24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Duncan
" I know who Vincent Arsenault is," I gritted my teeth.
I didn’t like Dom standing in my office, demanding to know how my wife was connected to one of the world’s most dangerous arms dealers—especially since I had no idea myself. We'd ended up fighting, and after, I was too busy fucking her to remember that I needed to get a few truths from my wife about how she knew Vincent.
Dom picked up a small Miro sculpture and then set it back down on a bookshelf. My office at Place Vend?me was a sanctuary of refined elegance. The room was a perfect blend of classic and modern. Large windows let in natural light, casting a soft glow over the polished hardwood floors.
"There's more." Dom's expression was severe, more so than usual, and unease tightened in my stomach. "She not only knows him, but Duncan your wife has been seen going to his house. The security guards know her."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Dom shrugged. "She goes there once every week or so, stays for an hour sometimes less." He handed me his phone, and I went through the pictures of Elsa smiling at the gates of what I assumed was Arsenault's home.
The breath in my chest left, and I felt light-headed for an instant. "My wife isn't fucking Vincent fucking Arsenault," I roared.
"Don't know what she's doing there because that son of a bitch's house is like a fucking fortress."
"I'll talk to her," I managed to say. I felt a cold rage settle in my chest. Could innocent and sweet Elsa be involved with someone like Vincent? It was unthinkable. But there it was, the evidence staring me in the face. I couldn't believe she'd been hiding this from me.
Dom took a deep breath and sat down across from me. "Vincent is one of the most dangerous arms dealers we've been tracking. We've been trying to get something on him for years, but he's slippery."
I raised both my eyebrows. The son of a bitch wasn't saying what I thought he was saying . "Fuck no."
"We need an in, and Elsa might be able to help."
" Fuck no ," I repeated.
"Come on, man. If she's fucking him, this is how—"
"She's not fucking him," I cut him off. "Elsa is my wife, you son of a bitch, so show some damn respect."
"Your wife spends time in the house of a ruthless arm's dealer. She's the daughter of the most powerful and vicious gangster France has ever seen. Don't talk to me about respect."
I walked up to Dom and grabbed his collar. "I said, show some fucking respect."
Dom didn't even flinch. "This isn't just about your wife. Arsenault is into white phosphorous. Have you seen what that does to a body?"
I let him go. White phosphorous was a nightmare, a weapon that burned fiercely and indiscriminately, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. The images I'd seen, the reports I'd read—they were seared into my mind, impossible to forget.
"It's horrific," I said quietly, the grimness of the situation settling over me. "But dragging Elsa into this? She's pregnant, Dom."
Dom's eyes were cold, unyielding. "Sometimes, the lines between friend and enemy blur. You know that better than anyone. This isn't a game, Duncan. It's about stopping something far worse. And, yeah, I know she's pregnant, and I don't think it's yours."
"Dom, don't make me fuck you up. You need to—"
"We need inside Arsenault's house. If your wife is so fucking pure, then she can show it by helping us," Dom barked.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. "And what if she gets hurt? Or worse?"
"We'll do everything we can to protect her," Dom said, his tone softer now but still firm.
"That means fuck all, Dom."
"It's the best I can do."
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The risk was immense, but so were the stakes. I couldn't let my fear paralyze me. Not now.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means that if you don't let me handle your wife, someone else will."
I stared at him, feeling all the blood drain out of my face. "Dom?"
He shook his head. "I told you when you married her that this was beyond me, and it is. If I don't talk to her about this, I can guarantee you, the DGSE is going to be all over her."
The DGSE, France’s counterpart to the CIA, was the country's secret intelligence and counterintelligence agency, operating under the Ministry of Defense.
"She's innocent."
"If you're so sure about it, then let me talk to her," Dom thundered. "Let me figure this out for you. For the fucking world."
I thought about it for a long moment and then grabbed my phone. I dialed Elsa's number, my fingers trembling with anger. While I waited for her to pick up, I typed out a quick message to my assistant, asking him to arrange transportation for my wife.
