“I need you to wear this, please.” They were the most honest words he had to give her. Simple words, sounded from the heart through lips of love. He smiled at her, adoring the way her mouth’s hard lines softened and her tapered eyes widened. “This,” he said, waving his arm behind him at the house and then pocketing his damned fingers again for daring his heart, “is all for you, my love. This is the fairytale you sought from me. Promise me you will remain within it, with me. I know not how to achieve it without you.”
Still she didn’t speak. In fact, her face hardened again, her gaze occasionally narrowing again, and she finally crossed her arms as she kept herself focused on him. He waited for the words to come, hoping her love for him was enough to vanquish past misadventures. Daring the thought that, with enough of her arms, and enough of her fingers caressing him, they could put the past to rest and build a future together. One of laughter and pleasure. One where they could be as one together, live together, be resilient, together.
“Funny thing about fairytales,” she said, tilting her head at him. “They need rainbows, too, with pots of gold at the end. Sometimes more than one.” His smile broadened. If children were what she needed from him, she could have them. Alarmed or not, he would do that. He would give her anything she wanted from him. When they were safe of all this turmoil, he would offer her everything. She just had to stay, to trust him to do the correct thing by her. And making children required fucking, something he was more than happy to acquiesce to, often.
“You may have as many pots as you would like.”
“Mmm. Well, in that case, you better put it on,” she eventually whispered, lowering her stare to the diamonds in his hand and offering her wrist.
If he’d ever smiled brighter, he wasn’t sure he remembered it. The corners of his mouth hurt as he reached for her wrist and grasped it so tightly he might well break the delicate thing. She giggled as his damn fingers fumbled slightly closing the clasp. It was possibly the most erotic sound he had ever heard, one that needed fucking into her so she remembered how to use it again, frequently. The only thing that could even remotely finalise the moment was the sound of Claire’s footsteps echoing behind him somewhere. They were clattering along marble at a rate of knots as he gazed back to Lilah and watched her suck in some air. Indeed. He did the same. It was a moment they should both remember. It defined them entirely. No wedding bands. No pieces of paper or collars. They had no need for any of those things. They lived in these moments of theirs, dwelled within their need for each other. They would honour and cherish each other in their own way. He would even fucking obey should she ask, from his knees, worshipping her all the more for it. Love’s endless hold on him was absolute, clear and resonating so loudly he could feel it surging his veins. His feelings for Alexander mattered not, nor the still undeniable need for his fierce deliverance. They would accomplish that together. Lilah would manage that how she saw fit, and he would allow her that freedom, without any fear she would tear them apart in doing so.
“You need to tell Claire who you are,” she said, breaking their moment, as the footsteps grew closer. She smiled and raised a hand to his face, softly caressing his cheek and promising all the love in the world with just that touch. “You need to do that before you leave. She needs to know. She has to, Pascal. In case…”
“I was playing with Alex,” Claire screamed into the air as heavy footsteps walked onto the terrace behind him. Lilah’s brow raised as her mouth shut, accompanied by a snort of laughter. He turned to see what at.
Alexander was there with Claire sitting on his back. Never had a stranger vision been seen, excluding Bibles and beads, and yet, in some ways it filled his heart with yet more warmth.
“Apparently, I’m a horse,” the man said, smirking and sparkling amusement in his normally cold eyes. “And I should jump things.”
Lilah burst out laughing, then covered her mouth with her hand to try stemming the flow. Alexander’s eyes focused directly on the cuff then swung to him. He nodded in response. It was the only indication he needed to give to explain that this was settled, complete. Whatever Alexander and Lilah chose between them would be honoured, but she would have her say—a say she would vocalise proficiently enough to be respected. What was a light-hearted moment suddenly became less so, as Alexander’s eyes hardened again, likely remembering the day’s activities and his responsibilities. He was possibly also remembering the fire Lilah could exhale with her mouth. They would be at war often, about many things.
