Chapter Seven
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Ily
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CHAOS ERUPTED.
Guests started yelling.
A gun fired by accident, the bullet whizzing into obscurity.
Jewels scurried away, hiding behind bushes and hedges.
And Victor shot to his feet so fast, he almost went ass over heels. His gun went flying, skittering under a table.
Spying a chance to run, I bolted off the deck and into Peter’s outstretched arms. Without a word, he dragged me behind one of the many happy-babbling fountains, this one with a heron peering down at us with a fish in its mouth.
Skidding to my knees, I turned back and watched the anarchy unfold.
In a vicious flash, the guards yanked Henri from his chair, kicked the back of his legs, and slammed him to his knees.
Their fingers squeezed around triggers.
I stiffened for a second bang.
Victor threw up a hand. “Wait!”
Everyone froze.
Slaves and Masters combined.
A prickly, powder keg of energy consumed the entire garden as waitstaff darted back inside.
Victor stalked to stand over Henri. Holding out his fingers, he waited for one of the guards to pass him a gun.
With an evil sniff, he pressed the muzzle squarely on Henri’s forehead. “You’re a what?” His hiss reminded me of a thousand cobras, a hundred rattlesnakes. His tongue seemed forked, his face completely inhuman. “Say that name again, I fucking dare you.”
Henri didn’t shiver or try to get away. His voice was steady and sure. “I’m a Mercer. I’m the bastard son of Quincy Mercer the First. He kept a stable of slaves in France. He raped my mother for over a decade.”
Victor bared his teeth. “I’m aware the late Quincy Mercer shared my interests but the current one—”
“My brother. He goes by Q.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Victor hissed again. “That motherfucking cocksucker.”
“Don’t think cock is his flavour of choice, but I tend to agree with you.” Henri shrugged. “I’ve only met him once, but he didn’t care at all about trading my life for what he wanted.”
“He’s the one who sent you?”
“He is.” Henri’s back rippled with righteous strength.
“I’ve been honest, Victor. Every confession about what I want and every urge I feel has been the godawful truth.
I was born to a monster and I’ve been one ever since.
My brother figured he could use that against me, but...
pity for him, I’ve found where I belong. ”
My heart pounded.
I didn’t understand.
W-What’s going on?
So...he’s not really a cop?
Keep up, Ilyana!
Peter wrapped his arm around my shoulders as Victor loomed over Henri.
He swayed on the balls of his feet, grinding the gun into Henri’s forehead.
“There’s no record of you in any of the files I have on that bastard.
No link. No alert. I’ve been thwarting his attempts to find me for years, and there hasn’t been a fucking whisper of a brother. ”
“That’s what made me perfect for the job.
” Henri dared rise higher on his knees, pushing against the gun.
“You say you see me. You do. I didn’t lie about any of it.
In fact...” He swatted at the gun, then looked over his shoulder, his eyes skating over scattered jewels until stopping on me in Peter’s hold.
He scowled but said softly, “The only one I truly lied to was Ily. I lied when she thought I was a cop. I lied when she thought I would let her go. I lied when she thought I was good.”
Terror crawled up my throat.
I shook my head, hating that truth blazed in his grey stare.
No longer troubled. No longer shadowed.
All his whispers about enjoying what he’d have to do to me. All his urging not to fight him because it would trigger something he couldn’t control.
Oh God...
“Don’t look at her,” Victor barked.
Henri ripped his gaze back to him. He splayed his hands like a martyr. “If the truth can’t prevent you from killing me, then so be it. At least you know I’m not a cop.” He closed his eyes, seeming perfectly at peace with Victor’s power over his existence.
If he shot him—
God, I’d lose it.
I’ll be all alone.
Have you not been listening?!
You’ve been all alone since the moment he noticed you!
I shook my head, scrambling to stay faithful even after I’d fucked everything up last night.
No...this...this has to be another attempt to stay undercover.
He’s still good. Still trying to save us.
I’d clung to that the entire time I’d been spread over the table.
I’d made a prayer out of hope as not one but two men prepared to rape me.
I couldn’t just let that go.
Couldn’t just stop...hoping.
It was messy and complicated, but...he’s still going to get us out.
After all, he would know the names of others in this sordid underworld.
He would know how to use them to his advantage.
What he did to me last night was just a gigantic mistake...by both of us.
Isn’t it?
But Victor...hesitated.
The way he studied Henri tore apart my hope, one stupid strand at a time.
Chewing on his bottom lip, he threw up his arm for silence as his guests all bickered and gave him orders to murder. “Shut up, all of you.”
