The Alastair Affair 2: Sylvain (A Billionaire Dark Romance) Page 7

  That the court upheld the charge… that bothered Sylvain the most. But by then, the entire case had been made into a public spectacle. His own lawyers fought tooth and nail against the accusation. But it was all too much in the public eye. The judge decided to make an example of Sylvain and sent him to jail.

  But that was the past. The accountant had been dealt with. Sylvain chuckled at how easy it’d been. He’d directed his implanted Trojan to frame the accountant, and the entire firm, for real money laundering.

  Now all he had to do was sit back… and wait for the evidence to pile up. Once it had?

  One simple phone call was all it would take.

  The firm would be pushed to ruin. The accountant would lose his entire livelihood. And Sylvain…

  Well, Sylvain would guarantee the other man would never make it back on his feet.

  The jet touched down with a jerk, making Sylvain curse. He loathed landings so, so much.

  But they were a necessary evil for this way of travel.

  He got into the waiting vehicle. Anderson had already loaded his bags.

  “You fly back and keep an eye on things for me in America,” Sylvain told him. The limo had some other driver inside. “Keep me updated on our progress.”

  Anderson nodded.

  “Oh, and Anderson?” Sylvain added the moment his most loyal man turned away. “I saw what you did when you moved my funds. If you thought I wouldn’t notice, well…”

  He stepped closer to him. “Steal from me again, and I will end you.”

  **

  On this arrival, Sylvain made sure he would come to the castle in the light of day.

  He did not want a repeat of his very first night.

  As soon as he saw the looming structure in the distance, his thoughts turned to Bianca. He’d managed to avoid thinking of her while in America. But now that he was close, she once more became his most pressing priority.

  The limousine rolled up to the gates. Sylvain had them opened. He got out, paid the driver, then gave instructions to deposit the luggage just inside the front doors and leave.

  Sylvain waited until the limo drove away. He closed the gates. Then he turned back to his home.

  Ah, yes. For better or for worse, this was his home now.

  Before going inside, however, he decided to check on security. Not that there was real need for any—not really, nobody would try to break in.

  That wasn’t Sylvain’s worry. He checked the perimeter to make sure nobody could get out.

  When satisfied, he turned to the castle once more. The estate was eerily quiet. He knew his sister was up there, along with their father.

  Was Leila?

  He hadn’t forgotten the slap. Nor had he forgotten the strange bit of satisfaction it had given him to be stood up to by a woman.

  Well… maybe “woman” was a little generous. Leila must have been in her early twenties. She was scarcely more than a child.

  He walked inside.

  His footsteps echoed through the long, cold corridor. They were enough to make his presence known. If the others were waiting… they would hear him.

  He went to the piano room first. He lifted the cover and ran a hand along the keys.

  He felt a sudden ache to play. Should he? If his sister were still locked away, would it be enough to lure her out?

  He decided to leave it be. Later, he would return for it.

  He heard laughter from down the hall. It sounded like a child’s laughter.

  For a moment, the sound confused him. But then he placed it as belonging to…

  His sister? What the hell?

  A jolt of alarm ran through him. Bianca, laughing? What’s more, laughing without him present?

  This, he had to see.

  He stepped quickly to where the sound was coming from.

  And there, in one of the spacious sitting rooms, he came upon a sight he would have never believed.

  Bianca was sitting in the middle of the room with their father. Between them was a chessboard on a coffee table.

  What is this? Sylvain wondered.

  He watched as his father reached for a piece and moved it over the board. Bianca’s face screwed up in concentration as she regarded the board.

  There was a third person present. A grey-haired man who Sylvain had never seen before. He had a pair of small, round spectacles perched atop his nose. His arms were crossed. He regarded the chess game closely from his spot by the wall.

  But mostly, Sylvain noticed, he was watching Bianca.

  As he stood there, at the entrance of the room, debating whether to go in or not, he heard somebody behind him. He looked back and found Leila approaching.

  One of her eyes had a deep, black welt beneath it.

  Sylvain’s gut clenched. His hands tightened into fists. “Who—” he began.

  She shushed him by placing a finger on his lips. His heart sped up.

  “You know who,” she offered him sadly. “But let’s not disrupt them now. The doctor said that distractions such as chess are good for Bianca’s mind.”

  “Doctor…?” Sylvain wondered.

  Leila glanced at the grey-haired man. Of course.

  “Come with me,” she said. “Let’s go to your rooms. We need to talk.”

  **

  Sylvain sat on the edge of the bed, his entire body horribly tense.

  “Pregnant?” he muttered.

  Leila quickly nodded her head.

  “But… how?” Sylvain asked. “When?”

  “I’ve been tracking my periods. All signs point to our first night.”

  “Fuck,” Sylvain said. “Fuck!”

  Leila remained purposefully stoic.

  He stood up. He went to her. He held her by the arms.

  “What about… my father?” he whispered. His sharp eyes honed in on hers. As much as he hated the thought of sharing the same woman with his father—just the suggestion of it made him sick—he could not overlook the possibility any longer.