“We should go,” the man said, wrapping his arms gently around Claire and lowering her to the ground. Pascal stared at the movement, watching the care the man had for her. For such brutal hands, he could not have been more tender as he let her hang on to him and hold his hand. He stood, transfixed by the image rather than thoughts of Jon.
“But we’re swimming,” Claire whined beside him, her green eyes sparkling up at stern blue ones. “You can come, too, if you want? And Beth. Where is she? Lilah’s coming, aren’t you?”
Swimming. He gazed at her again, watching the way her little limbs moved so animatedly, the way her eyes reminded him of himself, the way her jaw looked as his mother’s had, and loving her all the more with every passing second. The ache to tell her the truth overwhelmed him. Perhaps it was the moment with Lilah. Or perhaps it was Alexander standing there with her, holding onto her as if he would always defend her. Family. This was his family, all of them, together. Not the family he had in palaces, nor the connection he had to castles and Counts. This here—these people and their unending forgiveness and compassion. Claire needed to be part of that unit, needed to understand that she would always be loved and protected here. Beloved. Prized above all others. She did need to know. If nothing else, she needed to know before this afternoon, in case of misadventures.
His knees had dropped him to the floor before he realised he’d done it, beckoning her forward with his fingers as Lilah’s hand landed on the nape of his neck, ready to support him no matter the reaction. Claire’s own fingers instantly unfurled from Alexander’s grasp and her feet sprinted over to him, causing his heart to widen with yet more love.
“I need to tell you something, Claire,” he muttered, not entirely sure how the words would form.
“Yep?” she replied, not paying the slightest bit of attention to him as she practiced a cartwheel.
“Claire, this is most significant.”
“Oh, okay.” She stopped her gymnastics, only to stand and bounce on her feet as if she were limbering up for a marathon and waiting for speech.
“I…” Nothing came out. He sighed and looked at her again as she continued bouncing. Lilah’s fingers tightened on his neck again, pushing him into the words. “Your father…” That was not right either. He was her father. I am your father. Why could he not force the words out?
“What about my daddy?” He pinched his brow and felt Lilah’s fingers trying to soothe him, then glanced at Alexander who smiled so brightly he eclipsed the damn sun with his teeth. He snorted at the man’s amusement and shook his head to look back at Claire instead, somehow relaxing again under Alexander’s watch.
“I... I am your father.”
The bouncing stopped immediately, as did the angelic smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture. Instead, a frown appeared, one of confusion rather than hatred, thankfully.
“But Mama said he lived in Europe? You live in New York.”
“I live here, Claire. And in New York, and in Berlin, and also in England. I have many homes.”
Her frown continued as she stepped backwards a little towards Alexander, flipping her eyes to Lilah and then back to him again.
“Mama lied to me?” Clever little girl. Much as he wanted to tell her that, Lilah’s tightening fingers reminded him that she was a child, one who adored her mama. One who did not need to understand the problems of the world just yet. One who, hopefully with time, would comprehend such reasoning without the need to throw blame at either individual, even if
he did.
“No, Claire. Your mother believed she was doing the best for you. She was protecting you from the world the way she thought most prudent.” Alexander’s hands landed softly on her back as she kept backing away, her eyes filling with tears and her body starting to shake a little.
“Claire,” Pascal said, reaching his arms for her again, desperate to take the frown away and comfort her. “Come, it is fine to cry, but do that here, with me, hmm? We can cry together if you wish it.”
She wiped at her eyes, sniffing and shuffling her little feet around beneath her, occasionally turning to look at Alexander as he pushed her back a little. Lilah’s hand came over his shoulder, stretching it out to her, too and offering another hand to hold.
“It’s okay, Claire,” she said quietly. “We’ll understand it together, hey? Find our way, okay?”
Claire looked at her, blinking a little and still wiping at her eyes, but still she did not move. Alexander crouched and put his arm around her tiny waist, pulling her back until he whispered something in her ear. She frowned again, then smiled and nodded, eventually even taking a small step forward again.
