“Youare.”
To my surprise, he went a little pink. “I have some facility when it comes to solving other people’s problems, even when they are profoundly superficial. And as regards Caspian, of course I don’t mean I’ve never literally asked him questions. But he certainly didn’t invite my trespass into his personal affairs.”
“It wasn’t a trespass. You were looking out for him.”
“I serve. I don’t second-guess.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I said, in my very outsidest voice. “You were his executive assistant, not his slave.”
No reply.
And I was only human, so I couldn’t quite resist asking, “Did you mean it, though? About Nathaniel?”
“I don’t know. I only know that Caspian was different when he was with you. There was a lightness in him I hadn’t realised wasn’t there before.”
“Oh…” I guess I’d been hoping to be further vindicated. But no. This was just depressing.
“I even heard him singing in the office once, when he thought I’d left for the day.”
“Caspian can sing?”
“Most assuredly he cannot.” Bellerose put his needles on the table and his hands on top of them, his gaze directed downwards so I couldn’t read his expression. “I would have done anything to help him hold on to that peace. But it wasn’t in my power.”
To my dismay, I caught the gleam of moisture against his cheek. “Hey now.” Wanting to comfort him, but not knowing how he’d take a touch, I reached out and patted his knitting gently. “Nobody has that kind of power in someone else’s life. While I can’t say I’ve been entirely thrilled with Caspian’s decision making over the past however-many months, he’s still responsible for his own choices.”
“And I,” whispered Bellerose, with a depth of sorrow I wasn’t remotely prepared for, “am useless to him.”
“Believe me, you are the least useless person I’ve ever met. You are so not useless that if you look upuselessin the dictionary, it says, ‘antonyms: seeBellerose.’”
He snuck a glance at me, his eyes hopeless, and shiny with tears. “I was made for Caspian.”
“Uh. Made?” Maybe he was actually a robot. It would explain his hyper-competence and eerie perfection—and at this point, I wouldn’t put anything past Google.
“It”—he blinked—“it’s a long story. It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you sure? I’m good to hear a long story, if you want to tell it.”
“I…not at the moment.”
“Okay. But listen.” I rested my elbows on the table and shuffled in closer. “Firstly, you said yourself this was temporary or whatever. Caspian won’t want you to leave.”
“Perhaps, but I must. I don’t know how to help him anymore. And without him, I don’t—I am nothing.”
I was starting to regret the beer because my head was spinning. “Don’t say that.Pleasedon’t say that.”
“I’m an addict and a whore.” He spoke without rancour—without any particular emotion, actually. “If Mr. Steyne hadn’t seen something in me he could use, I would most likely be dead by now.”
That name was pretty much guaranteed to ruin my day. And my day hadn’t been much to write home about to begin with. Fuck, I should have known Bellerose would have some messed-up connection to Lancaster “BDSM Svengali” Steyne. I mean, he’d given Caspian a bespoke bondage dungeon. Of course he’d also given him someone to put in it. And I had no idea what to say becauseWould you like to go into more detail about your emotional trauma with a known abuser?just seemed kind of…not okay.
“Well,” I said finally, and only slightly pathetically, “I’m really glad you’re not dead, Bellerose.”
“Ilya. My mother called me Ilya.”
“And you’re sure you want me to use it too?”
“You said you felt uncomfortable with Bellerose.”
“I’ll deal. It’s your name—you get to choose.”
