The kitchen was bathed in the dull glow of an overhead lamp, casting long shadows across the countertops and steel appliances. The warmth of the ovens had long since faded, leaving the room cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere of earlier in the evening. The scent of roasted meat, wine reductions, and herbs still lingered faintly in the air, but now the bistro’s kitchen was still, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of Vincent’s knife as he carefully wiped the blade clean.
Rody leaned back against the counter, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the scars of long hours of work. His green eyes tracked Vincent’s every movement, a familiar pang of worry creeping up on him. They had been here before—late nights, just the two of them, hearts full yet shadowed by the fear of what could happen if someone found out about them. But this time, something felt different.
Vincent, always calm and composed in the kitchen, was slower tonight. His fingers, pale and precise, moved methodically over the knife’s blade, but there was a tension in the way he held it, as if the weight of their secret was finally beginning to wear him down. His dark, tired eyes—eyes that Rody loved, eyes that had softened for him in private moments—were now clouded with an unease that hadn’t been there before.
“You’re overthinking again,†Rody said softly, his voice low but firm, trying to break the heavy silence between them. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen.
Vincent paused, his fingers going still on the knife handle. He glanced up at Rody, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was a storm of emotions in Vincent’s gaze—fear, sadness, but also something fierce and protective.
“How can I not?” Vincent muttered, his voice strained, quiet, like the words themselves could hurt them if spoken too loud. He turned away again, placing the knife on the counter as he reached for a towel to dry his hands. “Every time we do this… it feels like we’re tempting fate.”
Rody’s chest tightened. He hated when Vincent spoke like this, as if what they had together was something wrong, something dangerous. But Rody knew the truth—knew the risk they were both taking just by being together, especially here, in 1950s France. It didn’t matter that they loved each other. It didn’t matter that every stolen kiss, every whispered confession in the dead of night felt more real to him than anything else in his life. None of that mattered if someone caught them. If someone reported them.
“No one knows,” Rody replied, pushing himself off the counter and stepping closer to Vincent. His voice was steady, but the knot in his stomach betrayed his confidence. “We’ve been careful, Vin.”
Vincent gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter how careful we are, Rody. People like us don’t get to be careful. If they find out…”
He let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, but Rody didn’t need him to say it. They both knew what would happen if they were caught. The humiliation. The arrests. The trials. The prison cells.
And that was if they were lucky.
Rody frowned, his jaw tightening as he stepped even closer, his broad frame almost blocking out the light as he loomed over Vincent. “Stop it,” he said, more forcefully this time, grabbing Vincent’s arm. “We’ll be fine.”
But even as he said it, a chill ran down his spine. They couldn’t be sure of that, and they both knew it.
Vincent looked up at him again, his expression softer now, though the worry hadn’t left his eyes. “You don’t know that,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking.
Before Rody could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the kitchen, growing louder with each passing second. Rody froze, his hand still gripping Vincent’s arm, and both men exchanged a look—one filled with dread.
The door burst open, and Pierre, one of the junior chefs, stumbled inside, his face pale and his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“Vincent,” Pierre managed, his eyes wide with terror. “Someone… someone’s reported you two. The police—they’re on their way.”
Rody’s stomach dropped. His hand fell away from Vincent’s arm as his mind raced. This couldn’t be happening. They’d been so careful. They’d hidden everything. How could anyone know?
“We have to go,” Rody said, his voice rough with urgency as he grabbed Vincent’s hand, pulling him toward the back door of the kitchen. “We can leave tonight. Disappear—”
But Vincent pulled back, stopping Rody in his tracks. He stood firm, his face unreadable, his dark eyes unreadable.
“No,” Vincent said, shaking his head.
Rody turned to him, incredulous. “What do you mean, no?” His voice was sharp, his panic rising. “We have to leave. Now. We don’t have time—”
“I said no,” Vincent repeated, his voice calm, almost eerily so.
Rody stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell are you talking about? We both need to leave! They’ll arrest us!”
Vincent took a deep breath, his hand still gripping Rody’s as he stepped closer, his eyes locking onto Rody’s with an intensity that made Rody’s chest tighten even more. “They’ll believe me,” Vincent said softly, his voice laced with a grim determination. “They’ll believe that I forced you. That I took advantage of you.”
Rody’s blood ran cold. “What?” He shook his head, disbelief and anger washing over him. “No. No, you can’t do that. You’re not taking the blame for this.”
Vincent’s gaze didn’t falter, though his eyes softened, his thumb gently brushing over Rody’s knuckles. “Rody, listen to me,” he said quietly, almost pleading now. “If we run, they’ll catch us, and it’ll be worse. But if I tell them I manipulated you… if I take the fall… they’ll believe it.”
“That’s insane,” Rody spat, his heart racing. “I’m not letting you throw your life away because of some twisted idea that you can protect me. We’re in this together.”
“I’m your boss,” Vincent said firmly, his voice rising for the first time. “I have money. I have connections. They’ll believe I forced you because you’re poor, because you work for me.” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he added, “They’ll believe it because it’s easier for them to accept that I was the predator and you were the victim.Maybe they’ll even be lenient”
Rody’s hands shook as he clenched his fists, his throat tight with frustration and fear. “You think your money is going to protect you from this? They don’t care how much you have, Vincent. They’ll lock you up just the same, or worse!”
“They’ll let you go,” Vincent whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with a determination that made Rody’s heart ache. “They’ll let you live your life.”
“I don’t want to live my life without you,” Rody snapped, his voice breaking as he grabbed Vincent by the shoulders. “I can’t… I can’t lose you, Vincent.”
Vincent closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a shaky breath before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Rody’s. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw and filled with a deep, aching sadness. “That’s why I have to do this.”
Before Rody could respond, the heavy sound of boots echoed in the hallway outside. The police were here.
Vincent straightened, his face hardening as he pulled away from Rody. His eyes lingered on Rody’s face for just a moment longer before he turned toward the door, his expression resolved.
“No, wait—” Rody reached for him, desperation clawing at his chest, but it was too late.
The door burst open, and two officers stepped into the kitchen, their faces stern and unforgiving. One of them grabbed Vincent by the arm, yanking him away from Rody and wrenching his arms behind his back.
Rody surged forward, but another officer blocked his path, shoving him back. “No! It wasn’t him! He didn’t—”
“It was me,” Vincent interrupted, his voice eerily calm as he looked the officer straight in the eye. “I forced him. I took advantage of him.”
Rody’s heart shattered as he watched the officers lead Vincent away, his protests falling on deaf ears. The police didn’t care about the truth. They only cared about what was easiest to believe—that a rich, manipulative boss had preyed on his poor, vulnerable employee.
Vincent didn’t look back as they dragged him out into the rain-soaked streets, the door slamming shut behind them.
And Rody stood there, frozen, his hands trembling as the weight of their sacrifice—Vincent’s sacrifice—crashed down on him.
The love of his life was gone. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
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