Bastien smirks and winks at me. So damn smug.
We’re escorted to the patio and seated at the table with the best view of the sunset. “Did you have to promise the hostess a kiss to get this table?”
He chuckles. “I told her that my wife and I were celebrating a successful in vitro after years of trying to conceive.”
It’s no wonder she looked at me the way she did. “She might have believed that until she saw your wife who looks twelve.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think that one out very well. But we got this great table so who cares, Mrs. Pascal?”
“I spend as much time being Mrs. Pascal as I do being Miss Middleton. I might as well be your better half the way I’m always mistaken for being your wife.”
“Maybe you should be.” His eyes don’t leave mine and he doesn’t crack a smile. He looks so serious. Like he means it?
No. No. No. The server appears, interrupting what Bastien was about to say next. “Hello. I’m Don and I’ll be your server. Do you need a minute or do you know what you want to drink?”
Bastien spouts off his usual beer and my favorite cocktail. He doesn’t even have to ask me anymore. That’s how well he knows me.
Mrs. Bastien Pascal. A girl can wish and hope and dream.
Chapter Sixteen
__________________________________
Bastien Pascal
–
Rose is still in the bathroom when I pull the covers back and get into the bed we’re going to share for the next seven nights. If I were a smarter man, I would have booked this trip for much longer.
I told her I reserved one bedroom because we end up in the same bed half the time anyway. That’s only a half-truth. I do believe it’s ridiculous to sleep in separate rooms when I’ll be in her bed by one o’clock. But I also did it this way because I want to start out in the same bed.
It’s ridiculous how excited I am to have her beside me all night. Not that I think this will cause anything more than the usual to happen between us.
Rose has called out to me in the middle of the night for thirteen months. I promised her I would be there whenever she needed me. And I’ve never let her down. Not once.
I’ve been thinking about our relationship and agreement a lot lately. We were both very clear about what we wanted and expected in the beginning, but many of our unbending boundaries have been replaced by lines in the sand that have been wiped away. I’m no longer certain what she labels a hard limit.
I often wonder what it would be like if she left her bedroom and moved into mine. There’s no question that she’s more at ease when I’m lying next to her. I think feeling safe when she falls asleep would help prevent her nightmares all together. And I know I would prefer to stop playing musical beds in the middle of the night.
I suppose one might call this a test. An experiment of sorts—to feel it out—to see if asking her to move to my bed is the right step for both of us.
I’m reading my latest email from work when Rose comes out of the bathroom. I want so badly to look up from my phone and see which piece of sleepwear she’s wearing. But I don’t. I’m worried it’ll be that sexy black lace gown. And I’m afraid she’ll see me react.
“Which tour are we doing tomorrow?”
“Helicopter.”
She goes to the closet, her back turned to me, and I take the opportunity to steal a glance without her knowing.
Holy. Shit.
She’s wearing the thin white gown. I didn’t think it looked sexy when it was hanging on a rack in her closet but I was greatly deceived.
She’s standing between the bathroom’s vanity light and me. Her body’s silhouette beneath the nearly transparent fabric is completely visible. Every curve.
God help me.
“I think I’ll wear the romper tomorrow. It’s probably my best helicopter wear, if there’s such a thing.”
She glances over her shoulder—and dammit—catches me staring at her. I quickly look back at my phone but I’m already caught. We both know it but I make an attempt to cover by asking her to show me her outfit.
She takes it from the closet and holds it up to her body. “Thoughts?”
It’s peach with some white lacy stuff over the shoulders. “You’ll look beautiful in that.”
A huge smile spreads across her face, as it always does when she hears me tell her she’s beautiful. She never hides her delight—one reason I enjoy saying it so often.
She gets into bed beside me. “Mmm. This is very comfy.”
“Not bad for a hotel but it’s no competition for mine.”
“You know how much I love my bed, but yours? Dear God, that thing is amazing.”
Rose doesn’t come into my bedroom often but when she does, she always comments on how comfortable my mattress is. I could offer to buy her one like mine but I think it would just be simpler if she moved into my room with me. Yes. I’m an opportunist, and yes, I like that idea very much.
She grew up sleeping on a filthy mattress on the floor. I think it’s the reason she always takes notice of different beds.
“You should try sleeping in mine sometime.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. This sleeping together full-time thing might not be for us.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve been getting the raw end of the deal all this time, leaving your room to come to mine. It should be the other way around.”
Maybe you should just move into my suite. I want to say the words so badly but I need to see how this week goes first. Once she makes the move, there is no going back. I can’t ask her to return to her room. Won’t.
“Work bugging you?”
“You could say that. Wendy has emailed me six times today. She says we need to FaceTime in the morning.”
Rose’s jaw is fixed. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” I turn my phone so she can see the message. “We need to FaceTime in the morning. Right there in black and white.”
I thought having Rose as my live-in girlfriend would end Wendy’s quest to lure me back to her bed. Wrong. She has continued to pursue me despite seeing us together at PPI events and Rose becoming my personal assistant.
