I take in a long breath, and I start from the beginning, from when I went to the castle in the middle of the night, all the way to having Jones’s men come after me yesterday morning at Marie’s.
“And you’re where?” he asks, and I know he is having a hard time wrapping his head around everything. So am I.
“Disneyland Paris.”
“With Blaise?”
“He’s in the room, but yeah.”
“And you’re going to go to Dubai . . . with Blaise?”
I nod. “I am.”
“Seraphine,” he says cautiously, “I don’t . . . I’m not one to judge much, and I don’t want to ask but . . .”
I don’t want him to ask either. “I’m in love with him, Olivier.”
More silence. Even though it’s practically vibrating through the phone, I swear it puts a hush over the whole park.
“I don’t expect you to understand at all,” I go on. “And I know it’s weird because he’s my cousin, but we have a background, a history, that no one knows about and—”
“It’s not that,” Olivier says. “I know you’re not blood related, and believe me, I have noticed very weird fucking vibes between you two for pretty much our whole lives. I can’t say I’m that shocked, to be honest. But what I have a hard time with is . . . it’s him. It’s Blaise. He’s one of them. How can you trust him?”
“Because I do. I can’t explain why, other than he risked his life for me, other than he’s protected me, other than he’s chosen me over his own family. But I trust him with my heart, Olivier. And you don’t need to trust him at all—”
“Good, because I don’t.”
“But just trust that I trust him. He loves me. It’s crazy to say, but he loves me. And I really don’t know what the future holds for us. But I do know we’ll be in it together, and that’s honestly good enough for me.”
Another long silence. Then I hear him exhale. “I get it, Seraphine. I really do. Sometimes you find that someone, and that’s all you need. Nothing else matters but them—not the life you built for yourself, not the land you once called home. Not the truth and not the injustice and not the need for revenge. They become more important than all of that, more than yourself, even.” He pauses. “But I’m going to worry about you. You can’t stop me from doing that. I think you should come here.”
“I’m not leaving Blaise.”
“Then bring Blaise,” he says, even though it sounds like it’s killing him.
“I’m going to be okay, Olivier,” I tell him, and the more I say it, the more I believe it. “And if things get tough and I get scared, then I will come to California. With Blaise.”
“Shit,” he says.
“What?”
“My battery is dying. Here, let me call you back from Sadie’s phone.”
“Okay,” I tell him, and he hangs up.
I stare at the phone in my hands. I knew Olivier couldn’t really help my predicament other than to ask me to come to California, but even so, I feel better for having talked to him. Just to have someone else know besides me and Blaise that—
Before I know what’s happening, a shadow looms over me and swipes the phone out of my hand.
I jerk back on the bench and look up to see Gautier staring down at me, slipping my phone into his coat pocket.
“Seraphine,” he says. “I thought you’d be too cynical for a place like this.”
The disgust I feel toward my uncle overtakes all the panic and fear. I can’t even speak, the anger choking me, though I do start looking around for help. I have no idea what he’s here to do, how he even found me.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, putting both hands in his pockets. “I’m not here to make a scene. I just wanted a word with you and my son.”
“Blaise isn’t here,” I tell him.
He gives me a tight smile that makes him look monstrous. “I would have thought you’d know my son better than that.” He steps to the side, and I see Blaise standing behind him, face red, fists curled at his side. “You think he’d really let you come here all alone?”
I look at Blaise in shock, wishing he hadn’t followed me, but also so damn relieved that he did. I don’t want him to go through whatever we’re about to go through, and at the same time, I’m selfish enough to not want to go through it alone.
“What the hell do you want with us now?” Blaise asks, his voice practically a growl as he approaches his father.
I have to admit, as angry and scared as I am, this is fascinating to watch. I haven’t seen father and son interact since this all started.
“Watch your language, son,” Gautier says, turning to face him and giving him an easy smile. “This is a park for children.”
“I am not your son,” Blaise says through gritted teeth.
Gautier purses his lips like he just ate a lemon. “No. I suppose you’re not now, are you? A real son of mine wouldn’t turn his back on his family. He wouldn’t believe the false accusations of someone else, someone who has always proven to be flighty and insignificant and untrustworthy. He wouldn’t choose them over his own flesh and blood. But you did all that, didn’t you, Blaise?”
“You’re the liar,” Blaise says, coming closer. “Cold-blooded killer. You were so envious of your own brother because he was better than you in every way possible, you let that envy turn into hate. You let that hate turn into murder.”
“Murder. Such a strong word,” he says with a laugh. A couple with children walking past us gives him a funny look. He smiles at them merrily, and then when he looks back at me, his eyes turn dark and hard, practically soulless.
“But to say that he was better than me,” he says, raising his chin. “We all know he wasn’t a saint. Or perhaps you believed he was this perfect and pure man until the very end, Seraphine. Such a doting daughter. Such a stupid woman.”
“What do you want?” I ask him. “You just came here to steal my phone?”
