Page 295 of Coal Hearts

“Oh, I met him. Victor Grand is exactly how you described him.”

“You went to his island?”

“Yep.”

“And he let you return? Just like that?” His voice darkened. “What did you have to do to convince him to trust you?”

“What slave did I have to fuck do you mean?”

The line seemed to tremble. “Did you touch one of them, brother?”

I locked my gaze with Ily across the room. Her golden eyes shimmered with tears, but the salty liquid remained firmly trapped by her thick black lashes.

A flash of all the moments between us.

The visceral reaction I’d had when I first saw her.

The disgust at offering her money for her soul.

The desire as I bid for her at Victor’s twisted auction.

The absolute despair as Victor poured alcohol down my throat.

And finally, the excruciating freedom as she kicked me in the nose.

Like a scrapbook—a Rolodex of unforgettable evolutions.

Settling back in the chair, I tore up that scrapbook and blew the confetti right in my brother’s face. “I met a girl. A sweet, innocent, wonderful girl. With one look, I knew she was different, and if I’d been better, been normal, who knows? Maybe she would’ve become my wife one day. But because I’m my father’s cursed son, I stole her instead of wooed her. I offered her a million euros of your money to sell me her soul, and...she took the deal. I gave her to Victor, and he opened up his island.”

Q’s matching fury crackled down the line. “Ignoring everything you’ve just said so I don’t have an aneurysm, if you only offered her a million, why did I notice a transaction for two?”

I flinched, remembering his strict condition of monitoring my account. He’d be able to see what I spent, but he couldn’t stop me from spending.

He’ll have a nasty shock this afternoon when the balance is set to zero.

“Because I gave it to Victor.”

“You what?”

Victor snorted and slapped his thigh, having a great ole time.

“You gave my fucking money to a motherfucking trafficker? Es-tu fou putain!?” (Are you fucking insane?!) Q roared, his voice echoing in every corner of the office.

“For the first time in my life, I’m clearheaded, actually.” I buffed my nails on my jeans. “And if you’re close to having an aneurysm from that part of the tale, allow me to tell you the rest.” Keeping my eyes off Ily and Victor, I murmured, “I fucked her. I claimed her. I bound her to a cross and drew her blood. And you know what? It was the best night of my life. All that fucking loneliness...all that struggle...it’s gone. I’ve found where I belong, and it’s right here. With a slave all of my own. A jewel to keep for as long as it pleases me.”

“You’re still there?” Q asked, deceptively soft. “With Grand. Right now?”

“He is indeed.” Victor stood from his chair and sauntered over. “Hello, my old nemesis. I suppose congratulations is in order for your son. I didn’t know you’d multiplied. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to—”

“Fuck you,” Q spat. “You think you’re safe? That I’ll never find you? Think again. I will find you, Grand. And when I do—”

“You’ll have to kill your own kin to get to me.” Victor laughed. “Think you can do that?”

“He’s fucking dead already,” Q hissed. “I should’ve done it the night he tripped over my doorstep. No matter, I have a rosebush patiently waiting to feed on his rotten heart.”

I didn’t flinch.

Didn’t care.