was taking him so long to answer, though, I wasn't sure. He knew I was coming since the bulldog at the entrance called him the moment I arrived. I took a deep breath and rang the bell a third time, slowly losing patience.
When the door opened at long last, I froze and stared at him for a bit too long, my surprise triggering his cocky grin. Of course, with a face like that, he could only be the smug, irritating type. Just my luck.
He beheld me for a few seconds. "Raphaël Diop?" he asked in a deep, masculine voice.
I gave a pathetic nod. The guy never stopped scrutinizing me with that snide grin on his face, his intense gaze running up and down my body. Standing at six feet tall, he had short black hair in a crew cut and naturally tanned skin much lighter than my bronze complexion. His sharp anthracite eyes shone at me over a long nose and fleshy lips while his black turtleneck sweater and tight black jeans molded his body so well that I could tell he worked out. A five o'clock shadow covered his jaw, but instead of looking unkempt, it seemed trimmed and well maintained.
The golden watch on his wrist undoubtedly cost as much as my second-hand car back home. I was standing there, looking like some fucking hobo while this guy looked like a millionaire right out of a romance novel or something. Even my black slacks and white button-down shirt made me feel inadequate.
The guy jerked his head to the side, asking me to come in. Though I didn't want to snoop, I shot a quick glance all around as I followed him down the hallway into the living room. A ball caught in my throat. The place looked even more luxurious than in the ad. The living room alone had to be forty square meters, with a black leather couch against the far wall, two armchairs matching i
t on either side of a glass coffee table resting in the middle, and a huge flat-screen TV hanging from the opposite wall. The ceiling had crown molding all around, and the fireplace was big enough that it held two huge cacti on top of its mantelpiece.
Unlike most apartments in France, this one actually had an air conditioner, which explained why the guy was wearing a turtleneck sweater in the middle of August. It was freezing in here, cold enough to make me shiver when the temperature reached forty degrees Celsius outside.
Goosebumps rose on my skin when I took a seat in one of the armchairs next to him while he picked the couch. I couldn't stop scanning the room. The white walls were covered in modern art—the kind with large splashes of colorful paint over white canvas. The beautiful decoration included framed charcoal drawings as well, some sanguine, some black and white.
I cleared my throat when my eyes trailed over one of the pictures, realizing those shapes represented two naked men embracing a woman in the nude. I stared at it a bit too long to make sure I was seeing things properly and swallowed a cough when my gaze landed on the picture next to the threesome—this one showing two women sixty-nining.
This guy had pornography—albeit artistic and tasteful—hanging around his living room as if that were completely normal. This sealed my resolution. I couldn't live here. Period. I wasn't coy by any means, but come on. What kind of a freak hung porn in his main living area? I'd never be able to invite my family or friends here with this obscene shit all around.
The guy's eyes followed mine, and his little smirk returned. Not once did he bat a lash. Or even blush. Nothing. He simply sat there and extended his hand to break the ice. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Adrien Dupuis."
I looked down at his hand, his fingernails perfectly manicured, his fingers thin and long. His grip was straightforward, his palm warm against mine before he pulled away to grab a clipboard and blue pen from the coffee table. I cleared my throat again, trying hard not to fidget. He was making me nervous, a feeling I didn't like.
Adrien slanted his eyes and leaned forward while tapping his pen on the paper. He was too tense for my tastes—so damn uptight I could have stuck a rod up his ass. So much for him sounding easy-going on the phone.
"So Raphaël, do you do drugs?" he asked, locking his dark eyes on mine.
I swallowed the wrong way and nearly choked. "Excuse me?"
"Do you do drugs?" he repeated, his voice perfectly level.
My jaw twitched as a reflex. Another one of those pricks who liked to stereotype me on sight. I'd barely met him, but he was already grating on my nerves. "Why are you asking?"
"Because that's my right."
I sucked my teeth, trying hard not to snap at him. "No, I do not do drugs. But thanks for assuming."
"Good."
His patronizing tone took another hit at my anger, but I gave him a fake, placid smile. "I don't see how that's relevant."
Adrien clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side. "I'm asking because I don't need cops on my doorstep. It's that simple."
I stood, my shoulders sagging. I'd have to find another place because I was done here. "Look, it was nice meeting you and all, but I don't think I'm interested."
Adrien didn't even move as he asked me to please sit down. "Raphaël, I'm only asking because many people our age do drugs, and I don't put up with that shit. Once again, I don't need cops investigating my life."
Okay, then. Weirdo. I sat back down, the word serial killer popping inside my head.
"I've lived my entire childhood around smokers. I can't stand the smell of it either," he added more kindly. "You don't smoke cigarettes, right? Or vape?"
"No. I don't do drugs. I don't smoke. And I don't vape. Am I allowed to drink beer and wine, or do I need to cut that out of my diet too?" I shot back with sarcasm. "Is sex even allowed, or is this some kind of monastery?"
To my surprise, Adrien burst out laughing. Not just a small laugh either, but a really loud one complete with exposed throat and mouth wide open. Then he licked his lower lip, and like the sad sap that I was, I couldn't stop staring. Fuck me. Why did he have to look so damn good?
"I think it's pretty obvious this is no monastery," he commented. "Do you bring a lot of hook-ups home?"
