Arthur and Georgia leave to meet up with Charlotte and Ambrose, and I return to La Maison with Vincent, who’s taking care of Odette while Kate’s dormant. And for the rest of the night, I sit in front of my computer trying to work but completely unable to focus.

It’s times like this that I wish Siaka didn’t need to sleep. It takes all of my will power not to leave him a dozen messages, but I don’t want to look like a crazy person, even if he makes me feel like one.

So, it’s a huge relief when, around seven a.m., a text pops up.

Last night. Magical. Too bad about the having-to-be-colleagues thing.

I smile to myself, but a pang shoots through my heart knowing that’s he’s right. It’s clear now. We really like each other. But we can’t do a damned thing about it.

Isn’t there a thing called ‘colleagues with benefits’? I reply.

I’m on it...googling...and...no. ‘Colleagues with benefits’ does not seem to be a thing. Wait! Here’s a study that says flirting at work reduces stress.

How interesting! I reply. I’ve been feeling pretty stressed lately.

Oddly enough, me too. Scheduling some flirting time into my work calendar. Let’s say 11:00-11:15?

I sign off, and it feels like the butterflies in my stomach are making a frenzied bid for freedom.

The next few days are filled with meetings. One of the human informants who listens out for anything happening in the Paris underworld reported hearing of an upcoming gathering engineered by a powerful criminal gang based east of Paris. Now we’re investigating the rumors for a link to the Numa Army.

Once again, I spend hours with Gaspard, Kate, Charlotte and Bran, when he stops by, which is most days. I sift through memories of my time with Violette, and we visit dozens of old numa haunts. We finally hit on a winning strategy when I compile a list of everyone I encountered in the numa world. Gaspard compares it to his records of numa deaths in the Final Battle and the days afterward. We discover that several numa on my list are unaccounted for, which leads to researching photos of the parties that took place in numa-owned establishments “back in the day” as Gaspard puts it. I match names with faces, and we compile profiles of numa who might be behind the Numa Army.

When I’m not with them, I’m in my bedroom working on the database. Which is a lot more fun now that every once in a while, I get a flirty note or silly gif from Siaka. Neither of us mention what happened at the concert, but the memory of the kiss replays in my mind on a constant loop.