wait for the bill.
“I don’t know,” the older man said, fiddling with his diamond cuff links as he pretended to consider the situation. “I haven’t decided if I’ll let you see her at all.”
A sudden tiny gasp sounded from behind a chair tucked into the far corner of the room. Unfortunately it echoed off the vaulted ceiling, and was magnified for the listeners nearby. His father’s gaze swung immediately to the shadows.
“I told you to stay in your room,” he yelled, his booming voice forcing Blake to suppress a wince.
A little girl slid out from behind the piece of furniture. Despite a little extra height on her, Blake would have said she was unchanged in the last two years. She had the same brown ringlet curls, though they were currently a tangled mess. The same vulnerable gaze. She hesitated before obeying, her brown eyes, flecked with green, seeming to memorize every inch of Blake as if afraid she would never see him again. Blake could certainly relate. His father was just enough of a jerk to forbid him to ever see her if he realized how much it meant to Blake.
So he hid his own emotions, gave Abigail the barest of smiles and motioned for her to go upstairs…before she heard more from her father about what a problem she was. Blake had grown up with a lifetime of those abusive rants stuck in his brain. He didn’t want that for Abigail.
While her mother was here, Blake had thought she would be protected from the harsh reality of Armand Boudreaux’s judgments. Now there would be no one in a position to protect her. The housekeeper, Sherry, might be able to check in, but she still had a job to do. Would that be enough?
Blake hadn’t even had that much. He remembered long, endless days when he barely saw anyone except the cook, who would fix him a plate. He’d been healthy, but lonely. Except having his father take an interest in him had usually meant an hour of yelling about how horrible Blake was.
Blake couldn’t allow that to happen to Abigail. Two years ago, he never gave his terrible childhood a second thought, but Abigail’s situation was bringing a lot of bad memories to the forefront of his brain.
Turning his gaze back to his father, he continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “You were saying I could help with Abigail’s care?” Caution was the name of the game here.
“Sure. You care so much about her—” Armand narrowed his gaze on Blake, a thin smile stretching his lips. “It might be worth something for you to see her.”
Oh boy. “Don’t you have enough money?”
The seconds-long hesitation sent a spear of worry through Blake. Money had never been an issue for his father. Not growing up. And, Blake assumed, not now. But that hesitation made him wonder.
Then his father said, “Not money, son. Freedom.”
A pretty significant bargaining chip for Blake. It always had been. This would not end well. “I’m not following.”
His father paced back and forth across the marble floor, the click of his dress shoes echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Blake’s stomach sank. This was his father’s move whenever he was plotting…planning. Definitely not good.
His father paused, tapping his index finger against his bottom lip. “I think there might be a solution to this situation that will benefit us both.”
Hell, no. “I know how this works. Your solutions only benefit you.”
“It depends on how you look at it.” His father’s smile was cold. “This could definitely benefit Abigail. Isn’t that what you say you want?”
“I never said any such thing.”
“Your actions speak loud enough for you.”
And he’d thought he’d shown remarkable restraint… Remaining silent would keep Blake from incriminating himself further. So he kept his trap shut and his gaze glued to the man before him. Armand fitted in so well with the sterile beauty of the Boudreaux plantation. It was his perfect backdrop.
“Yes, I believe this will definitely work. I’ve waited a long time for this.” Armand nodded as if confirming the thought to himself. His full head of silver hair glinted in the sun from the arched window behind him. “And you’re gonna give me exactly what I want.”
Blake turned away, panic running through him at the thought of going back to being that eighteen-year-old boy who had no defenses against his father. But just when he thought he would stride right over to the door and disappear through it, he caught a glimpse of tangled brown hair and pink leggings at the top of the stairs.
What choice do I have?
He could report Armand for neglect, but Blake doubted that would do more than dent his father’s reputation. Armand knew too many people in high places for any charges to go far. Abigail probably wouldn’t even be removed from the home.
He could take her with him now, but that would probably lead to him being accused of kidnapping…and she’d end up right back home.
He needed more time, more resources…but he could not let Abigail down, even if it meant turning his own life inside out to help her. Who would have guessed this playboy would grow a conscience?
He turned back to his father. “What do you want me to do?”
With a grin that said he knew he’d gotten his way, Armand slipped through the double doors at the far end of the room leading to his office, then returned with a file folder in his hand. Blake didn’t dare look up the stairs and give away Abigail’s continued presence. But he was conscious of her sitting just out of his father’s line of sight.
“There is a woman here in town, Madison Landry. She has something that belongs to me. Something you will retrieve.”
“Can’t you get a lawyer to take care of that?”
“That route has proved…fruitless. Now it’s time for a different approach.”
The rare admission of failure was unheard of from his father, which piqued Blake’s interest. “So you want me to convince a former…what, lover?…to return something to you?” Obviously legal channels hadn’t worked, so his father didn’t have a legitimate leg to stand on.
His father smirked. “Hardly.” He pulled a photograph out of the file. “Have you ever heard of the Belarus diamond?”
“No.” Jewels had never been a major focus for Blake.
“It’s a rare, two-carat, fancy vivid blue diamond that was gifted to our family by a Russian prince before we settled in Louisiana after leaving France. When I was young and foolish, I had the diamond placed into a setting for an engagement ring. For a woman who did not deserve anything nearly so special.”
Well, this was news to Blake. He studied a photograph of a brilliant blue oval-shaped jewel. “You were engaged before my mother?”
“To the daughter of a now nearly extinct family from Louisiana society, Jacqueline Landry. The engagement lasted less than a year.”
“So she dumped you?”
If not, Armand would have taken steps to get back what
