Ménage Material [La Belle sans la Bete Ménages] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (39 page)

It was far worse than she’d imagined, because this meant the blackmailer had something over them. They would have no choice but to dance to his tune in order to protect and shelter Alex.

She sagged against the flowery sofa, staring almost blindly into the fireplace. Antoinette’s sobs echoed around the room, throbbing through her in a way that made her heart pump angrily.

How dare she cry?

What right did she have?

She was as much a monster as her partner. How dare she shed tears when she was guilty? How dare she cry when she let her baby be used in such a way?

“I just wanted his attention,” the older woman whispered, almost imploringly.

Sickness flooded Devvy. “What? Your partner’s?” she sneered. “You thought the way to get it was to sell your little boy out?”

Antoinette shook her head from side to side. The pace so fast, the pins supporting her bun fell out. “No. Alex’s.”

Devvy sighed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“No one had to know. No one ever had to know. But he wouldn’t visit. When he does, he’s mean. He leaves almost immediately. I can’t visit him. He won’t let me.

“I’m only allowed to see him when he schedules me in. That’s not right! I’m his mother,” she cried. “I had to do something. I want to see my son. I have a right!”

Devvy growled. “You lost that right the day you condoned Alex’s abuse. How can you even speak like that? After what you’ve done. Why aren’t you ashamed of yourself? How the hell can you even bear to look at him, knowing what you let happen to him?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Antoinette almost pleaded.

“No, it wasn’t,” Devvy agreed. “But the first time you knew something was wrong and you did nothing to stop it,
that
was your fault. The minute you knew and let it carry on, you took as much of the blame for all this as that perverted bastard.

“You’re lucky Alex even visits you at all, never mind bitching about wanting more attention! Well, I guess yesterday’s disaster was the last time you’ll be seeing him.” She took great relish out of laughing and seeing the other woman’s suffering. “The minute I tell him you were involved, that you actually knew what he was going through, that’s the last you’ll see of him.”

A wildness overcame Antoinette. It reminded Devvy of yesterday, when over nothing, she’d suddenly converged on her poor maid and start yelling at her in French. “You can’t do that. You mustn’t do that!”

“Just give me one reason why not,” Devvy sneered at her, feeling her upper lip curl with repulsion at the other woman’s desperation.

“I’ll go to the papers. I have contacts now. I know who to send the information to.”

For a second, Devvy wasn’t entirely sure what she was hearing.

But the statement, “I have contacts now,” suddenly started revolving around her mind.

“You’re the blackmailer,” Devvy said in a breath, astonishment clouding her tone. She jumped up, filled with energy again. It took every ounce of her control to not grip the woman’s throat with her bare hands and squeeze the life out of her! “You fucking bitch. You would send that kind of information to the press? About your own son?”

“I can’t lose him!” Antoinette yelled.

“You lost him the day you condoned him being raped!”

She flinched and drew back. “You can’t tell him. If you do, I swear to God, I’ll go to the press. Everyone will know. This rests in your hands.”

Devvy sucked in a breath. “I’d prefer the entire world know Alex’s secrets than let him come near you again. And I’m sure he’ll agree.

“You sell your secrets to the press. We won’t be held ransom by a sick bitch like you.”

With that, she made to walk past and go on her way. She needed to get out of this room, of this apartment, of the goddamn building. Just being close to Antoinette made her feel like she was standing in toxic territory. As though she were breathing in the sickness in the other woman’s soul.

As she neared her, Antoinette reached for her arm, gripped tight, and with a surprising amount of strength, pulled her to a halt. “You mustn’t tell him,” she muttered feverishly.

“I’ll do whatever I goddamn want,” Devvy spat. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll feel no remorse in slapping you. It will give me the excuse I need.”

“You mustn’t tell!” Antoinette screeched.

Out of nowhere, a long pin appeared in her hand. Devvy recognized it as one of the chopsticks used to keep her bun in place. Antoinette pointed it at her, wielding it as though she were wielding a knife.

At that moment, Devvy realized two things.

One, she could easily overcome Antoinette.

Two, she could let Antoinette hurt her and use whatever injury she incurred as a valid excuse for self-defense. The idea of doing the woman serious damage was infinitely appealing.

Then, Antoinette’s arm was crashing down and her thoughts fled. As Devvy raised an arm to shield herself from the other woman’s aim, she realized it wouldn’t be as easy to overcome her as she’d thought.

Antoinette’s strength had Devvy groaning with effort as she grabbed her shoulder and tried to push her away. When that didn’t work, she shoved with one hand and with the other, slammed it down with a knife-hand blow. When the side of her palm connected with the other woman’s head, smacking her ear with as much force as she could, the bitch staggered back, arm still raised, pin still pointed down. Looking like something out of the Hitchcock movie she’d mentioned to Sebastien that morning.

Hand ringing with pain, Devvy stared at Alex’s mother and she had to withhold the urge to laugh. The scene definitely channeled Hitchcock, with a bit Tom and Jerry thrown in.

What the hell Antoinette thought she could do with a hair chopstick was beyond Devvy. She decided not to find out.

As soon as Antoinette had backed off, Devvy reached for her cell and did the only thing she could do.

Call the police.

It felt pathetic calling in the
gendarmes
for what, essentially, was a bitch fight. But Devvy knew if she didn’t do it, Antoinette would, and the older woman would give it a whole different slant.

She would have probably put all the blame on Devvy, making up some bullcrap about how Devvy had been the aggressor.

