Maison Plaisir

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  “How so?”

  “Well, she doesn’t always approve of everything I do.”

  “Doesn’t she? You don’t strike me as a difficult person. Why is she hard on you?”

  Belle shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. She probably thinks I’m a disappointment. After all, I’m not perfect like my sisters.”

  Hervé started to see the problem. He’d pieced together bits of information when he’d eavesdropped on her conversation with Armand, but he still wanted to hear everything from her own mouth. “And what about this charade? I heard from Armand she’d pressured you to get married?”

  “Unfortunately. She wants me to marry this man, Trent Curtis.” Belle shuddered. “He’s a jerk. So I told her I’m seeing somebody.”

  Hervé already knew this as well, but he was still curious to find out everything about her. “How do you know Trent’s a jerk?”

  She blinked. “I’ve known him since I was a teenager. Trust me, he’s a jerk.”

  Interesting. But one just didn’t brand someone a jerk so passionately unless that person had wronged her. “Has he done something to you in the past?”

  Her cheeks reddened in an instant. “Nothing. It’s not relevant.”

  “Belle. The more I know about you, the better we can pull off this charade. You do want to make this convincing, don’t you?”

  That got her attention. She pondered. “We dated briefly when we were teenagers. Well, actually it was more like he dumped me right after he got what he wanted. You know…” She shrugged. “It was stupid of me, I should’ve known.”

  Dumped her? What kind of fool would dump a woman like her? “You’re not stupid. He is a jerk.”

  Her eyes sobered. “Everybody thinks he’s a great guy, though.”

  “Why would your mother want you to marry him?”

  “That, I really don’t know. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years and suddenly, she showed up and demanded I got married.”

  “Don’t you think it’s kind of suspicious?”

  “You think so?”

  Goddess, this woman was also gullible. “Yes. It is suspicious.”

  “I thought, knowing my mother, she just wanted to see me miserable.”

  Hervé caressed her cheek. “Let’s put on a nice show for your family tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Belle paused. “This means I’ll be troubling you in the future too. I hope not, but I have a feeling everything won’t come as simple as this.”

  “I don’t mind, love. You can count on me. I love a little payback myself.”

  A smile lit up her face.

  Hervé resisted an urge to kiss her. Not yet. He didn’t want to scare her. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Her mother looked shocked when she saw Hervé introducing himself as her boyfriend. Her sisters as well. Belle had a feeling they didn’t believe the charade she was trying to pull off. Hervé was too handsome. Too elegant. Too cultured and exotic right down to his seductive foreign accent. Meanwhile, she was nobody, skinny, plain and awkward. The two didn’t belong together. Not in a million years.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your last name. De Silvano?” her mother asked.

  “That’s correct, Mrs Beaumont. Hervé de Silvano.”

  “Any chance you are related to the de Silvano who owns that famous vineyard in Napa?”

  “How did you know?” Hervé replied good-naturedly. “Isaac de Silvano is my uncle. In fact, I’ve brought you some vintage wine from our special cellar. These have won quite a few awards, our family’s pride.”

  Her mother accepted the gifts as if they were a king’s ransom. “Thank you.”

  One of her twin sisters seized Hervé’s hand and shook it vigorously. The twins had been ogling him like a pack of hungry coyotes since they arrived. “I’m Clara, Belle’s sister. She’d never told us about you before.”

  No, because you’d never asked. Belle schooled a blank expression. Ever since she’d lived on her own, her sisters only called her when they wanted to rub something in. The twins had never been interested in anything but themselves. They loved the sound of their own voices. And it’d always been that way ever since they were little. Clara and Sarah had been the apples of her mother’s eye, while Belle was an ugly duckling she couldn’t stand to look at.

  “How did you two meet?” Sarah asked. “I know my little sister doesn’t have many friends.”

  “That’s rude, Sarah,” her mother reprimanded.

  Hervé wrapped an arm around Belle and gave her a kiss on top of her head. “We met at a company gala. She was the prettiest girl at the party, yet she was sitting alone like a lost little lamb. I just had to say hello. And after we talked, we just clicked.”