  Leila shook her head. “He is an impotent old man. I lay with him, yes. But only to keep the sheets warm, I swear. Nothing more.” Her eyes went to the floor. “And I never would have done it had he not threatened my family.”

  Now this was a revelation. “Your family?” Sylvain asked.

  Leila nodded. “They live in the village, all of them. My uncle owns the pub. You know the place? It’s part of an inn.”

  The puzzle pieces shifted in Sylvain’s mind. That would explain the almost-blasphemous reaction he’d received there the first night.

  “Your father… lured me away from them,” Leila said. “I did not know who he was, then. I did not know what he was like. I’d heard stories, of course…”

  Sylvain stopped her. “Stories?” he asked. “What stories?”

  “About the Alastair family legacy,” Leila answered softly. “About the way darkness takes hold of the men. About the things your family did to the inhabitants of the village, centuries ago. How you terrorized them. The men would steal and rape the women then throw them out like soiled laundry.”

  Sylvain’s jaw tightened. He’d never paid attention to the rumors. But if that was what they said…

  Hell, he wondered how much of it was true.

  “That’s all nonsense,” he told her firmly. He would not let her see any of his doubt.

  “I know,” Leila said. “I know how stories can take on a life of their own. But I was drawn to the castle. I do not know why. Maybe I wanted to have a chance to prove those old tales untrue.”

  Sylvain gave her a grim smile. “But instead you found my father.”

  “Instead I found your father,” she affirmed.

  Sylvain broke away. They were getting too comfortable with each other.

  He paced the room. He stood by the window and looked out at the grounds.

  A child…?

  This revelation could turn his whole life upside down. He’d never considered children. He’d never considered a relationship, more than what
he had with Alicia, and that was based on physical pain and lust…

  His fingers drummed against the window pane. Could he have a son or daughter with… with Leila? With this simple village girl who he barely knew?

  He shook his head. No, he was being unfair. Leila had appeared simple at first. But in time, she’d proven herself capable.

  Yet that did not change the fact that he barely knew her.

  He turned around. “You’ve been here, how long?” he asked.

  “Two years,” she told him calmly.

  “And… how old are you now?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  Twenty-three. Sylvain shook his head. Exactly a decade younger than him…

  “And you’ve never, in your two years, had sex with my father?” he asked, point blank.

  “No!” Leila exclaimed. “I told you! Don’t you trust me?”

  “These days, I have a hard time trusting anyone,” Sylvain muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You said my father threatened your family. What did he say?”

  “He told me that if I went back to them, and didn’t do as he asked, he would ruin them. He said he would buy off all their land and leave them in poverty.”

  “He can’t do that.” Sylvain shook his head. “There are laws against that sort of thing.”

  “Your father doesn’t strike me as the sort to follow laws too closely.”

  “Never mind,” Sylvain said. He looked at Leila’s stomach. It was so flat, so small.

  She was so deliciously thin.

  Could she really have a little child of his growing inside her?

  “I don’t want you to worry about… him. The bruise on your face. Tell me, what happened?”

  He knew the question would come across as rude, but he was in no state of mind for delicacies.

  “After you left, I…” Leila trailed off. She looked the other way.

  “Yes?” Sylvain probed. “You what? Tell me.”

  “I went to him and told him he should care for his daughter better. Now that you were here, I said, he could not inundate her with the constant verbal abuse.”

  Sylvain’s shoulders tightened. “None of it occurred in my presence.”

  “I know. But before you came? It was a daily ritual.” She looked up. He saw strength and sincerity in her eyes. “You brought peace to this household. When you were on your trip… I feared things would return back to normal.”

  “And?” Sylvain asked. “Did they?”

  She gestured vaguely to her face. “See for yourself.”

  Sylvain’s rage boiled. His father was an old man. But he was still his father.

  Sylvain could never go against him. But he could lay down the ground rules. Hell, he could lock the old fool away, high away, in the Black Tower… and leave him to rot!

  But he was not so sadistic as that.

  “I came across him yelling at her, through the door,” Leila continued. “This was after my first request. I tried to stop him. I ended up with this.”

  Sylvain took her hands in his. He held them very tight.

  “From this moment on,” he said solemnly. “You are under my protection. Nobody else will dare lay a finger on you. Or on our…” he touched her stomach, “…our child.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  And just like that, Sylvain was going to be a father.

  He grappled with the decision not to push for an abortion. But he could not subject Leila to that. When she told him she’d stood up for Bianca…

  Well, everything changed.

  They decided, together, to hold off making news of the pregnancy for as long as possible. Bianca’s mental state was already fragile. They did not want to do anything that might set her off.

  The grey-haired man sought out Sylvain for an audience the following day.

  He introduced himself as Doctor Patterson, renowned clinical psychiatrist. He’d made the suggestion that he and Sylvain go for a walk, to discuss Bianca’s condition.

  Sylvain indulged him immediately.

  “She is an interesting case,” the doctor told Sylvain. “Very, very unique.”

