Breaking the Beast (Seven Ways to Sin 5)

When I’d purchased this castle, people had dismissed it as a symptom of my downward spiral, the final sign that I had really gone ‘round the bend. And maybe I had, but I had never regretted my castle. Set far apart from the hustle and bustle of the city, the large, sprawling grounds ensured that I was never bothered. I could walk for hours without leaving my property. The castle was my sanctuary, the only place I felt truly safe. And when I was at my lowest, it was here for me, as well as all of my closest friends.

I remembered that last, horribly night with Agatha, when she had screamed at me, listed all my faults, told me I was unlovable. All caught on camera by paparazzi, who followed me everywhere in those days, eager to document my steady fall from grace. I had stumbled home and drunk myself into a stupor that lasted I don’t know how many days. When I finally sobered up, I knew it was time to ask for help, or I was probably going to drink myself to death, or worse. There was only one person I could call: Bernard, my closest friend since childhood. We hadn’t spoken in some time by then, but nevertheless, he came almost immediately. He called Vincent, and together they put together a household staff of discrete, reliable men. The six of them had gotten me sober, kept me sane, protected me from myself and from the media. I owed them my life and more.

When I’d retired, people had predicted that I would go broke, that the wrestling money would run out, and I would be forced to reemerge with my tail between my legs and start doing commercials for home gym equipment to keep the lights on. And maybe I would have, if not for Bernard. Bernard, always good with numbers, had stepped in to act as my business manager once I started making real money. He had helped with my initial investments until we discovered, to both of our surprise, that I had a knack for investment. Now, I handled all of my investments myself, and my wealth had only grown over the years. I was picky, only investing my money in businesses that I deemed sound both economically and ethically.

Through the window, I watched a peacock spread his impressive tail feathers and strut across the grounds. To the west, a small pond reflected the bright reds and oranges of the setting sun. Dinner must have ended already, because I spotted Alexandre pushing a wheelbarrow full of mulch towards the gardens, followed by Raphael, who had taken the dogs out for their evening exercise. We had created our own little community here; a tightly knit band of brothers, dependent on no one but ourselves. Why would we want to jeopardize what we had built? Just for some companionship?

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice behind me said, and I whirled towards it, dropping into a defensive stance.

“Woah, woah,” Étienne said, hands raised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me come in.”

My heart was still pounding in my chest, and I placed my hand to it, willing my breath to slow, for the blood to stop rushing through my ears.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring Étienne’s apology.

“I came to talk to you,” he said. “We were all concerned for you.”

“I’m fine,” I said shortly.

Étienne came to stand beside me and was quiet for a moment as he gazed out the window. “I’ve made arrangements for the journalist to come interview you,” he said finally.

“Damn it, Étienne—” I began, but he raised his voice to speak over me.

“You don’t have to agree to anything right now, but she is coming. I think it will be good for you to at least do the interview.” I was silent. “I have a good feeling about her, Jacques. She won’t be like the other girl.”

“They’re all the same,” I said quietly.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Étienne said. “I made a mistake before, with Bridget. It was a bad call, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try again. Please, at least give it a try.”

“I don’t want anyone else here,” I said. “I don’t want anyone to see me. What if I—like before?”

Étienne didn’t ask for clarification. He knew what I was afraid of. “We won’t let it happen,” he said. “Not this time.”

I was silent for a long moment, and Étienne didn’t try to push me. “Why do you care so much?” I asked finally.

“Because I’m worried about you,” Étienne said. “We all are. It’s not healthy for you to lock yourself away like this. It’s time to start reconnecting with the outside world.”

“Are you sure it’s not you who wants to reconnect?” I asked.