With a little sigh, I keep going. As he moves around the room, I feel hyperaware of his presence. I want to talk to him. To ask him what his plan is. Am I just his prisoner forever? Is he planning to keep me locked in the house for the rest of my life?
What about when the money runs out? What then? Is he going to get a job? Is he going to have me go back to singing? Where is the money? And what is the endgame here?
And is this really the Bassirou I know? I mean, I know he’s been losing grip. But this is insanity. Maybe he’s lost his mind entirely. I don’t even know what the hell to do about all of this, except go along with it and hope it’s enough to keep my mother safe.
My thoughts turn to Hayden. I wonder what he’s doing. How he’s doing. I wonder if he’s worried about me. I miss him. Miss his natural humor, his smile.
Bassirou leaves the room, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I wish Hayden could save me from this hell. I wish I could save myself from this hell. But no matter how I think of it, there’s no fix. Unless I can convince my mother to come with me—which isn’t going to happen—then she’s not safe unless I’m under Bassirou’s thumb.
Maybe something changes. Maybe I can talk her into coming to America with me. If I could do that, then I could keep her safe and maybe get my life back where I want it. I don’t need Bassirou, but I need to know she’s safe.
She wasn’t a perfect mother, but she’s my mother, and I love her.
I open the fridge. Bassirou’s been requesting that I cook for him. That I act the perfect little wife and coddle him. It’s soul crushing. I’m no man’s mother. It’s not my job to cook for him or clean up after him, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it for a partner.
“I don’t have things to make you dinner,” I say loudly enough he can hear me from the other room.
He doesn’t answer and I close the fridge. Marching into the living room, I stand between him and the T.V. Hands on hips, I glare him down.
“We’re out of liquor,” I say, and he sits up to grab the nearly empty bottle of vodka. He leans back, his expression furious. “We’re pretty much out of food. You’re out of blow.” I think about how pissed he’d been when he found out his precious white powder was gone. Just… gone. I told him he used it all, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I got a little pleasure from knowing what I’d done.
“Don’t expect me to make you dinner if you’re not going to make sure I’ve got things to cook.” With that, I march right back into the kitchen, almost grateful I’ve got something to pretend to occupy myself with. At least if I pretend I’m cleaning, or if I clean, I’m away from him until he wanders in here to remind me he’s in charge now.
“Don’t you fucking think about trying anything,” he snarls from the doorway as he pulls on his jacket.
“You said you’d hurt my mother,” I say, letting my disgust for him show in my face and voice. “What am I going to do?”
He seems to relax a little. Without another word, just a quick stare, he leaves.
I leap into motion. Pulling on a loose sweater with a hood, I grab an old hat of Bassirou’s and pull it on. With sunglasses in place, my hair hidden by both hood and cap. I count to sixty and slip out the door.
Watching every step of the way, I start the trek to my mother’s.
No one seems to notice me or recognize me, and I thank my lucky stars as I take streets I remember from childhood. Weaving in and out, around a little community garden, through a backstreet that reeks of rot, through a gate with a busted lock, I hurry as quickly as I feel I can do without drawing attention to myself.
My heart slams faster than my feet, and I feel faint with all the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
When I’m finally in front of the run-down place I once called home along the Rue Polonceau, I stand still and stare up at the building. Stealing up the steps, I hold my breath, praying she’s still here. I can’t imagine where she would have gone. After all, the Goutte d’Or doesn’t let people escape. It’s a prison of the worst sort, a circle of hell specially designed to trap all who dare enter.
I hurry inside, closing unlocked doors behind myself. Worn floors underfoot still smell musty like my childhood and my heart hurts. I could have helped her. I could have given her more. I should have gotten her out of here even if it means dragging her out of here by the hair.
I open her old door, unaware I’ve been holding my breath until my lungs blaze white hot and agonizing.
“Maman?” I whisper, looking around the barren, dirty room for my mother.
In the corner, wrapped in a blanket and curled up on a couch as old as the earth itself, is my mother.
She’s aged so much in the last few years. This tiny, frail creature barely resembles the women I left.
“Maman,” I say a little louder, rushing to her side. Dropping to my knees, I try to take her hand. But she covers her face and tries to push me away.
“Non,” she wails. “Go, go.”
“Maman,” I whisper, tears stinging in my eyes as her bony hands hide her face from my eyes. “Please, I need you to come with me. I need to get you out of here. You’re not safe here, Maman!”
I want to shake her as she continues to wail softly, the broken cry of a broken old woman.
My heart fractures into tiny shards as I continue to beg her, tears streaming freely down my face. With every refusal I see my life slipping away. I see myself forever imprisoned by Bassirou, forever a slave to a man I’ve come to abhor.
“S’il vous plaît, Maman,” I whisper, seeing how her hands shake, how tiny she is. She’s lost weight. The reasonably healthy women I knew is no more. In her place is this shell of a being, this paper-skinned aging woman wailing incoherently.
Chapter Twenty-One: Hayden
I finish up my work and shut down my computer. Judy has already gone home for the day, and my mind is going a million miles a minute. I’ve got to track Sabine down. And I know right where I’m going to start… she’d mentioned growing up in the Goutte d’Or. If she’d gone back, I assume she’s there.
