Page 22 of A Mistake of Worth
The chime repeated. Marc knew. Somehow, Marc always knew.
Henri’s breathing turned shallow, rapid. The phone screen blurred as his vision tunneled. Michael’s scent was still on his skin, inside him, marking him as a traitor. Marc would see it immediately, would know Henri had given away what wasn’t his to give.
Twenty years of careful obedience, shattered in one selfish night.
“Henri?” Michael’s voice sounded distant through the roaring in Henri’s ears. “What’s wrong?”
Henri couldn’t answer. Couldn’t explain. The walls felt like they were closing in, crushing the air from his lungs. His handsshook violently as Marc’s message burned into his retinas. Three simple words that destroyed everything.
You are mine.
The phone slipped from his numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision as his body forgot how to breathe. He was vaguely aware of Michael sitting up, reaching for him, but Henri was already drowning.
The last thing Henri registered was Michael’s concerned face swimming in his darkening vision as twenty years of conditioning dragged him under.
Chapter five
Michael
MichaelcaughtHenribeforehe could hit the floor, though they still ended up there. His eyes caught the name on the phone screen. Marc Saint-Clair. Confusion flickered through him. Henri had said he wasn’t seeing anyone. But that thought vanished as Henri started hyperventilating, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Michael shifted, pulling Henri back against his chest, between his thighs. “Breathe with me,” he murmured, placing a steady hand over Henri’s racing heart. “Feel my chest rise and fall. Match it.”
But Henri was beyond hearing, beyond reason. His whole body trembled as he gasped for air. “You have to go,” he choked out. “Please, you need to leave. Now.”
“I’m not leaving you like this,” Michael said firmly, maintaining the steady pressure against Henri’s chest. “You’re safe here. Just breathe with me.”
“No!” The word came out as a sob. Henri tried to pull away, but his movements were uncoordinated, desperate. “You don’t understand. You have to leave. Please. Please go.”
“Tell me why,” Michael said, holding Henri against his chest. “Help me understand why a text has you so terrified.”
Henri just shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he tried to pull away. Michael kept him steady with one arm while reaching for the fallen phone.
“No!” Henri lunged for it desperately, his coordination shot, but his panic giving him frantic energy. “Don’t, please don’t look! You can’t see...” His fingers grasped uselessly at Michael’s wrist as Michael held the phone out of reach.
“Please,” Henri begged, his voice breaking completely. “Don’t read it. Please don’t see... I can’t, if you see...”
Michael’s jaw clenched tighter with each message he read, Henri’s desperate pleas forming a heartbreaking soundtrack to the horrifying picture emerging on the screen.
Every text from Marc was a command, each response from Henri showing subdued compliance. The cruel words, the degrading demands, the threats wrapped in false affection.
Then he reached the photo, and his blood turned to ice.
Henri, naked and bent over what looked like a leather chair, his wrists bound behind his back with rope. Tears streaked down his bruised face as another man, someone Michael vaguely recognized, stood behind him, one hand gripping Henri’s hip. The photo was taken from the side, capturing the man’s profile as he turned partially away from the camera, but Michael could still make out the manic grin splitting his face. The violation was clear, but it was Henri’s expression that made Michael’s vision blur. Pure terror and pain, captured and saved.
‘Don’t you look lovely,’read Marc’s caption below.
Michael’s hands shook as he set the phone down carefully, fighting the urge to hurl it against the wall. Henri was trembling against his chest, quiet sobs wracking his body.
The LaMontagne Foundation fundraiser flashed through his mind. Marc’s possessive hand on Henri’s spine, Henri’s immediate stillness when Marc whispered in his ear. Michael had thought it was typical wealthy couple dynamics. Now he saw the flinch Henri had hidden, the way he’d gone pale before plastering on that practiced smile.
How had no one noticed? How had he not noticed?
“You need to go,” Henri said once his breathing had steadied.
Michael tightened his hold. “I’m not leaving you to put on a ‘show’ for that man. What he’s saying to you...”
“Stop.” Henri pressed his hands over his ears. “You don’t understand.”
