18. Michael
Chapter eighteen
Michael
T he study had been transformed into a war room over the past week.
Portable tables stood in front of every couch and chair, their surfaces cluttered with laptops, legal pads covered in Nika’s handwriting, and printed financial documents marked with highlighter.
Coffee cups sat forgotten beside bottles of water, and Alain’s wine glass caught the late afternoon light. His third since lunch, Michael noted.
The air was thick with August heat and tension.
Even with the air conditioning running, the room felt stifling, weighed down by accumulated stress.
Gabriel’s usually immaculate appearance had begun to show cracks.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened, and dark circles under his eyes spoke of too many late nights and too much caffeine.
Michael paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.
Gabriel sat in one of the wingback chairs nearest the fireplace, his laptop angled toward Nika on the couch opposite him.
The younger man’s fingers flew over the keyboard with mechanical precision, multiple windows open across his screen.
Nocturne Intelligence Services had access to bank records, corporate filings, and encrypted communications that they had cracked for them.
Nika had called in a favor with a contact there, a woman named Maja Volkov, who’d insisted they reach out if they needed anything else. The files had arrived within hours, clean and comprehensive.
Alain leaned against the far wall, wine glass balanced in one hand, his usually sharp suit replaced with dark jeans and a button-down that had seen better days. His eyes held the distant look of someone processing information.
Michael had noticed the pattern over the past few days.
Every time Nika’s gaze landed on Alain’s wine glass, his expression would tighten almost imperceptibly.
A slight press of his lips, a barely-there furrow between his brows.
Disapproval so carefully controlled it was almost invisible, but unmistakable once you knew to look for it.
And Alain knew. Michael was certain of that.
The way Alain would pause before taking a sip, letting the glass catch the light, making sure Nika could see it.
The deliberate slowness of each drink, performed rather than merely consumed.
Michael couldn’t tell if there was a relationship between the two men or just some unspoken tension that neither would acknowledge.
Both played their cards too close to read clearly.
But whatever existed between them, Alain was using that wine glass as a weapon, and Nika’s carefully blank expression was his only defense.
Lucas occupied a loveseat off to the side, his own laptop open but forgotten, posture relaxed but watchful.
“Michael,” Gabriel said without looking up from his screen. “Come in. We were waiting for you.”
Michael crossed toward an empty chair near Nika’s workspace, but movement behind him made him pause.
Jean stepped into the room, the soft click of his heeled boots drawing every eye.
Today’s outfit was a masterclass in deliberate provocation.
What looked like tailored shorts from the front revealed itself as something more complex as he moved.
One side ended mid-thigh, clean and masculine.
The other side flowed into a bias-cut panel that fell like the front of a skirt, the asymmetrical hemline riding just high enough to make a statement.
The top was equally arresting. A loose silk tank in deep charcoal that draped over his shoulders before the thick straps rose toward the base of his neck in an almost collar-like band.
The fabric caught the lamplight with each step, and his eyes were rimmed with subtle metallic liner that made them seem larger, more luminous.
Lucas’s gaze followed Jean’s movement with unashamed hunger, tracking every sway of fabric, every deliberate step. Michael studied the outfit with professional appreciation. The tailoring was exquisite, the androgynous cut both bold and elegant.
For just a moment, he wondered what Henri might look like in something similar. Whether Henri would have the confidence to wear something so unapologetically sensual, or if Marc had stripped that kind of self-expression away along with everything else.
Jean walked straight to Lucas, settling sideways across his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Lucas’s arm curved automatically around his waist, possessive and protective.
“Mon beau,” Lucas murmured as Jean adjusted the skirt panel, his voice carrying that possessive warmth.
“Mais là. Someone’s been busy,” Jean said, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on Alain’s wine glass with amusement. “Starting early today?”
“It’s past three,” Nika said without looking up from his screen, his tone carrying a note of disapproval. “Maybe switch to coffee? Or at least soda?”
Alain’s eyes met Nika’s directly as he took a deliberate, slow sip of wine.
Gabriel’s voice cut through the moment. “Where is Ellis?”