Rose and I don’t publicly display our affection for one another. We aren’t lovers so it’s understandable. To us. I think Wendy sees our lack of affection as a weakness in our relationship. An open door for her to step through and try to push Rose aside. I just wish she’d move on. I haven’t been interested in Wendy for years now.
“Is she aware that you’re on vacation in Hawaii with your girlfriend?” Her voice is getting that high-pitched squeak that happens every time we talk about Wendy.
“She’s very aware. I told her yesterday before I left the office.”
“She’s trying to sabotage our time together. You see that, don’t you?”
I don’t need Rose to convince me. “Of course I see it.”
“She still wants you. And she doesn’t care that we’re a couple. Or that we live together.”
“I think she speculates our relationship isn’t what we say it is. We don’t touch or hug or kiss. We act like a brother and sister as far as she’s concerned.” Not because that’s what I want. I’d love nothing more than to touch Rose all day instead of looking at her from across the room.
“Go ahead. Have your FaceTime with her in the morning.”
I hear the irritation in her voice. I’m not sure if it’s directed at Wendy or me, but I won’t let that woman spoil my trip with Rose. “I wasn’t planning to call her. I have capable employees who take care of my business while I’m away. This is our time.”
“I want you to, Bash. She gets this one interruption and then no more.”
“Why?”
I sense mischief. Rose is scheming. “Don’t worry about why.”
“What are you going to do?”
She shrugs and gives me an expression that screams innocence. But I know better. “Who says I’m going to do anything?”
“Your tone says so. And that f
ace.”
She giggles. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see. But do it on your laptop. Not your phone.”
There is no telling what she is going to do. Rose isn’t cruel, but she despises Wendy, and has probably hit the limit of her patience with Wendy’s antics.
Rose reaches over her head to adjust her pillow. The fabric of her gown sticks to her body and hugs every curve. “The exhaustion of traveling all day is kicking my butt. I’m going to sleep.”
She leans over to kiss the side of my face and hesitates for the briefest of moments before pulling back. During her hesitancy, I seriously consider grabbing the back of her head and pulling us together closely to do all the things I’ve been fantasizing about for the last several months.
“Thank you, Bash.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You can leave the lamp on to work by if you want. It won’t bother me.”
“I won’t be long. Just going to respond to Wendy’s email and schedule the FaceTime.”
“Good night.”
“Sweet dreams, baby girl.”
She slides down in the bed, turning on her side so her back is to me, and pushes her hair off her neck, shoulders, and back so they’re completely exposed. Her bare skin calls to me to be caressed. Kissed. Loved.
Oh, God. What was I thinking when I decided that sharing a bed would be a good idea?
I won’t be able to see her if I turn off the light. Darkness will be my only saving grace.
I put my phone on the charger and flip the off switch on the lamp. I then discover that the absence of light keeps me from seeing her but it does nothing for the images I have of her in my head.
Come on, Pascal. Stop having lewd thoughts about Rose. You don’t have the right to think about those soft curves beneath her gown. Or the way her skin would feel pressed against yours. Or what it would be like to disappear inside her.
You know you can’t fall in love with Rose.
But you also know it’s too late.
You already have, you stupid fool. She’s already your everything.
I spend as much time being Mrs. Pascal as I do being Miss Middleton. I might as well be your better half the way I’m always mistaken for being your wife.”
Maybe you should be.
I shouldn’t have said that. But damn if I didn’t mean it.
If things were different—if I weren’t riding this ALS train—I would make Rose mine forever and never let her go. To hell with the age difference. I would marry her and put Cajun babies inside her and love her hard for the rest of our lives.
I would make her my Mrs. Pascal.
But if I weren’t sick, I wouldn’t have even met Rose. I wouldn’t have contacted Vale and paid two million dollars to satisfy my need to not be alone. I wouldn’t have her in my bed. In my life. In my heart.
My disease brought her into my life. It’s hard to wish it away when doing so would mean wishing her away as well.
Things aren’t different and they never will be. I’m going to become someone’s problem and there’s not a damn thing that can stop that.
I love Rose too much to become her burden.
My body’s decline is happening, but until it worsens I’m going to do any and everything I can to make Rose happy.
She didn’t look aghast at the idea of being my wife. Would that make Rose happy? Is that what she wants?
She says she has no intentions of ever leaving me. Isn’t that what a wife does? Stands by her significant other in good times and bad?
There are going to be some bad times ahead. And I’m certain they’re coming sooner rather than later.
***
“Bastien, I can’t believe you told me on Monday afternoon that you were leaving the next morning. And for a whole week. What kind of boss does that?” What kind of employee says that to her boss?
“Wendy, I own PPI, which makes me your employer. I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission if I want to take a vacation for a week.”
“You used to never take off. Or dump all this work on me.” That’s what this is about? The extra workload.
“I never took off because I was a workaholic who didn’t have a life.”
“Your focus isn’t on PPI anymore. That’s a problem.”
