“Merci,” Devvy murmured, already on her way to the elevator.
As the doors closed behind her, she keyed in the floor number and waited to be spat out onto Antoinette’s story. Seconds later, she was walking down the corridor and Antoinette was standing in the doorjamb, a huge smile creasing her jaw.
A smile that disintegrated as Devvy neared.
“Where is Alexei?” she demanded.
“He’s parking the car. The concierge says she’ll send him up when he comes in.”
Antoinette eyed her suspiciously, and Devvy knew, if she hadn’t used that excuse, there wasn’t a snowball in hell’s chance of being invited into the apartment. Only the threat of Alexei finding his girlfriend waiting out in the hall made his mother move away and allow Devvy to enter.
“It’s busy out there. God knows where he’ll have to park,” Devvy stated, perpetuating the lie. “Do you have some water, please, madame?”
Eyes on the corridor, Antoinette ignored her. Devvy rolled her eyes at the woman’s back, and took it upon herself to go into the same room as she’d been led into yesterday. She didn’t bother to go out on the terrace. The instant Alex didn’t stride down that corridor, Antoinette would be in here like a shot, demanding to know what the hell was going on.
She looked around the room, grimacing at the stuffy and fussy interior. The same flowery fabric, a hideous shade of ochre and fuchsia, had been used for all of the soft furnishings. On the back wall, there was a picture of Christ weeping. A crucifix sat above the modern mantelpiece, a fixture that looked out of place in the old-fashioned lounge. She had little statuettes dotted all over the room, ornaments that Devvy considered dust collectors. Pieces that held little to no value, outside of emotional.
The room suited the woman.
Uncomfortable.
Knowing it was cheeky and not caring, because Christ, she needed the boost, Devvy walked over to Antoinette’s drinks tray and poured herself a small measure of whisky. She sank it back, and then poured herself another two fingers, and swallowed that as well.
The burn at her throat made her want to hop up and down to relieve the fire. Instead, her sore eyes watered all the more, and she started to cough.
By the time her coughing fit was over, Antoinette was striding into the room, glare glued in place, demanding to know, “Where is my son? It does not take this long to park, unless he has decided to drive over into the next arrondissement!”
“I lied. He isn’t coming,” Devvy told her easily.
Antoinette scowled. “What do you mean he isn’t coming? Why on earth would you be here otherwise?”
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Well, I’m afraid I’m short of answers.”
“Tough shit,” Devvy hissed, ignoring Antoinette’s gasp of outrage, as well as her earlier vow to be calm and pleasant. “I have questions in need of answering, and you’re the only one who can give them to me.”
As Devvy took in Antoinette, she shook her head at the sour look being aimed her way. Where Alex was concerned, she was all sweetness and light.
Dressed head to toe in black again, her hair was neatly tucked in a bun. Two chopsticks kept the tight roll pinned to her head. She wore a black, calf-length skirt, and a black blouse with a pussy bow. It was way too hot to be wearing the arm-length sleeves, but Devvy supposed the air con blasting out at polar temperature was keeping Antoinette from sweating.
At around thirteen, in an effort to please her mother, Devvy had attempted to read more fictional novels. Sneaking the books her mother had read so as to have something to talk about with her parent. A fan of romantic suspense, as well as her beloved Georgette Heyer, Devvy was quite accustomed to the book’s bad guy being described as having an insane glint in his eye.
Technically, Antoinette wasn’t insane. She was extremely odd, incredibly peculiar, but not insane. Christ, Devvy and Alex were hardly the leaders of the board of normality! But, for the first time in her life, after having scoffed at some of her mother’s favorite authors for dismissing and excusing the bad guy’s behavior with wicked, crazy looks, Devvy could understand.
That sour look shot her way wasn’t merely displeasure. It was…vacant. It was disturbing. She looked like she was quite capable of sitting down to tea after murdering a kitten or something.
The thought made Devvy shake her head at her own foolishness. She was freaking herself out and for no reason at all.
