6. Michael #2
Michael kept his breathing steady, though he could already sense where this was heading.
“But there were conditions.” Henri’s voice cracked slightly. “Marc was... troubled. He’d been hurting animals since he was small. Birds, cats. Whatever he could catch.” Henri shuddered. “His father was terrified because Marc had started experimenting on his younger brothers.”
Michael’s jaw clenched, but he forced his voice to remain calm. “Experimenting?”
“Torturing them,” Henri said quietly. “Especially Alexandre. They’re Irish twins, only eleven months apart.
Marc would lock him in closets, tie him up with jump ropes or belts and leave him for hours.
Once he nearly drowned him in the pool. Held him under until he passed out.
” His voice grew even softer. “And Philippe... Philippe is blind in one eye because of what Marc did.”
“That’s horrible,” Michael breathed.
“It was,” Henri agreed. “Olivier was desperate to give Marc someone else to focus on. Someone his own age who could...” Henri’s words came out in a rush now, thick with shame. “Someone who could help him learn to act normal in social situations. Teach him control.”
The silence stretched between them. Michael could feel Henri trembling slightly against his chest.
“So Father gave him me,” Henri whispered finally.
Michael’s arms tightened instinctively around Henri, horror washing through him in cold waves. “Your father knew,” he said, voice rough with barely contained fury. “He knew what Marc had done to his own brothers, knew he was torturing then, and he still gave you to him.”
A beat of silence. Then Michael’s voice dropped lower, carefully controlled. “Did Marc... did he do those things to you too?”
Henri exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
“How?” Michael’s arms tightened fractionally. “What did he do?”
“I’m not going to answer that.” Henri’s voice was firm despite the tremor in it. “I understand you’re angry on my behalf, but it’s well over and done with. No need for both of us to have nightmares.” He tried for humor and failed, the words falling flat.
“I don’t like it,” Michael mumbled.
“I know.” Henri pressed back against Michael’s chest. “But I was good at it,” he continued, as if trying to soften the blow.
His voice went hollow. “At making Marc happy. At understanding what he needed. He said I was the only one who saw him, who didn’t judge him for being different.
” A bitter laugh escaped him. “I just had to learn his moods, his preferences. Be whatever he needed me to be.”
Michael pressed his forehead against the back of Henri’s head, fighting to keep his voice steady. “You were seven years old.”
“I know how it sounds.” Henri’s voice was barely audible now. “Being sold to keep the company afloat. It’s humiliating.”
“You weren’t Maximilien’s to trade away.”
Henri’s laugh was sharp, painful. “Mother was too drunk to notice or care, assuming she was even in the country. She spent most of her time on the Riviera.” His voice grew contemplative. “Looking back, I can’t blame her for running.”
Michael took several measured breaths, his hand continuing its steady circles on Henri’s arm. The urge to rage against Maximilien, against Olivier, against the entire situation burned in his chest, but Henri needed calm right now, not anger.
“Did Gabriel know any of this before?” he asked carefully.
Henri shook his head against Michael’s chest. “Not until I returned Jean.”
“Returned Jean?” The words sent a chill through Michael.
Henri was quiet for a moment, and Michael could feel him gathering himself for another difficult revelation.
“That story in the media about Sentinelle rescuing him from kidnappers? Complete fabrication.” His voice grew flat, detached.
“Father had Jean taken. He was at the Saint-Clair estate the entire time.”
Michael’s arms tightened involuntarily. “How did you—”
“I bargained for his freedom.” The words came out clipped, final.
Michael didn’t need Henri to spell out what that bargain had cost.
“I can guess what that involved,” Michael said.
“Yeah.” Henri’s fingers had stilled on Michael’s arm. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“And Gabriel had no idea about any of this until then?”
Henri shifted slightly, pressing closer.
“Gabriel was nineteen, about to start university. Father had him completely focused on preparing to take over the company someday. He had his own complicated situation with Lucas and Alain, but...” Henri’s voice grew wistful.
“Gabriel never treated them like property. I used to watch them together and feel so jealous.”
Michael could picture it—a young Henri watching his older brother’s relationships, seeing care and choice where his own life offered only control and compliance.
“I didn’t want to burden Gabriel with my problems,” Henri continued. “He had enough pressure from Father already. And when you’re that young, asking for help feels impossible. You think this is just how things are.”
“Gabriel would have helped you,” Michael said softly.
“Probably.” Henri’s laugh was hollow. “But by the time I realized that, it was too late. Marc had become more volatile as we got older. He needs everything perfect, exactly to his specifications. When he feels like he’s losing control of a situation...”
“He takes it out on you.”
“Yes.”
The single word hung in the air between them. Michael pressed his lips to the back of Henri’s neck, feeling the tension radiating through his slight frame. Twenty years of this. Twenty years of being someone’s emotional outlet, their stress relief, their possession.
“Henri,” Michael said carefully, “what happened last night—the video call, the toy—is that typical?”
