“Not the main house, definitely. I remember seeing the back side of it when they brought us in and took us out. Maybe a pool house? There was a chlorine smell, but they may have just favored bleach.” She wore an innocent expression, but her pointed stare in my direction gave her away.
“Is this supposed to be funny?”
“Iswhatsupposed to be funny?” She met my eyes, the challenge there apparent. She wanted me to admit whose house this was, but I didn't understand why.
“Someone held you here against your will, and you didn't realize where you were taking me or who owned this house beforehand? You should know that I don't take well to being lied to, much less than a pathetic attempt at kicking me in the balls.”
The air thickened as the silence stretched. Claire's brown eyes darted between us, “Mason, what's going on?”
I ran a hand through my hair, hating to admit to her how deeply the evil in my blood ran, “This is my uncle's estate. Mila told me she was taking us to different locations where she suspected she was held. She surprised me by keeping the details to herself and bringing us to my uncle's home.”
“Are you serious?” Claire asked in a soft, stunned voice.
“Yes. I never spent much time with Reginald. He was my mother's eldest brother. I don't think I've even been inside more than twice.”
“What does this mean?” Claire asked, still sounding breathless.
“Mila, why don't you go ahead and tell us what this means?”
She squared her shoulders and met my glare. “That your entire family regularly promotes slavery, and I'm not convinced you're any better.”
My hands balled into fists, and I had to breathe through my anger. “I know what my family is, but I am not like them.”
“Mila,” Vick interrupted with a chastisement in his voice.
“No, Victor, I don't want to hear it. You worked for his dad for years. Why should I trust any of you?!” Bright red flooded her pale skin from her hairline to her collarbones. That was a complicated reaction to fake.
“I was trying to find my mom and keep my brother safe. I did what I had to do.” Vick spoke calmly enough that if you didn't know him, you might think the situation didn't affect him, but I knew the accusation was akin to sticking a knife in his heart. He had done a lot of bad things to find his mom. I had turned my back on all this when I knew what was happening. We were all wrong.
“Keep telling yourself that. All of you keep telling yourselves you only do what you must.” Her words directly contradicted what I was feeling. We had never done anything like what she was accusing us of, but wewereat fault. We were bad men.
“None of us has ever directly participated in that side of his business,” Victor argued.
“But you've surely profited from it, haven't you? I'd be ashamed if I were you.” This wasn't a trap for Victor, yet she still stared at him as she spoke. It was clear that she brought me here to test her suspicions. Although I didn't know Reginald had anything to do with the skin trade, I knew he and everyone else in the Dubois clan hated my father, but the more I learned, the more I realized very little was as it appeared. I couldn't even begin to guess what she thought she had learned from this experience.
“Mila,” Claire’s voice sounded softer than usual, cajoling.
“What,Claire?” her sharp retort hung between them.
Claire squared her shoulders, holding herself with as much authority as she did when she was boss lady of the library, “Don't speak to either of them that way.”
“Pft, why not? You've got to be joking!” Mila laughed, looking to Vick to see what he thought of Claire's defense. But, instead, he stared at Claire, refusing to acknowledge Mila.
“I understand and appreciate that you're having a rough time, and I deeply feel for you. However, you must show Mr. Sharp an appropriate level of respect.”
“Respect for what?”
“How about him giving you a warm and comfortable place to stay instead of a metal box with no running water?” Mila's face reddened further.
“And if I don't treat him with more respect? Areyougoing to kick me out? It wouldn't be the first time I lived in less-than-ideal surroundings, like this giant mansion next to us where I was a literal sex slave,” she twitched toward Claire in unconscious agitation, raising my alarm.
“If you don't, I'll lock the door to that guesthouse and throw away the key. If you want to act like a petulant child, I'll treat you like one.” Her brown eyes narrowed, looking cold like I'd never seen them. “I don't know what you thought you would accomplish by doing this today. Well, that's not true,” she held up her hands as she switched tact. “You were hoping to shock them into revealing some insidious truth. If it existed, this stunt wouldn't have worked. As a point of clarification, it doesn't exist.”
“What I wanted to gain from this is my own business. This is bullshit! It's not my fault his whole fucking family and everyone he's close to are fucking slavers!” she was screaming now. Her pale face glowed bright red with her anger.
Claire’s tan skin was much slower to reveal her emotions, but she was flushed too. Leaning forward in a way that made me worry I had bet on the wrong woman to start the fight.
“Mila! Shut your mouth before I tell them why you're actually so upset about Casey. We both know you can't handle them knowing.”