He smiled wider, offering everything he had to get her to come to him. Fraught with need for her to leap into his arms and show him that this concern would right itself, that they would all find their balance in this one way or another. Alexander pushed again. He watched the gentle shove of the man’s fingers and thanked God for his presence in all this. The tower of strength fortifying his own welling tears was warranted, needed as he smiled over at them. And Lilah was here, too, guiding him onwards with her love. It was a perfect moment, no doubt. One he never would have seen coming or believed so enthralling as Claire’s hand eventually touched his.
“Daddy?”
“Papa,” he countered, whispering the word and letting the tears fall from his eyes. There was no thought for how debilitating they may seem, only that they were true and full of joy for the word she spoke so quietly.
The clamber of limbs into his lap was instant, almost ripping his heart to pieces with the beauty of it. Small legs wrapped themselves around his waist, arms circled his neck, and wet, perfect cheeks nuzzled into his as she squeezed so tightly he thought she might strangle him. He smiled again and closed his eyes as he pulled her into him, allowing the moment to continue as long as she chose. She could strangle the life from him if that’s what she wanted. Any of these three people could. He loved them all, was linked to them all in a way that defied all rationale. Love was not logical, nor was it sensible. Yet, its unrelenting and eternal flow was becoming ever more fundamental for survival as it embedded itself.
He slowly opened his eyes after a time and breathed in the smell of her, revelling in the heat of Rome and the warmth of the moment he was enjoying. Then he noticed Alexander and Lilah standing side by side in the French windows. Lilah smiled once more then turned, patting Alexander on the chest and leaving them alone. Alexander simply pocketed his hands and watched her go, frowning as he did and eventually looking back down towards them. He narrowed his gaze at the man and clung onto Claire a little more robustly. Something was afoot.
Chapter 19
Watch him? Why the hell would I want to watch him kill someone? I was very happy watching the scene involving Pascal and Claire. In fact, I could have watched it all day, sat by the lake for the afternoon and gazed at happy family reunions. Honest ones. But now, I’m supposed to go with them and watch?
The flick of his blue eyes was all he needed to indicate he wanted to talk to me. His grip on my upper arm told me everything I needed to know. The whispered words helped, too.
“You should come with us. You need to know.” I tried to pull away at that point, but he didn’t let me budge an inch, just moved his mouth closer to my ear. “You’re right, you need to see it for various reasons.”
If I hadn’t been so moved by the love circulating the area, I might well have slapped him for stupidity. To say that, there? Arsehole. The world might see what he chooses to show them, but he’s always been clear with me about what he is, even if I do get the occasional hint of that decency living inside of him. The same kindness that held Claire so firmly, looked after her and showed her she was wanted. So I’d nodded and patted his chest to loosen his hold on me, trying to show him I understood what he was trying to say. Not that I really did.
Now I’m waiting on the steps, wondering what they’re still doing on the terrace and trying to fathom if I even want to watch him kill someone. I don’t see that it’s necessary. It is what it is. Jon is a child molester, or at least a man who trades in that sort of thing. He deserves a lifetime in prison or death. I’m not entirely bothered which. I’m more bothered about Claire and who is going to look after her until it’s done. Alexander and Pascal are leaving us again. That only leaves Beth and me, along with the guards who I don’t know or trust. What if one of them is really working for Jon? If it were up to me, I’d get the three of us back on a plane and up in the air where it’s safe. Until that man is gone, none of us is safe, are we? Frankly, the thought of just waiting around here for the afternoon is quite concerning. What if something goes wrong, or they get shot and killed? It’s not that I don’t trust their abilities. Clearly, they’ve done this sort of thing for a while, and given that they’re both alive, I can only presume they’re reasonably proficient at it. No, it’s more the look of Jon I don’t like. I never have. He’s sneaky. He’s got that sly look that makes me wonder, and that fucking grip that damn near tore my arm off.
“Roxanne will be here soon,” Alexander says from over my shoulder. Will she? I look behind me to see him standing there, staring out into the distance across the fields. It seems he’s been planning something behind everyone’s backs. “Elizabeth is bringing her back.”