Damn, she’s brave to tell me my lack of focus is a problem. She believes being David’s daughter gives her the right to say and do whatever she likes. And it has bought her my leniency, but I’m growing tired of her attitude and behavior. “My company will always be important to me but I don’t eat, sleep, and breathe PPI anymore. There’s more to life than working all the time, and I plan on enjoying it.”
“That’s right, Bastien. There is more to life than working and we used to do a hell of a job enjoying it together.”
I called Wendy because I thought she needed to discuss a work-related problem. Not beat this dead horse. “Don’t go there again.”
“But I want to go there again, Bastien.” I can’t believe she’s trying this with me. Why can this woman not take no for an answer?
I’ve declined every advance she’s made since her husband left, but I’m seeing that’s never going to be enough. I need to convince her that there’s only room for one woman in my life: Rose.
“You and I are a thing of the past. It’s never going to happen again. I’m in love with Rose.”
Wendy knows Rose has been living with me more than a year and I don’t understand why it hasn’t put a stop to this nonsense. Rose told me I could tell Wendy anything I wanted about our relationship if it helped to get her off my back. Yes, I’m saying I love Rose to end this with Wendy but it’s not a lie.
“She’s a little gold digger who’s after your money.”
Good grief. This woman. I’m thankful I decided to FaceTime Wendy while Rose is in the shower. I don’t want her to hear the hateful things she is saying about her.
Wendy doesn’t get the opportunity to bully Rose at PPI because she works so closely with me in my office. I wonder just how far Wendy would take it if that weren’t the case.
“You know nothing about Rose or our relationship. You don’t get to have an opinion about her or us.”
“Oh, trust me. I have an opinion where that little harlot is concerned.”
I’ve fired people for so much less. And I would now too if she weren’t David’s daughter. But regardless of who her father is, it’s time to establish repercussions for her behavior. I’ve allowed her far too much leniency. “You and I are going to need to have a meeting when I get back.”
“Gladly.”
A streak of white in my peripheral vision catches my attention. “Are you FaceTiming with her?” Rose’s voice is a whisper but I don’t fail to hear the anger.
I nod slightly so Wendy doesn’t realize Rose is standing in the room. I’m afraid of what she might say if she believes she’s within earshot.
“How can you think you have something real or serious with that tramp?”
I don’t answer Wendy because I’m watching Rose come toward me. Wearing only a towel. “She needs a visual so she’ll understand why you’re no longer interested in screwing around with her.”
Rose sits on top of me with her legs spread, straddling my body, her naked back exposed to my laptop. “What are you doing?”
“Giving Wendy a show she won’t forget. She’ll finally understand that I’m the only woman in your life and that there’s no room for her because your hands are full of me,” she whispers.
I’ve never heard her say anything like that.
It’s hot as hell.
Thank you, Wendy, for being a total bitch who won’t accept a no.
Rose drops her towel and wraps her arms around my shoulders, pressing her bare breasts against me with her chest heaving up and down against mine.
“Kiss me.” I’m stunned by the sudden and unexpected urgency in her voice. It sounds real. Authentic.
She watches my eyes as though she’s waiting to see if I will or not. She has n
o idea that I’ve been wanting to do this for almost a year. Fantasized about it night and day.
Need to savor this moment. Make it last.
I cup her jaw and press my fingers into her cheeks so her lips pucker outward. My thumb rubs back and forth over her lips. “So damn beautiful.”
I release her face and move my arms to wrap around her naked body, pulling her against me. Hard. I grasp her wet hair in my fist and pull so she’s held in place, offering me her delicate neck.
With her back arched, she moves closer to me, and moans when my mouth nibbles the soft skin of her neck.
With my fingers fisted in her nape, I pull her head down until she’s positioned perfectly for my lips to find hers. Her mouth instantly opens and her tongue meets mine. Together, they roll against one another in soft, wet waves.
This may be an act on her behalf but my body doesn’t understand that. It’s doing the only thing it knows how to do with a woman who turns me on. Respond.
My hands leave the back of her head and glide down her sides until they find her cheeks, and I dig the tips of my fingers into her flesh.
“Ohh.” The sound is low. Faint. Hushed. Like maybe she didn’t mean for it to slip out.
“You’re so damn sexy, Rose.”
I move my mouth to her shoulder and peek at my laptop. Wendy’s face has disappeared from my screen, and I’m glad we’re no longer being watched.
I’m not ready to stop what we’re doing but to push on would be taking advantage of Rose. She’s had enough of that in her life.
It’s disappointing this has to end.
And so damn frustrating.
I pull away to tell Rose that Wendy has ended the call and her mouth lands on the side of my neck below my ear. Okay. Just a few more seconds of this and then I’ll tell her.
I let Rose kiss me longer than I should. It just feels so damn good—the touch, the connection, the feelings. I don’t want any of this to end. Ever.
But it has to. Even if it makes me feel really, really, really good.
Doesn’t matter how much I love Rose. Letting this go on is still the equivalent of using her.
Dear Agony Page 14
