The days pass by and Reed takes me along to the city with him. I spend an awful lot of time with his mother who enjoys showing me off to anyone she knows, inviting numerous people over for tea in her glamorous house in Paradise Grove.

It is one of those days where Reed has a meeting in the city, about stuff he's acting even more suspicious about now that I know of his true occupation. He did inform me that the mission he's on, requires him to keep an eye on Papineau Plantation, hence why he tried to get that job in distribution. He doesn't want to share any of the other details.

Mrs. Whitacre indulges me in the secret that her go to boutique has lost one of their dressmakers. Apparently, she had an affair with one of the customers' husband and the store didn't want any bad publicity coming from that relationship, which meant the lady had to leave.

"Such a shame really... Madame Pearle offers high quality service and the designs are normally foolproof. You can just watch the boutique go down as the matrone can't find someone else." She shakes her graying hair and pricks her fork delicately in the turkey sandwich. A bit of mayonaise drips out of the other side.

"Perhaps we can step by later on?" I suggest, taking a sip from my lemonade and vacantly staring out of the terrace of Beau Garden. People are rushing by in the midday heat. Women are wearing big sun hats decorated with the wildest design and are glaring passerby's down from beneath their round sunglasses.

I tuck at the mid length sleeve on my arm. The bruise on my shoulder has turned a greenish yellow over time. Reed and I decided not to let anyone know of what has transpired on that one evening for we don't know exactly who's with and who's against us.

"How are things going between you and Reed?" Amelia Whitacre suddenly says, placing the fork precisely next to her now empty plate and folding the napkin double before she places it underneath the fork. She looks me directly in the eye, her blue eyes piercing through mine.

I look at her, baffled and thrown off guard. Never before has she directly asked after the relationship between Reed and I.

"Well, it's been a couple of weeks since you're married now. I assume you're both enjoying the marital life." She smiles knowingly.

"We're growing accustomed to each other." I manage to let out. She doesn't have to know that since a few days I sleep in the same bed as her son, afraid the nightmare of a few days ago might come to life again. I look down at my plate, pricking the lettuce that is left on one side.

"I'd say there's more goin' on..." Amelia says decidedly, grinning from ear to ear. She folds her hands in her lap and leans against the back of her chair, relaxed. As if there's not a care in the world, unaware a bunch of criminals is hunting down her son.

At my silence, she continues "Honey, don't act so baffled. It's clear to see that there's something more between you. I wouldn't call it love yet, but friendship to say the least. It is more than some people will know in their entire marriage."

An evening being scared to death by intruders might cause that to a relationship, I think but I wisely keep my mouth shut. Amelia lets out a laugh. I decide I like the way Mrs. Whitacre laughs. It's loud but yet refined. It seems like she wants the world to know she's a happy but is secretive to her reasons why. Her hand, bare of any jewelry, wraps around her pearl necklace as she inches closer as if to indulge me in another secret.

"That's nothing to be ashamed off, Annabelle. The contrary! It does me good to see my son happy." She leans back again, letting her eyes roam over the passing crowd, vaguely scanning the passing sun hats and parasols.

"I am glad I've come to know you, as well. You are very pleasant company." She finally states, letting out a happy sigh before she reaches for her water induced with limes.

She calls for the waiter, paying for our food after I have offered many times to pay. However, she insists and soon we leave Beau Garden behind us and dart over the Promenade.

"Perhaps we can take a look at Madame Pearle's?" I suggest and off we go.

❖❖❖❖❖❖

We meet up later with Reed in the lobby of the Marisol Hotel. When we enter, he's standing with his back towards us, his eyes glancing up to watch the giant chandelier. Mrs. Amelia Whitacre shouts her son's name and it echoes in the lobby. Immediately he looks down and his thoughtful look is replaced with a playful shimmer.

"Goodday, ladies." He says and he kisses his mother quickly on the cheek. I stand there, awkwardly as always, remembering those lips on mine. Reed doesn't seem to notice as his mother waves us goodbye. Without another word, he offers his arm and guides me towards the restaurant of the hotel.

It has a nice terrace, with ivy running up the walls and curling around the windows. A fontain is quietly pouring and the guests are calmly enjoying dinner. The warmth of the day is still hanging in the air but from the skye above a cool breeze is slowly playing with the banners of the hotel. As a true gentleman, Reed offers me a chair before sitting down on the other side of the table.

"I went to Madame Pearle's with your mother." I say as soon as the waiter has taken our order. Reed hums in response.

"It seems you two like each other. I am happy about that." He says as he takes a sip of champagne.

"She's lovely."

Silence engulves us. The last couple of days things between us have been akward. First that kiss, then the attack, Reed's profession and the whole sleeping together issue. It seems as if we're only compatible in theory and not so much in reality. Too much has happened and none of it was properly discussed. We just went with it but it seems to weigh heavy on our relationship.

The crystal glass of champagne turns around in my hand, the bubbles ticking against the sides.

"You're thinking." Reed states, leaning back, one arm draped casually on the back of his wicker chair. Glancing up, I notice how handsome he looks when he's so carefree, so different from the night of the threat. Although it might all be a facade, he looks as relaxed as ever, almost resembling the man that charmed his way into my family in Eauville.

