Maison Plaisir (Spirit World 1)

“What’s wrong?” Hervé noticed when she suddenly gripped his hand tightly.

A surge of anger bubbled inside. Belle didn’t think she could go through with this. “Let’s go home.”

“What’s the matter?”

Her throat went dry all of a sudden. “That’s Trent.”

“Is that so?” Hervé sounded amused. “It’s going to be all right, love.”

“But—”

“Trust me. It’s going to be all right. You promised yourself not to let your mother walk all over you, remember?”

Hervé was right. Still. It was a low blow. She let Hervé herd her into the dining room. Her feet felt like lead as she forced herself to face her long haunting nightmare. Because of Trent, she’d avoided men like the plague. Rather unfair, she knew. Not all men were heartless, selfish bastards like Trent.

“Relax,” Hervé whispered to her. “Don’t let him intimidate you.”

Belle took a deep breath and forced herself to show a blank face. Trent saw her coming and rose from the chair. He looked a little bit surprised when he had a good look at her. Was he thinking she was still the same fat, awkward girl she was before?

“Isabelle.” Trent flashed a stunning smile. “How have you been?” He held his hand out.

She ignored Trent. As much as she wanted to muster some dignity in front of him and be cool and suave, she just couldn’t. Trent had left her an emotional scar she couldn’t scrub away. And she found herself not much of a forgiving type.

Trent’s face painted with irritation. She knew Trent didn’t like being ignored. He was a guy accustomed to being adored and being the centre of everybody’s attention. Too damn bad. From the corner of her eyes, Belle noted Clara and Sarah were enjoying the scene with great delight. Maybe her reaction was what her sisters had wanted to see.

Belle counted to five and calmed herself. It didn’t really work. Swallowing the bubbling anger that seemed to fester by the second, Belle pulled a chair and sat down. She put on the best game face she could manage and forced out a big smile. Her face felt tight like a woman who was addicted to Botox. “The food smells delicious,” she commented just to be polite.

Laid before them was a banquet of spicy dishes. From noodles to fish, rice and seafood appetiser, they all wafted strong aromas of garlic, fish sa

uce and red peppers. Clara and Sarah loved Thai food. Belle couldn’t tolerate it. She’d tried. But spicy food burnt her mouth and was cruel to her stomach. When she lived in this house, her sisters always demanded Thai food for dinner, knowing she couldn’t really eat it and the twins had a blast watching her suffer. Years later, now, they still tried to pull the same stunt.

Belle wondered why she’d even bothered. She was happy with her quiet, semi-hermitic life until her estranged family dragged her into a shit storm once again. She was furious with herself, and couldn’t understand why she kept allowing her mother and sisters to pull her strings as if she was their obedient puppet.

I didn’t move far enough. A new city should be good. New state, or even a new country.

Hervé took a seat beside her and settled gracefully. Trent watched him with a sour look, but Hervé acted as if Trent wasn’t even in the room. Her date chatted with her mother about what he did for a living and about his family. But Belle wasn’t paying attention to him. She was too busy spying on Trent.

That jerk was definitely jealous. It was painted clearly in his eyes.

Armand would make a perfect fake boyfriend. But Hervé…good lord. The guy was a candy apple man who only existed from the realm of magazine models. While Armand was manly and utterly handsome, dripping with sex appeal, Hervé was simply inhumanly beautiful. He was just perfect. The guy could really stop traffic.

No wonder Trent looked jealous.

Her anger evaporated and was replaced by a small satisfaction. But underneath it, a slice of irritation lingered. She felt annoyed that Armand had ditched her tonight. Armand had promised her he’d be here for her. Hail or sunshine. And after the price she’d paid him, he couldn’t stay sober to keep his end of the bargain.

Promises are meant to be broken, kiddo.

Stupid drunk.

Belle sipped a glass of water as Hervé spooned some Pad Thai onto her plate. She ate a few bites with a lot of water in between, then scattered her food to look as if she’d eaten a lot.

Hervé carried his role smoothly. He had a knack of inventing stories about their dating life from the bits and pieces of her personal life she’d told him while they drove here. She would’ve believed everything he said if she wasn’t the one who hired him in the first place. By the time desert was served, her mother and her sisters were enamoured with him like groupies. Besides being a very good-looking guy, Hervé had a personality that could light a dark room with sunshine. No one would not like him. Except Trent. During dinner, he’d drunk too much and by the end of it, he looked like he was already tipsy.

They retreated to the family room while Marceu and his helpers cleaned up the table. Her mother uncorked Hervé’s wine and clamoured obnoxiously about how good it was. Belle waited impatiently. She couldn’t get the hell out of the house of misery fast enough. She signalled Hervé. He caught her, but since her mother was still in the middle of mindless bragging, it wasn’t quite polite to cut her off right away. So Belle excused herself and went to the bathroom to powder her nose. When she got out, Trent ambushed her in the doorway.

“Are you going to avoid me forever?”

Belle gave him an evil look. “What do you want?”