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It is difficult being a corrupt police officer in the employ of an international con artist.
Of course it is.
You would think it might be due to the duplicitous nature of the role. The flexibility required when it comes to the law.
Or perhaps more to do with how you disguise the thousands of euros that make their way into your jacket pockets.
But it is, in fact, primarily because this particular international con artist has absolutely no respect for boundaries.
Time boundaries. Legal boundaries. Emotional boundaries.
Personal space.
1. The Meeting
Brigitte is halfway through a budget presentation when her phone vibrates.
She ignores it.
It vibrates again.
She glances down.
Josephine
Bien sûr.
She dismisses the call.
It rings again.
The deputy mayor pauses mid-sentence. “Commissaire?”
“Excusez-moi,” Brigitte says tightly, stepping into the corridor and answering in a whisper. “What? If you are on fire, say so immediately.”
Josephine’s voice is hushed but urgent. “I need the names of my mark’s dogs.”
Brigitte closes her eyes. “Why?”
“I’ve broken into the guest bedroom,” Josephine continues calmly, “and there are two dobermans outside the door who are extremely unconvinced by my presence.”
“You broke into - ”
“I would like to address them personally. People name dobermans ridiculous things. It helps.”
Brigitte pinches the bridge of her nose. “Address them personally?”
“Yes.”
A pause. A sigh.
“Text me the address.”
“Already done.”
Brigitte exhales. “One moment.”
She pulls up the registry database on her phone. The deputy-mayor is still talking inside the meeting room; she can hear him explaining - incorrectly - how maritime jurisdiction works.
“Balthazar and Poppy,” she says flatly.
Josephine brightens. “Of course they are.”
There is a pause. Then faintly, “Bon chiens,” as a door opens, followed a moment later, muffled through the line: “Poppy, chérie. Balthazar, mon brave. We are friends.”
The barking subsides.
“They are delighted,” Josephine reports. “You’ve saved me from being eaten. I’ll bring you macarons.”
The line goes dead.
Brigitte stares at the wall.
It is a miracle she is still employed.
2. In the Bath
The bath is hot. The wine is cold. Brigitte is naked, relaxed, and determined not to think about her life choices.
Her phone rings.
She stares at it in disbelief.
“Josephine,” she says, answering without preamble, “if you are calling me from a moving vehicle or a compromised location - ”
“Meet me at the casino,” Josephine says. “I need you to arrest me.”
There is a long pause.
“…Pardon?”
“I have overcommitted,” Josephine explains. “The situation would benefit from law enforcement. It will help with the narrative.”
“What narrative requires handcuffs?”
“The one in which I am wrongly accused and therefore sympathetic.”
Brigitte pinches the bridge of her nose. “What have you done?”
“Nothing provable.”
Brigitte sinks lower into the water. “I am in the bath.”
“That’s fine,” Josephine says. “I’ll stall.”
Twenty minutes later, Brigitte strides into the casino with the long-suffering air of a woman collecting a reckless spouse from a party.
Josephine looks radiant.
“I am so glad you came,” she says warmly.
Brigitte takes her gently but firmly by the wrist. “You are under arrest for…wasting police time.”
Josephine beams at the onlookers. “Such dedication to justice.”
Outside, once out of sight, Brigitte releases her.
“If you ever request theatrical detention again,” Brigitte says coldly, “I will make it real.”
Josephine smiles like that is a promise
3. Dinner with Her Sister
Brigitte is eating bouillabaisse across from her sister and explaining, carefully, why she has not “met anyone nice” when her phone buzzes.
Her sister squints at the screen. Narrows her eyes, “Ah. Elle.”
Brigitte glares. “Tais-toi.”
She answers. “What now?”
“I need an alibi for last Thursday,” Josephine says breezily.
Brigitte chokes on her wine. “For what?”
“Details are irrelevant.”
“They are extremely relevant.”
“I was with you,” Josephine says. “All evening.”
“You were in Monaco.”
“Yes, but now I was with you.”
Brigitte presses her fingers to her forehead. “Why Thursday?”
“Because the documents were reported missing on Friday.”
There is a long silence.
“I just need it to appear that I was at dinner with you.”
“With me.”
“Yes,” Josephine continues, cheerful as ever, “You’re very trustworthy.”