I’m going to go get her. If not to bring her back, at least to talk to her. To find out what went wrong. To find out why she up and left without even saying goodbye or telling me she was going.
Maybe it is rehab. In that case, I’ll do everything in my power to help and support her.
I step out of my office, noting the dark building. Everyone is gone. Hell, the only reason I’m still here was just to make sure I tied up all loose ends before leaving on a short vacation. I walk past the conference room and hear J.D.’s voice ring out.
“Hayden.”
I turn to face my brother, knowing that this is not going to be easy.
He motions me to follow him into the dark conference room we’d talked in not that long ago when he’d told me I have to break things off for now. I sit as he hovers over me. Releasing one of the two buttons holding my suit, I relax back, stretching my legs under the table.
“Look,” J.D says, “I know we haven’t talked about this, but I’m worried about you.”
“We did talk about that,” I say, knowing perfectly well what he’s saying. He means we haven’t talked about the actual relationship. And that’s precisely how I want things.
“Don’t pull that shit,” J.D. says, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. He’s got a bit of stubble now, and I’m wondering if it’s a choice or if he’s just been putting off shaving. It’s not a terrible look. “You’re fucking around with a woman who you admit has singlehandedly pulled you back into drugs.”
“It’s pot, dude. Not coke. Fucking calm your tits, man.” I slam the heel of my hand down on the table, and he jolts.
“This girl is bad for you; you make bad choices with her!” He sounds pissed. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
Leaning forward, I glare him down. “Look, I can’t tell you what it is. All I can say is this woman … it’s not about her looks, her singing, where she’s from, none of tha
t superficial shit.” I stare at my hands, hating this invisible power she has over me.
Spreading my palms wide, I wish I could put it all into words. “She’s… she’s fucking, I don’t’ know, man. There’s something about her. I need her more than any drug. I need to keep her safe, need to protect her from someone who’s fucking with her. I need to know she’s safe, that she’s happy.” My hands are shaking a little, and I slip them under the table and shove them down my legs, gripping above my knees so hard I feel bruises begin to form. “I fucking need to know she’s okay.”
J.D. says nothing.
“She didn’t say anything before she left?”
I hear the hesitation in his voice.
“Nothing. Not a text, not a call. It’s fucking weird, man. I’m worried.” I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t shared this with anyone, and it’s been fucking eating me up. “Her manager, this French fuck treats her like shit. He got the plane tickets, I know it.”
“Back to France?”
I nod.
“Do you have a place to start?” He leans forward, planting his elbows on his legs and rubbing his hands together while staring down at the floor.
“She told me she grew up in a neighborhood called Goutte d’Or. I was going to start there.” It’s weak, but it’s all I’ve got.
“The shareholders are worried,” he says suddenly.
I glance up, studying him. In the shadows of the dark room, his face is mostly hidden by darkness.
“The board of directors is asking questions.” His voice is quiet. He lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Is this girl worth losing everything for?”
The loaded question makes me pause.
What would my life be without Sabine?
“If you go, I can’t promise you anything when you get back.” J.D. sounds crushed and I know he’s fighting his own issues. I want to ask how long he’s known about this, how long he’s been struggling with the board, how long he’s been protecting me.
At the same time, I can’t help but wonder.
Is my life worth living if I don’t have her?
I think on my time before Sabine. It’s a void, a dark place I didn’t know the depths of. I existed to work. I lived to be here at a desk. It wasn’t living. It was never living. I merely existed before her.
The thought of going back to life without her leaves me feeling … empty.
“I have to do this,” I say softly, knowing full well what I’m potentially giving up. “Not for the drugs, either.” I don’t give a fuck about the drugs. I’ll quit for good even if we wind up together and she continues to use. She’s the thing I can’t live without. She’s the thing that makes me feel alive, not the pot.
He’s silent a moment, studying my face like he’s searching for answers. Then, he nods. “I understand,” he says, standing up. I follow suit, and he pulls me into a bear hug. We clap each other on the shoulders, and I take a deep breath.
When we back off, he squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll do anything I can to help.” His voice sounds strong in the quiet space. “I’ll cover for you as best I can, brother.”
I hug him again, feeling hope.
Thank you,” I say, feeling like I can do this.
He nods, and I head for the door. When I glance back, he’s standing, a hand on the back of a chair, his head lowered like he’s deep in thought. His shoulders are a bit slumped and I know he’s struggling with the weight of what I’m doing.
And it hits me; this might very well be my last time in this office.
I lift my head, scanning the space. I think back on the years spent here, this whole project, the scope of the business we built. And I think about no longer being a part of it. It’s a crushing thought ….
Until I close my eyes and think about Sabine’s smile.
That little playful grin before she tells a dirty joke. The way she throws her head back and laughs so hard her whole body moves. How she sings and pulls emotions out of me I didn’t know I could feel.
And I move forward, walking toward the door with big steps. And as the door closes behind me, as this chapter of my life closes, I feel peace in the night air. With a deep breath, I hail a cab and tell the driver to take me to the airport.
