Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
I’m sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, exchanging text messages with Sarah, when Henri approaches me. Bending towards to my ear, he whispers, “Monsieur St. Pierre wishes to have a word—privately.”
My gaze darts to the kitchen where Noémie is still working on dinner. I know she doesn’t want me alone with her brother, but at the same time, I don’t need her to protect me from him. In my thirty-plus years, I’ve dealt with my share of assholes, and I’m a survivor. I can handle Claude. I’m also curious to know just how bad he can be. So despite knowing how Noémie feels, I rise from my seat and follow Henri out of the main room and down the long corridor.
Upon reaching the study, Henri opens the door and gestures for me to enter. He makes his exit once I’m inside, closing the door behind him.
A lit cigar in hand, Claude sits behind a giant mahogany desk with a varnish that gleams in the dim lighting.
I take a quick look at my surroundings. Fully stocked bookshelves line two opposing walls. Retreating sunlight drips through giant windows overlooking the water. The room is large, but Claude’s arrogance fills the entire space. He stares me down like he’s a cat and I’m a mouse.
“You wanted to talk?” I say, folding my arms.
“Yes, have a seat.” He waves at a chair and rises to his feet. Walking over to a shelf, he pours out two drinks of amber liquid. Rounding the desk, he holds out a heavy crystal glass for me to take.
I don’t care much for liquor on its own, but not wanting to be rude, I take the offering.
Claude leans against the desk. “Please have a seat,” he says again, taking a sip from his glass.
Because he said please, I oblige him and sit down in a leather armchair a few feet away from the desk.
Silence stretches between us. Claude takes a pull from his cigar. Smoke billows around him like a curtain.
I stare down at the amber liquid and trace the thick patterned groves in the glass.
Finally, Claude says, “What is my sister to you?”
Every muscle in my body tenses. I look up and meet Claude’s eyes. His are grey and appear so much like his sister’s that it’s unsettling.
It’s an odd question to ask. Then again, perhaps it makes perfect sense if he’s as protective as Noémie indicated. This morning Claude walked in on me and Noémie in the kitchen. I’m not sure what my closeness to her looked like to him, but he hadn’t been happy about it. Maybe he’s also a homophobe—just like his father. Maybe he sees me as some predatory lesbian threatening to turn his sister. Or maybe he can see the truth—that my worthless ass is hopelessly in love with Noémie.
Deciding that I do need a drink, I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip. It’s smoother than any liquor I’ve ever had, but it burns down my throat all the same. “She’s my friend and my roommate. And we also work together,” I reply.
“And how long have the two of you known each other?”
I frown. “Why does that matter? What’s this about?”
Claude takes his time answering. He takes a final inhale from his cigar before stomping the glowing end in an ashtray. “Noémie has never been a good judge of character,” he says. “And I know your type.”
“My type?”
“Yes, your type,” he says. “I’ve done a little digging, and you’re a deadbeat womanizer intent on weaselling your way into Noémie’s good graces, taking advantage of her and her connections.”
My hand tightens on the glass. I grit my teeth. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know you have a price—everyone has a price,” he states, finishing off his drink and setting it down on the desk with a thunk. “What’s yours?”
“What?” The world spins as I digest his words. I couldn’t have heard him right.
Claude reaches into his sports jacket, removing a pen and a cheque book. “What’s your price?” He clicks the pen.
“For what?” I ask, even though I’m sure I know the answer.
“To get the fuck out of my sister’s life.”
My shock prevents me from answering. I really can’t believe the fuckery coming out of his mouth—that this conversation is happening is unreal.
“How about ten thousand dollars?”
Anger boils inside me. I’m hot from the tips of my ears to my toes.
“That too low for you? I will bump the number to twenty-five thousand, but you would have to leave tonight,” he says, dropping his focus to the cheque book. He begins filling out a check. “I’ll even pay for your commute back to Toronto.”
My fury bubbles over. I fly out of my seat and fling the contents of my drink on him. The liquor hits him in the face and drips onto his white collared shirt.
“Calisse!” He glares at me.
“You don’t know fuck-all about me! But know this: I don’t want your fucking money and I don’t have a fucking price. Noémie’s priceless.”
I slam my glass down on the desk and don’t stick around to hear any more of his bullshit. I retreat to the bedroom and cocoon myself in the bed and switch off the lights.
The conversation with Claude repeats in my mind over and over. My eyes burn, and a ball forms in my throat. I start to cry, and I hate that I’m crying. But it’s to be expected, I guess. Christmas is not meant to be a happy time for me. This is what I get for thinking that it could be. I start to think about my dad, and I’m wrecked by even more tears.
The door creaks open. “Jordan, are you in here? Dinner’s going to be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
I suck in a breath and let it out slowly. I can’t let Noémie see me like this. I can’t talk about what happened with Claude—not now. I just need to be alone.
“I’m not feeling well. I think it’s a stomach bug,” I say. “I won’t be coming down for dinner.” I drag the bedsheets over my head. I’m praying Noémie leaves me be.
“Oh … okay,” Noémie says, sounding both disappointed and sad. I hear her moving towards the bed, and then feel the mattress sink. “Do you need anything? Tylenol? Advil? I can make you some soup …” She rubs my shoulder over the blanket.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pull the blanket tighter around me. “I just—I just need to be alone,” I croak. And now she knows that I’ve been crying. Great.
“Jordan, I …”
“Please, leave me alone. I just need to be alone.” I sniffle. “Please.”
“Jordan—”
“Please go.”
Noémie doesn’t say or do anything for a long time. She just sits in the dark with me. And just when I start to think she’s never going to leave, she does.