“Like you? Well, I suppose I do. And I find you incredibly attractive in ways I can’t quite put into words. Maybe because you despise me so. It’s so refreshing. But that only goes so far, and why should I give you what you want when you haven’t given me what I want?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows anxiously. “And what is that?” she asks in a tight voice.
“You know what it is,” I tell her, leaning in closer and smiling. “I need a maid.”
“I’m sure you can find one.”
“I want you. I want someone I can trust.”
She stares at me for a moment before she says, “And what makes you think you can trust me?”
“Because you’re being honest with your feelings toward me. That’s always a good step. I can’t tell you how many people, women especially but men, too, kiss my fucking ass and hail me as their king when they secretly hate me. They do it because they want something, and they think I’m too vain and arrogant, as you have said, to catch on. But I know. I always do. And when you find someone who is the opposite of all that, well, you better make sure you hang on to them.”
“But I am better than a maid,” she argues.
“Would your mother like to hear you say that?”
She sighs. “What I mean is, I can do more than that. I’ve learned so much. Use me.”
My brow shoots up. Use her? “I like the sound of that.” I suddenly have an image of me using her in a very naked, very sweaty, very wild way.
“Use me for something more,” she clarifies.
For the first time since I’ve been in Gabrielle’s company, I’ve remembered the true reason why I need someone I can trust. The letter. I need someone who can look into this for me, someone smart who I can rely on. She’s right. I would need her for something more.
“Okay,” I tell her, displaying my palms on the table. “How about this? You’re my personal assistant who occasionally cleans my toilet.”
Her nose crinkles as she gives me a look of utter disgust. “You have a way with words, don’t you?”
“If you want to live with your mother, on our property, you have to pull your weight. And no, you can’t just pay rent. That’s not how this works.”
“I thought you liked money,” she says, folding her arms and sitting back.
“I do. And I have a fuckload of it, more than I know what to do with. But sometimes, even a Dumont has to admit that money isn’t everything. Sometimes we all need a little help.”
She seems to mull that over, staring down at her fingernails. A few seconds pass like hours until she finally looks at me. “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“I’ll be whatever it is you want me to be.”
I give her a crooked smile. “Be careful, little sprite. You should know better than to leave it open-ended like that. I have a very wicked imagination.”
“And like a sprite, I’m harmless until threatened. So take that as a warning.”
“How did I get so lucky?” I muse.
“There’s no such thing as luck,” she says and then waves over the waiter.
“You’re going so soon?” I ask as she hands him a few euros, as if I weren’t going to pay for her.
“I have to pack up my things,” she says, glancing at me. “If I’m going to move in tomorrow, which I assume I am.”
So presumptuous.
“You know, I’ll probably be at work, if you wanted to stop by the office first,” I call after her as she walks away.
She doesn’t answer. I watch that ass as she disappears out of the café and across the street. In a few seconds she’s completely gone, and I have to pause and wonder if I just had coffee with something supernatural.
I’m also not sure if she blinded me in such a way that I just committed to the worst idea I’ve ever had.
CHAPTER THREE
GABRIELLE
You’ve made a huge mistake.
What were you thinking?
How did you even think you would survive this?
Those thoughts and countless more run through my head as the taxi takes me up the long, tree-lined driveway to the Dumont estate. With each second that ticks on, each stately, flourishing tree that passes by, I feel the knot of dread in my stomach tightening and tightening until I don’t even think I can breathe.
The driver stops out front, and I breathe out a sigh of relief to see no cars in the driveway and