But still…. She’d seen it yesterday and recognized it as being not right. Today, it was confirmed, and all the more evident without Alex to buffer the situation.
She didn’t feel in danger, just on edge. Discomforted by the weirdness the other woman seemed to radiate.
When Devvy continued to stare at Antoinette, not backing down, the other woman pursed her lips and bit out, “Well, what kind of questions?”
“Was Alex happy as a boy?”
The question disarmed her. A soft smile graced her lips, her thoughts obviously on the son with whom she was so besotted. “He was such a serious boy. So studious. As he grew older, he only got worse.”
“Worse in what way?”
Antoinette frowned. “He’s a genius. It wasn’t unusual for him to be secretive.”
“About what?” she asked, feeling like she was pulling teeth.
“Just things. He didn’t like me in his bedroom, wouldn’t let me touch his things. He was rude to my partner, but Pierre, well, he was no match for Alex’s intelligence. Even though Alex was only a boy.”
Pierre. So that was the sick fuck’s name. “They didn’t have a good relationship?”
Antoinette’s eyes turned shrewd. “Alex did as he was told. Pierre saw to that.”
Devvy could only imagine, and she didn’t even want to consider how Pierre had controlled and punished Alex. She swallowed back the nausea that punched her in the gut and asked, “Did Pierre hurt Alex?”
Scowling, Antoinette slashed her hand through the air. “You have no right to say such things.”
“He’s my partner. I have the right to ask about things that concern his welfare.”
“Partner,” Antoinette scoffed. “I know who you are, even if Alex tried to hide the truth from me.”
“We hid nothing from you,” Devvy lied, calling the other woman’s bluff.
“You think I’m a fool? I knew even before this morning’s shameful headlines! You are Sebastien Jacques’s wife. I can only assume you are corrupting my son.”
“I think you’ll find he’s corrupting me,” she retorted with a snap, unable to help herself.
Antoinette sucked in a sharp, outraged breath. “How dare you!” she spat.
“Easily,” came the quick retort. “Alex is not perfect. Even he makes the admission. But whatever he is, you and your sick fuck of a partner created.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Antoinette toyed with the long loops of the bow about her neck.
“I had to come and speak to you today. I saw the way you were yesterday and I knew, the way you obsessed over him, you’d have spotted the signs as a kid.
“There’s no way he could have suddenly turned and you wouldn’t have noticed the difference. And even if he became less important to you when you got a partner, you’d have noticed your boyfriend’s odd behavior. You’re too obsessive not to!”
“You come into my house and accuse me and insult me. I would like you to leave!” Antoinette snapped snootily.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me if Alex was abused as a child. If your partner molested him.”
Antoinette’s cheeks turned bright pink and then, papery white. But unlike before, her gaze was cast downward. Just beneath Devvy’s line of sight. Not direct and glaring at her straight in the eye.
“How dare you!”
The words didn’t ring true, and there, in that moment, Devvy had her answer. Everything inside her unraveled as sheer, unadulterated horror at what Alex had had to endure as a child throttled her. “I dare, I fucking dare
, you old bitch. You knew, didn’t you? You knew, and you didn’t say anything. You just let that bastard rape your son, and you let him. You actually let him.” Devvy staggered backward, almost falling onto the sofa behind her.
“I won’t listen to this anymore. Please leave!”
“If you think I’m going to do as you say, then you’re sadly mistaken. I hope that bastard is rotting in hell, and that you do, too. You’re as sick as he was. Sicker! How could you? How could you let him hurt Alex?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Antoinette cried out. She clapped a hand over her ears, looking more like six than sixty.
“Bull. You know exactly what I’m talking about. What happened? That first night you felt him creep out of your room but you didn’t say anything. You just thought he was going to the bathroom. But he didn’t come back, did he? Not straight away. I bet you knew from the very first night and you let it happen.”