  Sarah cringed. Clara gave Hervé a look Belle knew all too well. Her sister must think Hervé had lost his mind to consider Belle pretty.

  “Let’s all go in. We don’t want the dinner to get cold, do we?” Her mother played the good hostess. She beamed at Belle. “Marceu has prepared your favourite Thai food for dinner tonight.”

  Belle thinned her lips. Mother knew she hated spicy food.

  They strolled past the parlour and into the dining room. Belle glanced at her surroundings. She hadn’t stepped into this mansion for years, ever since that fateful night. A shiver crept at the base of her skull. This place offered her nothing but misery.

  As they entered the dining room, her heart froze in her chest when she saw a ghost from the past. Belle couldn’t believe what her mother was doing.

  Trent Curtis.

  In the dining room. Sitting by the end of a long table, sipping brandy without a care in the world.

  “What’s wrong?” Hervé noticed when she suddenly gripped his hand tightly.

  A surge of anger bubbled inside. Belle didn’t think she could go through with this. “Let’s go home.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Her throat went dry all of a sudden. “That’s Trent.”

  “Is that so?” Hervé sounded amused. “It’s going to be all right, love.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me. It’s going to be all right. You promised yourself not to let your mother walk all over you, remember?”

  Hervé was right. Still. It was a low blow. She let Hervé herd her into the dining room. Her feet felt like lead as she forced herself to face her long haunting nightmare. Because of Trent, she’d avoided men like the plague. Rather unfair, she knew. Not all men were heartless, selfish bastards like Trent.

  “Relax,” Hervé whispered to her. “Don’t let him intimidate you.”

  Belle took a deep breath and forced herself to show a blank face. Trent saw her coming and rose from the chair. He looked a little bit surprised when he had a good look at her. Was he thinking she was still the same fat, awkward girl she was before?

  “Isabelle.” Trent flashed a stunning smile. “How have you been?” He held his hand out.

  She ignored Trent. As much as she wanted to muster some dignity in front of him and be cool and suave, she just couldn’t. Trent had left her an emotional scar she couldn’t scrub away. And she found herself not much of a forgiving type.

  Trent’s face painted with irritation. She knew Trent didn’t like being ignored. He was a guy accustomed to being adored and being the centre of everybody’s attention. Too damn bad. From the corner of her eyes, Belle noted Clara and Sarah were enjoying the scene with great delight. Maybe her reaction was what her sisters had wanted to see.

  Belle counted to five and calmed herself. It didn’t really work. Swallowing the bubbling anger that seemed to fester by the second, Belle pulled a chair and sat down. She put on the best game face she could manage and forced out a big smile. Her face felt tight like a woman who was addicted to Botox. “The food smells delicious,” she commented just to be polite.

  Laid before them was a banquet of spicy dishes. From noodles to fish, rice and seafood appetiser, they all wafted strong aromas of garlic, fish sa
uce and red peppers. Clara and Sarah loved Thai food. Belle couldn’t tolerate it. She’d tried. But spicy food burnt her mouth and was cruel to her stomach. When she lived in this house, her sisters always demanded Thai food for dinner, knowing she couldn’t really eat it and the twins had a blast watching her suffer. Years later, now, they still tried to pull the same stunt.

  Belle wondered why she’d even bothered. She was happy with her quiet, semi-hermitic life until her estranged family dragged her into a shit storm once again. She was furious with herself, and couldn’t understand why she kept allowing her mother and sisters to pull her strings as if she was their obedient puppet.

  I didn’t move far enough. A new city should be good. New state, or even a new country.

  Hervé took a seat beside her and settled gracefully. Trent watched him with a sour look, but Hervé acted as if Trent wasn’t even in the room. Her date chatted with her mother about what he did for a living and about his family. But Belle wasn’t paying attention to him. She was too busy spying on Trent.

  That jerk was definitely jealous. It was painted clearly in his eyes.

  Armand would make a perfect fake boyfriend. But Hervé…good lord. The guy was a candy apple man who only existed from the realm of magazine models. While Armand was manly and utterly handsome, dripping with sex appeal, Hervé was simply inhumanly beautiful. He was just perfect. The guy could really stop traffic.

  No wonder Trent looked jealous.

