Chapter 134: Chapter 134

“So, where did you go?”

Denis stretched his legs, leaning back from his forward position. “Maman,” he pleaded. “It has been a long day. Let’s not do this.”

Shreya sighed. “So let me ask you plainly .”

Denis could not help but flash a smirk at her forwardness. Dear father would roll in his grave had he heard her utter such horrid words.

“You’re a dutiful Head, but at times your mind is elsewhere.”

The exhausted blonde was not ready for this conversation. He still needed to think. The box labelled Ravi locked in his mind. Just acknowledging the raven-haired lad made his heart clench familiarly, hand wrecked with a slight tremble. Nothing could bring his defences down like Ravi.

“A couple of months ago, I was a student. Now, I’m running this House together with you and Mr. Lay. It’s no wonder my mind wanders. I did have friends I left behind.”

She pursed her lips. Letting him see the hint of disbelief. “You’re still a student. Next month you have to go back to Harvard to take your exams.” Her hair slipped over her shoulder like a white waterfall as she cocked her head. “I’m not blaming you, mon petit chéri. I just want you to know that I’m here. Whatever troubles you, talk to me.”

He put his knuckle in his eye, rubbing thoroughly. He had wanted to talk to her, had he not? About Ravi and him and how they might be unconventional, but even so, they fit. Like two halves of a whole, he and Ravi just fit. If only he could be sure.

Playing rugby was Ravi’s dream. Not trudging after Denis around the globe, disconnected from everything he knew of: his team, his friends. It would be a disservice, would it not? To expect Ravi to give up so much for them to stand a fighting chance.

He allowed his Maman to capture his gaze, silver meeting a pale blue. “When father took over as Head, was it hard?”

Shreya leaned back in her chair, taking another sip. She was the kind of lady who always looked regal. The way she managed to look refined, swirling the wine in her mouth before swallowing, was proof of that. She’d taught him well growing up, how to walk through the world showing nothing but poise.

“I supported him, of course.” A small smile plucked at her lips. “He was quite overwhelmed at first. But he had had your grandfather to teach him, and Mr. Lay, of course.”

“You were still attending university, right?”

She bent her head, agreeing. “Yes, your father had a few years on me, as you know. I put my studies on hold. We tore through the world like a storm for a few years, just enough until the House regained stability.”

There was a stone in his belly. “A few years ...”

Her eyes flashed with pain for a brief beat. “I’m sorry, Denis. It seems to be a curse. Every time a new Arnold takes over, the House is drowning. Sometimes I think I should have seen the signs.” Her faltering smile twisted. “Your father could not keep up with business in the end. The pile had grown high. I should have known something was not right.”

“I talked to him too,” Denis thought of a stern voice commanding respect, but also, he thought of a warm voice brimming with love. “He always seemed strong. I didn’t even think he was feeling weak.”

“Qui. Not even I could see his heart faltering. He was always good at pretending.”

Silence settled, the only sound a few cracks from the charred wood in the great fireplace on the other side of the room. Thomas had lit the fire earlier, the room a few degrees hotter than what was the norm, just to appease the Chileans.

The blonde tried to stay present in the tasting room, refusing to get drawn into his head and lose himself in the doubts clawing his insides raw. He feared he was failing.

Would it take years, really? To get his father’s business (now his business) cleaned up? To stabilise the House and set a course forward that promised prosperity? Thinking of the horrifying backlog left at his father’s work desk, Denis feared a few years might be too kind an assessment.

It was not the first time he wished to put his fists in his hair and scream. But his Maman was in front of him, her dark dress a constant reminder of the space his father had left behind, of the legacy Denis needed to carry. He might not have wanted the Head of House position, but he had it. It was impossible to forsake it. Instead, dreams of normalcy had to die. The vision of stretching his wings had to be buried. Invisible shackles lined his wrists, and he did not have time to cry about it.

They kept talking, his Maman poking at his defences with a well-manicured finger. She asked about university, about his friends (the word drawn out intentionally: frieeends ), listening as he dodged her prodding by telling her of Augustine and Renea, Greg and Sherlock. With glittering eyes, she retold tales of her own university days, something easy settling between them as they sipped their wine and told stories of old.

The slight buzz of alcohol made the dark corner of Denis’s mind appear brighter (his Maman's chuckling added to the strobe of light). He should not have been surprised as she managed to arrive at the subject of rugby. She was a dangerous conversationalist, even to her own son.

“Yeah, they’re huge right now. The Griffins.” Denis’s face felt hot. He'd better stop drinking. He couldn’t afford to be anything as awful as sloppy. “They beat that German team… Drumstrang.”

Shreya huffed. “I always considered rugby quite…” Her nose scrunched up. “Brutal. A sport for the unwashed masses. The kind of entertainment watched with the hope of someone bleeding.”

The ease was gone. The room felt as warm as an icebox. “Mother. I quite like rugby.”

Her slim hand waved back and forth, like she was trying to whiff away the tension. He wasn’t quite sure how, but she somehow managed. “None of that, Denis. Just saying my piece. You’re perfectly capable of disagreeing. God knows the King does.”