Chapter 155 155
She had asked him to let her come with them.
He refused without hesitation.
Before she could argue further, he took Mathieu and left for the hospital follow-up. She tried to reason with him, telling him it made more sense for her to stay by her brother’s side but the excuses he gave were flimsy at best. Illogical. Forced.
And now she was alone.
The house felt too big when it was quiet. The silence pressed against her ears until it felt like it was breathing down her neck.
Instead of retreating to her own room, she wandered into Damien’s.
A small smile curved her lips.
“Hi, Red. Or should I say… Coco?” she murmured as she approached the birdcage.
The bird perked up immediately, chirping as if genuinely pleased to see her.
“How are you, hon?” she asked sweetly, dropping onto the window seat beside the cage.
Coco twittered back, animated and insistent. Jacqueline nodded solemnly, as though he had just delivered a profound statement.
“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. What is wrong with him lately?” she sighed dramatically. “I know, I know, he’s brooding. He’s always brooding. But this version? Still better than that completely silent, emotionally constipated version from before.”
Coco tilted his head sharply, studying her with one bright eye before chirping again.
She huffed softly. “I think he didn’t want to be seen with me out there.”
The bird’s chirping grew louder.
“See? Even you’re mad at him,” she muttered.
Her gaze drifted to the dresser. Damien’s cologne sat there, untouched. The urge to walk over and inhale the scent was almost overwhelming.
She rolled her eyes at herself.
Pathetic.
“I miss my friends,” she confessed softly. “The idiotic pranks I used to pull with Gilles. Thérèse the walking, breathing gossip column. Laurent and that unfairly charming smile of his. And my forever-introvert nerd, Fanny.” A sad smile touched her mouth. “You haven’t met them, Coco, but they’re the best people in this world. They made me feel… normal. Happy. Even on my worst days.”
Coco pecked at his food, offering short chirps in response.
“I know they’re worried about me,” she continued. “I want to talk to them. But Damien says it’s not safe. He won’t even bring his siblings here. I’m not allowed outside. I’m trapped in this house.” Her voice edged with frustration. “It’s driving me insane. That’s why I’m here, tattling to a bird.”
Coco chirped halfheartedly now, clearly more interested in his seeds than her monologue.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t ignore me, Coco. Your master ignores me enough. You don’t need to audition for his role.”
This time the bird turned his back on her completely.
She shot him an offended glare. “Whatever,” she muttered under her breath.
“Hi.”
The deep voice sliced through the room.
Jacqueline jumped violently, nearly choking on her own breath. Her heart leapt into her throat as she swallowed down a scream.
Her eyes darted toward the doorway.
A man stood there.
Huge. Broad. Sculpted like he’d been carved out of stone. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a stretch of bronze skin. The fabric strained over his chest and arms, outlining hard muscle. And when her gaze lifted to his face—
Steel gray eyes.
Striking.
Undeniably handsome.
She inhaled sharply.
“Let me guess,” she said, lifting a brow as she stood and smoothed her clothes. “You’re related to Damien?”
One of his brows arched in return, a faintly amused smile tugging at his mouth. He leaned casually against the doorframe, but even relaxed, he radiated dominance. Not as suffocating as Damien. Not as commanding as Dominique. But dangerous all the same.
A predator in calm waters.
“Not by blood,” he replied in a deep, smooth voice. “But he’s a brother to me.”
Truthfully, most girls would have melted at the sight of him.
She didn’t.
Because to her, no one was more attractive than the brooding man who barely spared her a glance.
“I knew it,” she said lightly, stepping toward him. “So is sneaking into his house a hobby you all share?”
“We?” he echoed, clearly entertained.
“You and Dominique,” she clarified sheepishly. “You both have a habit of just appearing.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest.
“You’re funny.”
She blinked at him, mildly offended. “From which angle exactly am I funny? I’m not funny.”
He pushed off the frame and walked into the lounge, and she followed without hesitation grateful for human interaction.
“Why not?” he countered. “You didn’t ask who I was. You just assumed. For all you know, I could be a serial killer on the run.”
She froze mid-step.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw parted.
He stopped and turned to look at her expression and laughed again.
“You never know,” he added casually, leaning against the wall beside the main door.
Her gaze flicked to the door. Then back to him. Then back to the door again.
He just said he was like a brother to Damien. So how exactly did serial killer fit into that equation?
“Yeah?” she shot back, folding her arms. “Well, for all you know, I’m a psychotic demon. I might’ve already eaten one of your friends.”
A slow smirk curved her lips.
“You never know.”
He stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe her audacity.
“I like you already,” he admitted.
She rolled her eyes.
Dominique had said the same thing.
Why was it always the men she didn’t want who seemed interested? And the one she actually cared about acted like she didn’t exist?
Life had a twisted sense of humor.
“Anyway,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s your name?”
He straightened slightly, steel-gray eyes steady on hers.
“Alexandre Mercier.”