“You’ll get it back,” he says. He looks at Blaise. “Actually, I want a word with my son, though I suppose you’re not about to give us a minute alone, are you, Seraphine?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” No fucking way would I let Blaise walk off with his father. That man murdered his own brother; I have no reason to believe he wouldn’t do the same to someone he’s practically disowning.
“Say what you have to say and then go,” Blaise says, his eyes burning holes into his father.
Of course, Gautier takes no notice. He’s as cold and apathetic as ever. I’m starting to think he likes the idea of his son hating him. I suppose he thinks it gives him power, some kind of upper hand.
“I just wanted to see you face to face and wish you good luck on your journeys,” he says.
“Bullshit,” Blaise says, and I watch his hands ball up into fists again. I hope for his sake he doesn’t lose it here in the park, because even though Blaise has every right to beat the ever-living shit out of his father, he’d get in a world of trouble for doing it here. It would be caught on tape, and the news of Blaise Dumont attacking his own father in Disneyland would spread like wildfire. No way that anyone would understand the truth of it all.
Maybe that’s why his father is here after all. To provoke him one last time. Get his son put away so he can never leave. So that I am left alone. I don’t think I could get to California fast enough.
“Such bitterness,” Gautier remarks. “I guess I haven’t taught you very well in the end, have I? Bitterness is not fuel, Blaise. Only anger is fuel. Bitterness will rot you from the inside out.”
“Is that how you’re so rotten?” I ask.
He raises his brow at me. “You really think you’re that clever, don’t you? Even after everything that happened. You fucking pretending to be Columbo and nosing around, stirring up trouble and who the fuck knows what. Contacting your ex. Your ex! You stupid woman, he was just waiting for the opportunity to sell you out, and you know I could never pass that up. Not a chance to take you down a few pegs, wipe that sel
f-assured, righteous smile off your face. And I did. And yet you still didn’t listen, you still didn’t learn.”
He looks at Blaise. “You think that I’m a bad father, but if it weren’t for the fact that you obviously care for her, I would have blown her fucking brains out right away. Or perhaps that would have come at the end, when she was begging those men to end her life.”
A rush of rage roars out of Blaise’s throat, and before he can lunge at his father, I leap to my feet and get between them, pushing Blaise back.
“Listen to me,” I tell him quickly, trying to get him to look me in the eye. His face is red, the veins at his temple are throbbing, his eyes are pinpricks. “This is what he wants. He wants to provoke you. He wants you to hurt him so that he can then hurt you. Don’t you see? Don’t fall for it.”
“You’d better listen to your dirty-skinned whore, here,” Gautier says.
This time my eyes go as wide as Blaise’s.
I don’t even think.
I just whirl around and spit right in Gautier’s face.
“Fuck you,” I say with a sneer. “Even my spit is too good for your face. I know what you did. One day everyone else will know too.”
Gautier glares at me, breathing in deeply, trying to control his rage as Blaise tries to control his own. Like father, like son. Calm as snakes until they fucking snap.
He slowly wipes my spit off his cheek under his eye. “We had an agreement,” he says tersely, and I can feel the raw anger rolling off him. He came here to provoke us, but I don’t think he was expecting that.
“And that agreement is what? We drop it and you let us live free?” Blaise says. “This doesn’t look like you’re letting us live free.”
“Live free,” he repeats with a dry chuckle. “How fucking dramatic.” He turns his back to us and walks a few steps away before turning around, his gaze sharp. “I just needed closure, that’s all. I could listen to Pascal yammer on about Dubai and what you both wanted, but the truth is, I can’t trust my son for anything. I needed to see it for myself. And I needed the two of you to understand just how serious I am.”
He licks his lips and gives us a quick smile. “I’m only letting you go, Blaise, because my blood is in your veins, and there’s little you can do to erase that. Believe me, I now wish I could erase you from my life as much as you feel the same. But we can’t. We’re still family in some shape or form, maybe just by technicalities and maybe that’s too much. Besides,” he says with a sigh, “I made a promise to your mother that I would let you go to Dubai. If you have anyone to thank after this, it’s her.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my phone, holding it out for me. I quickly go to snatch it from his grasp, but he hangs on to it. He stares right into my eyes with venomous intensity. “But if you ever dare try anything again, if you ever try to raise hell over the dead, I promise you, I promise you, that you will be next. And perhaps before that, it will be your brothers and their loved ones. They aren’t safe. No one is. Especially not you. Unless you stay in line.”
He lets go of the phone, and I clutch it to my chest. “So stay in line,” he says. “Keep your head down. And remember everything you have to lose—most of all, each other.”
Gautier then turns around, shoves his hands back into his coat pockets, and starts walking away.
I stare, watching him go, needing to do something. But what?
I look at Blaise, knowing how hard this must be for him.
He’s trying to keep it together. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are as hard and dark as coal, his breath ragged with rage that’s slowly coming down.
“What do we do?” I ask him, quickly glancing at my phone and seeing a missed call from Olivier. “We can’t just let that be it.”
He shakes his head, pressing his lips together until they turn white. He watches his father disappear into the crowd of happy park goers, then he looks at me, his features softening. “But that was it. And it was enough.”