Henri interlaced their fingers, his grip tight. “He hadn’t spoken to me for two days. He’s angry that I was sent here, that he has no business reason to follow me to the UK.”
“Should we expect more performances—”
“We?” Henri cut in, his voice uncertain.
Michael buried his face in Henri’s neck. “Yes, we.”
He felt the tension bleed out of Henri’s body at those two simple words.
“Yes,” Henri said softly. “The toy that arrived last night...” His voice wavered. “I’m meant to wear it during my meetings.”
“No.” Michael’s tone left no room for argument. “You will not be wearing it.”
Henri laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You do have a choice.” Michael’s arms tightened around him. “You can leave Marc.”
“I can’t leave Marc.” Henri’s voice took on a desperate edge.
“What would he do without me? He needs me. I’m the only one who understands him, who can handle what he needs.
Who else would put up with...” He swallowed hard.
“Who else would see past his differences? Take what he has to give? He trusts me. Only me.”
“Listen to yourself,” Michael said patiently. “Marc is an abusive asshole who doesn’t deserve you. You’ve spent long enough suffering for him.”
Henri jerked away from Michael suddenly, pushing off the couch. His whole body was trembling. “You don’t understand. I can’t—the idea of being away from him...” His voice cracked. “What would I even do without him? I don’t know how to...” He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking harder.
Michael was on his feet immediately, pulling Henri back into his arms. He felt the moment Henri broke, felt his shirt growing wet with tears as Henri collapsed against him.
Michael held him tighter, one hand moving in steady circles on his back. “Stay here. Let me take care of you.”
“You don’t even know me,” Henri choked out. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I want to.” Michael’s voice was soft but firm. “Because you need someone to. And because I like you, Henri. I like your passion when you talk about new technologies, the way your eyes light up discussing advancements that could change the industry.”
Michael continued to hold Henri until his trembling subsided. When Henri finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Could you... could you get my phone from upstairs? I should check my messages.”
Michael hesitated, his arms tightening fractionally around Henri.
“Please?” Henri looked up at him. “I need to at least check my calendar for tomorrow.”
“Alright.” Michael pressed a kiss to his forehead before reluctantly releasing him. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
When Michael returned downstairs, Henri was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. Michael crossed the room and held out the phone. Henri took it with slightly trembling fingers, immediately checking his notifications.
“Just a calendar reminder,” he murmured, then scrolled through his schedule. “Ten with EcoSphere’s board, then lunch with their CFO, afternoon with the technical team...” His fingers tightened around the device. “I should... I should do what Marc asked. He’ll know if I don’t.”
“No.” Michael settled beside him, gently taking the phone and setting it on the coffee table.
“You’ll go to your meetings without it. You’ll be brilliant, because you know this acquisition inside and out.
And if Marc asks...” He pulled Henri back against his chest. “You’ll tell him the truth. That I wouldn’t let you.”
“He’ll be angry.”
“Let him be angry at me.” Michael’s arms tightened protectively. “I can handle Marc Saint-Clair.”
Henri was quiet for a long moment. “You barely know me,” he whispered finally. “Why would you risk making him angry?”
“Because you deserve better than this. Because I want to protect you.” Michael pressed his lips to Henri’s temple. “Because I think you’re worth standing up to Marc Saint-Clair.”
Henri slumped against him, emotional exhaustion evident in every line of his body. “I’m scared,” he admitted softly.
“I know. But you’re not alone anymore.”
Michael reached for the remote on the coffee table, careful not to jostle Henri too much. “Let’s put something on. Something mindless.”
He scrolled through his streaming services before settling on a popular action film, something with enough explosions and car chases to not require much thought. Pure escapism.
Henri settled more comfortably against Michael’s chest as the opening credits rolled, his breathing gradually evening out. Michael kept one arm wrapped securely around him, his other hand stroking gentle patterns through Henri’s hair.
About twenty minutes into the film, Henri’s body grew heavy with exhaustion. His eyes drifted closed, head tucked against Michael’s chest, and his breathing deepened into the rhythm of sleep.
Michael continued to hold him as the movie played on, barely registering the action on screen. His mind was already planning the rest of their day. Something easy, relaxing. A lazy Sunday to help Henri decompress before his meetings tomorrow.
A walk through Regent’s Park, maybe. The weather was supposed to be decent.
Then a proper tour of Camden Town, the actual Camden Town, not his posh neighborhood that he’d tried to pass off as close enough.
Henri would probably give him grief about it again, and Michael found himself smiling at the thought.
Nothing stressful. Nothing that required Henri to perform or pretend or be anything other than himself.
Michael’s jaw clenched as he looked down at Henri’s sleeping form, peaceful in a way he probably rarely was. Gabriel needed to know everything Henri had revealed, and together, they could figure out how to get Henri away from Marc’s control permanently.
But first, he needed to get Henri through tomorrow’s meetings.
Michael pressed a gentle kiss to Henri’s temple and settled in to let him sleep, the movie continuing to play forgotten in the background. No one was going to hurt him again.