as he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out folded slips of paper.
He places them on the desk and waits for me to unfold them.
One of them is the one I discovered earlier.
Await my instructions or you will lose everything.
Another is the first letter that was sent.
Then the next.
And everything that was sent in between, everything I intercepted, everything that wasn’t addressed to anyone.
Finally, the last one says:
1692 Rue Saint-Jacques, Sunday 8 p.m.
“When did you get these?” I ask, hoping my hand isn’t starting to shake.
“Almost every single day last week.” He pauses. “Since you got back.”
“Were they addressed to the house?”
“No. The office.”
Gabrielle, I think. What are you doing?
But there is no time to dwell on it.
The fact is that this whole time, she was lying to me, she was the one sending the letters.
But why? Why send to me first and then my father?
Why send them at all?
“I don’t understand,” I say quietly, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“I can see that you don’t,” he says, his voice dripping with disappointment. “And that should make me feel better, knowing you’re not the one behind them. But it also makes me see that you’re just too stupid to catch on.”
I look up sharply. “Too stupid?”
“You really have no clue, do you?”
I shake my head, my eyes narrowing. “Enlighten me.”
“You really don’t know who would bother sending me these letters? These immature, laughable, naive little letters?”
I don’t want to say it. “Seraphine?” I ask.
“Seraphine knows better than that. And this isn’t her style. And before you come up with any other idiotic answers, no, it isn’t your brother and it’s not Olivier. It’s not your mother and it’s not Jolie. Who else does that leave?”
Oh, fuck.
He knows.
“Gabrielle,” I whisper, staring out the window, watching the rain hit the panes.
“Yes, your little lover girl.”
I glare at him, but he laughs in response, showing the palms of his hands. “Easy there. Do you think I’m dumb, son? Do you think it wasn’t obvious the way you look at each other, like lovesick teenagers? Did you think it wasn’t suspicious that you took her to Mallorca? Do you think I didn’t just catch the two of you kissing in the study?”
I gulp.
“The biggest disappointment,” he continues, clasping his hands at his front, “is that you didn’t even bother to hide it very well. I warned you, Pascal. I told you to stay away from her. I told you we had unfinished business, and you went against my orders anyway. I don’t take that lightly.”
I ignore that. “Why would she send you letters? What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I also told you she was crazy. Here’s the proof.” He gestures to the letters. “Who would do such a moronic thing, as if it wasn’t obvious it was amateur hour? Oh, she would have gotten caught eventually.”
“Caught for what? These letters aren’t exactly extortion. They ask for nothing.”
“You’re right. They are false threats, meant to scare, I suppose. Only speaks of her intellect at the moment. Surely you’ve noticed that she’s not right in the head? Or were you too busy getting your cock sucked for that?”
“Yeah, I probably was,” I tell him, sick of this. “Is that a problem? Does it make you feel old and powerless because she’s sucking me off and not you?”
Oh, that gets him good. Like I just backhanded him, followed by some spit. The way he sneers makes me realize I’ve got to be on guard.
“You think you’re so smart, Pascal.” He seethes quietly. “You think because you’re young and rich that you’re above it all. I suppose I only have myself to blame for that. I should have treated you like I treated Blaise, hoping you’d grow a pair of balls. But it didn’t work for him, and it probably wouldn’t have worked for you. You’re sheep, son. But you’re my sheep. My flock. And I’m going to teach your girlfriend a lesson. Show her that you have to gain the wolf to gain the wool.”
Pure, unadulterated heat floods my veins, the anger so sharp and acute that I can scarcely contain it. “You are not to lay a finger on her.”
He smiles, so casual, so easy, like this is just a game to him. “I’ll try not to, but you never know what you’re capable of in self-defense.”
Something about that statement makes my subconscious scream, scream that I’m missing something important, that it could be the end of everything.