“Our sisters didn’t play sports with you?”
“Like Maman would have allowed them to get dirty? Ha. Besides, American football isn’t popular there.”
Severin caught the ball, even though it had flown wildly to the right, then launched it back. He was definitely doing more of the work, considering Loïc’s throws were so unpredictable and far afield. The first time Loïc had dragged him out to do this, he’d assumed Loïc was just dicking around, but soon it became clear that no one had ever taken the time to show him how it was done. Now he seemed weirdly determined to figure out how to do it right.
“You were allowed to play outside, though?”
“With supervision. I climbed a few trees in my day, but I always had to lose the nanny first. Now, if Maman had hired me a nanny like Minnow, I would have been a very, very charming boy.” Loïc’s tone was teasing, but under that there was a note of longing that made Severin angry.
“She’s mine.”
“I know, I know. She’s yours, Rodrigo is yours. Oh, and you have Church and Ilse too. Everyone loves Severin, and Severin doesn’t share. At least, not with Loïc.” The words were sour but not vindictive.
“You had our mother and sisters.”
“Martine, who used me. Our sisters, who were mostly kept away from me.”
“What about the staff?”
“She changed them twice a year after you left.” He grimaced. “Aurelie told us the nanny you used to have and her husband, the butler, found out what happened to you and tried to have Maman arrested, but she must have paid off the police. Because of that, my childhood was a parade of strange faces – nannies, tutors. They were under strict orders not to befriend us.”
“Our father wasn’t around at all?”
“Father?” He snorted. “No. She blackmailed our fathers to keep their names secret. Wealthy, powerful men, with a need to keep their reputations intact. We’ve all been assets since our conceptions.”
“Oh.”
“Did you think we had a loving father who she kept locked away?” He snorted. “No. They probably all wished us dead, but she was a dangerous woman, so they left us alone.”
“So we’re the sons of rich men who fell into her trap?”
“Yes. Your father’s ‘support’ paid for the house you live in. Then you paid
her back what it was worth.”
Severin fumbled the ball even though Loïc’s throw was perfect.
“He did?”
“Yes. A businessman. He died three years ago. He named you as his heir, since he had no one else.”
Severin fingered the lacing on the ball, blinking as he tried to sort through this information.
“My finance manager just found the account where Martine kept the money you inherited from your father. Once the documents are signed, it will be sent to you with an accounting. She invested it, but we liquidated for you. Do you want to know your father’s name?”
“No.”
“That’s where you got the height and the build, by the way. He was quite famous. If you’re ever curious about him, there’s a lot of information online.” He gestured for Severin to throw the ball back, and he did out of habit.
It was strange how he felt almost no curiosity about his father – probably because he had no memory of him. He also had no exposure to the idea of fathers, other than Church with his kids, and what he’d seen on television. Chances were he and his sperm donor never met. He was dead now, anyway.
The moment for questions passed as a new but beat-up pickup truck and trailer rolled through the gate and up the driveway, stopping next to the bike. The man who got out looked as if he hadn’t gotten a haircut in years either. He jerked his chin at Severin and strolled over.
“You Leduc?”
“Yes.”
“Darwin. Mind if I take a look?” He gestured at the monstrosity of a motorcycle. It may or may not be street legal, but buyers knew that was a possibility beforehand and didn’t much care.