25. Remy
Claire gets control of herself before she can fall, but I’m already catching her under the arm so that I can ensure she stays standing upright. Elaine tells her to sit, but sitting on a barstool while she’s feeling faint is probably not the best idea, so I guide her to the dining room and pull a chair out for her.
“I’m fine.” She says, attempting to wave me off. The kitchen is close enough that Rhea only has to poke her head around the corner to see her, but she’s standing directly over my shoulder. “Just… tired.”
Something about the way she says the word makes me think she isn’t being completely honest. I just don’t know if she’s lying to us or to herself. “It’s been quite the week.” Elaine says, shaking her head. “Should I make a fresh pot of coffee?”
“No!” Claire says quickly. Her intensity doesn’t go unnoticed, but none of us say anything as her cheeks turn pink and she seems to search for the right words. “I think I’m just a little dehydrated. After all that we drank last night and then walking on the beach this morning…”
Elaine makes a move, presumably to get her a drink, but stops when Claire asks me to get her a bottle of water. She’s definitely trying to dismiss me, and she doesn’t even bother looking at me as she does. It’s strange after everything last night. When she threw me up against the wall to tell me to go after Wes, I’d thought there was a spark between us just waiting to be rekindled. Now she won’t even look at me.
I push to stand and get her a bottle of water from the fridge, suddenly feeling chastised. It’s not the fact that she doesn’t want me near that bothers me—it’s the way she’s treating me like an errand boy in my own house. This time, I avoid her gaze when I pass her the water, and I don’t give her an answer when she says, ‘thank you’.
If Claire wants space from me, she will get it. I have business to attend to anyway. Elaine and Rhea can finish getting everything prepped for tonight, for the morbid party I never wanted to attend, much less host. It feels wrong to parade my father’s business associates, his victims, and his equally predatory friends through my house while we all pretend like there’s a single person left on this Earth who feels sad that he’s gone.
I’ve just slipped my phone from my pocket when it rings.
Dimitri.
Sometimes I swear he’s in tune with me so much that I have to wonder whether he watches me in my own home for the hell of it. “Are you secretly obsessed with me?” I tease, trying not to let any of my disappointment over Claire’s disinterest in me bleed into my tone. It doesn’t sound as light as I want it to, but it serves the purpose all the same. I know it’s not me he’s obsessed with—I caught him stealing glances at Rhea all throughout dinner last night. I’m hoping that he never feels the need to bring it up. The girls will be back in the states soon, and then both of our problems will be solved.
Dimitri snorts. “I think you’re trying to make me be.” He says. “You’ve ignored me all morning.”
“I was busy.”
“Yeah, sure,” he laughs. “I thought you may want to know; I have a friend in Amsterdam.”
“Good for you.” I say. “But you should know, if you have to pay for their services, they aren’t a friend.”
It’s a bad joke. I cringe as soon as I speak the words, knowing how quickly he can turn brooding and sulky when I get too close to sensitive subjects. “Noted.” His voice is dry, but not angry. I’m grateful for that as he continues. “Davos hopped on his private jet last night about midnight.”
“Midnight his time or midnight our time?” I’m not sure it matters, and I don’t feel like doing the math anyway.
“She just said midnight. You know he doesn’t come out of hiding all that often.”
“No,” I agree, “he doesn’t.”
“I assume we’ll be seeing him tonight. I’ve taken the liberty of increasing the security both around the perimeter and in the fold.”
Rhea’s laugh floats down the hall to where I’m standing in the shadows, trying to assess the situation that will be unfolding in a matter of hours. Dimitri did the right thing in increasing security—that’s exactly what I was calling him for. I kept Wes alive after I killed his little cronies for this very reason. I had him sit very visibly in the front of the church so that his presence would draw the attention of Davos’ associates and enemies alike. I’m not sure how common knowledge it is that he is Davos’ son—I didn’t know that, and I like to think I know my enemies well since I’ve kept them closer than my own family for the last three years.
Davos knows where we are—not that he had any doubts when I called him and begged for him to give me the chance to purchase a woman I hadn’t even had sex with yet. I knew he was coming, but I didn’t know when. This wake is the perfect cover for him. And Wes is the perfect cover for me.
“Double what we have.” I tell him. “I want my house crawling with men on my own payroll.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, and then he says, “You got it.”
“How’s our patient?” I ask, before he can try to rationalize with me again on all the reasons why we shouldn’t let Wes out to play.
“Fine.” Dimitri laughs. “But you knew that. You’ve been texting him all day.”
“You’ve been with him all day?” I counter. “That’s sweet.”
Dimitri laughs, pauses, and then laughs harder. “Michael says ‘fuck you’.”
“I don’t think Michael said anything given that he told me he’s not allowed to speak for a few weeks while his vocal cords heal but tell him I’ll have to take a raincheck. I’ve already got my sights set on someone else.”
Dimitri snorts a laugh, and then the ease of the past minute fades as he sighs. “So, you want me to bring him up about four?”
“No.” I shake my head, fully aware he can’t see me. “I want him there the least amount of time possible…. Minimize the damage of his presence.”
“Sure,” Dimitri agrees, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced. I’m about to hang up when my tongue moves of its own volition.
“Dimitri?”
“Yes, Boudreaux?” I appreciate the casual comfort we’ve slipped into following Jovich’s death. Dimitri took a back seat when my father sent Jovich to poke around in my business and things had grown a touch too formal. Laughing with him, teasing and cajoling and not being called ‘boss’ offers me a little levity.
“If Wes so much as lifts a finger to Claire or Rhea, cut it off.”
I almost expect him to protest or ask whether I mean to take him out back as opposed to switching open his blade in the middle of the wake, but somehow, I think he delights in the idea. He confirms as much when he speaks again.
“Gladly.”