“He can’t get away with it . . .”
“He won’t,” he says, grabbing my hand and holding it tight. “But it won’t be because of us. The truth always comes out. Somehow, at some point, the truth about my father will come out. You can’t operate the way he does, careless and driven by ego, without the whole deck of cards coming down. They will come down, Seraphine. And we will watch from someplace far away, someplace happy, someplace where we are together and nothing can touch us. We will watch justice be served, and we will live free.”
“Are you okay?” I ask him, putting my hand on his cheek. “I know that must have been so hard to see him again, to have him say those things . . .”
He nods and kisses the inside of my palm. “I will be okay. And so will you. I promise you that. I promise you everything, Seraphine.”
Even though it doesn’t seem possible, how any of this could ever be okay, how losing my father in that way and losing my life in Paris could ever be rectified, I believe Blaise.
It’s not going to be easy.
But I have him by my side.
And we’re going to live free.
EPILOGUE
SERAPHINE
Dubai
Six months later
I stare down at the stick in my hands, second-guessing what the symbols are supposed to mean. I pick up the box and look at the instructions again.
Two pink lines means you’re pregnant.
One pink line means you’re not.
And I’m staring at two pink lines.
Two pink lines that I know, deep in the heart of me, are about to change my very world.
And to think I once hated the color pink.
“Blaise!” I call out from the bathroom. He can’t hear me anyway, so I grab the stick covered in my pee and charge out into the hall, looking for him.
He’s out on the balcony, a glass of iced mint tea in his hand. He’s leaning against the railing, watching the blue waters of the Persian Gulf beyond the busy sands of Jumeirah Beach. I stop in the doorway and absorb this scene, absorb him, taking in the dark aviator glasses on his face, the way his dark hair has lightened up a bit in the relentless sun. It’s longer now, and a few strands wave in the ocean breeze.
He’s wearing what he wears every day he’s at the apartment and not at the office: dark board shorts, a gray polo shirt or dress shirt. He has a necklace that says love in Arabic around his neck. I picked it up at a market. He’s not wearing shoes.
He looks absolutely and utterly relaxed. He looks at peace.
And I’m not sure if I’m about to ruin that peace or not.
“Blaise,” I say again, and I’m unable to stop grinning.
He turns and lifts up his shades to get a better look at me, and that’s all it takes.
He knew I was taking the test, knew I had missed my period.
Knew we had been pretty reckless with unprotected sex from the start.
But even so, I didn’t know how he’d react.
Hell, I didn’t know how I’d react.
I didn’t even think about having children when I was with Cyril. It didn’t seem right. I was so scared and so worried that we would have a child and it would end up just like me. That something would happen to us, that he would leave and I would die, and then our beloved would end up in an orphanage, going through the same things I did.
But of course, I came to realize it was because I wasn’t in love. I didn’t love Cyril, and even though his cheating was a shock, I saw it coming. My subconscious knew this wasn’t a man to have children with.
And then came Blaise. Blaise, for all intents and purposes, should have never looked at me like he first did, and I him. He was my cousin. We were family from opposite sides of a perceived moral compass. We never should have had feelings for each other at all.
There’s a reason I’m using past tense.
Because he’s no longer my cousin.
He’s just my man.
And I’m just his woman.
And even though I stil
l am proud to call myself Seraphine Dumont, even though I once was Jamillah Bains, he doesn’t consider himself his father’s son.
So we are family to each other more than our family, more than the bloodlines and backstabbing could have ever controlled.
“You’re kidding me,” he says, mouth agape, eyes wide and shining.
To see Blaise happy is the most beautiful, humbling sight in the world.
I had never seen him happy for the sixteen years I’d known him until we moved to Dubai.
Once here, once in the heat and the sunshine and the desert air, I could see the grime and stress of Paris melt off his body. There was a reason he’d always gravitated to places like Thailand and Bali. The sun brings out his soul.
“I’m not kidding,” I tell him, holding out the test. “Two lines. It means I’m pregnant!”
He whoops and hollers joyfully and pulls me into a tight embrace, crying now, grinning, kissing me. “I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a father.”
“You’re going to be a great father,” I say against his mouth, feeling every single emotion known to mankind flood through my body.
I can’t believe it.
It’s like, until this moment, I never knew what I really wanted from life. I worked hard, and I did what I could to make sure I deserved the life I was given, but even so, I didn’t know what I wanted. It wasn’t the money or the fame or the power that came with the name I was gifted.
It was this.
It was a future.
It was love.
It was creating a life and sharing a life of love.
And I found it with this man.
I grab his face in my hands and kiss his forehead, his soft eyelids, his pretty lashes, his high cheekbones. I kiss him all over, and I laugh and laugh and laugh because I’ve never been so happy.
He holds me tight and brings me off the ground, swinging me around like we’re two teenagers in love. Maybe that’s what we still are, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
This is my world.
And it just became a world of three.
“What do we do now?” he asks as he lowers me to the ground. “Do you have to tell your boss? Or will she let it slide?”
Disarm Page 24
