Free Maison Plaisir by Lizzie Lynn Lee

made a sandwich and was about to eat it when her doorbell rang.
    She peered through the peek hole. Her heart raced. Armand and Hervé stood by her front door.
    “Belle.” Armand’s voice seeped through the door. “We know you’re in there. We just want to talk.”
    Belle inhaled a sharp breath.
    “We mean you no harm, love,” Hervé’s voice called this time. “You know, we could easily pop into your apartment. I thought we could settle this misunderstanding civilly. Please, open the door.”
    Damn. He was right. She couldn’t avoid them forever. Sooner or later, she must face them.
    Belle gathered her courage and unlocked her door. She thought she was going to faint when she opened it. Two men who had been her lovers in the past couple of days stood by her threshold, staring at her with great dismay. “Who are you?” she asked sharply.
    “Well, love, I’m Hervé and this asshole is my cousin, Armand.”
    “I know what your names are,” she snapped. “I mean, what are you?”
    “May we come in? Please, Belle? We need to talk,” Armand pleaded.
    Belle gulped. “What are you?” Ghosts? Demons? Mutants? After what she’d witnessed today, she wasn’t sure about anything anymore. She started to question her sanity. Everything looked so…surreal. Belle jabbed a finger on Armand’s arm. He was solid. Not just a figment of her imagination. Just to make sure, Belle pinched Armand’s arm as hard as she could.
    Armand flinched. “That hurts, you know?”
    He was real. And Hervé must be too. She immediately ruled out the ghost theory.
    “Answer my question! What the hell are you?”
    “We’re fae from Seventh Realm,” Hervé answered.
    It took her a long second to digest what Hervé had said. What the hell was fae? “You mean fairy? Shouldn’t you be five inches tall, living in a big tree and baking cookies?”
    Both men looked offended.
    “That’s an elf, and not even the real elves look like that. You watch too many commercials,” Hervé said. “Please, love, we just want to talk. Give us a chance to explain everything.”
    Belle shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
    “It’s only fair, Belle. Please?” Armand pleaded.
    “No. I need some time alone.”
    “Belle,” Hervé protested.
    “Please. Just go. I need to think.” Belle slammed the door and collapsed. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she’d have a heart attack any second. She waited to see if either Armand or Hervé would barge in uninvited. They didn’t.
    “Very well, love.” Hervé’s voice was muffled by the door. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”
    Then, silence. A minute passed. Belle continued waiting. They were really gone.
    Thank God.
    Belle dragged herself from the door and into the kitchen. Her gaze drifted to the sandwich on the counter. She didn’t feel hungry anymore. She threw it to the trash can and padded to the bathroom.
    I need a long bath. Maybe I’ll feel better afterwards.
     
    * * * *
     
    Hervé peered outside his window through the sheer blinds. The construction crew had begun cleaning the damage in the backyard. Yesterday’s fight with Armand had provoked enquiry from his neighbours and the police. Luckily his staff were able to ward off everyone’s inquisitiveness with a simple spell and send them on their way.
    “Do you realise my house insurance rate will go up because of this?” he scolded his cousin, who was nursing a glass of bourbon near the fireplace.
    “Sue me,” Armand answered testily. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t stolen her from me.”
    “And I wouldn’t have stolen her from you if you’d let me compete against you fairly.”
    Armand snorted. “Why her?”
    “Like I told you, I fell in love with her. She’s special.”
    “I need a wife, Hervé. The Crown has been pressuring me for the last couple of years. Especially your mother. It would be nice to get her off my back.”
    “But do you love her? Or did you just want a