"Excuse me, but how is that related to the application? My sex life really is none of your concern."
My eyes geared toward the two men and woman on his wall, then back at him. Adrien didn't respond. The arch of his eyebrow was raised at me as though he truly expected an answer. When I didn't reply, he checked a box on his paper.
"I could ask you the same question, you know?" I protested.
His mouth rose in a mischievous grin as his dark eyes twinkled wickedly. "You could, but I'm not the one being interviewed here. As you can see, I already have a place to live."
I sat up at the edge of my seat, ready to go. No apartment was worth subjecting myself to such a self-entitled ass. I'd be damned if I told this conceited prick about my sex life.
"You're not against queers, are you?" he asked. "I've seen you check out the threesome on the wall a few times."
"So first I do drugs, and now I'm anti-queer. D'you have a lot more of those coming?"
He didn't reply. I fucking hated myself for this, but I tried to sweet-talk my way into his good graces—only because I was truly desperate at this point. It fucking cost me to grovel, but I had to get an apartment by the end of the week. No matter what. My pride be damned.
"Look, I really need a place. And you obviously need a roommate too, so..."
"Whoever said I needed a roommate?" Adrien asked, raising his damn eyebrow at me again.
"Well...why would you place an ad online if you didn't need a roommate?" I stared at him, baffled.
Adrien's deep, throaty laugh echoed around the room, shooting shivers all the way down my spine. There was no way I could survive living around such an arrogant ass, especially one who was so fucking hot.
He never stopped observing me when he said, "Tell you what: I'll ask you whatever I want, and in return, you can do the same. Sound fair?"
I shrugged. "Okay." I looked him square in the eyes. "Do you bring hookups home a lot?"
"No, I never bring my hookups home."
I felt like asking him if he preferred butchering his victims outside his apartment, but I could tell he wouldn't appreciate my sense of humor.
"We go to a hotel or crash at their place," he added as if it were any of my concern whom he fucked and where or how. He ran his tongue over his teeth and flashed me a smile after saying it too, looking so damn breathtaking, I gulped and shifted in my seat.
"Is it going to be a problem if I bring people here?" I asked. Surely he couldn't be that prudish. Not with all that porn all over his walls.
"I'd rather you didn't. I don't like having people over."
Well, okay then. I nearly rolled my eyes. Jackass. Fuck him, his thousand-euro watch, and his sparkling white teeth. No matter how damn gorgeous he looked, he was everything I hated: an overly privileged brat. I could smell the nouveau riche on him, loaded and smooching off Daddy's dough while spending his days at the spa. Not the type I liked to mingle with.
"You never told me how much the rent is," I commented, though at this point I didn't care anymore. I'd already gathered I wasn't staying here.
"How much can you afford?"
That was a trick question, I could tell. He was testing me before kicking me out and laughing because I wasn't up to par.
"So?" he insisted. "How much?"
"Six hundred a month," I acknowledged reluctantly. I knew this place couldn't be that cheap. "I have a scholarship, and I landed a small tutoring job. Maybe I can find something on the side to get more." I knew I'd blown the interview. This place was way out of my league.
Adrien sized me up again, his eyes lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze. "You're a student?"
"Yes. I'm working toward a Ph.D. in architecture."
"Where are
you studying?"
"ENSA."
Adrien arched both his brows. "Impressive."
"Thanks." Like I cared what he thought...
He dropped the clipboard on the couch and extended his hand to shake mine. "Let's give this a try."
"What?"
"You can move in, and we can see how it goes from there."
"Really?"
"Yes, really." His hand nearly crushed mine as he shook it.
"How much is the rent?" I asked.
"Six hundred. That's how much you said you could pay."
"No." I shook my head. "I meant total. How much am I supposed to pay?"
He stared at me like he didn't quite understand. "Six hundred. I just said it. Everything included."
That couldn't be it. "How much does this place cost between you and me combined?"
Adrien flashed a grin. "You don't want to know."
"I do. That's why I asked."
He hadn't demanded a reference yet. He hadn't asked me to pay a full month’s deposit in advance either. This was fishy as fuck. I was going to end up dead, trashed somewhere in the city by the end of the week. There was no way this guy wasn't a criminal of some kind. The offer was too good to be true. Unfortunately for me, he was the only person who'd been willing to give me a chance.
Chapter 2
ADRIEN
Raphael gaped at me with his gorgeous hazel eyes that were so pale compared to his beautiful brown skin. His hair was cut in a short wavy fade, his face clean-shaven. He had dimples in his cheeks without smiling, too. Those damn dimples made him look almost boyish, even when his online application said he was twenty-six.
"When can you move in?" I asked.
I could tell he was uncomfortable, his stiff shoulders and deep frown telling of his mistrust. I couldn't blame him. I didn't fully trust him either. I was taking a risk having some complete stranger move in with me, but I was tired of living alone. It got lonely after a while. Getting a roommate was the closest option I had to not ending up dying alone and eaten by my cat.
I'd interviewed a bunch of people already, but none of them matched what I wanted. Raphaël seemed down-to-earth, smart, and ambitious. I was willing to give him a shot, even if Daniel was going to kill me when he found out.
