“I’ll be out of the house a lot—mostly nights.”
“I thought you were a contractor?”
“Not anymore.” A slow sigh escaped his lips, his eyes annoyed.
“Oh…” Now I understood. “That was the only way Bartholomew would help you.”
“Yes.”
I gave a nod even though he didn’t look at me. “I’m sorry.”
“I left that life to keep Claire safe…and now I’m back where I started.” His palms started to slide past each other again. “I can’t keep it from her. The older she gets, the more she’ll understand. I want her to look at me the way she does right now…forever. But she’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for doing whatever is necessary to protect your child.”
His eyes flicked to me, hostile.
“I…I didn’t mean anything—”
“Don’t rationalize my actions. I’m a top-tier criminal. I kill people. And I do worse than that. I failed as a father. If I hadn’t, I would have gotten her back myself.”
My eyes winced at his self-destructive narrative.
His eyes moved back to the fire. “Now it’s just the two of us. I can’t be in two places at once, so I need someone to care for her when I’m away. I trust that you’ll keep her safe in my absence.”
“Of course. But…what about Beatrice?”
Still. Quiet. Formidable. He didn’t move or speak, but it was somehow obvious how angry he was at the question. “She’s joining her family in London.”
“Like…permanently?”
He didn’t answer—but that was an answer in itself.
“Why would she do that? I’ll talk to her—”
“Don’t bother. She’s a piece-of-shit mom anyway. It’s better to have one parent who actually gives a damn than a mom who still wishes she’d never had her.”
“She…she said that?”
Again, no answer.
Our time in Hell had been a challenge for everyone—but it was especially hard for Beatrice. It rewired her brain, scarred her physically and emotionally. She confessed that being a mother wasn’t her calling, and after everything that had happened, she was probably even less suited for the role. It still hurt…because Claire was the sweetest little girl ever. “I’m so sorry.”
“Tried to change her mind. Don’t want Claire to feel abandoned. But having a ghost of a parent…is worse than losing them altogether. Made my peace with it. Hope that Claire can too.”
After everything she’d just been through, losing Beatrice would probably be traumatic. She didn’t deserve it. But Benton was right. Having a parent who resented you every day wasn’t a good environment for a child. “She has you, and you’re more than enough, Benton.”
His eyes flicked to mine. No hostility. No anger. Just a long and poignant stare.
I meant what I said. Despite his criminal participation, he was the father of the year. I’d never seen anyone love their child the way he loved her. He had the emotional spectrum of a concrete wall—but that wall came down for her.
21
Constance
“Benton said you’re leaving.” I had my own bedroom close to Claire’s, on the second floor, on the opposite side of the apartment from Benton’s bedroom. It was a beautiful home, and calling it an apartment didn’t really do it justice. The moldings, the hardwood floors, the ambient lighting…it felt like a palace. It was a lot of space for just a man and his daughter, but it was in a beautiful neighborhood in Paris, close to the good schools, the best cafés that were just a short walk away. I’d never experienced luxury like this, from the soft sheets, the designer furniture in my bedroom, a private bathroom that was bigger than my entire apartment. I even had a small sitting area in front of my balcony.
That was where we sat now.
Beatrice was across from me on the couch, not touching the glass of wine I’d poured for her. Claire was asleep. Benton was in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, the darkness pressing up against the windows. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay longer? I mean…it’s only been a few days.”
Her eyes were just as defeated as they were in our cabin, like she was still trapped in those four walls, like freedom hadn’t touched her fingertips. “I need to get out of here. I hate this place.”
“They aren’t going to come after you—”
“I could never work in that theatre again. I could never go back to my old apartment. I could never… I just need a change of scenery. My parents are anxious for me to be home, and I’m ready for a fresh start.”
“That’s all understandable…but what about Claire?” I knew Beatrice had more strength than this. I’d seen the way she held Claire close, the way she stroked her hair, the way she cared. I’d seen it with my own eyes.
She looked out the window. “We both know I’m not cut out to be a mom…”
“No one is. It’s a hard job—”