Dark Faïz ( Book 1 ) [ COMPLETED]

Chapters 6-2

As I walked down the stairs, I heard in the distance the voices of Lily, Charles, and Faïz, who seemed to be in the middle of a very lively discussion.

— "You should have convinced her to go back to France! God knows what awaits her here."

Charles's voice against Faïz rang out full of reproaches. Lily soon came to her son's rescue.

— "That's what he did. He asked her to. You weren't there! He's the first one to want to put Zoe on a plane to Paris."

— "You should have insisted, not given her a choice! Last night's Banshee came to predict a near death."

— "Nothing says it was hers!" cried Faïz, angry.

My three hosts froze when they noticed my presence at the entrance, obviously frightened at the thought of knowing that I might have heard everything. Charles cleared his throat.

— "Hi, Zoe," he greeted me, embarrassed. "Come and have breakfast."

— "Thank you, but I'm not very hungry."

I looked at Faïz, who squeezed his jaw, instantly looking away from me. Lily rushed to me and put a delicate hand on my cheek while looking me straight in the eye.

— "We're just trying to find out what's best for you, so nothing happens to you."

— "Mom, prepare something for her for the road. We have to go," Faïz said, impatient.

— "Where are you going?" asked Charles.

— "To the mansion. William and Julio are waiting for us," said Faïz.

— "Do you want me to come with you?" Charles insisted.

— "I think you've done enough for today," replied Faïz scathingly.

Without giving his father time to justify himself, he passed me and headed for the exit.

— "Let's go!" he declared in a chilling tone before walking through the door.

I looked with compassion at Lily and Charles, who seemed sorry for the way things had turned out, and then I went out to join Faïz. He was already installed in his McLaren, the engine gleaming. I was hoping he wouldn't drive too fast. To my great surprise, he started calmly. In the rearview mirror, the villa gradually moved away from us.

— "I didn't see Victoria this morning. Was she still asleep?" I dared to ask, to break the silence.

— "No!"

I sighed deeply, exasperated by his attitude. The more we drove, the faster the McLaren was picking up speed.

— "You're driving way too fast. Slow down a little," I told him.

— "It's hard to do otherwise with this car."

Irritated by his behavior, I could not help but swear in Spanish. His head turned immediately towards me.

— "Look at the road!" I shouted, fearing that he would drive into a ditch.

He laughed. I tried to remain insensitive to that sound that I particularly liked about him, and which had the gift of making me forget everything.

— "What's in the playlist on your phone?" he suddenly asked me, curious.

— "I listen to a bit of everything, from Paolo Conte to Sia."

— "No French artists?"

— "Of course. It also varies: Kimberose, Kery James, Shay."

— "We'll see about that! Put your Samsung on Bluetooth."

I gave him a surprised look. Faïz Mattew wanted to enter a little into my world. Once the connection was made, he turned up the music to listen to it better. As for me, I lingered on the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, which showed muscular and prominent forearms. The first song was a beautiful slow one by Whitney Houston.

— "Romantic. It's to be expected," he whispered in a calm voice.

We were driving alongside Malibu when Sam Smith started singing.

— "This one is, for the moment, my favorite," I confided to him.

— " 'Too Good At Goodbyes' is a good choice," he admitted, taking a quick look at me.

— "Do you speak a little French?"

He grinned slightly before answering me.

— "No... That language is far too complicated."

— "And I thought you spoke of at least five foreign languages," I teased him.

— "The stereotype of the billionaire. Classic! Actually, I don't speak all the languages of the world, and I don't play the piano, either."

I couldn't help but laugh, because it was true. He had summarized the image the world had for that type of person.

— "You're just a muscular millionaire who has to save the world."

— "Yeah, just that. Not too disappointed, I hope?"

— "No, actually. It doesn't matter. You are who you are."

— "Is there anything I don't know about you yet?"

— "Strangely enough, I'm the one who plays the piano in this story."

— "Oh...okay."

He looked at me, intrigued by this revelation. We looked at each other for a few seconds, eye to eye, then he turned his head to look at the road.