The Paris Game (13 page)

“He hasn’t flirted too much this evening,” Colette said to Sera.

“No, he hasn’t. I’m a bit surprised.”

“With whom?” Edouard asked, looking between them.

“Sera mentioned that he was flirting with Sophie at the club and wondered if he’d keep trying tonight. But he seems to have backed off now that you’re here.”

“He’s a good guy,” Edouard said. “He wouldn’t go after another man’s girl.” He paused. “Would he?”

“It doesn’t happen often,” Sera replied, “but I wouldn’t take any chances.” She spotted a butter dish that Sophie had missed. She reached over to grab it.

“Going to check on them?” Colette teased.

“It couldn’t hurt.”

She walked on soft feet to the kitchen door, and glanced around the door frame. Marc’s back hid any glimpse of Sophie, but his head was bent and as she stepped closer, she saw his hand resting low on Sophie’s back. Sera leaned against him, snagging the belt of his dark trousers and moving her hand down over his hip as she dropped the dish into the soapy water. He tensed under her touch and shifted, glancing back at her.

“You missed one,” Sera said, grinning at him. “Aren’t you done washing yet, Marc? Edouard told me earlier he had plans to take Sophie for a romantic walk, and here you are.”

Sophie was blushing. “We’re nearly done,” she said, obviously embarrassed.

“I can finish up for you if you’d like,” Sera told Sophie. She hadn’t expected Sophie to indulge Marc with Edouard in the other room, but she acted like she’d been caught out. “I think Edouard’s eager to leave soon.”

Sophie slipped out from under Marc’s arm and handed Sera her towel. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. You two should be alone, making use of all your time together.”

Sophie smiled at Marc as she left. “À bientôt.”

“À bientôt, Sophie,” he replied. He glowered down at Sera. “Did you have to interrupt? Things were progressing nicely.” He kept his voice low so he wouldn’t be overheard.

“You didn’t think I would make it easy for you, did you?” When his eyes narrowed, she patted his cheek. He caught her hand and she flinched.

“No, but I also didn’t expect that you’d deliver her up to Edouard.”

She tugged her hand from his grasp. “Losing your confidence?”

“Not in the least.”

“Are you sure? That didn’t sound very convincing.”

Marc turned back to the sink and continued to wash, not bothering to respond to her comment. He placed the clean dishes in the rack to dry. Sera dried the dishes methodically. Marc didn’t say another word, but the tension crackled between them. Every faint touch or brush of an arm added to the feeling and she wanted him to defend himself, show her that he wasn’t as cocksure as he seemed. When he finished washing, he drained and rinsed out the sink, drying his hands on a towel as he left Sera to finish up.

Frustrated, Sera left the rest of the dishes to dry in the rack and followed Marc out to the main room. She’d had the last word, but she didn’t feel victorious.

Marc didn’t bother to join the group. Instead he walked over to the window and cracked it open, lighting a cigarette. Edouard and Sophie were talking quietly, and Colette and Anna were chatting about the theatre while they waited for Jerome to regain his equilibrium.

“He’s looking a little worse for wear,” Sera commented to Anna.

“He’ll be okay in a few minutes,” Anna said. “We’ll catch a cab so he won’t have to stumble home.”

“Walk home,” Jerome corrected her. “I’m fine.” Anna looked at him, showing a rare trace of annoyance.

“You’re not fine,” she told him sternly. “And I’m not dragging you home if you pass out in the middle of the street.”

“I’ll help you get him to a taxi,” Colette said. “As long as we can keep him from falling down the stairs, the rest should be easy.”

“And I’ll help,” Edouard said. “Sophie and I were going to be on our way, so it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Anna looked at her husband. “We’d best go before they change their minds.”

“Whatever you wish,” Jerome said, getting to his feet unsteadily. “Sera, your dinner was lovely.” He kissed her on both cheeks and staggered to the door. Edouard took his arm after giving Sera a smile and a wave, and they went down the stairs at a slow pace. Anna followed, giving Sera an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry we’re leaving earlier than usual,” she said. Sera smiled. It gave Edouard and Sophie a chance to leave without Marc to follow.

“That’s no problem at all, Anna. Have a safe trip home.” She gave Anna a quick hug, then hugged Colette.

“Tell Marc to cheer up,” Colette whispered in her ear. “He looks annoyed.”

“He’ll get over it,” Sera replied. “Bonne nuit, Colette.”

Sophie came and gave Sera a hug. “Thank you for dinner, Sera,” Sophie said. Sera kissed her cheeks.

“We’ll have to go for coffee soon,” she told Sophie. “Have a good night.”

“Bonne nuit, Sophie,” Marc said, stepping up beside Sera. He bent to kiss Sophie’s cheeks, but didn’t linger as he had before. Quite a change from the other night. Sera felt a frisson of victory.

“Good night.” Sophie went to the door, giving a little wave as she left.

“That’s a shame,” Marc said after the door closed. He drew his cigarette case from the pocket of his black blazer and walked back over to the window, lighting his cigarette as he went. Sera could smell the sharp scent of the newly lit cigarette, and it reminded her of all the other times it had just been the two of them. She would join him at the window and they would look over the rooftops and talk while he smoked. She missed those times, but she didn’t want to think about how he’d take out his cello and play for her, any piece she asked for. The music between them was the most intimate of all. She started clearing the empty tumblers from the table.

“A shame that you’re going to lose our wager?” she asked. “Maybe you should just pay up tonight.” She heard him snort as she took the glasses into the kitchen.

“You have a lot of faith in Edouard, ma chère,” he said as she came back into the room. He turned to face her. “I don’t think he will be so quick.”

“She likes him better.”

