Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(68)

I walk as confidently and quickly as I can down the hall to Seraphine’s office, my heart pinching at the sight of my father’s still-empty one, and I don’t even knock on her door. I barge right in.

She’s not alone.

Blaise is there. He’s sitting at her desk. She’s standing up and looks about ready to throw a cup of water at him.

“Did I come at the wrong time?” I ask, pausing in the doorway. “Or the right time?”

Both of them glare at me in unison.

“Shut the door.” Seraphine sneers.

I raise my brows but do what she says. I shouldn’t be surprised these two are at it like this; without my father as a mediator, they have no boundaries. And Gautier couldn’t care less—in fact, he probably sent his son in here to antagonize her. He wants them to eat each other alive.

“What’s going on?” I ask, folding my arms.

“Your sister is fucking crazy,” Blaise says. His collected demeanor has dissolved for once, his eyes wild as they dart from her to me.

“I won’t argue with that,” I say. “Seraphine?”

“He knows,” she says, pointing her finger at him. “He knows what happened.”

“What happened?” I ask carefully. I feel like I’ve stepped right into a bullring, and I’m not sure who’s winning or what the outcome of the game is supposed to be.

“I don’t even want to repeat it,” Blaise mutters, shaking his head. But for all the ways he’s dismissing her, whatever she said has rattled him. The tops of his hands are sweating, and his hair is slightly disheveled from his hand constantly combing through it, something he does when he’s nervous. Aside from when he loses his temper and blasts off like a rocket, obliterating everyone around him with the most vicious insults, he’s usually as cool as a cucumber.

“We should probably go for coffee,” I tell Seraphine, wanting to get her out of this office. “Or a drink. Several drinks.”

“We aren’t going anywhere without him,” she says.

“Why are we his babysitters?”

“We’re not done talking,” she says in a deliberate staccato, leaning in close to Blaise.

I run my hand down my face, not understanding any of this and knowing it won’t become clear anytime soon.

“This office is probably bugged,” she says to me, as if that was something obvious. She kicks the leg of Blaise’s chair. “Isn’t that right?”

Blaise folds his arms and looks away, not saying anything.

“Okay, well, I’m going to turn around and go,” I say, “because, believe me, this office is the last place on earth I want to be. If you want to come meet me for a drink and talk, that’s fine, but I’m not standing around here getting tangled in whatever game you guys are always playing.”

“Father was murdered,” Seraphine says in a low voice.

I almost laugh, but her tone was so stone-cold serious that it made my stomach feel like ice. I turn to face her, and that same severity is in her eyes. She’s not joking.

Which makes things more difficult.

“What?” I manage to say. “What are you . . . Come on. Don’t go down this road.”

“That’s what I said,” Blaise says quietly.

“Shut the fuck up.” She sneers at him. “You’re the one behind it all.”

His head jerks back, and he stares at her with pure animosity. “Do you honestly believe that? That I murdered your father? My uncle? That I would do that to you?”

Do that to you? That’s an interesting way of putting it, as if the two of them are supposed to matter to each other.

I shake my head. The whole thing . . . I can’t even entertain the thought.

“Seraphine,” I say slowly, stepping toward her with my hands out like I’m about to trap an injured dog, “please, what are you talking about?”

“Why should I even tell you? You’re acting like I’m already crazy.”

“Because you are fucking crazy,” Blaise says.

“Fuck you!” Seraphine yells, and then lunges at him with her fist. He’s fast enough that he catches it in his grip and holds it tight.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I yell, coming around the desk and placing myself between them. “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is going on here?”

There’s a knock at the door, and we all freeze.

The door opens silently, and we all hold our breaths. Only one person barges in here without announcing himself. Well, one person other than me.

It’s Gautier, eyeing us all warily. “Is everything all right in here?”

I clear my throat. “Just a sibling quarrel,” I say at the same time Seraphine says, “Work stuff.”

“Do you know where Pascal is?” Blaise asks tiredly. “He was supposed to be in today.”

Gautier gives an ever so imperceptible shrug. “I don’t know. Not here.”

“Okay, great,” Blaise says sarcastically, waving his father away. “We’re good, thanks for checking in.”

Gautier stares at us all for a moment, and then the door slowly closes.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask them after a moment. “Tell me what you’re nearly fist-fighting over, and I’ll be on my way.”