throat and take a step toward her. She backs up again.
“I’m really, really sorry, Gabrielle,” I tell her imploringly. “I didn’t mean to do that. It just . . . I lost control, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me,” she says, looking down at the tiles. “And believe it or not, I’ve had so much worse.”
Fuck. That makes me feel even more terrible.
“I’m really sorry,” I tell her again, and I reach out for her hand. She snatches hers away, holding it to her chest, warning me to stay away with her eyes that are full of fury.
We were doing so fucking well, and then I had to fuck it up.
Still, she didn’t have to say shit in the first place, shit she knew would piss me off.
Stuff that’s true, that I don’t want to admit is true.
Oh fucking hell, she was baiting me, wasn’t she?
I walked right into that one.
“You’ll make it up to me,” she says. “Then we’ll be even.”
“I guess you see my true colors now,” I tell her.
“I always have,” she says. “That’s the magic of being someone’s maid over the years, even if it was long ago. You see everyone’s true colors. You see the sides of them they try so desperately to hide. My advice for you, Pascal, is don’t be so offended. Own up to it. You know you’re no good, and I bet you’ve been just fine with it for a long time. You don’t have to change now because I’m here. You don’t have to lie to me. I work for you. I’m nothing more than that.”
I watch her for a moment, and I realize how right she is.
Still doesn’t make me feel any less defeated, like shit at the bottom of someone’s shoe.
“Okay,” I tell her quietly. “I won’t lie to you. I promise.”
“Good,” she says. “I know what you are, Pascal. There’s no use in denying it.” She clears her throat and straightens her shoulders. “Now that the pretenses are out of the way, let’s go back to the matter at hand,” she says in a clipped voice. “You want me to find out who is sending the letters, correct?”
“You don’t have to . . .”
“Oh, come on, don’t act like it no longer matters. It does. So while I do some sleuthing on the stamp and the postmark, maybe you can make a list of enemies for me, people who have wronged your father.”
“What makes you think it’s for my father and not for me?”
She blinks. “No reason,” she says quickly. “Just based on what you just told me. But yes, it could be for anyone at this house, even your mother, but let’s count her out for now. So if you think it could be for you, then it’s probably someone who thinks you had something to do with your uncle’s death. Think about your enemies, as numerous as they probably are, probably including ex-maids and -employees, if you treated all of them like you just treated me, and get back to me.” She opens the door to the bathroom and looks at me over her shoulder. “You should get ready for your date tonight. Her name is Aurelie, by the way, and you’re to send a car for her at six thirty p.m. All the info is in your agenda.”
Then she walks out of the bathroom and disappears down the hall.
Fuck. The date. The last thing I feel like doing today. I think I’d rather stay and drink myself silly. I am my mother’s son, too, after all.
I turn around and look at myself in the mirror, and it’s not the first time that I barely recognize myself. It’s not that I’ve physically changed at all. My eyes are still blue, brows are arched and black, my hair in need of a trim. It’s that I don’t think I know who I am anymore or who I’m trying to be.
I’m not sure I’ll ever know.
Not at this rate.
CHAPTER FIVE
GABRIELLE
Marine et Olivier, the text reads.
I stare at it for a moment, trying to figure out what Pascal is talking about. He should be on his date right now with Aurelie; why is he texting me these names?
Then I remember.
His list of enemies.
Marine was his ex-wife.
Olivier is his cousin.
I’m not sure what he did to both of them, but I’m assuming it’s something big if he thinks they might be the ones blackmailing him.