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After a long beat, he relaxes back in his seat and smiles. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. That man was an imposter. A spy. You saved me the trouble.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m following. If you think I’m somehow responsible for this man’s murder,” I emphasize the word. “Shouldn’t I be standing before The Tribunal.”
Jericho clears his throat, shifting in his seat.
Councilor Augustus’s eyes are locked on mine. “That wouldn’t serve either of us, Ezekiel, and I think you know that. You have something I want.” He turns his gaze from me to Jericho and back.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. Jericho, do you know what the good Councilor is talking about?”
Jericho raises his eyebrows, shakes his head. “Not a clue.”
Augustus exhales, eyes hard. The French doors open, and a woman steps out onto the porch. I see her in my periphery. She stops, takes in the scene. Councilor Augustus’s eyes narrow before his mouth moves into that smile again. He stands, looks at the woman.
“Gentlemen, my wife, Ines.”
Jericho and I set our drinks down and stand to greet her. She’s still beautiful, something of the young woman from the photo still in her, but, apart from the years which Botox can only do so much to mask, there is a flatness in her red-rimmed eyes. A brokenness.
Councilor Augustus kisses her cheek and brushes a hand down her back. She visibly stiffens, lips tightening, and doesn’t quite meet our gazes.
“Ines. Don’t be rude.”
She swallows. Her smile comes a moment later as she steps forward and extends her hand.
“Jericho and Ezekiel St. James, dear.” She shakes each of our hands and I’m not sure what to make of her. What were the last twenty-five years of her life like? I have a feeling a man like Lucius Augustus does not so easily forgive. And when she turns to face her husband, I know I’m right.
Augustus watches us as we take in the open-back dress his wife is wearing. It cuts to the curve of her lower back. Her hair is swept high off her neck, and I get the feeling this is on purpose. His mark is burned into her skin, a black scar on alabaster skin. But that’s not all. She’s recently been lashed. No broken skin but a dozen or so thin red lines overlap older, white scars. By the looks of it, she’s been lashed regularly over many years.
I see Jericho’s hands fist.
Augustus smiles. Shifts his eyes to his wife. “Yes, Ines, you interrupted for a reason?”
“Our dinner guest is here.”
“Oh, wonderful. Go and greet him, darling.”
“Yes, sir,” she answers her husband like the butler, Reeves, did. I’m glad to see her hold her head high as she walks back into the house.
“Women need constant correction, don’t they? But, well, I love her enough to teach her the error of her ways.” He turns to face us. “Come. Meet an old friend before you go.”
He turns and, using his cane with flair, heads toward the French doors and Jericho and I share a glance before following. Inside the foyer, we find Ines standing with a man in a dark suit. The two are looking at each other but standing apart and when Augustus clears his throat, Ines drops her gaze to the floor.
The man turns to face us, and I know I’m looking at Antoine Girard. He’s no longer that smiling youth in the photos Robbie had found. He and Augustus are the same age, but he looks older, and no less brutal. There’s a hardness in the line of his mouth that turns downright ugly as he takes in his one-time friend, the man he betrayed with the woman standing between them now, the man who ordered his hand be cut off, destroying a promising career. Changing the trajectory of his entire life. Did he and Ines have feelings for each other, I wonder? Or was it just sex? I glance at her and notice how her gaze has moved to the place his hand should be.
“Gentlemen, this is Antoine Girard. Shake han— oh, I forget myself. My apologies, Antoine.”
There is an infinitesimal tightening at the corner of Girard’s lip, but apart from that, he betrays nothing. He takes us in, then turns his gaze to Augustus. “No harm intended, I’m sure, Lucius. Which of you is Ezekiel?” he asks, stepping toward us.
“I am.”
He openly looks me over. Nods. He then turns to his host. “I was just telling your wife how lovely she looks. Stunning, our Ines, all these years later.” He smiles at the woman who won’t lift her gaze from the floor.
Augustus bristles. I get the feeling it’s Antoine’s choice of the word ‘our.’
“Anyway,” Antoine continues. “I’m starving. You two staying for dinner?”
“Still no manners, I see,” Augustus says, clearly not happy with the fact that Girard is not intimidated by him. “They were just leaving. Ines, lead the way into the dining room. I’ll be right in.”
She nods and walks ahead of Antoine. I see the moment he sees what Augustus has done to her. Not just the brand, that he knew, but the rest. I wonder what else there is. What that dress hides. Not to mention the damage within.
