Chapter 267: [267] "PLANNING FOR THE MOVE"

She turned her head, looking at Luc holding his phone.

"Who are you texting at seven in the morning?" Juliette asked, her voice raspy with sleep. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Tell me it isn’t Valérie demanding something again."

"It isn’t Valérie," Luc said, tossing the phone onto the mattress and turning his full attention to her. "It was Henri. And then the squad."

Juliette frowned, pushing herself up slightly and resting her weight on her elbows. "Why are you calling Henri?" Her professional instincts flared instantly, her gaze dropping instinctively toward his right leg hidden beneath the covers.

"Not that, Jules," Luc reassured her, reaching out and brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I feel fine. You are, however, a beast. I don’t think I’ve ever been that exhausted after a match."

Juliette laughed. A faint flush of color rose to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. "You started it. You walked in here acting like you owned the world just because you scored an amazing header."

"I do own the world," Luc smirked, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. "But I called Henri to get tomorrow off. The squad voted yes. Training is pushed to Wednesday."

Juliette’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? Why do you need Tuesday off? You usually hate missing days on the grass, especially before a massive fixture like Phocéen."

Luc looked at her. "Because we are moving."

Juliette blinked. "Moving."

"Yes. Moving," Luc repeated slowly. "Packing our belongings into cardboard boxes, placing those boxes into a truck, and driving them to the twin house in the woods. Today and tomorrow."

Juliette stared at him for a long moment. The confusion on her face slowly morphed into a look of realization, followed immediately by mild panic.

"I didn’t hear a word you said last night," Juliette admitted bluntly, dropping her head back onto the pillows. "I literally did not process a single syllable."

Luc laughed out loud. "I know you didn’t. You were highly distracted."

"You were fucking me! Wasn’t my fault," Juliette defended herself, pulling the sheet up to her chest. "You were talking while we were... occupied. I just agreed to whatever you were saying so you wouldn’t stop. What exactly did I agree to?"

Luc shifted, sitting up against the headboard. He crossed his arms, looking down at her.

"Before the bus ride home yesterday, Hugo told me the landlord discussed our lease agreement," Luc began, recounting the events.

Juliette groaned. "So?."

Luc interrupted. "We don’t have a lease because Valérie Laurent intercepted the vetting request. She looked at the property, decided it was perfect for keeping her primary assets isolated, and bought the entire place in cash. Both units. The land. Everything."

Juliette stopped moving. She stared at him, her mind struggling to process the financial aggression of the action. "She bought the house. Just like that."

"Just like that," Luc confirmed. "She put the left unit in a trust for Hugo as part of his contract extension."

"And the right unit?"

Luc looked at her, his expression softening. "She put the deed to the right unit in my name. Free and clear. Taxes paid for five years. It’s a gift. She eliminated the landlord, the rent, and the hassle so I have zero excuses not to win the Golden Boot and the title."

Juliette sat up, ignoring the slipping sheets. "She gave you a million euro house in the woods."

"She gave US a house," Luc corrected, his voice firm. "You agreed to move in with me on the remember. You agreed again last night, even if you weren’t paying attention. The deed is in my name, but the space is ours. And we need to pack today because the trucks are coming."

Juliette looked around the bedroom. She looked at the massive wardrobe filled with his clothes. She looked at the clutter on the dresser. She thought about the volume of her own belongings currently scattered between this apartment and her own place.

The professional organizational skills that made her an elite medical administrator kicked into high gear.

"Today," Juliette repeated, her voice shifting from sleepy girlfriend to commander.

"Today," Luc nodded. "I bought the boxes already. They are stacked in the living room."

Juliette threw the covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She didn’t hesitate. "Get up, Beaumont. Make coffee. We do not have time to sit around. Moving an entire apartment requires planning. If you just throw things into bags, unpacking will be a nightmare."

Luc watched her walk toward the bathroom, admiring the sudden shift in energy. "Yes, ma’am."

Twenty minutes later, the apartment was transformed into a staging ground.

Luc stood in the kitchen, dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, pouring two mugs of black coffee. The espresso machine whirred loudly, cutting through the silence of the morning.

He walked into the living room, carrying the mugs.

The space looked different now that he knew he was leaving it forever. The high ceilings, the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, the minimalist fixtures. It was the apartment of a young, single star who wanted to be seen. It was a status symbol.

But as he looked at the stacks of unassembled cardboard boxes resting against the wall, he felt no attachment to the space. It had served its purpose, but it was no longer compatible with the man he had become over the course of this season.

Juliette emerged from the bedroom, wearing a pair of his oversized sweatpants that she had rolled up at the waist, and a fitted white tank top. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, secured tightly with a clip. She held a black marker she had dug out of a drawer.

She took the mug from his hand, took a sip, and immediately began issuing directives.

Juliette commanded, walking toward the center of the living room. "Keep, donate, trash. I am not hauling junk into the new house. That environment is a clean slate."

"Agreed," Luc said, taking a sip of his own coffee.