Page 53 of The Butcher

I did the same to her. “You look beautiful, Mother.”

“Thank you, son.” She moved to the edge of the couch, and her butler stepped in to pour two cups of tea—even though she knew I didn’t drink the piss.

Her butler excused himself, and we were left alone together.

With her ankles crossed like the Princess of Wales, she held her saucer and sipped her tea. The scones were left untouched because she hardly ate to remain as thin as she was. She only offered food to be polite. She returned the saucer to the table. “How are things, Bastien?”

I hated small talk. “The same. How’s the country house coming along?”

“Ugh, one of the pipes broke, and there was a terrible flood. Delayed the renovation quite a bit.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“There are worse things,” she said. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

She always asked me this because she was interested in continuing the family line, not because she cared about my happiness. I didn’t answer the question, not wanting to discuss my relationship with Fleur, not because I wanted to hide it—but protect it. “No.”

“Bastien, you’re in your thirties now?—”

“I didn’t come here to discuss how disappointing my personal life is.”

Her hands came together on her knees, giving me that shrewd look packed with more intelligence than any person should have—especially your mother. “I know what you came here to discuss, and my answer hasn’t changed.”

I gave a slight shake of my head. “How can you protect him?”

“I don’t protect him. I protect you both.”

My temper flared right away, furious that I had to have this conversation for the millionth time. “He’s vile—and you fucking know it.”

She didn’t react to my rage. Didn’t react when one of her guards stepped into the room to check on her well-being. Her eyes moved to him, and she gave a slight nod to dismiss him. As if I would ever hurt my mother. “Tell me where he is.”

She held my gaze with the stillness of a statue. She answered my question with silence.

“How can you possibly support someone like him?”

“I never said I did.”

“Then support me, and tell me where the fuck he is.”

She gave a slight shake of her head. “When you become a parent, you sign a contract with infinite terms and agreements. And those terms and agreements bind you to love your child unconditionally, whether they become the president of France or take a seat on murderers’ row. It doesn’t matter whether I agree or disagree with his actions or yours. I love you both with all my heart. I will not betray him—and I will not betray you either.”

“Has he asked you how to find me?”

“No.” She didn’t blink, didn’t react to the question, like it was the truth. “You’re the one who seeks him, not the other way around. You have differences that can’t be resolved. As much as I’d like to have my sons under the same roof on Christmas, I understandthat’s simply not possible. If you can’t come to an agreement, then live in peace—separately.”

“He traffics innocent women.” I did my best to keep my voice low, but my anger seeped out. “Do you understand that? Most of these girls aren’t even seventeen years old.They’re fucking children. Based on their appearance, they’re either sent to whorehouses or sent to work assembling guns or packing drugs. This is your city, the greatest city on earth. And this is how you want your city to operate? We’re the City of Light, not the City of Darkness.”

She had no reaction to that, her face straight and her eyes dead.

“You have nothing to say?” I snapped.

She blinked, and that was it.

I sat back in the armchair and sighed as I dragged my hand down my face, the frustration burning the tips of my fingers. My mother was the one connection I had to him, but I couldn’t force her to surrender information, and not just to abide by the code. “Then I ask you to arrange a meeting with the two of us. No guns. No men.”

She continued her hard stare, having a better poker face than any man.

“Just a conversation.”

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