I step closer. “However, don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m a forgiving man. You will act your part, or Damian pays. If you run, your brother is dead. Live by my rules, and we’ll get on fine. It doesn’t have to be unpleasant for you. If you try, I’m sure you’ll like living here.”
Her look is cutting. What the hell am I doing? I took on a mountain of problems for myself by claiming Zoe. I could’ve just handed a faceless, nameless, meaningless woman over to my brother, just another pawn in a strategy to protect our business. No, I had to make it personal. I had to see her for who she is. I allowed her to fascinate me. I allowed her secrets to tempt me. Whatever the case, no matter how ungrateful she is or how much she hates me, I can’t go back on my decision. After last night, it’s much too late for that now.
I cup her cheek, giving her affection, because that’s what she needs. “I’ll be back tonight. Feel free to look around the house, but don’t go outside. In case you’re tempted, I have guards stationed on the grounds and at the gate. If you get hungry, Francine will fix you a snack.”
I kiss the top of her head and walk away before I’m tempted to strip her naked and do more. Leaving her alone so soon isn’t ideal, but facing my father is a bigger priority.
After giving my guards instructions not to let her off the property, I leave a note for Francine, who is out on her lunch break. My guest isn’t allowed to use the telephones. I unplug all the landlines and lock them in my study. Then I take one of the cars in the garage, preferring to drive. I need to think, and I’d rather be alone.
On the way to Marseille, I consider how to present the decision to my father. He won’t be happy, especially not now that our negotiations with the Italians have started. He’d want no complications, nothing to interfere with the fragile business development.
My father’s office is near the harbor. I pull up front and throw the keys to the valet to park the car. Raphael Belshaw sits on his throne behind his desk when I enter. His thick, gray hair is brushed back, the waves neatly tamed. As always, he’s dressed in a black suit and white shirt. My uncle, Emile, my father’s younger brother, sits in the visitor’s chair.
My father looks at me through narrowed eyes, the left one drooping. “You’re late.”
His displeasure isn’t about the hour. I bet Alexis wasted no time in sharing the news.
“Bad weather. We had to circle for a while before we could land.” I bend down to hug my uncle and slap his back in the habitual way of greeting. “How are Sylvie and Noelle?”
He scoffs. “Spending too much money in Paris.”
“At least they’re getting a good education.”
My uncle raps his fingers on the desktop, the gold ring with our family crest knocking against the wood. “I don’t know why they bother. They’ll marry and have babies. What good is a career going to do them, then? If you ask me, they’re only throwing money into the water.”
I take the seat next to him. “Some women like to work, just like men.”
He stands. “Times have changed, and I’m not sure it’s for the better.” He nods at my father. “I’ll leave you to catch up with Max. Don’t forget Hadrienne is organizing a lunch on Sunday to welcome the girls home from Paris. We expect you all to be there.” He takes his hat from the coat stand. “You included, Max.”
The minute the door closes behind him, my father says, “You have some fucking explaining to do.”
I give a wry smile. “Ah, Alexis stopped by.”
“Alexis said you took Damian’s sister as a mistress. Tell me it’s a joke.”
“I’d never play a joke like that.”
My father leans forward, his gaze harsh. “Then what are you playing at, son?”
“Damian Hart may be behind bars, but he’s powerful and becoming more so by the day. He’s snide, clever, merciless, and resourceful. He’s wasted no time in making the right kind of connections on the inside. He’s got people looking out for him on the outside, managing the money he earns by getting information and doing dirty jobs. He can’t put his hands on that money now, but he will be able to when they let him out in two years.” My father knows money and connections mean power, enough to start a war. “We don’t want him for an enemy.”
“Wasn’t that the point of taking his sister? Tell me how that doesn’t make him our enemy.”
“The point was having something to hold over his head.” To blackmail him into honoring our deal with Dalton when the ownership of the mine transfers to Hart. “This way will be even better.”
My father grumbles. “Better how?”
“He’ll honor the deal if his sister is happy. If he thinks she’s here because she wants to be, he’ll want to make sure she continues to be happy, and we won’t have to fight a war.” One we may very well lose.
He gives me a skeptical look. “How do you expect to pull that one off?”
It’s simple, really. “By making her happy.”
His belly shakes with a laugh. “We kidnapped her. How is that going to make her happy?”
“I have my ways. The idea will grow on her.”
“The chances of you two meeting accidentally are too big a coincidence.” My father interlaces his fingers on the tabletop. “Hart won’t fall for it.”
“I already thought about it.” On the drive over, in fact. “I went to South Africa to meet Dalton about business. We talked about the mine, and I asked how the diamond deposit was discovered. We’ve had a couple of bottles of wine, so he told me about Damian Hart, the discoverer, who ended up in jail for stealing a diamond from Dalton’s house during a dinner party. I was curious. Something about the story didn’t add up. Why would Hart steal a diamond if he’s discovered a whole riverbed full of them? So, I visited Hart’s only remaining family, Zoe Hart, to hear her opinion of the story. We went out for dinner. There was an instant attraction, and I decided to save her from her miserable life and give her a better one.”
He sneers. “You’re a fucking Hallmark movie director now? You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
I cross my legs. “I do.”
His nostrils flare. His fingers curl around the Montblanc pen on his desk, squeezing so hard that thick, blue veins pop out on his hand. I bet he’d love to stab me with that pen. I’ve often wondered if there’d come a day I’d shove him over that edge. I’ve always pushed his buttons by being the defiant son, the one who doesn’t follow orders. I guess that’s why he prefers Alexis. Alexis doesn’t pose questions. As long as it’s for the business, and therefore for himself, Alexis does what he’s told. He’s easier to handle, not unimpressionable like me, and a lot more like my father. Which makes me my mother’s favorite. She doesn’t hate my father, but she doesn’t exactly love him, either. Alexis reminds her too much of Raphael Belshaw, the man she wedded as a business arrangement. I wouldn’t say Maman loves Alexis less, but she’s always treated me differently, favoring me.
The skin on my father’s brow plows into grooves as his mind works at full speed, but there’s no way out of this. A lover is a lover, entitled to protection and a certain amount of respect. You can’t mess with the unspoken rules of les beaux voyous without upturning the apple cart.