"I might..." I start, wondering how much of my thoughts and worries I can share with my husband.

"They are looking for someone to work in Madame Pearle's."

Reed looks up surprised. A strand of his dark hair falls over his forehead and it takes all of my effort not to comb it back. He slightly squints, absorbing my image as I continue.

"I thought, perhaps, I could apply for the job."

Immediately, he sits straight, his arms resting on the table nearly stumbling over his glass. Irked, I look him square in the eye as if to test him. Challenging him to utter his words of complaint.

Without sensing any type of anger on my side, he distractedly ordens his cutlery neatly to one side of his plate.

"I fail to see why you should work in a store, Belle. You're married to me, it's not like we need another income." He states.

Rolling my eyes, my thoughts are confirmed. "I am bored, Reed. I can't stay at home by myself after..." the words are somehow stuck in my throat as if saying them makes the events all the more real. But my father didn't raise me to be afraid. "After that threat, I no longer feel safe all alone in that deserted house. And before you continue to support your argument, I know your mum is lovely, but I can't spend every single day with her. I need something for myself."

Reed leans back again, letting out a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair.

"I can't let you go to work, Belle. Not in New Paris, not in Madame Pearle's. You know I don't care about my reputation, but my parents do."

I cross my arms in front of my chest. He's lying. He tries to cover up the fact that even though he chose to live a solitary life in his desolate house in the middle of the bayou, he does care about what people think of him. It has already surprised me to see how far he was willing to go to be seen in New Paris when normally he spends his days hidden on the Papineau Plantation or in the Great Green. Me, asking to work regularly in New Paris, where all his former friends and clients can see me... It's is a sacrifice he isn't willing to make. He doesn't want his reputation of mysterious, business recluse to be over.

Somehow, he finds comfort in knowing people know of him but don't know anything about him.

"You can't expect me to bore myself away in the house, nor to bore myself away on the Promenade." I state.

The waiter comes to bring two platters filled with oysters, turning the conversation entirely awkward.

Reed inches a little closer, his frown indicating he won't give up on his argument so soon.

Annoyed, I take the first oyster and pinch the tiny lemon over the slimy substance.

"What if I can find someone to join us in the house?" he suddenly asks, his eyes still focused on the crustaceans in front of him. My silver fork floats midair.

"You know, a housekeeper of sorts. You won't be alone when you decide to stay at home. There would be someone who's constantly around."

My lashes nearly touch as I squint at him. "You wouldn't be able to convince someone to live with us, Reed. We live so far away from the city. No sane would accept your offer."

He shakes his head, more wavy strands dangling on his forehead. "You underestimate me, Belle. I already have someone in mind."

"Even if you found someone... That doesn't take away that I don't want to bore my hours away here or there." I place the cutlery on the fine table cloth.

Reed sighs. "Sure."

He purses his lips, a thin line tugged at by the ragged scar on his left cheek. He doesn't even seem to notice how the skin around it tightens.

"It's just..." He commences but his words remain stuck in his throat. He glances from one side of the terrace to the other, looks at his plate, then up as if his contemplating his words. At last he makes a decision and directs his gaze to my face. Under his tentative stare, I am nothing but the subject of his thoughts. Everything I do will go by, noticed by the handsome man in the seat in front of me.

"I was quite shocked after the threat we've received, Annabelle. I don't want to put you in danger by letting you go anywhere your fickle mind demands, unaccompanied. I know you won't be accompanied by my mother at all times, nor by myself..."

Without even thinking, I cut him off, my bayou temperament resurfacing for a moment. "Locking me away isn't the solution." I lean closer, aware of the secretive notion of my next statement.

"Your enemies haven't won. A mere threat won't keep me inside, Reed."

He shakes his head, a faint smile painted on his lips. "In case you didn't notice, Belle, I am growing rather fond of you. I am not planning on losing you this soon."

His words have me stuck in place, unable to move. The world around me stands still, confused about the intend of his announcement. The dimmed lights illuminate his face, dancing shadows caress his cheeks, their long fingers unhesistantly roaming over his scarred skin.

Reed looks so innocent, not a tinge of regret or secret motive hiding in his warm brown eyes.

He notices my posture and a frown disgraces his open features. A sudden doubt is displayed in the clenched jaws as he focuses back on the food.

"It's just..." his words never come out. My silence leads to regret and humilation clearly displayed on his sunkissed face.

"No."

At my sudden outburst, Reed looks up in confusion.

"What I mean is..." my fingers fimble with the fabric napkin. "If it makes you uncomfortable, knowing your wife might be more succesful than you, I will reconsider the application. But only, if you can guarantee the housekeeper."

He frowns, a playful smile playing around his lips. Lips that are demanding to be kissed. His sudden revelation makes it even harder to fight the urge to do just that.

"But don't think this discussion is off the table... I might just come back on it." I take a confident bite of the sticky food.

"Belle, you're one of a kind, aren't you?" he chuckles, all the tension suddenly relieved from the surrounding air. Instead of filled with built up emotions and stacked away thought, the night is filled with promises.