Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(75)

“How dare you compare murder to art.”

“Murder?” Pascal says. “You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I know you did it. Everyone knows. You murdered Ludovic to take over the company.”

Pascal purses his lips for a moment, and I can tell this has caught him off guard, the fact that I know the truth. “He had a heart attack.”

“You killed him.”

“I can assure you I didn’t. I didn’t agree with my uncle, but I didn’t hate the man either. I would never do such a thing. So messy.”

“I saw you. I saw you leaving the study with him and your father, right before Ludovic died. You could have done it in there. Poisoned him.”

Pascal frowns, seeming to think something over. Then shakes his head. “You believe what you want. I don’t really care at this point. What I do care about is you, leaving now. And by leaving, I mean catching your flight tonight.”

“What flight?”

“The flight you’re going to take in three hours, back to Seattle.”

I balk. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, my dear, you are. You know the consequences if you stay.”

“Why do you want me to leave so badly?”

“Because you have no place here, in this. Maybe I’m just looking out for you. Maybe you’re right, and I do hate Olivier and want him to know that I have all the power, all the cards here. I can make his beloved leave him. I can make him stay here, alone. You know he’d never follow you. Not with Seraphine here, all alone and exposed. Not with his hotels. He’ll mourn you, and it will break his heart, and he will never see you again.”

I swallow hard, barely flinching as cold water drips onto my shoulder from above. Pascal is still so close to me, I feel like he’s this big black hole that’s slowly devouring me, eating away at my resolve.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He closes his eyes briefly and sighs. “I do like you, you know. Very much. I think if you were more open-minded, you might even prefer me to my cousin. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I don’t want to have to hurt you or Olivier or your family. But if you don’t do exactly as I say tonight, I will.” His eyes focus in on mine with stunning conviction. “And I will make it hurt more than you can imagine,” he whispers.

Then he pulls back, and the damp of the underground cavern rushes over me, making me feel ill. He takes out his phone again and pulls up an airline ticket on the screen.

“Your flight,” he says. “If I were you, I’d rush back home, pack, and go.” He scrolls along until another ticket pops up. “As you can see, I have a ticket too. I’ll see you at the airport. Or maybe, if I trust you, I won’t. Either way, someone will be flying to Seattle to see your mother. Comprenez-vous?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“It sounds better when you speak French,” he says.

I can barely get the word out. “Oui.”

“Ah,” he says, “okay, perhaps you stick to your English then.” He puts his phone away and strides out of the cavern, calling over his shoulder, his words echoing off the walls, “Don’t be late, Sadie. You can’t afford to be late.”

And then I’m alone.

I collapse against the wall, sliding down it, trying to breathe, trying to think.

Trying to figure out the right thing to do.

And if it’s the only thing to do.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

OLIVIER

“Can you drive a little faster?” I ask my driver, Hugo, even though he’s already going twenty over the speed limit as we burn down the Quai d’Orsay toward my apartment in Le Marais.

He raises his brows but still steps on the gas.

I turn around and look back at Blaise and Seraphine. “Well?” I say to Blaise. “You were saying?”

The moment he hinted that Sadie might have been compromised by Pascal in some way, I knew I had no choice but to get to her immediately. The Fiat wouldn’t cut it after all the damage it had taken, so we abandoned it in the park, and I called one of my drivers to get me.

I also made sure I wasn’t going alone. I need Blaise with me. He is the key to this whole thing, the only person who can make things right.

Which is pretty naive of me to think, because Blaise is still one of them, and I’m not sure I can ever trust him. But, currently, he’s all I’ve got.

Then there’s Seraphine, who I can tell is reeling both from nearly getting killed in a car crash and from the truth of what I signed with Gautier.

She’s mad at me, I know. If she’s not, when the shock wears off, she will be. I can’t blame her. Even if she chooses to push me away, cut ties with me, and disown me as her brother, I can’t blame her. I’ve lied to her for a long time, and it’s a lie that might cost her personally, a lie based on my own selfishness and stupidity.

But for now, she’s picking bits of broken glass out of her hands and doing her best to prod Blaise for answers. I insisted we take her straight to the hospital, even though she said it’s not as bad as it looks, so that she can get the ball rolling with the insurance filings and the police reports and everything else, even though I know in my heart that it will be futile. Sure, she’ll get some money for her car—not that she needs it—but it’s all just lip service at this point. The man behind the wheel might as well have never existed, and even if this does have something to do with my uncle—which I’m trying to get to the bottom of—it won’t ever see the light of day.