The more she spoke, the more Antoinette trembled, shaking her head in a furious rejection of everything Devvy was saying. But Devvy couldn’t stop. The words just poured out of her. They tumbled free, vitriolic poison that couldn’t be withheld.
As the words gathered on her tongue, she spat them out. Her hands shook, trembled with the need to maim, to do harm. To punish the sick bitch.
For the first time in her life, Devvy was out of control. And the woman had yet to confirm or deny anything!
But just like Devvy had known, in her gut, that Alex’s childhood had been severed by being molested, she also knew this woman had hidden the truth. Had perpetuated the horrors of Alex’s past.
“Admit it!” she shrieked. “Tell me the goddamn truth! You knew, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”
“Yes!” Antoinette cried, immediately bursting into racking sobs. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I knew. God help me, I knew.”
The other woman’s shrieks acted like a pinprick to Devvy’s fury.
She deflated. Immediately. Sinking in on herself, almost falling into the sofa.
It was one thing being dead sure, of feeling it in your gut, but having it confirmed?
It was far worse than she’d imagined, because this meant the blackmailer had something over them. They would have no choice but to dance to his tune in order to protect and shelter Alex.
She sagged against the flowery sofa, staring almost blindly into the fireplace. Antoinette’s sobs echoed around the room, throbbing through her in a way that made her heart pump angrily.
How dare she cry?
What right did she have?
She was as much a monster as her partner. How dare she shed tears when she was guilty? How dare she cry when she let her baby be used in such a way?
“I just wanted his attention,” the older woman whispered, almost imploringly.
Sickness flooded Devvy. “What? Your partner’s?” she sneered. “You thought the way to get it was to sell your little boy out?”
Antoinette shook her head from side to side. The pace so fast, the pins supporting her bun fell out. “No. Alex’s.”
Devvy sighed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“No one had to know. No one ever had to know. But he wouldn’t visit. When he does, he’s mean. He leaves almost immediately. I can’t visit him. He won’t let me.
“I’m only allowed to see him when he schedules me in. That’s not right! I’m his mother,” she cried. “I had to do something. I want to see my son. I have a right!”
Devvy growled. “You lost that right the day you condoned Alex’s abuse. How can you even speak like that? After what you’ve done. Why aren’t you ashamed of yourself? How the hell can you even bear to look at him, knowing what you let happen to him?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Antoinette almost pleaded.
“No, it wasn’t,” Devvy agreed. “But the first time you knew something was wrong and you did nothing to stop it, that was your fault. The minute you knew and let it carry on, you took as much of the blame for all this as that perverted bastard.
“You’re lucky Alex even visits you at all, never mind bitching about wanting more attention! Well, I guess yesterday’s disaster was the last time you’ll be seeing him.” She took great relish out of laughing and seeing the other woman’s suffering. “The minute I tell him you were involved, that you actually knew what he was going through, that’s the last you’ll see of him.”
A wildness overcame Antoinette. It reminded Devvy of yesterday, when over nothing, she’d suddenly converged on her poor maid and start yelling at her in French. “You can’t do that. You mustn’t do that!”
“Just give me one reason why not,” Devvy sneered at her, feeling her upper lip curl with repulsion at the other woman’s desperation.
“I’ll go to the papers. I have contacts now. I know who to send the information to.”
For a second, Devvy wasn’t entirely sure what she was hearing.
But the statement, “I have contacts now,” suddenly started revolving around her mind.
“You’re the blackmailer,” Devvy said in a breath, astonishment clouding her tone. She jumped up, filled with energy again. It took every ounce of her control to not grip the woman’s throat with her bare hands and squeeze the life out of her! “You fucking bitch. You would send that kind of information to the press? About your own son?”
“I can’t lose him!” Antoinette yelled.
“You lost him the day you condoned him being raped!”
She flinched and drew back. “You can’t tell him. If you do, I swear to God, I’ll go to the press. Everyone will know. This rests in your hands.”
Devvy sucked in a breath. “I’d prefer the entire world know Alex’s secrets than let him come near you again. And I’m sure he’ll agree.
