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“If you didn’t talk, they would have killed you. And I wouldn’t have wanted that.” I gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
“Nothing happened, then?” he asked. “Is Camille okay?”
“We’re both fine. When Grave realized I was there, he left.”
Jeremiah gave a nod. “Good. Glad no one got hurt.”
I got him in the car and watched them drive off. My work here was done. I appointed someone else to take Jeremiah’s position so I could return home, but my circumstances were still dire. Bombs would continue to fire back and forth, and at some point, there would be nothing left.
I took the plane back to France, but the second I landed, he called.
Almost didn’t answer.
I took the call and let my silence do all the talking.
“This can’t go on forever.”
“It’ll go on until someone caves—and it won’t be me.”
Just like in the foyer of my estate when we stared at each other, the silence stretched into infinity.
“Haven’t you tortured me enough?” he whispered.
My answer was quicker than a bullet leaving a gun. “No.”
He sighed.
“An eye for an eye. You tortured Jeremiah. Now I’ll torture Pierre.”
“I didn’t torture him for the fun of it—”
“Well, I will.”
Another pause. A heavy one. “My client is dead because of you, and I didn’t get paid—”
“So sorry to hear that.”
“And I know you’re running out of diamonds to sell. Soon, you won’t be able to meet demand.”
“Then the ones I have will become more valuable. It’s called economics.”
He was so pissed off. It was audible in the silence. “And if I cave, what then?”
I looked out the window from the back seat of the car, seeing the blue sky between the branches of the olive tree.
“Her only value to you is that I want her, so if I don’t want her, you won’t either.”
“Then cave.”
He breathed over the line, probably gritting his teeth until they were filed down just a little more.
“You can’t do it.”
Silence.
“It kills you that I have her. Fucking kills you.” Truth be told, I didn’t want him to cave. I wanted to keep torturing him. Every single night I fucked her, I fucked him too. I could do this forever, suck on the sweet nectar of revenge for eternity. The loss of my diamonds was minor compared to the joy his torture brought me. “And it’ll keep killing you.”
TWENTY-NINE
CAMILLE
Five days later, he finally came home.
His imminent arrival was reflected in the staff. They hurried around to change the flowers, make sure the estate looked brand-new before he even walked in the door. The sheets were changed, appetizers were prepared and placed in the entryway. It was ironic because Cauldron didn’t care about any of those things. He’d ignore the canapés the chef prepared, hardly say two words, and then head straight for his bedroom.
That was exactly what he did when he walked in the door.
His men carried his luggage up the stairs to his bedroom, Hugo greeted him and presented the canapés and a cold glass of water, and one of the maids took off his jacket and hung it by the door.
Cauldron powered through them and headed straight upstairs.
I stood there as I waited for him.
The men with the luggage walked by first. He came afterward.
The hardness to his features told me he had a sour attitude. He didn’t like traveling, even in a private plane, and he didn’t like being interrogated when he first walked in the door. There was a warning in his look like he wasn’t in the mood.
I decided to interrogate him at a later time. “I’m glad you’re home.”
His expression softened.
“I missed you.” The days passed with painful slowness. My meals were eaten in solitude. I spent time in the pool, but without him sitting on the patio, it was lonely. The homemade jams and jellies tasted bitter, and the wine was weak. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. It sucked.
He tilted his lips down and caught my mouth. He gave me a short and sweet kiss, his hand gripping me around the waist briefly. After a gentle squeeze, he walked off and left me standing there, winded by that man’s touch.
Summer was officially over, but it didn’t feel that way.
The sun was still out past eight, and the heat continued to warm the land even when it was low in the sky. I sat on the terrace alone to eat dinner, but there were two place settings. Hugo set a basket of bread on the table and filled the two glasses with wine.
A moment later, Cauldron emerged from the house, in pants and a t-shirt. The scruff on his jawline was gone, and the hardness of his face was replaced by a subtle brightness. He took a seat across from me and immediately went for the wine.
Hugo brought our dinner a moment later, grilled fish with seasonal vegetables and potato purée.