  Her anger evaporated and was replaced by a small satisfaction. But underneath it, a slice of irritation lingered. She felt annoyed that Armand had ditched her tonight. Armand had promised her he’d be here for her. Hail or sunshine. And after the price she’d paid him, he couldn’t stay sober to keep his end of the bargain.

  Promises are meant to be broken, kiddo.

  Stupid drunk.

  Belle sipped a glass of water as Hervé spooned some Pad Thai onto her plate. She ate a few bites with a lot of water in between, then scattered her food to look as if she’d eaten a lot.

  Hervé carried his role smoothly. He had a knack of inventing stories about their dating life from the bits and pieces of her personal life she’d told him while they drove here. She would’ve believed everything he said if she wasn’t the one who hired him in the first place. By the time desert was served, her mother and her sisters were enamoured with him like groupies. Besides being a very good-looking guy, Hervé had a personality that could light a dark room with sunshine. No one would not like him. Except Trent. During dinner, he’d drunk too much and by the end of it, he looked like he was already tipsy.

  They retreated to the family room while Marceu and his helpers cleaned up the table. Her mother uncorked Hervé’s wine and clamoured obnoxiously about how good it was. Belle waited impatiently. She couldn’t get the hell out of the house of misery fast enough. She signalled Hervé. He caught her, but since her mother was still in the middle of mindless bragging, it wasn’t quite polite to cut her off right away. So Belle excused herself and went to the bathroom to powder her nose. When she got out, Trent ambushed her in the doorway.

  “Are you going to avoid me forever?”

  Belle gave him an evil look. “What do you want?”

  “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.

  Now he thought about it, Belle didn’t even resemble Clara and Sarah, or their mother. Belle had dark, reddish hair with green eyes and pale complexion. The twins and Maggie Beaumont had blonde hair, blue eyes, and salon-enhanced tanned skin. Maybe Belle had inherited her features from her father? Maggie had mentioned his name was Arthur. When they were in the house, Hervé tried looking for his photo. He didn’t find any.

  Curious.

  Hervé drove his car to the highway. Even though the night was still young, not many drivers were on the road. Endless rain had showered the city since morning, making everything wet, slick and cold. Hervé decelerated the
car as they headed towards downtown. He felt relaxed now too. Maggie Beaumont had got on his nerves with her stupid drawl. And the dinner time was pure torture. The urge to snatch the man who broke Belle’s heart and rearrange his every bone was unbearable. Hervé hated the way Trent looked at Belle the whole time. He hated it when Trent dared to snatch her arm when she clearly didn’t want to talk to him.

  He stole another glance at Belle, wondering if she’d mind if he paid Trent a visit and taught him a lesson for breaking her heart.

  Belle caught him spying on her. “Thank you. For everything you did for me in there. I’ve never had someone defend me before.”

  “I’m your boyfriend, right?”

  She let out a wan smile. “You were very good in there. I think they’re buying it.”

  He didn’t know about that. As a pure-blooded fae, Hervé had a gift to read a person, especially a human. Not exactly like a mind-reader, but he could see one’s temperament through that person’s eyes. Maggie Beaumont was filled with hatred. The twins brimmed with jealousy. And Trent Curtis simply bore ill desires for Belle. Hervé could even see fragment of Trent’s malicious thoughts about Belle. During dinner, Trent was imagining holding a pillow over Belle’s face while he ravaged her. Hervé was close to snatching Trent’s head and breaking his neck.

  Bastard.

  “Is your uncle who owns a vineyard the same one who owns Maison Plaisir?” Belle suddenly asked.

  “How did you guess?”

  “Just thinking about what Armand said. Why Maison Plaisir?”

  “You mean why does he own an ill-reputed establishment when he already has a legitimate business?”

  “If you put it that way.”

  “My uncle opened Maison Plaisir for his wife. It’s a wedding gift, I’ve heard.”

  “Very strange wedding gift.”

  Hervé smiled simply. Not that strange in fae’s society. Seventh Realm’s faes were infamous for their sexual appetites. Giving their loved one unlimited pleasure was a common token of affection. “Are you hungry? I noticed you didn’t quite enjoy the dinner.”