  Sylvain grunted. He had to feel the man out.

  “She carries scars from her past, does she not.” he continued. Sylvain couldn’t tell if it was framed as a question. “But she refuses to acknowledge them. Neither does she recognize the party responsible for them.”

  The doctor had a heavy English accent and a slightly bedazzled look about him. But his eyes were sharp.

  Sylvain let him continue talking.

  “I’ve been watching your sister for just four days, now. Already I’ve made some interesting inferences. If you are interested, I could tell you what my preliminary diagnosis is.”

  “I don’t care what your diagnosis is,” Sylvain said roughly. “My father hired you. Did he not?”

  “Yes,” the doctor nodded.

  “If you are being paid by him then your loyalties are to him.” Sylvain held up his hand. “Do not deny it. I know how these things work. Do you think you are the first shrink to be called here to work with my sister?”

  For that, the doctor had no reply.

  Sylvain was bluffing, of course. He knew there had been no prior medical intervention. His father was too proud for that.

  The thing Sylvain didn’t understand was what had changed now.

  “I’ve seen my sister, too,” Sylvain said. “In fact, I daresay I have been the one person to spend the most time with Bianca during my initial stay at the estate. Now that I’ve returned, and have little further business to occupy me in America, her welfare will take up most of my time.”

  Along with my child, in nine short months.

  The doctor tried to speak, but Sylvain continued on.

  “You and I are here for the same purpose, doctor. But in a twisted way, we have two very different perspectives on that purpose. You want to find the diagnosis that is most pleasing to my father. I want to find one that is true.”

  “Mr. Alastair, I assure you, I abide by the strictest professional standards. My moral code prevents me from—”

  “Save it for the jury,” Sylvain cut him off. “There are a million and one diagnoses you might find for my sister. Diseases of the mind manifest themselves in very peculiar ways. I am not questioning your morals, Dr. Patterson. I simply do not want them to get… lost… amidst the issue of money.”

  Sylvain stopped. “So, in that vein, I propose a different arrangement. Whatever my father pays you, I will double. You will collect your fees from him, and then additionally, from me.

  “This will be done in secret. After you report to my father, you will come and report to me. You will be paid once by him, twice by me. In sum you will make out with three times as much money as you expected when you took the job. All I care about is my sister’s safety and wellbeing. You assure me that you will do everything in your power to see her well… and I will have you rich as a king.”

  Sylvain stuck out his hand. “What do you say?”

  “I say, friend,” the doctor agreed jovially, “that you make an excellent bargain. It’s a deal.”

  But when the doctor tried to release the handshake, Sylvain did not let go. Instead, he dug his fingers tighter, stepped into the man, and whispered in a cold, crisp voice:

  “But if you cross me, Doctor Patterson… I will destroy you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  One week later, Sylvain Alastair stood at the top window of the castle, overlooking the entrance. From his vantage, he could see the entire front of the estate.

  There was a car idling by the gates. Inside were the five members of Leila’s family.

  Sylvain had invited them here as a showing of goodwill. It had come out that over the term of Leila’s employment, Sylvain’s father had not only threatened her family, but forbade her from making contact with them.

  Well. That was an extraordinarily stupid move. The innkeeper’s reaction to Sylvain made plenty of sense.<
br />
  But now Sylvain and Leila were having a child. That changed things. He did not love the girl—that was of little consequence. There was a chance they might stumble on that rare emotion in the future. But probably not.

  All Sylvain knew was that he would love their child, unequivocally, and with all his heart.

  He would not repeat the mistakes of his father.

  He glanced down at his phone and hit the button that operated the gate. He watched as it slowly slid open.

  When the car drove inside, he turned away.

  Bianca was in her tower. Their father was in his. Neither of them would interrupt tonight’s plans.

  Sylvain received a text. It was from the Doctor. He was up there with Bianca, too, keeping her company for the night.

  Sylvain read it. It was a brief status report. Just as they’d agreed, the Doctor kept him precisely up to date.

  Bianca had made progress over the last seven days. She still would not speak to Sylvain, however.

  That would come in time. Sylvain had no doubt.

  For now… well, he had Leila’s family to attend to.

  He vowed that tonight, he would make the most gracious host.

  Epilogue

  2015.

  Early summer.

  Sylvain Alastair, 40 years old.

  Sylvain Alastair stood at the top window of his castle. From there, he could see the entire front portion of the estate.

  He’d spotted the young girl making her trek up long ago. He’d watched her ever since.

  She had not seen him yet. If she looked up now, the light reflecting from the glass would likely hide him.

  Fresh, Sylvain thought. She looks fresh.

  That is exactly what the castle needed. A fresh infusion of blood. A taste of somebody new.

  Sylvain looked at the guesthouse he’d commissioned last year. He would house her there, at first.

  And then?

  Well, then he would draw her in.

  He watched as she deposited her bags on the ground and tried the gate. A sinister smile formed on his lips.

  She would not be getting in, or out, without his permission.