"Hey, husband. I'm making—"
"Elsa, a car will be picking you up shortly. I need you in my office now ."
"Duncan, what's going on?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion.
"We'll talk when you get here," I said, making an effort to sound composed. "Just come to my office."
I hung up, took a deep breath, and worked on steeling myself, freezing my emotions.
Elsa’s betrayal cut deep, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever believe in her again. I’d always been cautious with people, and this felt like a confirmation of my worst fears.
As I waited for Elsa to arrive, I paced the length of my office, my mind racing. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. How could she have kept her friendship with Vincent from me? What else was she hiding?
When the door finally opened and Elsa walked in, I could see the confusion and worry in her eyes. She looked at me, searching for answers.
"Duncan, what's going on?" she asked again. "I had to leave Thierry alone at the boulangerie. I was in the middle of…." She stopped talking when she saw Dom.
I turned to her, my expression stern, and guided her to the sofa in the corner of the room. " We need to sort some things out."
She sat down slowly, dragging her eyes away from Dom to me. "What's happened? What's Jett doing here?"
I took a deep breath, feeling the significance of the moment. "Last night, I asked you how you knew Vincent Arsenault, and you never told me. You need to tell me now."
"In front of him ?"
I sat down next to her, wanting very much to see evidence that she wasn't involved with her father or Arsenault. "Yes."
"He's an American spy?"
"Yes," I admitted.
Dom didn't move, didn't show any emotion as he sat across from Elsa in an armchair.
"Why?" She looked at me, her eyes flinty.
"Vincent is one of the most dangerous arms dealers in the world. Several countries and intelligence agencies have been monitoring him. And apparently, you have some kind of connection to him," I said, my voice tight.
Her eyes widened in shock. "I... I know Vincent through his father. Emile had been a regular at the boulangerie since I opened it, but he got sick a few months ago and stopped coming. Now, I visit him when I can. He's dying of cancer. I bring him pastries, we play chess, and I keep him company."
I looked at Dom who was now on his phone, no doubt trying to get more information about Vincent's father.
"You've been spending a lot of time in the home of a very dangerous man, Elsa," I said, my voice hard. "And you're telling me you're just there to deliver pastries and play chess?"
"Yes."
I shook my head, the rage still burning. "How am I supposed to believe that?"
"I don't know how, but it's the truth."
She looked so damned innocent, but she'd been with Vincent at the party, and now I wasn't sure of anything.
"Duncan, do you want to tell me what exactly is going on?" she demanded softly.
Her hand went to her belly as if trying to protect the life within her, and it hit me hard. I stared at her, my emotions a turbulent storm. For now, I needed to keep my head clear.
"Did you know who I was when you came to my suite at the Ritz pretending to be Angelique?" I asked my tone that of an interrogator.
She gasped. "Are we discussing that again ?"
"Yes."
"Because you don't trust me." With that realization came tears, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and tell Dom to go fuck himself.
"No, I don't," I told her, and honest to God, for the first time in my life I saw what heartbreak looks like. The raw pain in her eyes would have brought me to my knees if I had been standing.
"Duncan," Dom dragged my attention away from Elsa, "Let me talk to her."
I nodded. "We'll talk more about this later," I said, my voice still hard. "But Dom needs ask you some questions."
"Who's Dom?" Elsa asked, confused as I got up and walked across the room, putting distance between my wife and me.
"Don't worry about that," Dom ordered. "How long have you known—"
Elsa stood up. "I'm not going to talk to you, whoever you are."
"Sit the fuck down," Dom snarled.
Elsa looked at me. I sat down at my desk. This was Dom's show, and I had to let him run it. There was more at stake here than my apparently not-so-innocent wife's feelings.
"Duncan?" she called out.
I left my face blank, showing no emotion.
I watched as her heart crumbled… again . The devastation tore at me; but I didn't give her an inch. She didn't deserve it, not until she proved to me she wasn't working with her father or that asshole Arsenault.
She nodded and then looked away from me; her focus on Dom. "Ask your questions, monsieur ."