Page 40 of Complete Me

“Is your temper going to come out to play, too?” Jacobson mocked me.

I grabbed Smith by the shoulder and helped him straighten up. Then I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Why don't you wait outside?” Smith had already faced his demons tonight. Asking him to do it twice might be too much.

He adjusted his jacket as he left, never turning around to look at the man who had been responsible for so much of the tragedy in his life.

“I suppose you want to ask me why,” Jacobson continued as soon as Smith was out of the room.

There had been a time where I wanted that, but now I found it satisfying to know he’d never be free again. It hardly mattered why he did any of it. If I stayed on my best behavior, the audio and video recordings in the room could be used against him later. If I didn't stay on my best behavior, I'd have no problem using every power within my reach to keep him locked away. Either way, Oliver Jacobson would never be a free man again.

“Some of us weren't born with a silver spoon in our mouths,” he said.

Apparently, he was going to tell me his sad story, regardless of whether or not I asked him to share it.

“There are those of us who weren't chosen in the lottery of birth, who've had to crawl our way out of the gutter, watching while men like you and your father abuse their power. I know everything about you, Alexander. I know the twisted secrets you keep in your closet. I know why you were sent off to the war.”

“Yes, I was very privileged then,” I said dryly. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. If he wanted to talk, let him. It occurred to me that Brexton might overhear something I had chosen to keep secret from him, but I could no longer afford secrets. Clara had shown me that. I had to learn to trust the people around me. That was the only way I was going to protect my family from men like him in the future.

“Daddy couldn't abide having a perverted son,” Jacobson said, “And then he got stuck with a gay one. The lottery of birth, once again. But it never mattered when you sinned, did it? Never did a thing to earn your place, and yet you sit in judgment of me.”

My eyes narrowed as I considered what he was saying. To be honest, I had expected more of him. There were questions I had, ones that would need to be answered in the coming weeks to ensure that the threat ended with him.

Perhaps after he told us more, we would understand how he had inspired the treachery of Hammond, but I suspected he simply bought it.

“You don't live in the gutter now,” I pointed out. Smith had filled me in on more particulars about our suspect while we waited for Brexton to bring him in.

“As I said, I clawed myself free,” he started, but I cut him off.

“Charles Dickens would be proud of you, but the rest of England has no patience for traitors.”

“There are more like me,” he warned. “Men who want to see the monarchy overturned, men who will enact legislation.”

“Let them,” I roared, losing my patience. “Do you want to talk about the lottery of birth? You claim to have been born in a gutter and to have fought your way to the top. That might have been admirable if you'd done so for the right reasons, but misplaced obsession only breaks a man.”

I knew a thing or two about that, but I wouldn't bother to share it with this scum.

“It's easy for you to say,” Jacobson began. “You've never had any choices.”

“I have.” I cut him off. “I chose to be a good man. You could've done the same. It's too late for that now, so I hope you rot in hell.”

He began to talk wildly, but I was past the point of giving him any more of my time. He'd stolen precious moments from my life and from my family. He'd taken away things we could never have back, and I would never give him the satisfaction of a minute more. The heavy cell door groaned shut behind me.

Smith looked up from the floor, mouth opened, but I held my hand up before he could apologize. There was no need. He'd shown amazing restraint this evening. I couldn't hold it against him when he yelled at the man.

“What now?” Smith asked. “Now we lock him up and we throw away the key,” I told him, “And then we go home.”

“You are home,” Smith pointed out.

“Neither of us are home.” I shook my head at the absurdity of the thought. “Our homes are in Scotland with our wives.”

19

It was Christmas Eve. Guests would be arriving any minute, and David wasn't speaking to him.

It had taken Edward an embarrassingly long time to realize his fiancé was hiding. Once he began to search for him he quickly began to panic. It had been a long time since David ran away, but he'd always had good cause to do so before.

Edward had asked a lot of him in the early years of their relationship. Whereas David had never needed to hide his sexuality, he had done so to protect Edward. Now, once again, Edward had managed to drive him away, and he didn't know why. It didn't help that Balmoral had dozens of rooms for David to abscond to. Checking them all might take the rest of the day. While it might be considered rude not to greet his guests, he wasn't about to spend Christmas without his love.

An hour later he'd checked half of the house and panic was subsiding into frustration. The sound of movement in the west library caught his attention, and he doubled back to check the space again. David didn't bother to hide when Edward entered the room. Instead, he glanced up from a book and frowned.