Chapter 29
I slung my backpack over one shoulder, the fabric still creased from where it had been sitting on the sofa. The hall was quiet, empty, and I was grateful for it. In the mirrors lining the wall, my reflection caught my eye, hair wild, eyes puffy.
I averted my gaze, pushing forward. I looked like I had just had the best sex of my life.
Not a bad look at all, don’t get me wrong; it’s just that if anyone had seen me with my cheeks still flushed and my curls dishevelled, well, they could imagine what I had been doing moments before.
And I didn’t want anyone to question who I had been with.
The dress I’d worn to the charity event looked like it had been through a tornado.
I sighed, thinking about how my mother could turn it back into something presentable next week.
I changed into the same comfy tracksuit I’d worn on the flight out, dismissing any concern about appearance.
Laurent Dubois had said I’d be heading back to London right after dinner, and I had no intention of making any effort beyond what was necessary for the journey home.
The opinions of Enzo, Elo?se, or even the Dubois were the last things on my mind.
I had already shared a bed with Bastian, which in my mind left little room for further judgment, and Gina had seen me in far less flattering attire—a Minnie Mouse t-shirt and Twilight pyjamas emblazoned with “Team Edward” on the butt.
As for the rest of the Dubois’ guests, their friends, and the staff, their opinions seemed irrelevant.
I’d likely never cross paths with them again.
I struggled with the zipper of my overstuffed backpack, pulling at it in frustration as it refused to budge. Gina’s knocks on the door grew louder.
“Give me a second,” I uttered.
Gina knocked again, with more insistence this time.
“I’m coming!” I yelled, my frustration seeping through my voice.
I yanked the zipper shut with a final tug and swung the door open.
Elo?se stood on the other side, arms crossed and a scowl pulling at her face.
“Finally!” she said, her voice edged with irritation. “Are you deaf or just ignoring me?”
“I was busy,” I shot back, matching her irritation.
She scrutinized me with a raised eyebrow, her gaze flickering over my appearance and the overstuffed backpack.
“Not getting ready for dinner, I hope,” Elo?se laughed, marching into my room as if it were hers. Well, I guess, in a way, it was her room.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Elo?se shut the door behind her with a sharp click, her eyes scanning the room. When she didn’t find anything worth her attention, she turned back to me.
“You and I,” she said, pointing a finger at me, “we need to talk.”
She wore a sharp black suit, her open shirt revealing just enough. Her stiletto heels clicked with each step, echoing off the floor, and her straight brown hair framed a stern face that unsettled me more than my encounter with Laurent Dubois ever had.
Part of it might have been because I didn’t understand the Bastian-Elo?se-Gina dynamic or what role I played in it.
But if I had gotten the right idea out of Antonia Hawtrey-Moore’s favourite child, I was sure she knew what she was doing.
She had said it herself: monogamy wasn’t her thing.
So, if she was with Bastian, it had to be casual.
It was possible it was just to gather information on Saidi.
“And? Do you know why I’m here?” she said, brushing her hair out of her face.
“I can make a guess.”
She laughed.
“Go ahead.”
“You’re here because of Bastian.” My voice came out in a sharp, strained tone, betraying the anxiety that had tightened in my neck and strained my vocal cords.
Elo?se laughed louder.
“Because of Sebastian!” she echoed, pronouncing his name with a French accent. “No, no. Do you think this is jealousy? Is that what you think?”
I looked at the woman in front of me. Unfiltered, unretouched.
So different from how I had seen her on social media or in gossip shows.
Elo?se Hawtrey-Moore in the flesh, in her natural state.
Jealousy was not Elo?se’s style. In two days and one night, I had learned that much.
She struck me as the type who would dismiss jealousy with a wave of her hand, saying something like, “Oh, Vera, jealousy is so last century.” That was the kind of woman she was.
When she showed up at your door with that intense gaze, it was clear that something far more significant than petty jealousy was at play.
This was personal. This involved her family.
“I know Bastian has lost his mind over you,” she said with a sly smile. “I’d dare say that, when we met months ago, he didn’t use his brain much, already. But what more can you expect from a man?”
“What about Gina?” I asked. If I could extract something in favour of my friend, that would be even better.
Elo?se’s smile transformed before my eyes into a more cheerful one, which she quickly masked with a denial. Her hair fell over her face again.
“Apart from Bastian… I don’t think my love life is any of your business,” she said, changing the subject. “Come on, I’ll give you another chance. What brought me here, Vera? I don’t have all day.”
I didn’t mind the change of subject. Her expression told me everything I needed to know. Gina was lucky. In less than two days, she’d won over the most talked-about woman of the moment, and one of the richest. Well played.
As for why Elo?se was in my room… I thought I knew. The conversation I’d overheard in the living room had made it clear she held just as strong an opinion of me as I did of her.
“Okay. Second guess: you’re here because of Enzo.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“That’s right. My little big brother,” Elo?se said, her voice dripping with disdain as she spat out the words. “Don’t think this has anything to do with me worrying about whether you’re right for him or if you should choose him over Bastian. Do whatever you want. I came here because of this.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a thick bundle of cash. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it onto the floor by my feet. I bent down and picked it up. Twenty-pound notes, well-bound with a blue ribbon, the crisp edges catching the light.
There had to be… what? One hundred thousand pounds? I could tell just by looking. In fact, I knew this particular stack all too well. It had been mine.
It was the money Gina had lost at Club Montari.
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop to think.
“Why did you have this?” I didn’t know if my anger was because Elo?se had stolen the money from my friend or because she was returning it to me just hours before the deadline, when I had already thought it was lost.
Elo?se tilted her head, resting her hands on her hips.
“I’d like to know that myself. How did that money end up with Gina?”
“I gave it to her.”
“I know that already, stupid bitch. How did it get to you?”
With each word she spoke, it was clear that Elo?se’s patience was wearing thin. But mine was, too. I didn’t have the time to deal with inflated egos.
“I have no idea.”
“Don’t play dumb,” she said, stepping closer. Her tone was calm, but there was an edge to it. I knew it damn well, too. Determination, thirst for control. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
“Him?”
Her face loomed inches from mine; her gaze was a sharp blade, carving its way into my soul like a wraith ready to devour.
“Enzo. You’re his friend’s lawyer.”
I took a step back.
No, I had already been through this. I already knew that he and Julian Garros were friends… And that there was no way Enzo had been the one to give me the money.
I released a deep breath. Clear mind. I had to confront Elo?se. My suspicions were aimed at her; I had overheard her conversation with Larousse. I didn’t care what she might tell me about Enzo. It could be resentment. Jealousy…
No, not jealousy; we had already ruled that out.
And not resentment either. Elo?se wasn’t that type of person. I knew she wasn’t.
“What you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” I murmured, in a pathetic attempt to convince myself that it didn’t.
Elo?se moved away. She laughed again, a much more sinister sound than before. Then, she hit the wall with her hand. I flinched.
“You’re his friend’s lawyer,” she repeated. “I don’t know how it happened, but he did it. He stole the money and gave it to you.”
The look she gave me chilled me to the bone. There it was. Elo?se Hawtrey-Moore wasn’t the type of woman to be jealous of others or to hold grudges against her loved ones. She was the type of woman who would do anything for her family. For her name. For her status. And…