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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.
