Breaking the Beast (Seven Ways to Sin 5)

At once, the men fell quiet, and turned to look at me. “None of you need to come with me,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own.” I looked at Jacques, and if he saw the hurt in my eyes, it didn’t show in his face. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Martin, but I have to go now. If you could call me a car, I would appreciate it. I don’t believe I’ll be coming back.”

“Isabel —” Isiah began, but I shook my head.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Jacques is right, he needs you. If that means he can’t spare even one of you, even for a day, even to help a friend — well.” I cut myself off. It didn’t matter. I had thought that Jacques and I were making progress, that he was coming to trust me, but I could see now that he was still afraid. I didn’t know if he would ever not allow that fear to rule his life.

Jacques’ jaw was set, he wouldn’t meet my eye. Fury blazed in Étienne’s eyes.

“I’m coming with you,” Raphael said, impassioned. “I don’t care what he says.”

I shook my head. “You should stay,” I said. Hurt as I was, as much as I desired a friend for company, I knew that if any of the men came with me, Jacques would never allow them back. I couldn’t break up such a tightly knit group, it wouldn’t be right.

“Vincent,” Jacques said, his face and voice unreadable. “Call the lady a cab.”

For a moment, Vincent looked as if he might argue. Finally, he snapped his mouth shut and nodded once, brusquely, and left the room.

“Thank you,” I said, but Jacques said nothing, only stalked away from the room, leaving a chill in his wake.

“Right,” I said, snapping back into action. “I need to pack quickly, if I’m going to be ready to go when my car gets here. Will you all help me?”

Quietly, the remaining men helped me to gather my belongings. Anger crackled in the air, but none of them said a word as we packed.

Before long, Vincent returned to announce that my car had arrived. I thanked him and looked around at the rest of the men. “Walk me out?” I asked.

It was Bernard who found his voice first. “Of course,” he said.

We walked to the front door as a group, Vincent and Raphael carrying my suitcases. None of us said a word until we reached the door, when I looked around, suddenly at a loss for words.

“I don’t know how to thank you all,” I said finally. “This has been truly an incredible experience.”

“This isn’t right,” Raphael said, his voice trembling with anger. “Isabel shouldn’t be alone. We should be going with her.”

The others nodded in agreement, but I shook my head. “Jacques needs you more than I do,” I said. “Take care of him, please.”

Bernard nodded. “Always,” he said, his voice choked.

I embraced and kissed each of them, head held high. I kept waiting for Jacques to come to say his goodbyes, but he didn’t appear.

It wasn’t until I was safely ensconced in the town car, on my way back to the city that I allowed my tears to flow freely.

20

Jacques

Up in the aviary, I had a perfect view of the scene unfolding in the drive. One by one, Isabel hugged and kissed each of the men. I couldn’t hear their voices, but I could imagine what they were saying. They were all furious with me, and rightly so. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all refused to speak to me, as if the hurt I’d seen in Isabel’s eyes hadn’t been punishment enough.

I watched, unblinking, as Isabel climbed into the town car and was carried away. I didn’t turn from the window until long after the taillights had disappeared from view. When I finally looked away, I slumped against the cold stone of the wall, trying to find comfort in the gentle, sleepy cooing of the birds around me, but comfort was nowhere to be found.

What was wrong with me? A real man would have dropped everything to go with her, to be there for her in her time of need. But just the thought of leaving castle grounds, of stepping out into the world once again, made my chest feel tight and constricted, my breathing labored. I would have been no use to her out there, I was pathetic.

In my mind’s eye, I saw the flash of the paparazzi’s cameras illuminating the disgust on Agatha’s face that final night. She had seen me for what I was, and sooner or later, Isabel would have, too. In the end, they all found out the truth: that I was weak, pathetic, the broken shell of a man. Isabel had seen that tonight. I couldn’t blame her for not returning.