“That won’t matter.”

“And if she’s faithful to him?” Sera asked.

“It’ll just take a little more work on my part, a little more convincing. And it’s not like they’re married. You’re acting as if they’d said their vows already.”

Sera poured herself another glass of wine and went to sit on the divan. She kept herself from going to stand at the window with him; it had been such a habit that she would have done it without thinking. She could tuck herself under his arm, against his warmth. Instead, she curled her legs up under her on the divan. She was better on her own.

“The way she acts with him makes me think that he’s her first love.” As she said it, she realized how silly that sounded. Marc confirmed it with a derisive chuckle.

“That’s a bit idealistic, don’t you think?”

“Can’t you remember the first person you fell in love with?” she asked him. She could. It wasn’t hard when he was standing right in front of her.

“My first love?” He shook his head, his gaze turning downward, glancing out the window. She saw him take one last drag off of his cigarette before he flicked it into the street. “There have been so many.”

Sera looked into her glass, tilting it to watch the wine shimmer in the light. The flare of sudden disappointment at his words startled her. All women were insignificant to him, ciphers in his black book. Why had she expected anything different? She felt the divan sag a bit as he sat next to her. She kept her gaze firmly on her glass.

“Do you remember yours?”

She nodded, taking another sip of her wine so she wouldn’t have to answer.

“Who was it, Seraphina?” he pressed. “Was it a charming man like Edouard, back home in Marseille?”

“No. Maybe if it had been, things would be different.” She glanced up. He was so close, and the temptation to touch him made her look away.

“Who was it?”

She didn’t want to answer. If he didn’t already know, she wasn’t about to tell him. She was already vulnerable; between him and Royale, there was no safety.

“You know what I miss?” she said, ignoring his question. “I miss being able to listen to you play.” She risked another glance at him when he didn’t immediately reply. He looked pensive.

“It was simpler then,” she continued. “Just the music. And us.”

“It was,” he said finally. He caressed her shoulder, running his fingers down her bare arm. She stifled a shiver but his touch brought goose bumps. He gave her that half smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“The night’s still young.”

“And?”

“There’s always time for music,” he said. “But as I don’t have my cello here, you’d have to come home with me.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she emphasized. He gave her a reproving look, his brow furrowed.

“I wasn’t going to ask that. Though I certainly wouldn’t have said no if you’d offered.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course he wouldn’t have turned her down. She wanted to hear him play, but that was it. “How will I get home?”

“We’ll get you a cab. Or you can fight me for the bed.”

“If we fight for the bed, I’ll win,” she told him.

“Peut-être. Shall we?”

The trepidation set in as soon as they’d left her apartment and it got worse as they waited for a taxi. It had been liquid courage that had made her agree to this, and it was fast leaving her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting. It would be easy to head back upstairs to her apartment and leave Marc standing here, but she just couldn’t. Colette would tell her that she was an idiot for spending time with him, especially when he’d been the one to ruin things before.

“If Edouard isn’t successful with Sophie tonight, will you concede our wager?”

Sera came out of her thoughts and shook her head. “No. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” She needed that money. The thought of being forced to service Royale made her nauseous. Jeremy’s companionship only staved off the inevitable. She rubbed her arms.

“I still have fourteen days. That’s more than enough time. Are you cold?”

“Only a little.” She spotted a taxi headed in their direction, and Marc raised a hand to flag it down. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, sliding over on the seat to make room. He rested his arm on the back of the seat and looked over at her.

“If you’re still cold, you can sit by me. I won’t bite, you know.”

“As if.”

He chuckled, his dark mood lessening the closer they got to his apartment. “Only if you ask me to.” She shifted over on the seat next to him and leaned in stiffly against his warmth. Her thoughts went back and forth, and she kept changing her mind every few blocks. When the taxi finally pulled up in front of Marc’s building, Sera was sure that she shouldn’t have accepted his invitation. She’d done well enough on her own in the four months he’d been away, and she had almost convinced herself that she didn’t feel anything for him.

Marc grasped her hand, pulling her up and out of her seat. She followed him to the door, hanging back half-heartedly. He turned to look at her and in the dim light from the street lamp, she could easily imagine that he could see right into her.

“What’s changed?” He let the door swing shut and his keys jingled in his hand as he closed the short distance between them. Sera took a breath. She’d listen to him play and that would be all. She’d take a cab home. She wouldn’t let him get to her.

“Nothing.” She gave him a smile, but he looked unconvinced. “Are we going in?”

“Oui. We’re wasting the evening out here.” He tapped his key fob against the sensor and she heard the lock disengage. He held the door open for her and she ducked under his arm and went inside. He followed her up the stairs, reaching around her to unlock the door to his apartment and turning on the hallway light as they stepped inside. She blinked in the brightness, her gaze going to that spot on the bookshelf. The stack of books looked untouched. She wanted to pull them away, open the box and confront him about what she’d found, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to know if he was a thief.

“Would you like something more to drink?” Marc asked her as they reached the living room. “I still have another bottle of the wine we had earlier.”

“Thank you.” She trailed him into the kitchen and leaned on the counter as he opened the bottle and plucked two wine glasses from the cupboard to his right. He slid a glass across the counter in front of her and poured a healthy measure into both glasses. She lifted hers for a sip.

“Santé.”

They walked back out into the living room and Sera took a seat on the low leather chair, resting her glass on her knee. Marc set his glass on the dining room table, pulling out one of the straight-backed chairs before he went to fetch his cello from a small alcove. He laid the case on the floor and snapped open the metal clasps, lifting the instrument out carefully. The dark wood shone in the lamplight and Sera wanted to reach out and run her fingers over its graceful curves.