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No hint of what he felt.
Scrubbing at the carpet, I kept my eyes on him. He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “You’ve killed his son?”
“Not yet.” Victor sighed. “My team has finally tracked down where he goes to school. They’re on their way to grab him now, actually. Once Q goes after them, well…let’s just say his wife will be a childless widow, and in all fairness, you should inherit the Mercer estate. I can see if my lawyers could arrange that if you’d like? Last I heard, he was worth over a billion euros.”
My hands stilled.
Victor cocked his eyebrow in warning.
I kept scrubbing.
Finally, Henri reclined and exhaled as if he’d given up every last piece of himself. He looked exhausted—as if he couldn’t keep doing this dance. The vacantness in his grey eyes terrified me. The coldness wafting from his body dusted the air with frost. “It’s fine. Let his wife have the estate.”
“You’re far too good a brother, even now.” Victor pouted. “You know, mon ami. It hurts me to see you ostracised even amongst your own kind. You’re desperately lonely, and I understand now that I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. You’re unhappy, and seeing as you’re quickly becoming my only true friend in this world, I did this for you, don’t you see? I figured out a way to prevent your brother from killing you the moment you’re off my island. Next time I travel, you can come with me. Won’t that be nice? In fact, Rachel and Ilyana can join us. Just the four of us…or five, depending on due dates.”
He gave Rachel a doting look before glancing at Henri. “I know you’ll feel guilty that your brother and nephew will soon be dead, but you shouldn’t. He failed you, and you deserve better. You have my word that I’ll always look out for you. As long as you are loyal and honest with me, we can have differing opinions and agree to disagree. I want you to be yourself, Henri. How many of your past acquaintances can say that? How many people have you had to hide from? Do you even know how to be yourself?” He shook his head kindly. “Even now. Even after the opportunity to become who you truly are, you continue to fight it. You’re not well, my friend, and it’s an honour to be the one to help you because you need looking after.”
Victor’s voice tinged with passion, not giving room for anyone else to speak. “Before you came along, I had no such nurturing instincts. To be honest, I despise most people—my guests included—but you…you remind me so much of me at your age that I catch myself remembering those days when I too had no one. The days when I could barely get out of bed because the heavy weight of depression refused to let me breathe. I’ve skimmed enough of the camera footage to see those same sufferings in you. It doesn’t seem as if you’ve indulged in pleasure since I left. You’ve barely eaten. You write feverishly, yet there’s nothing to show for it on your computer. You’re breaking beneath what you think you should be and what you truly are, and I need you to listen to me because I’ve been there. I was you. I hated myself for the longest time. I even feared myself and yes, I made myself sick with the urges in my blood. It wasn’t until I became accepting of my truth that I found happiness.”
“Wait.” Henri held up his hand, stilling Victor’s speech. “You read my manuscript? How?”
Victor ducked his chin, guilt tinging his cheekbones. “Ah, yes, I know I shouldn’t have, but…I have a big nose too.” He tapped it with a laugh. “I told you I was eager to read your book, so I was disappointed to find only blank pages.”
“Ever heard of asking first?” Henri sniffed.
“Does it look like I ask for consent?” He chuckled. “Besides, if I’d asked you, you might’ve said no—”
“I would’ve definitely said no. It was personal.”
“Is that why you deleted it?”
Henri’s eyes tightened. “Amongst other reasons.”
“What reasons?”
Rachel and I looked between the two men as if we were watching a tennis match. The rising testosterone, the tension.
I didn’t think Henri would answer him, but he strangled, “I’ve been remembering my childhood. It turns out I repressed everything. Writing unfortunately unlocked that repression.”
“Interesting.” Victor topped up both their glasses. Glancing at my untouched one, he commanded. “Drink that, Ilyana. I won’t ask again.”
Henri glanced at me; he gave me the slightest nod.
With gritted teeth, I grabbed the glass, shot it back, and grimaced.
Vodka.
Victor refilled it, then turned his attention back to Henri on the couch. “So…what have you been remembering? Tell me. I wonder if our childhoods were the same, and that’s why we’re so similar.”
My nose wrinkled.
Henri might want dark things, but he was nothing like Victor. I couldn’t picture him hacking up a body to sell the heart or a kidney of someone he used to know—
Then again, he’d filleted Kyle pretty good.
He stabbed him so many times I’d lost count.
Different…
