AS IF HE WERE THINKING about her feelings! Esmeralda teased him, exposing him again to his newest addiction of many. The smallest of smiles pulled his reluctant lips, not unlike the ones he gave Christine. All she had to do was banter with her happy beauty and he no longer felt attached to his body. Her purity radiated from her and it hit him like a shot of morphine. How did he ever look upon her like some insidious serpent, and why was he plagued with these bleak dreams of her preying on him?
Before the cold grip of his visions could overtake him, Charlotte was in his face being a sweet little cheerleader. Touched by her praise, he too became swept into the moment. His mind consistently robbed him of any joy and sentimentality, so when it did not this time, he was only overwhelmed. Glancing away, Claude caught the sight of Lucy’s intimate touch to Esmeralda’s hand.
Sanguine Esmeralda… how she never faltered through all of this.
She’s practically family now.
Lucy’s voice echoed in his head as he wrestled with the ever-present conflict that slept against his ribs. His personal assistant was never this far off the mark, because one dinner with Esmeralda could end him, but as he gazed at the sweet ballerina, he knew he was done for. After another round of hugs and congratulations there was a brief moment for them to gather their things. Claude could not stop himself from indulging this time. That pesky, subtle smile betrayed him by its return.
“You generously assumed my altruism and
forget I must also tolerate you.”
Alas, despite the warnings to stay away, the minister felt like a puppet to his secret desires as he greeted her with faire la bise as soon as he descended the stairs. Thousands of times had he left the Palace of Justice, and this was the first time he met with a girl. Mouth watering, as it did each time her rosy scent entered his nose, Claude thought back to her case and wondered again how he had caught the scent of rosemary.
Chagrinned by his behavior, his hand found her back to usher her away to the car with him. As a staunch Frenchman, Claude was proud of his culture and happy to adhere to any social standards, except for when it came to that greeting. It was too intimate. Lucy knew how much he hated it, but she still insisted on special occasions. All of this and he couldn’t resist the urge in broad daylight with Esmeralda. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she would overlook it after half a year of insults. This went beyond just being polite, and everyone knew Claude was never polite just for the sake of it.
Sipping some wine as soon as they were seated in the Italian restaurant she chose, the judge decided he needed something to stop him from being the marble of his reputation. It was like some invisible force pushed him here against his will and he was just now waking up to the withering decision of accepting her offer.
Pleasant and charismatic, Esmeralda was always effervescent and overstimulating. Initially responding with little, the minister sat with a rigid posture and listened with unwelcome admiration and wonderment. There was little indication of him being anything but indifferent at first, but she did not appear to be phased. He was feeding the starving beast inside of him and drank in every nose crinkle and smile she could manifest for him. It frightened him to think she might finally understand that he wasn’t being apathetic at all, and accepted him. There was that painful swell in his chest again. How could love make one feel physically ill? Taking more wine, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her.
When silence finally befell them, Claude had time to contemplate something he hadn’t before as he watched her content expression while she ate. How did this humble performer disregard her safety for the sake of a stranger? Recalling the last few weeks, his feelings of pride and adoration finally seeped through his stubborn wall of resilience. The minister could no longer remain silent and feign displeasure like he wasn’t impressed. He needed to hear it from her mouth.
“The brave are often foolish.”
It wasn’t just Carlotta Esmeralda defended against, but a powerful man who could have ruined her career in an instant if he had a shred of sense. Claude folded his hands thoughtfully.
“You risked everything that night,” he murmured, his grey eyes piercing hers.
“Were you not afraid of him?”
THE BEST-LAID PLANS needed execution, and if the main player did not play, she would have to find other ways to occupy herself for the night. But he showed up on time, impeccably neat as always. Wide smile on her face, she would have made a quip, if not for that greeting. Unexpected and unassuming, her face flushed, and she let herself be led away, his hand on her back to push her along. In her head reverberated a single thought.
He’s never done that before.
Cheeks still tingling from the warmth and pressure from his pecks, she wasn’t sure how she slipped into the passenger seat. She must have told him the name of the restaurant, for he drove off at once, and it was a matter of minutes before they arrived. The maître d' brought them in to a discreet corner, to avoid attracting attention to the politician. Tongues would wag, would they not, if they saw the marble judge with an unknown ballerina?
She chose this place after careful research (and asking Charlotte about his preferences), as she would never come to a place like this on her own. By her calculation, this meal would cost her two weeks worth of meals and groceries, while just being another meal for him. Still, this did not compare to actual fees were she to actually hire him. So she could not complain, and decided to take this as an opportunity to see this as a new experience. Even the napkins felt luxurious.
As the shock of their initial meeting subsided, and she found him as polite as he ever was to her (more, her mind reminded her again of those innocuous pecks), she began rattling. About her parents’ relief and gratitude, about her brother’s declaration that he would punch the man twice over, about her returning to work with complete ease, about the upcoming season and how he might like the repertoire. They had gotten through the starter, when it occurred to her that she had spoken much more than he. His words came back.
To him, the adage of silence being golden was more attractive. This meal was to thank him after all, she should let him eat in peace. Tucking into her pasta, she marvelled at how a simple dish could be elevated to such deliciousness. More accustomed to stronger flavours in her youth, she grew to appreciate lighter profiles after living on her own. Finishing the last mouthful, she looked forward to the next course, when he spoke up. Eyes widening slightly at the question, she looked at him, somewhat puzzled.
“Is that what you have been thinking about?”
Why hadn’t he asked before? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to lecture her while she had been fretting over the case. Besides, regardless of when he asked, she would still be surprised, because she never quite thought of that. No matter how worried she had been, not once had she regretted what she had done to defend the woman. She smiled.
“I was too angry to be afraid. Does that answer disappoint you?”
Brash versus stoic. It struck her even more at this moment the many differences they had. But where it mattered, she thought, she felt that they remained the same. He had always been known for the way he handled his cases. Thinking back again to how he had argued her own case, she smiled happily, until a jolt of memory hit her. Of her standing on a platform, full of rage, shouting at him at the top of her lungs.
Startled, she froze for a split second. Her heart was pounding, and she told herself to calm down. She had so many dreams recently, that they were bleeding into reality. She took a deep breath, and focussed on the present.
“The truth is that I didn’t think I would be risking everything when I punched him. I was just thinking about helping his wife.”
She wasn’t a martyr. She would not willingly sacrifice herself if she could. Not wanting to make herself out to be heroic, because she believed she wasn’t, she wanted to talk about him, as curiosity and playfulness got the better of her.
“What about you? What will you risk everything for?”