Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“He what?” I stumbled back. “No, he—”
“I don’t think he realises it himself yet, and I’m pretty sure he’d do whatever it took to prove otherwise, but…I think we could use him to get free…if you think he’s trustworthy.”
Loves me?
Ha!
My insides tangled at the thought.
Henri was many things. Kind in a dangerous way. Protective in a monstrous way. Messed up in every way. He couldn’t even say my name anymore. Couldn’t look at me, talk to me, touch me…
They’re wrong.
If anything, his unwillingness to have anything to do with love was the reason he was here in the first place. Even the offer of staying with him in the outside world wouldn’t be enough to make him rejoin it.
“What if he doesn’t agree?” I asked quietly. “What if he’s loyal to Victor and merely waiting for him to return?”
Rachel shook her head. “I think he’s loyal to you.”
“That’s a lot of thinking, Rach.” Mollie sighed heavily. “Know what I think? I think you’ve read too many romance novels.”
“No. I just have eyes.” Rachel sniffed. “I haven’t been immune to feelings in this place. Crap, a year into being Victor’s favourite, I truly thought I was falling for him. So yes, I admit I might not be the best judge of character. And bringing Henri into our little operation could backfire, but…you both said we need as many hands as possible. And I agree. The workload is immense. I want out of here before I’m seventy-five, so…we have to be prepared to use everything and everyone we can.”
Goosebumps scattered down my arms.
I hung my head, a confession springing free. “I admit it’s crossed my mind to ask him. It’s on the tip of my tongue every night when he looks so tormented and tragic, but…he hasn’t said much of anything to me since the night of Emerald Bruises. Each time I try to talk to him, he ignores me and acts as if he can’t stand me. Whatever you think you saw between us is over and—”
My throat closed up.
God, that hurt.
Admitting that all the cold rebuffs and lack of intimacy hadn’t been because he was sinking into places I couldn’t go but perhaps because he no longer felt anything for me.
“Test him out tonight,” Rachel murmured.
“Test him out?” I squeaked. “How?”
“Seduce him.” Rachel leaned closer. “Give him whatever he likes and make him confess how he feels about you. Depending on his answer, tell him what we’re planning or don’t. We trust you to make the call.”
I shivered. “And what if he doesn’t react the way we hope? What if the man who tried to protect us no longer exists?”
Mollie shrugged. “Then he’ll die with the rest of them.”
My entire body flinched.
We all paused for a long moment, mulling over our separate tasks.
Finally, I whispered, “I know we said we’d try to blow this place up while Victor and the Masters are gone, but…we’re nowhere near ready…are we?”
Mollie shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.” Her eyes glinted. “But…Christmas is always quiet here. Most of the Masters go back to spend the holidays with families and oblivious little children. Victor will probably be in residence, and I would very, very much like to kill him so…if we plan our siege for around then, we’ll stand the best chance.”
My mind raced.
I’d been here a month.
It’d been the end of June when I’d gone to Paris with Sam.
That means it’s August.
“So we have four months?” My throat closed up at the thought of enduring another four months in this place.
Then again, Peter had endured five years. Rachel three. Mollie who knew how long.
I could handle four months.
As long as we don’t get caught.
If everything goes to plan, we’ll be free in sixteen weeks.
And if you’re not?
I shut off that thought immediately.
Failure was not an option.
This Christmas, Victor would receive a present he never saw coming. A firework display explosive enough to burn his entire island down. And if luck was on our side and karma kept us safe, he’d never go hunting for jewels again.
* * * * *
“Have you asked him yet?” Peter murmured.
I nibbled on a piece of apricot shortcake May had given us when we’d huddled in the larder’s shadow four days later. Just Rachel, Peter, and me today. Mollie was busy making wicks in the slave quarters, hidden under her covers. Faiza had managed to sneak in three bottles of bleach, some pool chlorine, two bottles of pesticide, and even a bag of fertilizer pellets, courtesy of Willem, the gardener.
Our supplies were carefully tucked behind all the pasta, flour, and sugar boxes in the larder.
Peter leaned against the wall, his bandage-wrapped hands not as thick as that first day but still a nuisance. Passing him a napkin to protect his bandages, I gave him the rest of my shortcake.
He gave me a soft smile.