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My only hope is that she cares enough to allow it to fester.
Doubtful.
“I at least need to make an effort.”
Lies.
It has nothing to do with effort. I want to tell her just enough so that she’s looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life. I want her to squirm and know real fear.
I don’t need Bastien to know my motives.
“I know my mother has broken our relationship beyond repair,” I say, feigning sadness. “I need to detach myself from her if I’m ever going to start healing from my past.” I lower my eyes to my feet. “I at least want to say goodbye. For my sake, not hers.”
He chews on his cheek, sucking his teeth afterword. His intense scrutiny makes me wonder if he can see through my lies. I know he’d support what I truly intend to do. He hates the woman. But I don’t want him to know. This is for me.
“I may let you use a burner phone tomorrow, if I’m in a good mood. Spoiler alert, I won’t be.”
My arms cross over my chest, and I level him with a look of pure annoyance. I might be pressing my luck, but I’m done with these games. Get on with the torture or stop the bullshit.
“How long is this childishness going to last?” I snap. As we walk into the dining room, I see Simon, one of Bastien’s main men, sitting at the table, and my heart sinks.
I take a seat, making sure not to break eye contact with Simon. He smirks at me as I serve myself from a platter of sliced roast beef. “If it isn’t the Queen of Head.” That was one of the names that Emilie thought up for me in high school. Lovely. I don’t even bother glancing at Bastien, who’s ladling new red potatoes onto his plate. Somehow it hurts he would sit there and let Simon attack me.
Why I’m surprised is beyond me. We aren’t in love. We’re at war.
That’s fine. If I could defeat Bastien at his own game, I can certainly handle his little toady.
“If it isn’t Sycophant Simon,” I reply with a pleasant smile. “How’s Layla?” My hand flies to my mouth in a faux oops move. “Oh, right, she dumped you because you’re a pervert and you tried to get her to make out with the maid.” I’m pleased to see the startled look on his face.
He quickly recovers. “What was that? I’m not used to hearing you talk without a dick in your mouth,” he snarls, and pours himself cognac from a bottle in the middle of the table.
Simon has been one of Bastien’s closest allies for a very long time, which is why his words don’t shock me. I’m used to them. He’s only acting the way that Bastien told him to act. Simon’s actions are on Bastien.
“First of all, Bastien lied about me in high school,” I say. “And I suspect you knew it all along because if Bastien Durand’s girlfriend had been running around doing every boy in school, you damn sure would have heard about it before the rat incident. And second, I don’t plan on sitting here and being insulted by you while I eat dinner.”
“What are you going to do about it, Black Hole?” he quips as I dip a bite of roast beef into a bowl of au jus. That was another thing that they used to call me. It was supposed to be a nickname for my… privates.
Yes, high school was a lot of fun for me.
“Right now, you have unsupervised visitation with your children from your first wife. Yes, I’ve looked up your divorce files; they’re public record. If your wife finds out about your ownership of a chain of sex clubs, that would change.” I jab the forkful of roast beef at him for emphasis. “So shut the hell up and be civil or say goodbye to your kids.” I shove the roast beef into my mouth and chew. “Mmm, tender.”
Simon flashes a startled look at Bastien. Bastien shrugs. I think I see a flash of admiration in his ice-blue eyes.
“What, you want me to spank her because she just handed you your balls?” he asks. “Don’t wrestle a she-wolf if you don’t want to get bitten.”
He chuckles darkly. “Maybe I should be the one to spank her.”
Bastien shoots to his feet so fast his chair falls over with a bang. He grabs Simon by the neck and squeezes. I sit there chewing my roast beef and watch as Simon flails madly, knocking his plate onto the floor. “If you ever lay a hand on her, I will cut out your tongue and stuff it down your throat,” Bastien grates out the words as Simon’s face turns purple. When Bastien finally lets go of him, Simon slumps onto the table half conscious. Desperate wheezes rattle from his throat.
Bastien sits down and looks at me appraisingly. “I thought you’d try to stop me,” he says.
“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” I smile and attack my roast beef with gusto.
That seems to anger him. “Bullshit,” he barks. “I’ve watched you sleep. I’ve hacked into every account you own. I’ve read your therapy records. Your thesis. I know you inside and out.”
“If you knew me inside and out, you would have anticipated me recording your sister,” I taunt. I wash down the roast beef with some excellent red wine. “What you did to me in high school changed me. Made me tougher. I could have wilted and died, but I learned how to do whatever it takes to survive instead. Sometimes it means keeping my head down, but other times it means standing up for myself when I’ve been pushed too far.”
“Then you should thank me.” There’s a smirk on his face as he shoves a small potato into his mouth.