“She went on her own?”
“No, I have people here. Roaxanne was taken this morning while she was out shopping,” he replies, seeming bored with the conversation as he sits down on the steps beside me and leans his elbows on his knees. He turns to look at me, smiling and bumping his shoulder into mine. I turn away from the movement, still not entirely happy with him. He’s too fucked up for words sometimes, and we are not currently friends.
“The fact that she was shopping tells me plenty about the sort of person she is. Who would go shopping while their child is missing?” He doesn’t answer, but he does sigh a little and look back out at the view. “She doesn’t deserve Claire if that’s all she cares about.”
“It’s nice here,” he says, stretching his legs out, ignoring the comment and sighing again. “Quiet.”
I smile at the view and wonder what will come from his mouth next. It seems strange to be sitting here with him when I know what he’s about to go and do. I glance at his hands, pondering how he’ll do it. Gun? Knife? Perhaps he doesn’t use either. It’s not impossible that he could just throttle someone, not with the size of him.
“Do you really enjoy doing it?” I ask, not really understanding my need to know. If I’m even going to consider this strange thing with Pascal and him, I need to comprehend the way his brain works. I can hardly stop him at the right time if I don’t know when that time is, can I? It’s as if I need to be inside him somehow, feel how his mind is working and help sort through the layers of what he needs.
“Enjoy...” He considers the word, drawing it out as if trying it on for size.
I snort at him, the very thought of him mulling it over is somehow disconcerting.
“Enjoy is a term I tend to use for things that rile my blood, so yes, it’s a good word for the experience.”
His response doesn’t even bother me as he eases himself back and smiles at me. He may be a killer, but I don’t find him scary. It’s more comforting than I thought it would be, as if the image of him as a protector is more powerful than as a killing machine. I smile back quietly, not completely comfortable with the thought, but accepting it nonetheless, then I turn back to the hills.
“What’s your
plan?”
“To kill the man who stole something precious to me,” he replies with a shrug. Sweet. Claire’s little face instantly springs to mind. Who wouldn’t kill for her?
“She is lovely.”
“Not Claire, Pascal’s sanity.” My smile grows wider as I flick my gaze back to him then laugh at his slightly raised brow. “He is quite insane enough without interruptions from third parties.”
Well, that’s true.
I chuckle at him and then stand up, attempting to form coherent thoughts on the fact that the man I love is about to go to war, possibly putting himself in harm’s way as he does.
“If I’m to assume you’ve been planning behind everyone’s back, presumably getting everything to happen the way you want it to, can I also assume you’ll bring him back safely?”
“If I do, will you try my way?” I walk further out into the courtyard, listening to the birds singing their afternoon chorus and scanning the area for peace. It’s not here yet, is it? This day needs to be over. Blood needs shedding and then serenity stands a chance. I glance back at him, watching the way he stares at me with no remorse. It’s all there in his eyes, as if I’m the one who’s going to make this work. I’m not quite sure how, but he knows. He has it all premeditated long before the rest of us.
“Did you make him jealous on purpose?” He nods his head and stands up, smirking to himself and wandering out to join me, offering his arm like a gentleman would and pointing to the path down to the lake. Some gentleman.
“I knew he was coming to meet me at ICE. You were there, and he needed to realise how much he needs you. Jealousy was as good a way as any to prove you’re as relevant to him as I am.”
We walk along in silence for a while, for my part just feeling the strength of his arm under my hand and trying to gauge how the fuck I’m supposed to defuse it in full flight. What he’s thinking, I don’t know, but it’s nice in some ways, reminding me of the times we’ve spent alone as we pass the lake. I gaze out at it, remembering the feeling of peace when I was swimming. I can almost taste the water still, feel it lapping against my skin and calming me. It’s so serene here—quiet, beautiful, full of promises as yet unfulfilled. I need to make that happen. Enjoy it with Pascal and live our lives together in some manner. Here or in New York. Either is fine, or both.
Serenity's Key: VDB 3 (The VDB Trilogy) Page 29