Page 10 of Blind Devotion
With a hesitant look, Erel shrugged off his coat. Alizé snatched it up, only to place it gently over the woman.
“Oy, that’s cashmere.”
“You can afford it.”
“What did she say to you?” Thibault voiced my exact question. This wasn’t like our sister, a woman who trusted others even less than I did.
“Adrien. What are your plans for her?” Her tone was hard as she stared up at me with fierce determination. “Adrien, I need to know.”
I raised an eyebrow. She knew me enough to know what my silence meant.
“No,” Alizé said firmly. She stood up with purpose, the silk of her gown now creased. “No, drop her off at a hospital in Saint-Tropez if you want, but not that. You’ll regret it.”
Those words dragged out between us, words no one dared say to me. I caught her arm as she stomped past me.
“This isn’t up for discussion.”
“She deserves better.”
“How do you reason that?”
I squeezed her arm tighter to stop the tirade already forming in her eyes. She shook her head. “I won’t let you do this. For her sake, and for yours. You can’t hurt her. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do.”
“What did she tell you?” I growled.
She expertly twisted her arm out of my grip. “Sometimes you can be such an idiot.”
“Careful.”
“You can be the big man all you want. But as your older sister, it’s my duty to make sure you don’t regret your lack of foresight. This is me doing that.”
With a pat to my chest, she sauntered past us, through the double doors that led upstairs to the dining lounge.
“Stay with her.” I pointed between Erel and the unconscious woman, then I stomped after my sister.
“I’m usually the one to earn that look on your face,” Thibault said, keeping stride with me.
I grunted. “You both earn your share.”
“You know, she’s not impulsive,” he added.
“Doesn’t mean she’s right.”
“Yes, a victim of a shipwreck.” Alizé’s voice crept through the hallway from behind the closed door ahead. “The poor woman is resting now. I can reassure you all, she will be provided the best care possible.”
Alizé’s words coaxed her audience. With a shove, the doors to the dining room clacked open against the bar. A stool skidded aside. Dozens upon dozens of eyes swam my way, their gazes plucking at my skin. Dresses glittered against the candlelight from the table centerpieces, while perfume cloyed the air in a riot of smells.
“Adrien, right on time,” Alizé announced with overdone panache. “I was just about to make your announcement to our guests. We thank you all for your precious support this afternoon, especially concerning this gruesome event. My brother, Adrien De Villier, CEO of DV Bank and Holdings, ever the philanthropist, has made the solemn promise to care for the young woman who clutched our hull for dear life.”
Gaudy applause filled the room. My jaw clenched. My fingers itched to pry out my knife and stab through the nearest dining table.
‘You think this is a joke?’I mouthed to my sister.
“If you would please raise your glasses.”
She winked at me, then grabbed a flute of champagne and raised it high.
“To my brother and DV Bank and Holdings.”