Brigitte sighs. “Fine. You were at my apartment. We argued about wine.”
“We always argue about wine.”
“Yes. That’s why it’s believable.”
Her sister watches her hang up. “And…you’re not seeing her?” she says carefully.
“No.”
“You look like you are.”
Brigitte looks at her in silence. A beat. “Drink your wine.”
4. The Palais
Brigitte is inspecting a traffic incident when Josephine calls again.
“Does room 407 of the Palais have a balcony?” Josephine asks without greeting.
Brigitte glances at the smashed bumper in front of her. “Why?”
“I need to get in somehow.”
“Through the door?”
Josephine sighs. “Be serious.”
Brigitte rolls her eyes. “Yes.”
“Accessible from the exterior?”
“With effort. Josephine…”
“Yes?”
“Do not fall.”
“I won’t.”
“Tu promets?”
A pause. Warmer now. “I promise.”
“…You are a menace.”
“And you adore me.”
Brigitte does not dignify that with a response. She hangs up and stares at the horizon.
She is absolutely doomed.
5. Hypothetically
It is 11:40 p.m.
Brigitte is in bed.
Her phone lights up.
She answers without speaking.
“Hypothetically,” Josephine begins, “if I had stolen a painting - ”
Brigitte groans into her pillow.
“ - where would you suggest I hide it temporarily?”
“What painting?”
“A small one.”
“From where?”
“Private collection.”
“Josephine.”
“It’s not famous.”
“That is not the point.”
Josephine pauses. “You sound tired.”
“I am tired.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Softer now. Almost careful. “I could stop calling.”
Brigitte’s throat tightens unexpectedly. “You won’t.”
“No.”
Because she can’t.
Because Josephine does not know how to leave her alone.
It is lucky - so lucky - that Brigitte loves her. Because Josephine occupies her life like a quiet siege. No time unfilled. No energy unexpended. She makes it logistically impossible for anyone else to compete.
She does it without even trying.
And Brigitte lets her.
“Not in your villa,” Brigitte says finally. “Not a storage locker. Not anywhere obvious.”
“Go on.”
“Municipal archive overflow,” Brigitte says grimly. “No one audits it. Ever.”
Josephine is silent for a moment.
“That is diabolical.”
“Oui.”
“You are wasted in law enforcement.”
Brigitte hangs up.
6. More Than Bargained For
The art collector is relentless.
He has followed Josephine from the terrace to the bar, smiling too widely, asking too many questions.
Josephine texts.
I need you to be distracting.
Café du Port.
My mark is pursuing me with alarming enthusiasm.
Brigitte arrives ten minutes later in civilian clothes and a temper.
She takes in the scene instantly.
The man is leaning too close.
Josephine looks amused - but only just.
Brigitte walks straight up to them.
“Problème?” she asks coolly.
The man scoffs. “We’re having a private conversation.”
Brigitte looks at Josephine.
Josephine widens her eyes, angelic. “Darling.”
That does it.
Brigitte steps in, one hand sliding firmly to Josephine’s waist.
“Oh,” Josephine says softly. “I see.”
The man hesitates.
Brigitte does not.
She leans down and kisses Josephine.
Not tentative. Not polite. A slow, deliberate, territorial kiss that leaves no room for interpretation.
Josephine makes a small, startled sound against her mouth.
When Brigitte pulls back, the mark is already retreating, muttering apologies.
Brigitte exhales. “There. Distracted.”
She expects Josephine to laugh. To tease.
Instead, Josephine is staring at her.
Delighted.
Radiant.
“Well,” Josephine says, “That was extremely effective.”
Brigitte suddenly feels very aware of her hand still at Josephine’s waist.
This was tactical, she tells herself.
Purely tactical.
Josephine’s eyes drop to her mouth, then back up. “Is this,” she asks lightly, “standard procedure?”
Brigitte opens her mouth to respond.
Josephine doesn’t wait.
She laughs - bright, unmistakably pleased with the turn of events - and pulls Brigitte back in with a hand tangled in her hair.
The second kiss is entirely unnecessary.
And unmistakably mutual.
Brigitte thinks, distantly, that she should regret this.
If her boundaries were paper-thin before, she dreads to think what they will become now.
But with Josephine's mouth warm and sure against her own, she feels nothing but joy.