“Except you.”
“Not anymore.”
The Uber driver must have caught some of what we’re saying, because he’s eyeing us in the rearview mirror with interest.
I take it as a sign to shut up.
Eventually we get to Marie’s neighborhood, and I make sure that Marie comes to the door to greet Seraphine and let her in the building just in case.
Seraphine looks back at me in the car and nods stoically, trying to be strong in front of her friend. Marie peers over at me, concerned, then maybe almost happy to see me, and then the two of them disappear inside.
I lean back in my seat and breathe out a long, rough sigh.
“Bad night?” the Uber driver asks.
“You can say that again.”
“Are you not getting out?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Not yet. Can you give me a minute?”
I know the drivers hate having to go to a new destination on the fly like this, but I need to make sure I’m going to the right place.
I make a call to the office and get the receptionist, Nadia.
“Nadia, it’s Blaise,” I say. “Is my father or Pascal there? By the way, don’t tell anyone I’m calling.”
“Okay,” she says brightly. I guess she’s used to the eccentricities of the Dumonts. Probably why she’s still working for us. “Your father is in his office. I don’t know where Pascal is. He hasn’t come in yet, but he’s usually here by now. Where are you and Seraphine?”
“Uh, I’ve got a dentist appointment. I don’t know where Seraphine is. I’m sure she’ll be in.”
“Okay. Will I see you later?”
“Of course. And if anyone asks for me, tell them I’ll be in then.”
I hang up and decide to take a shot. I lean forward and tap the driver on the shoulder. “If I pay you extra, are you up for taking a drive into the country?”
“Where in the country?” he asks me suspiciously.
“Just outside Versailles. Take the A-13 to Saint-Nom-la-Bretèche.”
His face says it all: No fucking way.
I sigh and reach into my wallet, pulling out €500. My wallet has been a revolving door of cash lately.
I wave it at him, and his eyes follow it like it’ll disappear if he doesn’t. “This is five hundred. This is for taking me there, dropping me off around the corner, and waiting for maybe an hour. Is that okay?”
He nods, eyes widening. “Yes. That’s fine.”
I give him three hundred and put the rest in my coat pocket. “That’s for now. You’ll get the rest later. And if you can get us there quick, well, that would be great.”
“No problem,” he says, straightening up and pulling away from the curb. “Though I do have to say, if you’re willing to spend that much on Ubers, you might as well buy yourself a car.”
“I hate to drive,” I tell him. The truth is, I’m not about to chance going back to my place and getting my car. I’m not trusting anything at the moment. Do I really believe my own father would put a car bomb under my car? Probably not. But Jones could be operating on his own now.
Hell hath no fury like a hit man scorned.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BLAISE
By the time the Uber pulls up alongside the country lane, a few meters from the entrance to the driveway to my family’s estate, I’m a mess.
It’s not just that I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
And that I don’t know what I’m going to do.
It’s that Seraphine hasn’t answered any of my texts over the last thirty minutes.
She had been sporadically, saying she was sitting with Marie in her kitchen and having coffee and that Marie would be going off to work soon, but now it’s like radio silence. I’ve tried calling a few times, too, but it goes straight to voice mail. I can only hope that she’s just busy, as she should be.
Planning a new life for herself.
A life that hopefully includes me in it.
Everything has changed so much and so fast, I’m not sure when we’ll ever be able to come up for air and make sense of what happened.
And if I don’t play my cards right as Blaise Dumont, we may not come up for air at all.
I stick my hands in my coat pockets and hurry down the lane. Out here, the fields are full of frost, and though the birds are singing, the sound is muffled. It’s overcast and gloomy, and the chestnut trees look deader than ever before. It’s like spring doesn’t exist for a family like us.
I head up the long and winding driveway, passing underneath the skeleton trees, then head straight for the front door.
I ring the bell and wait. Pascal’s Audi is in the driveway, so I know he’s definitely home. I wasn’t about to phone him to make sure, so the gamble to come out here has paid off.
For now.
I ring the bell again, and when the door finally opens, I expect to see one of the housekeepers who live in the servants’ quarters at the edge of the property, but to my relief, it’s Pascal. I want to be completely alone with him.
He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, but he fakes it.
“Blaise,” he says, brows raised. “Why are you here? What the fuck happened to your face?”
“Got in another bar fight. I was hoping to have a word with Mother.”
“She’s not back yet,” he says warily, taking in my busted features.
I knew that, of course. Our mother has been at a fitness and wellness resort in Portugal for the last two weeks, which I know is code for plastic surgery and liposuction. She’ll come back thinner, with a face tighter than an elastic band, and she’ll blame it all on yoga. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Shouldn’t you be at work? I just came from there.”
He frowns, trying to figure out if that’s true or not. “I wasn’t feeling well,” he says. He looks over my shoulder at the driveway. “Where’s your car?”
“I took an Uber,” I tell him.
“Why?”
“Can I come in?”
I put my arm against the door and hold it so that he can’t shut it on me. I make sure my body is wedged in there and that I’m looming over him, hoping to intimidate him.
He doesn’t intimidate easily. “Something wrong?” he asks, holding his ground until he eventually relents and lets me walk in.
He closes the door behind him and turns to face me. “Well?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. The gun is burning a hole in my pocket.
My expression must be saying something, because he seems to be a bit on edge now, his posture straighter, stiffer.
“Blaise?” he prompts.
“I need to talk to you,” I tell him. “Brother to brother.”
“Okay . . . isn’t that how we always talk?”
This isn’t going to be easy. I really hope to use the gun as a last resort. I have no plans to shoot him, I just need it to threaten him if things don’t go the way I want.
I have a feeling they won’t go the way I want.
Not with Pascal already on the defensive. I don’t know if he has a gun; I’m going to assume he does, but he’s already very slowly making his way back into the study.