“Upstairs with Peter,” Jean said, his tone shifting from performative to genuine concern.
Peter. Ellis’s ever-watchful bodyguard, a man built solidly enough to be intimidating but who moved with careful gentleness around Ellis.
Michael had learned over the past week that Peter had a girlfriend named Lottie, a woman who’d visited several times along with another man named Aric.
Ellis texted with both of them frequently, and from what Michael could piece together, they’d all been in the same industry at some point.
Sex work, though, Lottie seemed to be transitioning into a singing career now.
What Michael did know with certainty was that the stoic, unflappable Peter transformed into an absolute swooning mess the moment Lottie walked through the door. The contrast was almost comical, watching this mountain of a man go soft-eyed and fumbling over his words.
“He wants to go swimming later and asked if everyone would join him. Il est encore...” Jean’s voice softened, the theatrical quality falling away entirely. “He’s still struggling to be outside alone. Thought maybe if we all went, it would be easier.”
“We’ll take a break later and all go down together.” Gabriel said, still typing. “I’ll text Pete to have towels ready.”
No one objected.
“Just stopping by, or are you staying?” Lucas asked, his hand settling more securely around Jean’s waist.
“Staying,” Jean said, making himself more comfortable in Lucas’s lap. “Ellis is reading with Peter, so I thought I’d see what you’re all plotting down here.”
Gabriel’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “Jean, nothing that happens in this room gets repeated to Ellis. Nothing. He’s not ready for any of this information.”
Jean’s posture straightened, his flippant manner evaporating. “I know. I would never... Gabriel, I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not,” Gabriel said more gently. “But Ellis is fragile right now. More fragile than you realize.”
Michael had seen enough evidence of that in the past week to understand what recovery from prolonged trauma really looked like.
Ellis appeared in the common areas hit-or-miss.
Sometimes, he curled up in a reading chair with a book, lost in pages that seemed to provide a refuge from his own thoughts.
Other times, he disappeared for hours into the upstairs library, and Michael would catch glimpses of him through doorways, just the edge of his silhouette by a window.
The therapist, Dr. Sarah Chen, a petite woman with kind eyes and infinite patience, had been to the house twice since Michael’s arrival. The first visit had seemed routine, a scheduled appointment that ended with quiet conversation and Ellis seeming more settled afterward.
The second visit had been different.
Michael had been in the kitchen making coffee when he heard it. A sound that might have been sobbing, or screaming, or both. It had started as a low keening that built into something raw and desperate, the kind of sound that came from somewhere deeper than pain.
Michael stepped out of the kitchen to see Gabriel rushing past, heading toward the entertainment room. He followed, drawn by the urgency in Gabriel’s movements and the sound of distress echoing down the hallway.
In the doorway of the entertainment room, Jean stood with tears streaming down his face, his hands pressed to his mouth.
Inside, Ellis was on the couch, his body rigid and shaking, eyes wide and unseeing.
He was trapped somewhere else entirely, reliving something that made him whimper and flinch from invisible threats.
Gabriel knelt beside him, speaking in low, soothing French, his hands carefully positioned where Ellis could see them. “Tu es en sécurité, mon c?ur. C’est Gabriel. Tu es à la maison.”
“Out,” Gabriel said sharply to Michael and Jean without turning around. “Everyone out. Now.”
Michael backed away, pulling Jean with him into the hallway. The younger man was shaking almost as hard as Ellis, tears still falling silently.
“What happened?” Michael asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Jean whispered. “We were just talking, and then... Lucas came in and accidentally closed a door too hard, and Ellis just... His eyes, they went completely blank, and then he started screaming.” Jean’s voice cracked.
Lucas appeared at the end of the hallway, his face pale and stricken. “I need to tell Gabriel I called Dr. Chen,” he said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice.
He moved past them, opening the entertainment room door just enough to slip his head inside. “Gabriel,” he said softly. “Dr. Chen is on her way. Twenty minutes.”
Gabriel’s voice was barely audible. “Thank you.”
Lucas closed the door carefully, the soft click barely a whisper, and returned to Jean’s side. His hands were shaking as he pulled Jean against his chest.