“You sell your secrets to the press. We won’t be held ransom by a sick bitch like you.”
With that, she made to walk past and go on her way. She needed to get out of this room, of this apartment, of the goddamn building. Just being close to Antoinette made her feel like she was standing in toxic territory. As though she were breathing in the sickness in the other woman’s soul.
As she neared her, Antoinette reached for her arm, gripped tight, and with a surprising amount of strength, pulled her to a halt. “You mustn’t tell him,” she muttered feverishly.
“I’ll do whatever I goddamn want,” Devvy spat. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll feel no remorse in slapping you. It will give me the excuse I need.”
“You mustn’t tell!” Antoinette screeched.
Out of nowhere, a long pin appeared in her hand. Devvy recognized it as one of the chopsticks used to keep her bun in place. Antoinette pointed it at her, wielding it as though she were wielding a knife.
At that moment, Devvy realized two things.
One, she could easily overcome Antoinette.
Two, she could let Antoinette hurt her and use whatever injury she incurred as a valid excuse for self-defense. The idea of doing the woman serious damage was infinitely appealing.
Then, Antoinette’s arm was crashing down and her thoughts fled. As Devvy raised an arm to shield herself from the other woman’s aim, she realized it wouldn’t be as easy to overcome her as she’d thought.
Antoinette’s strength had Devvy groaning with effort as she grabbed her shoulder and tried to push her away. When that didn’t work, she shoved with one hand and with the other, slammed it down with a knife-hand blow. When the side of her palm connected with the other woman’s head, smacking her ear with as much force as she could, the bitch staggered back, arm still raised, pin still pointed down. Looking like something out of the Hitchcock movie she’d mentioned to Sebastien that morning.
Hand ringing with pain, Devvy stared at Alex’s mother and she had to withhold the urge to laugh. The scene definitely channeled Hitchcock, with a bit Tom and Jerry thrown in.
What the hell Antoinette thought she could do with a hair chopstick was beyond Devvy. She decided not to find out.
As soon as Ant
oinette had backed off, Devvy reached for her cell and did the only thing she could do.
Call the police.
Chapter Seventeen
It felt pathetic calling in the gendarmes for what, essentially, was a bitch fight. But Devvy knew if she didn’t do it, Antoinette would, and the older woman would give it a whole different slant.
She would have probably put all the blame on Devvy, making up some bullcrap about how Devvy had been the aggressor.
As it was, she knew when the police did arrive, she’d have to be cautious. Antoinette could fill them with her poison and she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.
Shit, it really was time she learned French.
And not just pidgin French, a smattering of words that enabled her to say urgent and then an address. The whole nine yards. She vowed to one day talk stocks and shares with Bastien, discuss cancer research with Alex, and finally talk dirty to the pair of them.
Resolution made, she called Alex. He was the only one who could control Antoinette. After today, she made another resolution. This was the last time mother and son would see each other.
Discovering Antoinette was the one behind the blackmail attempts changed the situation. Alex needn’t know Bastien and Devvy were aware of his past. She knew she’d try to protect him from that truth as much as she could, hoping that one day, he’d share it with her in his own words, and at his own pace.
Knowing that his mother had tried to hold them hostage with threats would hopefully be enough to cut the ties between Alex and Antoinette.
If not, then she’d have to think of something.
She refused to let him have any relationship with the sick bitch.
“Alex?” she snapped as soon as he answered the phone. “I need you to come to your mother’s apartment.”
“Devvy? My mother’s flat? What the hell for?”
“She’s the one blackmailing us, Alex. She just admitted it to me.”
Silence pounded down the line. “You’re joking.”
“No. I’m not. I wish I was. She just came after me with a hair pin, for God’s sake. I don’t know what she was trying to do, just shut me up, I suppose. I’ve called the police and I need you to come here and handle her.” Devvy eyed the woman who was still clutching her head and sobbing brokenly on the sofa. She refused to feel pity. Even though it was hard.
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