Removing the gun, he raised his hand for Henri to stagger to his feet. “You have five minutes.”
Henri stood to his tall height, bowing his chin respectfully. “What do you want to know?”
“All of it.” Pointing at the chair Henri had been sitting in, Victor took his and lowered himself ever so slowly. “Go on, then.”
Sitting down, Henri placed his hands on the table. “Guess I’ll give you the highlights. I had no idea of my origins until a few months ago. I actually tried to kill myself one night when I lost control thanks to too much alcohol.”
Wait...he tried to kill himself?
My heart twisted agonisingly.
“I was sick of fighting the darkness inside me and when I found out about my brother’s existence, I went to him for help.” Henri chuckled blackly. “His idea of help was throwing me to you and seeing if I’d survive.”
“And he thought you could win against me?” Victor tapped his finger on his pastry plate. “Did he give you any training? Preparation?”
“Nope.” Henri shrugged. “He gave me a list of names—guests he knew visited you regularly—and told me to pick one to befriend.” His eyes sought out the bastard Roland, who’d finally woken up from Henri knocking him unconscious.
Slowly, Roland picked himself up from the deck and rubbed his jaw.
My skin crawled from the memory of him naked behind me.
The imprint of his grotesque—
I shuddered.
I wished Henri had killed him, not just stunned him.
“Six months it took for me to get Roland’s trust,” Henri continued.
“I played the part, all while knowing I wasn’t playing, not really.
Don’t get me wrong, I despised the videos Roland made me watch.
He’s one sick fuck—like I told you at dinner, I like them warm and alive—but he did arrange a meeting with you. ”
Roland threw Henri the finger, still nursing his jaw.
“Did you tell your brother about that meeting?” Victor asked softly.
“I did.” Henri nodded. “He was aware.”
“And how did he intend to come after you if you were successful in hoodwinking me?”
For the first time, Henri’s shoulders tensed, but then he rolled that tension away. “He gave me a pair of cufflinks. They contain a GPS tracker.”
I gasped.
So that’s why he leapt down my throat when I knocked them off his bedside.
They’re our only way out.
Victor’s face darkened. “You brought them into my estate? When I gave you such welcome hospitality?”
“They’re useless...as you already know. However, if it will make you feel any better, you can have them.”
Victor rolled his eyes. “How generous.”
Henri smirked. “Know what else is generous?”
He scowled, taking Henri’s bait. “What?”
“The fact that I paid you two million euros.”
Victor stilled. “Your money is the same as everyone else’s.”
“But that’s the thing...it wasn’t my money.
” He cocked his head as if he had a great secret, his short dark hair catching the sun.
“I’m practically penniless. Remember how I said I like reading?
Well...I like writing too. I’ve been trying to write a book for years, all while I kept my bills paid with bar work and the occasional stint at labouring.
” Reaching across the table, bold and frankly stupidly reckless, Henri snatched the baguette off the plate in front of Victor and sank his teeth into it.
“You won’t begrudge me a final meal, will you, Vic? ”
Victor’s brows furrowed, not really paying attention. He seemed hung up on a prior sentence but couldn’t untangle it. “Did you sell the rights to this book? Is that where you got the money?”
Henri swallowed and shook his head. “That would still make it my money...wouldn’t it?”
A guest suddenly marched forward. “This is bullshit, Vic. Kill him for the traitor he is. He’s ruining my appetite.”
“I agree with Kyle,” another said. “He’s a fraud.”
Roland marched into the fray, his face bruised. “I’m so sorry, Master Jeweler, I had no idea he was such scum, such a fucking con-artist. Allow me to kill him for you. Let me right my mistake.”
Henri threw him a scowl, but Victor still didn’t say anything.
He kept his dark blue eyes locked on Henri, his silver shirt and slacks almost blinding in the glare.
And Henri just stared back.
Unafraid.
Or...very good at hiding it.
Peter’s arm tightened around my shoulders as if he expected another gunshot to go off any second. He tugged Citra into our huddle too, pulling her from where she’d been hiding close by. He tried to push our heads down so we wouldn’t see Henri’s skull shatter apart.
“Don’t.” I shoved him off.
“Ily—”
Crawling away a little, I shivered as a few Masters on the deck noticed me.
I froze and kneeled, cupping my bare breasts.
What did I think I could do?
Rehearse another script? Begin another pantomime?
Henri was the leading star, and there were no lines left for me.
It’s all a lie anyway.
No...
I-I couldn’t believe that.
If I did, I’d snap.
I needed to have faith in something.
It just sucked that I had no idea what was real or fake anymore.
It felt as if hours ticked past, but finally, Victor’s lips twitched.