“Where are you staying?” Billy asks, as we walk past shops and bakeries.

“With Bella.” Rose replies. Billy visibly holds his breath. “Where are you? I could come and stay with you for an evening? It’s such a pleasant surprise!” Her perfectly manicured hair doesn’t move in the slight breeze.

“I’m tired Billy, I’d like to go back to the hotel,” I say, putting my hand in his. I walk with authority. She eyes me with contempt and leans in to kiss him. He doesn’t kiss her back, but he doesn’t pull away either. When he doesn’t respond to me I squeeze his hand roughly and pull him toward a dress shop.

“Here.” I pout.

I’m not concerned with the quality of the shop so much as the winning my brother’s attention. After we enter, I choose a shimmering black number with a plunging neckline I have no business wearing.

“How American,” Rose quips. I’m not quite sure what she means by the phrase, but my ignorance is pushed aside by sheer hatred.

“You got something to hide under that sack?’” I retort, fingering a button on the front of her shirt. Billy pales, throws the dress on the counter and opens his wallet.

The entire way back to Villa d’Estrées is met in this fashion, a tug-of-war for attention and words I don’t understand, but spoken with venom exchanged in French between the two of them.

Our single-bed room is very obviously used, my silky nightgowns strewn about the place like we’d lived there for weeks.

“Oh,” Rose says, surprised, “I expected there to be two beds.” Billy mumbles something I can’t comprehend before going into the bathroom. She smiles sweetly at me and asks what I do for a living. I tell her I roam the streets and beg for money. She’s not quite sure how to take that because she asks afterward, “So you’re homeless?”

“No, I just like to take people’s money.”

Even though I haven’t touched the streets since Nathaniel’s departure, I see no reason to tell full-truths to this woman who’s taken my brother hostage. I lie on the bed, sprawled out until my brother emerges from the bathroom. I tug his sweater until he’s down with me. His skin is damp.

“It’s been eleven years since I’ve seen my brother,” I say with stone in my voice. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“A few months,” Rose responds.

“Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?”

She’s visibly taken aback at my words, as I wrap a pale arm around Billy’s waist and tug him down onto the bed. I reiterate “eleven years” and press my lips to his ear to make sure he heard too. Billy stares at the wallpaper.

“Who is this?” Rose asks, gesturing to me. “Who is this defiant little—chienne?!” She spits, one hip thrust out and looking statuesque in her stilettos.

“If you ever want to see me again that’ll be the last time you say something like that about her,” Billy says, low. It’s the first time he’s reacted since the initial introduction of Rose into our little whirlwind trip.

I stand and give her a twice-over. Checkmate.

I begin to disrobe, shedding all of my outer clothes, so I stand in nothing but my undergarments as I retrieve the black dress from where I dropped it upon entering the room. As I stuff my ample hips into the expensive fabric, I turn around and walk toward the window where I open the curtains wide.

“I need to be zipped up.” I say. Billy doesn’t hesitate.

“Excuse me?” Rose says in a shrill voice. “Who are you? What does she turn you into?” Rose retrieves her small purse and puts a hand over her heart. “I love you, but I never want to experience her again.”

An extended minute passes while she waits, no doubt, for my brother to respond. When he remains statuesque by my side, she gives an exasperated sigh, then exits the room in a whirl of French perfume and bewilderment. Billy silently wraps his arms around me and we make toward the bed. We lie together until the windows darken.