I toyed with the makeup on the vanity. “Am I late?”
“No,” she said, reaching for the hairbrush besides me. “We need to talk.”
Okay, those were four words I’d never heard come out of her mouth.
I nodded, not sure what else to say. Not that she needed permission. She didn’t even ask before she poked and prodded my naked body while it was on a scale.
“I did not want to have this talk with you, but I think it is time.” She reached over and reverently lifted the black wig from its holder.
She touched a wig with more compassion than she’d ever touched me. I hadn’t been hugged since my mom left me. I was, what…eleven or twelve? From my guess, I’d been here over ten years. Not even a happy birthday. And it was hard to forget. I’d been born on Valentine’s Day, which was why mom had given me the middle name Valentina.
Don’t keep thinking about mom. Don’t keep thinking about mom.
Régine was getting that look in her eyes. Like she could turn into a rat and sneak inside of my head to shred my memories. I looked away from her to the side. I could still see her, though, caressing the hair of the wig.
“Henri was your father, you knew that?”
My eyes crashed with hers through the mirror.
“No,” I breathed.
She made a disbelieving sound. It sounded like a rat “clicking” its teeth. “You had to know. You have his eyes.”
I looked at myself in the mirror, expecting to see them. All I got was silver orbs. I knew what she was talking about, though. His eyes were mine. At least, the color of them was. “I mean.” I fumbled with words, my hands picking up and setting down the makeup anxiously. “I thought, maybe…”
She waved a hand. “He was your father, and he had an affair with your mother.”
Duh,I wanted to say, but kept it in. As far as I knew,allher husbands had affairs on her. But she’d never shared with me like this before, and I was curious. Feeling a little breathless too. What if my mom had come back for me, and she was about to tell me that?
“Do you know of the name Olivier Nemours?”
I did. Ivan the Stupid used to call Olivier “Olivier the Stupid”for leading the family to ruin, even though Ivan reaped the benefits of it. The Nemours and the Russians had been brought together by whatever had happened with Olivier over that dancer. Before Olivier started a war, the Nemours did things their way. But after, it seemed like the family decided to partner up with the Russians. Sometimes Ivan would lapse into English. He’d gotten comfortable with me. Though he spoke his native tongue plenty enough. Maybe he only let me know what he didn’t care that I knew. I had to consider that too. I couldn’t put anything past the men around me. And Régine outpowered them all.
“He was a family member of yours?” I asked.
She set the wig on her hand, moving it this way and that. The dungeon had no windows, so the reddish hue of the fire sparkled like rubies against the silky black hair piece. “Cousin,” she said almost absentmindedly. “Have I ever told you my mom wanted me to dance?” Her voice sounded funny, like she’d taken a trip down memory lane and was far away from me.
“No,” I whispered.
“It wasn’t in the cards, but I loved it.” Her eyes met mine and I realized then how the cut and color of the wig was like the cut and color of her hair.
She set the wig on my head and started to brush it. The strokes were gentle, and I almost sighed in bliss at the imagined feel of it. But I didn’t. My mom used to brush my hair that way, and it made me feel like a traitor to enjoy it.
“It is such a pleasure to get your hair brushed, isn’t it? My maman never did this for me.”
I said nothing, because she was brushing the wig, not my hair. And I was thankful that she wasn’t. It wouldn’t be a pleasure for me. It would be hell. To have her do something that was a cherished memory for me, but it would be so insincere.
She said something in French and then set the brush down. She looked me in the eye. “My cousin was obsessed with a dancer years ago. In a way, I cannot blame him. She’s one of the best. And he had a contract with her. She broke it. Which means, she owes. She married into the Fausti family, and that is the only reason she is standing today. The Fausti family killed Henri. They also killed your mother.”
It took me a second to comprehend what she’d said.
“Killed?” I barely got out. My entire body started to tremble, and the urge to reach for my things was so strong, I had to ball my fingers into fists and pierce the skin of my palms with my nails to keep from reaching for the handle of the drawer.
She nodded, a solemn look on her face. “I am afraid so. This man, Matteo, is the dancer’s son. Scarlett is her name. That night he ran after you, he was out to kill you too. It is what they do. It does not matter if you are innocent or not. Our family struck theirs, and they are out for revenge.”
The words poured from her mouth, but…I was having a hard time concentrating. My vision was going in and out. My palms felt sweaty.
“My mom is…gone,” I barely got out. I couldn’t stand to say the word dead. If I said it aloud, it would be true, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t continue to go on.
