Page 98 of The Stranger

It’s no good—we both give in, our laughter echoing.

“Poor Felix,” I say, eventually. “I imagine it was just as awkward for him as it was me. He’ll probably be scarred by the experience.”

“It won’t put him off.”

I pull a doubtful face.

“I was a teenage boy once.”

“When dinosaurs roamed the earth? Would you please stop laughing! Someone might hear you and they’ll”—guess what we did last night—“probably think you’ve been abducted by aliens.”

“Because I’m laughing in my own house?”

“Because it’s not normal behavior for you.”

His expression turns suddenly pensive, and his hand moving to his chin. “Last night,” he says, his thumb grazes across his lips. “You don’t regret it.”

Something blooms in my stomach, then drops. “I’m fine. Provided we aren’t talking about it,” I add, no longer looking at him, but the coffee machine. “As far as I’m concerned, I walked into Felix’s room, had a chat with him, then I went to the kitchen and ate cake. Then I went to bed.” I shoot a warning glance his way. “And somewhere between those two events I appear to have blacked out.”

“A good orgasm will do that to you. Two, almost three will⁠—”

“Stop!” I whisper-hiss. “We can’t do this.”

“Maria tells me the hens are laying double yolkers.”

I spring back in my seat as though electrocuted when Zoe shuffles into the kitchen. My heart pounds hard. I can’t believe the sound of her shuffling Crocs didn’t precede her.

“Oh, wow!” I didn’t even know there were hens here, but why not? Llamas and goats and horses and hens. What next? A unicorn?

“I’m afraid my breakfast will have to wait,” Luc suddenly announces in his M. LDH voice as he stands. “My apologies, Zoe.”

“Oh, of course. No problem.”

I pick piece of invisible lint from the sleeve of my shirt rather than look at him.

“Sylvie will be downstairs soon. Please ask her to wait with you until Primrose is available.”

At the sound of my name, my head jerks up. “Where am I⁠—”

“I’d like to see you in my office,” he says, stone-faced. Then he turns on his heel and all but storms out of the room.

As his footsteps echo against the terracotta tile, I glance Zoe’s way. I give a shrug in response to her questioning expression. No idea babes.

Our silent exchange is over in seconds. Or so I think when she gives a quick tap to the collar of her shirt and whispers one word. “Alejandro?”

This again?

“Now, if you please, Primrose.” His brisk tone carries. I pretend not to understand her as I follow him. She’s probably worried that I’m in trouble.

And I suppose I am, just not in the way she thinks.

23

LUC

I close the door with a quiet snick and turn to a reception I wasn’t quite expecting.

“Don’t,” she says, spinning away as I take a step toward her. She moves quickly to the far side of the room, her arms folded tightly across her chest.