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I grab my handbag. “I’m going to see what they have for lunch in the dining room. I’m starving.”
He doesn’t say a word, but he follows me downstairs, presumably to make sure I stay safe.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask when I return to our table with a loaded tray.
“I’m not hungry.”
I shrug. Biting into an apple, I say with a full mouth, “Your loss.”
Chapter 36
Maxime
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and my hair damp from my shower. It’s early. Zoe is still asleep. I’m careful not to wake her, although I should probably go and get her some coffee to wake her up. We’ll have to hit the road soon if we’re to make it back before the weekend traffic.
Resting my head in my hands, I drag my fingers through my hair. A weight bears down on me. Everything feels heavy—the atmosphere, my thoughts, and our future. At first, I was angry about yesterday, but now it’s just part of the heaviness that won’t let me breathe. Zoe isn’t my little flower any longer. She’s grown into a prickly plant with sharp thorns. Not that I blame her. I brought this on her and myself. It’s a survival mechanism, just like Delphine has said.
I still want Zoe. I’ll always want her, no matter how she changes. I’ll even let her use me like yesterday if it means I get to keep her. I can give her pleasure, and it can be enough. I can live with it, but that pull in my heart when I look at her won’t let up. I suppose it’s the closest thing to empathy. Regret. She was perfect when I found her, a beautiful wildflower, and I don’t want her to wilt in my vase. That’s what happens to cut flowers. Eventually, they die. Worse, I’m worried—terrified—she’ll grow into something so poisonous she’ll turn into someone like me. I’m a bad man. A psychopath. What did I expect? That I could make her happy? Could stealing her have gone any other way?
I chuckle to myself. This is the moment I atone for my sins. I’ve never paid. It had to catch up with me at some stage. I feel a driving need to hurt myself, but physical pain isn’t going to do it this time. I don’t need the ache in my body to remind me to have compassion. It’s there, all by itself. Maybe it’s not full-blown compassion, but it’s something. I don’t know if it’s guilt, or regret, or a mixture of both, but it’s a godawful feeling. Thank fuck I never felt those before. How do people live with them?
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. I check the caller ID. It’s Jerome. I’m expecting news about Leclerc. I don’t know what the hotel owner told the police about the parcel bomb, and I don’t care. What I do know is Alexis’s men will be on Leclerc’s tail after that stunt. A man doesn’t throw bombs around Paris. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up with him. I already have the evidence Leclerc gave me of my brother starting that fire, so I don’t give a damn if he finds Leclerc before I do.
I go into the hallway and close the door behind me before answering. “What?”
“Max.” Jerome’s voice is shaking. “I think you better sit down.”
I walk to the window at the far end and peer down at the highway. “What happened?”
I expect him to tell me Leclerc’s body washed up in the Seine or that the police are asking about my whereabouts, but I’m not prepared for his next words.
“Alexis is dead.”
My thoughts go still. I drag a finger through the dust on the windowsill. “What happened?”
“Car bomb.” He exhales into the phone. “Early this morning, in front of his house.”
My house. “Who did it?”
“He made too many mistakes, man. I told you.”
“Leonardo?”
“Yes.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry, Max. Really, I am.”
I dissect my feelings. There’s nothing. Then my mind starts working at a mile a minute. Alexis is no longer a threat. Leonardo gets what he’s always wanted. Marrying his sister to my brother paid off. Still, there’s nothing in my chest, no envy, no anger, and no quest for vengeance. I’m not sorry any longer for having given up my house, my position, and my family. That bomb would’ve been meant for me if Alexis hadn’t taken my place.
“Your father is beside himself,” Jerome says.
“I guess that’s Leonardo’s problem now.”
My relief surprises me, not that my brother is dead, but that the consequences are no longer my concern. I’ve got bigger worries on my mind. Killing has always come easy for me. This thing I have to do is more difficult than anything I’ve done.
“The funeral is tomorrow,” he says. “Your father doesn’t want to wait.”