As it was, she knew when the police did arrive, she’d have to be cautious. Antoinette could fill them with her poison and she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.

Shit, it really was time she learned French.

And not just pidgin French, a smattering of words that enabled her to say
urgent
and then an address. The whole nine yards. She vowed to one day talk stocks and shares with Bastien, discuss cancer research with Alex, and finally talk dirty to the pair of them.

Resolution made, she called Alex. He was the only one who could control Antoinette. After today, she made another resolution. This was the last time mother and son would see each other.

Discovering Antoinette was the one behind the blackmail attempts changed the situation. Alex needn’t know Bastien and Devvy were aware of his past. She knew she’d try to protect him from that truth as much as she could, hoping that one day, he’d share it with her in his own words, and at his own pace.

Knowing that his mother had tried to hold them hostage with threats would hopefully be enough to cut the ties between Alex and Antoinette.

If not, then she’d have to think of something.

She refused to let him have any relationship with the sick bitch.

“Alex?” she snapped as soon as he answered the phone. “I need you to come to your mother’s apartment.”

“Devvy? My mother’s flat? What the hell for?”

“She’s the one blackmailing us, Alex. She just admitted it to me.”

Silence pounded down the line. “You’re joking.”

“No. I’m not. I wish I was. She just came after me with a hair pin, for God’s sake. I don’t know what she was trying to do, just shut me up, I suppose. I’ve called the police and I need you to come here and handle her.” Devvy eyed the woman who was still clutching her head and sobbing brokenly on the sofa. She refused to feel pity. Even though it was hard.

Alex cleared his throat. “Y–You mean you want me to come over there? Actually
go
.”

Devvy sucked in a breath and begged for patience. “I know it’s hard, Alex. But you’ll have to. I need you to speak to the police for me. God only knows what she’ll say.
She
came after
me
, but if she talks to them first, it will probably be the other way around, and I’ll be the one being cautioned!”

More silence. This time, throbbing with Alex’s panic.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Alex. Baby, you can do this. It’s just like yesterday. You did it then and you can do it now.” Her eyes flickered open as the sofa fabric creaked. Antoinette was moving, away from her, thank God, and toward the drinks tray.

“Please, darling. I need you.”

Devvy watched as the other woman nearly filled a glass full of brandy and began to sip it as though she were drinking water.

A quivery breath sounded in her ear. “I’m on my way.”

“Thank you.”

His chuckle was self-deprecatory. And to be fair, more of a groan than a laugh. “You shouldn’t be thanking me. I should be there. I—I’m going to try,
chérie.
I’ll do my best, and I don’t want to let you down, but call Bastien. Just in case. Please.”

She didn’t want to call Sebastien. She wanted to rely on Alex, but knew she couldn’t. Not yet. Not with his past still completely unresolved and directly affecting his day-to-day life.

There would be time in the future, time to get him the help he needed, with support from two people who couldn’t love him more if they tried.

“I will. Either way, if you can manage it or not, I have faith in you, Alex.”

She disconnected the call not wanting to put him under more pressure, yet hoping like hell he’d make it here. Pressing her speed dial for Bastien’s office, she waited for him to pick up. As she waited, she continued to stare at Antoinette. Not trusting this sudden placidness.

Her eyes trained on the other woman’s spine as she stared out of the balcony window, she murmured when Bastien answered, “Do you know where Alex’s mother lives? Exactly, I mean.”

“Yes. Do you need the address? I take it you’re going to confront her?”

She snorted. “Consider the confrontation done. She attacked me with a hair clip! But I’ve called the police to stop her from telling them a whole different story. I need you to come here and translate for me.” A few months ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of making such a demand. Asking Bastien to leave the office? To help her? Never!

Stunned silence was her reply and then a flurry of French. She heard
merde
repeated quite a few times and totally agreed. This was a shitty situation.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you. Stay safe. Don’t break any laws to get here. It’s not worth it. Alex is on the way, or at least, he’s trying.”

“Good. If he can make it, then all the better. If not, we can cope.”

Before she put the phone down, she said, “By the way, I’ve discovered our blackmailer.”

Another bout of French curses. She vowed, once again, to understand those goddamn swear words if it was the last thing she did!

When he eventually spoke in English, his voice was grim. “Ten minutes.”

The second she tucked her phone back into her pocket, Devvy was immediately on edge. Antoinette had turned around to face her. It was strange looking at the completely ordinary woman and feeling as though the woman she was seeing didn’t look right.

She should look evil. Insane. Crazy and disturbed.

It was like she was wearing a mask of normalcy, now. Devvy kept on expecting to see the Mr. Hyde side of her personality again. The nut job who wielded a hair accessory as though it were a dagger.

“You did not tell my son.”

Her statement could only be about one thing. Devvy shrugged. “It’s not something I feel comfortable discussing over the phone.”

Antoinette shook her head, and Devvy was disturbed to see hope glinting in the woman’s eyes. “You won’t tell him. Not if you love him.”

She sounded so sure, Devvy wanted to slap her for having read the situation so well. Although, maybe not well. After all, what woman in their right mind wanted to be the one to tell their loved one they knew they’d been abused as a child? What woman wanted to say their lover’s mother had known all along?

It was hardly happy news!

And Alex was, in so many ways, so strong and stubborn. So proud.

It was how he’d dragged himself from the horrors of his past and made himself into one of the world’s leading cytologists.

It took guts to do that. Pride and ego.

He had phobias and flaws, personality quirks that were head-scratching and fears so deeply entrenched they made her want to weep, but he’d risen above them.