Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(67)

But that was never the true me.

Only with Sadie have I finally felt my mask slip away and the shackles falling off my feet, no longer tying me to the person the world needs me to be.

Just the person that I need myself to be.

The person she needs me to be.

I love her, and that has changed my whole world at a time when my whole world has just changed.

It makes me realize the lengths I will go to protect us, to keep her safe.

I don’t want to go to the office today. I don’t care a bit about the heat or the traffic or even the reporters who are more on my trail these days because of my father’s death and the recent announcements in the company. None of that really matters now.

I just don’t want to be away from her.

And yet she made me promise to see Seraphine, and I do love my sister. I’ve felt nothing but guilt at the position I’ve put her in, knowing I’m lying to her, knowing she doesn’t understand. She thinks I’ve turned on her. She thinks I’ve become one of them.

When I get to the office, narrowly missing a downpour, I’m surprised to see that everything looks exactly the same. I would have thought that when Gautier finally got his bloody hands on it, he would have changed buildings, changed logos, changed staff.

But when I walk inside, all the familiar faces are there: Nadia the receptionist and a bunch of people who work for marketing and sales and the different departments. There are some people who look new, but in a company like this, it’s always growing.

I do have to say that the vibe has changed.

Though it may still be a mixture of white and black and glass, all the calm elegance is gone. It seems tainted somehow, like if I looked closely enough, I’d see shit smeared in the grooves.

“I’m here to see my sister,” I say to Nadia, watching her carefully. Though they’re always overlooked, the receptionists are often the backbone of the company, the skeleton off which everything else hangs.

Nadia’s eyes seem to swell with relief when she looks up at me.

That is not a good sign.

I should never be anyone’s relief.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she says to me quietly, her smile wavering. “When I heard the news . . .”

“The good news, you mean?”

My uncle’s voice booms across the office, rich as a barrel of tar.

I meet Nadia’s eyes for a second, and there’s a flash of pure fear in them. Fear that she’ll lose her job for no reason, fear that there’s worse.

I try to convey that everything will be all right.

But I can no longer make promises.

I’ve handed this man the reins.

I turn to face my uncle and offer up the fakest smile I can muster.

“Uncle,” I say to him.

My uncle isn’t an ugly man. In many ways he resembles my father—not as tall, but still of athletic stature. His chin is more pronounced, enough that I think it bothers him, but his hair is thick and dark, black as night, with only the tiniest wisps of gray at the temples, and I don’t think he’s ever touched a box of dye.

His widow’s peak is commanding, and his brows are even more so: sharp, like they’re painted into perfect arches with thick strokes of permanent marker. It’s a long face, an odd face, yet beguiling and charming all at once.

If you don’t know him, that is.

I know him, and I see right through the charm, and I see right through the cold, fathomless depths of his eyes, and I know this man is everything that’s rotten in the world, and it disgusts me that the same blood that’s in his veins working its way to his heart like black sludge is the blood that’s in mine.

I hate that I’m looking at his face right now.

I should be looking at my father.

It takes everything inside me to keep from breaking down right here.

“Olivier, I didn’t expect you to be here,” he says, and his tongue is sharp, his words honed like razor blades. He thinks I’m here to fuck shit up, I’m sure.

“I’m just getting Seraphine,” I tell him. I don’t have to tell him any more. He isn’t owed it.

“I see,” he says. “She’s a wonderful girl, isn’t she?”

“Your niece? Yes, and she’s going through a lot at the moment.”

“Aren’t we all?” he asks smoothly, with a hint of a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I am, yes,” I say. I make a move to pass him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

But he steps in my way, blocking my exit. I glance up at him, trying to control my breath, my fists curling.

“Are you sure you have a right to be here, Olivier?” he asks, his voice so low now that I don’t even think Nadia can hear him. “Perhaps you need to be reminded of your place . . . the place you exited.”

My jaw clenches, teeth grinding until they hurt. “I’m aware of my place. But we are still family, aren’t we?”

His stare doesn’t falter. “We are.”

“Then I’m just going to see my sister.”

I don’t know why the fuck he’s so suspicious of my seeing her. He should know that I’m not about to back out of the agreement. He should know.

And maybe that finally lights up in his head, because he nods and steps aside.

“Of course.” He gestures for me to continue.