Beautiful Bitch(28)

I opened my eyes and immediately clapped a hand over my face in the bright sun. “Ow. Fuck.”

Dominique appeared several yards away and pointed to the front gate. “Allez,” she said, telling me to go. “Se promener. Vous êtes ivre.”




I laughed. Hell yes, I was tipsy. She’d poured the entire bottle of wine for me. “Je suis ivre parce que vous me versa une bouteille entière de vin.” I think that’s what I said.

With a smile, she lifted her chin. “Allez chercher des fleurs dans la rue. Demandez Mathilde.”



This was good. I had a task. Find some flowers. Ask for Mathilde. I bent to tie my shoe and headed out of the property, toward town. Dominique was a wily one, getting me drunk and then sending me off on errands so I wasn’t moping around the house all day. She and Chloe would get along swimmingly.

Not a half mile down the road, there was a small storefront with flowers spilling out of every conceivable container: vases and baskets, boxes and urns. Over the door was a small sign written in looping script that said simply, MATHILDE.

Bingo.

A bell rang as I entered, and a young blond woman stepped from the back into the small main room of the store.

Greeting me in French, she quickly gave me a once-over and then asked, “You’re the American?”

“Oui, mais je parle fran?ais.”

“But I also speak English,” she said, her thick accent curling around each word. “And it is my store, so we’ll practice for me.”

She raised her brows flirtatiously, as if to challenge me. She was beautiful, no doubt, but her lingering eye contact and sexy smile made me a touch uneasy.

And then it hit me: Dominique knew I was bored and lonely, but she probably had no idea that I was waiting for Chloe’s arrival. She’d filled me with wine and then sent me to the hot young single woman down the street.

Oh dear God.

Mathilde moved a little closer, adjusting some flowers in a tall, slim vase. “Dominique said you were staying at Mr. Stella’s.”

“You know Max?”

Her laugh was husky and quiet. “Yes, I know Max.”

“Oh,” I said, eyes widening. Of course. “You mean you know Max.”

“This doesn’t make me unique,” she said, laughing again. Looking away from her flowers, she asked, “Are you here for flowers? Or do you think perhaps Dominique sent you for something else?”

“My girlfriend is coming tomorrow she was stuck in New York and then they had a strike and now she’s coming,” I blurted out in one steady, awkward word-flood.

“So you’re here for flowers, then.” Mathilde paused, looking around the store. “What a lucky woman she is. You are very handsome.” Her eyes slid back to me. “Perhaps you’ll be sober by then?”

I frowned. Straightening, I muttered, “I’m not that tipsy.”

“No?” Her eyebrows lifted and an amused smile spread across her face. She moved back through the store, collecting an assortment of flowers as she walked. “You are charming anyway, Friend of Max. The wine just makes you less inhibited. I bet normally you button up your shirts and frown at people who will walk too slowly in front of you.”

My frown deepened. That did sound a little like me. “I take my work seriously but I’m not like that . . . all the time.”

She smiled, tying some twine around the flowers. Mathilde handed me the bouquet and winked. “You’re not at work here. Keep your shirt unbuttoned. And don’t sober up for your lover. There are nine beds in that house.”



The front door was open. Had Dominique left and not closed it behind her? Panic seized me. What if something had happened when I was in town? What if the house had been ransacked? Despite Mathilde’s advice, I sobered instantly.

But it hadn’t been ransacked. It was exactly as I left it, with just a bit more wind blowing through the open door. Yet . . . I hadn’t come out this way; I’d walked from the backyard to the front gardens.

Down the hall, I heard water running, and I called out to Dominique, “Merci pour l’idée, Dominique, mais ma copine arrive demain.” She should know as soon as possible that I was spoken for. Who knows if she would start inviting women over here? Is that what she did for Max? Dear God, the man hasn’t changed one bit.

As I neared the closest bedroom off the hall, I realized that what I’d heard was a shower. And just inside the door were suitcases.