Papillon

Chapter 41: Avignon

Bella

Christian's apartment was almost the same as home. We had the penthouse floor and he lived two floors below, but the layouts were similar.

Only, Christian's was bare. It looked like no one lived there. Everything about it was clinical. Impersonal furniture covered the room. Everything about it was cold.

Then again, so was Christian.

It had been four months since Francis left on his birthday.

I walked in and went straight to his closet. It was only 8:30 PM and I knew Christian wouldn't be home for some time. He worked like a dog and late hours were normal for him. But I needed my big brother so badly, I could have cried.

Stepping inside his closet, I looked at all the five-thousand-dollar suits hung neatly on the wall, next to his rare casual shirts and jeans.

His scent engulfed me and it brought tears to my eyes. I missed my brother—I missed the man he used to be. And part of me loathed my father for sending him so far away from the people who loved him and kept him sane.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before he came home and found me crying in the middle of his closet. If he was fazed, he didn't let it show, just settled down on the ground next to me and pulled me into his arms.

He smelled like home, so warm and comforting, and for just a moment, it relieved the pressure in my chest. If he could rip the pain out of my heart and endure it himself, I knew he would.

Slow hands ran through my hair, as he slowly rocked me in his arms. With each stroke, my body relaxed slightly. He used to do this for me when I was afraid of the dark as a child.

Someone does this for me and it makes all my problems go away, he used to say.

I was acutely aware that he was shaking slightly—he didn't like to see anyone upset and he'd do anything to make sure Ariadne and I weren't. Our entire life, he protected us and shielded us from everything.

And now, I had to ask him for one more thing.

I looked at him through wet eyes, soaking up the pain etched in his face. I'd always thought college made my brother cold but looking at his face up close, I couldn't be more wrong. He was hardly 23 years old and still very handsome, but he looked tired, exhausted, and wrung out within an inch of his life.

He wasn't cold, he was broken.

"I need to ask you to do something," I said quietly.

"Anything," he promised.

"I want to go to France."

He stilled, every muscle in his body going rigid.

"Bella, I don't think—"

"Not to find him. If he doesn't want to come back or if he's even fucking alive, I don't know and I'm not going to look for him. But I want to... I need to pay my respects to Adelaide. Please."

He studied me and rubbed a hand over his jaw.

"I'm coming with you," he said finally.

"Please do," I whispered, tucking my chin into his neck. "I don't think I'll make it without you."

"You're so strong, Bella. Of course, you would."

His hand smoothed down my back in a comforting caress.

Christian Ryder was a fractured man. He'd been forced to change everything about himself by his own father, a man who cheated on his sick and dying mother. He was sent away from home, all alone, and made to think that unless he was tailored to fit the Ryder throne, he was worthless.