A bitch she may be, but she also looks like a sleek thoroughbred. And I already know I’m the ass in this comparison.
‘Oui, her family is not well liked,’ Charles agrees.
‘I understand why you’ve kept everything secret. I’m assuming that’s all over now because you want to go public with your relationship.’
‘Non. It is because la chienne, she is back,’ Charles announces dramatically.
‘The bitch,’ Fee offers by way of translation.
‘Remy tells me Rose is angry wiz him. But he cannot do wizout her, but ’e say she cannot forgive him for not saying ’e was engaged before.
‘That’s it, huh?’ If only he knew. If only that was the issue.
‘And ’e now wants the world to know they are in love.’
‘Well, I for one, I do not love being called to his office multiple times a day,’ I reply, dragging out the throw pillow from being me and punching it into some form of submission.
‘What was that?’
‘Olga, she gave Rose Monsieur Durrand’s account. She now works for ’im exlusivement.’
‘Almost exclusively,’ I correct. ‘And yes, I am mad at him.’ Sadly, not for the reasons they both think. ‘And now he’s driving me crazy, calling me to his office with all sorts of demands. He’s got me delivering lunch and then an afternoon coffee every day to his office, even though he already has a fancy-assed coffee machine in there. Not to mention a hotel with a Michelin-star chef who would probably stoop to making him brains and eggs if he wanted.’
‘Brains and eggs?’ Fee’s nose wrinkles.
‘Best not to ask.’
‘I wasn’t going to. But I was going to say it’s obvious he wants to make amends.’
‘By ordering me to jump when he says so?’
‘By getting you in the same room in the hope of making you remember the things you like about him.’
‘Comme sa bite.’ Like his dick. As Charles titters, Fee frowns across at him.
‘He does order two of everything,’ I say, refusing to be drawn. ‘And insists I stay with him.’ The first day, I refused to even sit down. He might’ve blocked out my time with Olga, but I didn’t have to sit or eat. Or even talk. By the third day, it became clear he was intent on wearing me down so I decided I’d sit and eat my sandwich, because you don’t make friends with salad, while just ignoring him. But even that didn’t last long because the man is infuriating. He seems to take a perverse kind of pleasure in goading me.
‘I think that’s sweet,’ Fee coos. I’m sure she wouldn’t say so if she knew exactly what he’d hidden from me. But telling her serves no one, least of all me. ‘But do you want to see him?’
‘I don’t know. It’s complicated.’ I get butterflies still when I’m on my way to see him, but then I remind myself of his lies, and the butterflies turn to pterodactyls that swoop and gnaw at my insides. When he’s not in front of me, he’s easier to hate. Okay, dislike strongly. And I think he knows that, or why else would he call me to his office multiple times a day?
‘You were out for a long time yesterday,’ Charles remarks, bringing my attention back.
‘Yeah, his tailor was there. He wanted me to help him pick cloth for a bespoke suit or four. I suggested the green tartan but changed my mind at the last minute when he’d said if that’s what I liked, then he’d order three. He’d probably wear them, too.’
‘That is love,’ he says through a wistful sigh. ‘For I would not look ugly for anyone.’
I’ve had worse afternoons. I got to spend it ogling his broad shoulders and solid thighs while pretending not to be interested in his innuendo and wicked half-smiles. We kept the arguing to a minimum for the sake of Monsieur Veilleux, the elderly white-haired tailor. Which basically means Remy behaved as he liked, as always, while I refused to be riled. I, Rose Ryan, took the high road. While thinking low thoughts because, when Monsieur Veilleux commented on the increase in the width of Remy’s bicep since his last measurement, he’d glanced over the man’s head, shooting me the most suggestive look as he murmured something to the effect that he might need a little more space in the right sleeve as he anticipated that arm getting more workouts over the coming weeks.