I blink a few times, not sure I’m hearing this right. “You got your wife to sleep with your cousin?”
He nods. “It was easier than we thought. Goes to show, huh? Olivier gave in to her, and they had an affair, and then my father caught them. It was a setup. All Olivier ever cared about was saving face and trying to live up to his father’s expectations, so we knew that he would never reveal what really happened. The shame it would bring him with his father. In some ways, I wish his father had known how imperfect his son really was. Besides, he didn’t want to work for the Dumont brand anyway. Back then he already had plans to be a hotelier.” He ashes out the window. “So we blackmailed him for the shares of the company. And it worked.”
“And Olivier knows?”
“Oh yes, he knows.” He shrugs. “That’s how we got control after Ludovic died. That’s why he fled with his tail between his legs to California.”
I’m trying hard not to be so appalled by him, but I am.
“You’re awful,” I manage to say.
He glances at me and raises his glasses. His eyes are curious, but I’m not sure I see any remorse in them. “I never said I wasn’t,” he says, his tone low. “If you believe I have an ounce of good in me, that’s on you.”
“You don’t seem to even care.”
“Add that to your list of adjectives.”
“Is that the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
Please say yes. Please don’t tell me you’re exactly like your father.
“Yes,” he says after a beat. “I’ve broken up a few marriages. I’ve lied, cheated, stolen. I’ve committed fraud and embezzlement. I once hit a parked car, and I kept driving.” He gives me a long, steady look, long enough to make me wish he were looking at the road. “But I’ve never taken candy from a baby, and I’ve never killed anyone.”
“Were you an accessory?”
“Not knowingly.”
I’m not sure I believe that. I’m not sure he believes it either. “So what about Marine, then? You said she was a suspect too.”
He gives me a sheepish look. “You’re not going to like this part either. After she had her affair with Olivier, I divorced her, citing her affair as cheating and proof that she didn’t deserve a dime. She didn’t get anything from the settlement.”
“Jesus Christ,” I swear.
“Watch your language, it’s a Sunday,” he chides.
“How could you do such a thing? To your wife, to your cousin?”
“Because I’m a Dumont,” he says simply. “And I was raised to believe that it mattered more than anything else in the world. Money, power, greed. A legacy. All those things belonged to me; all those things were owed to me. And if I didn’t succeed, I wasn’t worthy of my name.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I associate the name Dumont with,” I tell him.
“You don’t need to. I know. But if I’m not a Dumont, who am I?”
“You’re you. You’re Pascal. Your name doesn’t dictate what you do or don’t do. Your will does.”
“And what does your will dictate, my little sprite?” he asks me, his eyes piercing me to the core. “What do you stand for? If money, power, greed don’t mean anything to you, what does?”
“Justice,” I blurt out. I don’t even have to think.
Revenge.
Shit. Maybe I’m not much better than he is.
“Is that all?”
Love.
Freedom.
A home.
Someone who has my back.
Security.
Safety.
And love again.
“That’s all,” I confirm.
I can tell Pascal doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press any more. Perhaps because I’ll just turn it around on him, and he’s tired of talking.
Honestly, I’m surprised he was so forthcoming. He told me his deep, dark secrets, the worst of the festering bunch, like I was a long-lost friend and trusted confidante. This had nothing to do with the NDA; this was just him showing himself to me, every horribly gruesome bit.
He trusts me.
And now it’s starting to bother me.
Because I don’t want to hurt him.
You’re getting attached to him, I remind myself. Nearly one week working for him and it’s already happening. You need to keep your head clear.
Focus on Gautier.
Besides, the only reason at all I even feel this way is because Pascal is the person I am closest to in the house, and that doesn’t mean a thing, not with him, not in that house.
We drive in silence for the rest of the ride into Paris. I have no idea where Pascal is taking me, and I don’t particularly