I’ve got a plane to catch.
I’ve got a woman to see.
I’ve got a life to start living.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Sabine
Maman’s wails have eased up to soft sobbing and I cling to her bony shoulders, crying with her.
“We have to go,” I whisper. “You have to come with me.” My heart is breaking more every second as she refuses to go.
I feel a hand grabbing my arm and glance up into the dark eyes of Bassirou. My heart sinks to my toes and fear bubbles up in my gut.
“You’re a slippery thing,” he snarls, yanking me to my feet. He pulls me against him, winding an arm around my waist. “Gotta keep a tighter grip.”
His lips come down hard on mine, and I shove him, trying to free myself of his hateful grasp. He doesn’t budge, but he stops kissing me.
“You’re mine now,” he whispers into my ear. “Anything I want, you do. Anything I tell you, you do. Anything.”
A shiver of hatred rolls through me, and ugly thoughts start circling in my mind.
“You’re a monster,” I say, giving voice to the kindest thought.
He laughs. “I’m not a monster. I want what’s best for both of us. Don’t you know that?”
My heart drops. He can’t possibly believe that.
“This is what’s best?” I ask softly, gesturing at my mother, shaking and sobbing while he holds me tightly. Staring up at him, I see some of the evil leave his eyes. For just a second the madness lifts, but just like that it slams back down and he shakes his head.
“You don’t know what’s best for you. I always took care of you. I always loved you. I did what was best for you.” The unsettling expression on his face leaves my heart thumping hard. He’s lost it. This isn’t the Bassirou I knew. This imposter is beyond reason, beyond talking, but what else can I do? What else can I try?
“Bassirou, you’re holding me, prisoner. You’re threatening my mother,” I whisper, praying I can get through to him even as icy terror washes through me. What is he going to do next? Where do we go from here? Does he really believe he can hold me prisoner forever? That he can just threaten me with my mother forever? What kind of life is this?
“I’ll do anything for you,” he snarls. “I’ll do anything to protect you.”
“Except let me make my own choices. Bassirou, this isn’t you.” I say in a calm, even voice. I don’t want to stoke the fire, but some part of me still hopes I can get through to him. It’s a losing battle. I know this. But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.
He doesn’t say anything, and I sense he’s shut down. That he’s beyond hearing my words. But still, I have to try.
“You need help,” I whisper.
He shakes his head violently. “You need help. You thought that stupid rich fuck deserved you. You forgot what we came from. You forgot who you were, who got you there. You disrespected me, cheated on me—”
“Cheated on you?” I ask, shoving away from him. He lets me go this time, and I glare him down. How dare he try to say I cheated on him? How do you cheat on someone you’re not with? We were never together.
“Cheated on me,” he says, nodding his head like it’s a well-known fact.
His ‘fact’ reeks of bullshit, and I call him out on it. “We were never together. I was very clear—”
“You were mine the second I saved your life, Sabine,” He roars, and I dance back a step, terrified. He advances, dangerous as a rabid bear.
He moves so close I can feel his body heat, feel his fury. I can feel his breath on my face as he snarls, “You owe me.”
“She doesn’t owe you a damn thing.”
Hayden!
We both glance toward the door. I’m stunned, terrified. He’s going to get hurt. This
is not going to end well, I know it.
I slip away from Bassirou, putting some space between us while trying to get my bearings.
I’m so glad to see Hayden, but I’m mad too. He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have risked himself and inadvertently risked my mother. Of course, he doesn’t know the situation, but it was stupid of him not to recognize the threat of Bassirou.
Bassirou is unhinged.
There’s no way out of this.
“Are you okay, Sabine?” Hayden asks me, not taking his eyes off Bassirou for a second.
Am I okay? Hell, no I’m not okay. But I know what he’s asking. He’s worried I’m hurt. And I am, but considering everything, I’m okay.
“Yes,” I say softly. I can’t take my eyes off Hayden. There’s darkness under his eyes, tired lines creasing his face, and he looks like he’s been through hell. But he’s here. He’s here for me, to protect me.
Both men continue to glare each other down, but I only have eyes for Hayden.
“How did you find me?” I whisper.
A little smile tugs the corners of his lips. “You told me. You were so ashamed of where you came from, but it’s part of you, Sabine. It’s not a bad thing.”
My heart swells with warmth, then starts to ache. He remembers. He was listening to me that day. Some small part of me was sure he was just brushing off everything I said, that it wasn’t important enough to make a difference for him. That it might not be worth remembering.
Maybe I wasn’t fair.
“You better turn around and leave now, putain,” Bassirou snarls. “This is my city, my house. My woman,” he adds and my stomach twists.
“I was never yours, Bassirou. I will never be yours.” It feels good to say the words. I draw strength from Hayden’s presence. Hope flows into my veins and I finally feel like not all is lost. This can still work out.
And when it all works out, I want to be leaving with Hayden. I want to know my mom will be safe, but I want my life to be with Hayden. Without fear of Bassirou. Without living under anyone’s thumb.
Tech Titans: The Complete Billionaire Romance Series Page 19