In the charming town of Edinburg, Dulce runs her late mother's bakery. Her life changes when she agrees to a house exchange with a famous couple in Paris. Upon arrival, she is startled to find not one but two men-twins-sharing the house.
Drawn into...
No touching was taking place, but the level of closeness was not something Dulce was used to, especially not when it came to siblings. The gasp she let out didn't stir them from their slumber, and she seized the opportunity to quietly retreat, shutting the door behind her.
By the time the twins had likely awoken, Dulce was out shopping. She had decided to make the day all about herself, needing time to process everything that had transpired the day before, as well as the startling sight she had stumbled upon the night prior. She needed to determine whether she would stay or leave.
Five stores in, and Dulce already had too many bags to carry. The weight of the bags made her knees wobble, and she took deep breaths in an effort to maintain her composure.
"Salut belle fille!"
(Translation: Hello pretty girl)
The voice was unmistakably Arthur's. Dulce scanned the area, trying to locate him, until she finally looked up at the Haussmannian building, where he leaned out of a window.
"You! What are you doing there?" Dulce called up to him, feeling foolish for asking such an obvious question.
"Stay right there! I'll be down quick," Arthur replied, rather than offering an explanation.
After a few minutes, Arthur emerged from the building's doors, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and jogged over to Dulce. She couldn't help but give him an appraising glance, taking in his appearance from head to toe.
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(A/N: Ofc he didn't have the phone, the backpack and he didn't have the liquor either)
"You have all these things on you, let me help," he murmured, his voice laced with a subtle invitation as he relieved her of the burdens she carried. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, her tense muscles finally finding respite.
"Is this why you came all the way down here? To help me?" she asked, her tone tinged with humor rather than gratitude.
"No, this is my excuse to talk to you," he confessed. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she found herself unable to meet his gaze.
"You're heading back to the apartment?" he asked. Dulce longed to cry out "no," for the thought of facing the twins again without having first cleared her mind was unbearable. Yet, she was at a loss for any plausible alternative. What other place could she possibly go? She was utterly unfamiliar with France.
"But if you want, we can go to the cinema. You can leave your bags in my apartment for now," he offered, his words a lifeline. Dulce looked up at him, a flicker of hope igniting within her as she wondered if he could read the turmoil in her mind.
"I would like to," she finally conceded, her decision made in a moment of vulnerability. "Come with me, I want to show you my room. Perhaps it will meet your approval," he said, causing her to reconsider her decision. His room? Despite her doubts, she found herself drawn to him, her curiosity outweighing her apprehension as she followed him up the stairs. Though filled with skepticism, her primary aim was to spend as much time away from the twins as possible.
His room was many things, but the word that described it best was "clean." It exuded an air of pristine elegance, each element meticulously arranged to perfection. The gleaming white bedsheets contrasted against the rich mahogany walls, while shelves laden with books adorned the space beside a luxurious red leather sofa.
"Are you some sort of murderer?" Dulce jested, though Arthur did not seem to grasp her humor.
"A murderer? Is that the impression I give you?" His voice was low, tinged with hurt.
"No, certainly not! I was merely joking, Arthur," Dulce hurried to clarify, raising her hands in a gesture of apology.
"But what if I were a murderer?" He asked.
Arthur approached the bed's edge, where Dulce was seated, and stood directly before her. He placed his hand on her head, slowly trailing his fingers through her hair. Then, lifting her chin with his index finger, he compelled her to meet his gaze.
"Would you stay?" he asked.
Gazing into his eyes, she noticed their lack of luster. She recalled the dinner they had shared the previous evening, how his eyes had once sparkled with vitality; now, they were dull and inscrutable.
She remained silent.
His shin made contact with her knee, causing her thighs to part.
She remained motionless.
He now stood between her legs, and she was seized by an overwhelming desire to wrap her legs around his waist, to press her lips against his, perhaps even to whisper how much she yearned for him to be inside of her. But she refrained from acting on any of these impulses. She simply... looked at him.
"Very well, now we can go to the cinema." he declared.
Dulce was utterly disillusioned and bewildered. She had craved more, had wanted him to take decisive action, to grab her hair and instruct her desires, but he did none of these things. He merely retrieved his cigarette from the ashtray and opened the door to his room for her.
~
Arthur escorted Dulce to a cinema that was remarkably quiet. The place was nearly deserted, save for a few employees and perhaps three other couples. It was a dark, intimate space, yet there was enough light to make the patrons feel both secure and cozy.
"I am pleased you selected this one," Arthur remarked as they awaited the film to begin on the expansive black screen. The movie she had chosen was The Night of the Living Dead, for she had always been an enthusiast of horror, and this new genre thrilled her to the core.
Dulce shifted in her seat, finding it more comfortable than those in Edinburgh. Yet, they were too close to each other and her thigh was brushing against his.
"Yes, I do like being scared," she replied, hoping he wouldn't take it personally after their encounter at his apartment.
He said nothing in response.
Aside from the occasional accidental thigh brushing, no further "inappropriate" actions occurred during the movie. Deep down, Dulce had hoped for more, just as she had back at his apartment.
When the movie ended, neither initiated a conversation. Their walk out of the cinema was shrouded in silence until Arthur finally spoke.
"I'm starting my shift soon. Do you want to come along for a while?"
"Your shift? Where do you work?" Dulce asked, surprised that he had taken the time to accompany her to the cinema despite having work later.
"Oh, you've been there before. The bakery."
Dulce nodded, conveying her interest with enough enthusiasm to let him know she was intrigued. They then walked to the bakery together. The walk took only twelve minutes, but it gave her enough time to entertain a myriad of ideas—delusional ones, to say the least, like asking for a job at the bakery, for example.
She understood her privileged position, thanks to her mother's hard work from a young age. Having a bakery of her own, complete with a trustworthy employee, was no small feat, and at such a young age, she already had it. Money was not an issue for her, but she craved something to do for fun; she didn't want to spend all her time with the twins.
As she rehearsed in her mind the things she would tell Claude to secure the job, something Arthur said made her stop in her tracks.
"I hope Angelo isn't late today," Arthur remarked.
