“I’m not your enemy,” he says softly, but there’s a soft lilt at the end of his low voice, as if he isn’t sure of the truth of the statement. It’s almost a question.
“You’re not my friend.”
“No,” he agrees. “I’m not your friend.”
I pick up my pen as if I’m going to write and stare at the words, unseeing. I don’t know how to think when he’s standing so near me.
“I’ll be back tonight,” he says, approaching me, and I tense.
He leans close and places a kiss on my forehead. It feels like a goodbye.
Then he’s gone, taking his masculine scent and warmth with him. I’m left bereft, hating myself for wanting more of him, my body fighting the urge to run after him.
I touch two fingers to my skin where he kissed me, as if I can hold it in.
Low voices converse below.
He’s talking with Carson, who I haven’t spoken to since I found out I’m a prisoner here. It doesn’t make sense to care about my captors. No matter how nice the cell.
There’s a beep from the alarm as it disarms. A brief few seconds when I could actually escape. If I had the desire to jump out of a two-story window. If I could land without him finding me. If I had any money or resources or a place to go.
So I remain seated.
Or maybe those are only the excuses I tell myself. Maybe if the prison is warm and comfortable enough, the captive learns to enjoy herself.
I’m wearing a tiered Gucci dress in rustic floral patterns. It’s like a runway version of what Marisol would wear in her real farmhouse.
I peek out the window in time to see the black SUV drive away. It’s a sunny day. Down the street I see a couple strolling arm in arm. A young mother pushes a stroller. Such domesticity. Such contentedness as I’m trapped in this luxurious cell.
What would they do if I started banging on the window?
Most likely Carson would notice and stop me.
That’s a depressing thought.
I wander back to the bedroom and lie down. It’s something most people might not realize, the boredom of living in captivity. I lie down on the bed with its many pillows and remember the night Elijah threw them all to the floor. He took me against the dresser there.
It wasn’t the last time we had sex, but it was the last time I expected it to be sweet.
“Pssst.”
The sound is soft enough that I think I imagined it. Until it comes again.
“Pssssst.”
I look behind me to the back window, which opens to an alleyway. A familiar pair of eyes peek over the sill. “London,” I breathe before scrambling off the bed.
She’s perched on the casement from the window below her, a very precarious situation that makes my heart swoop in fear. “Hey, Sis.”
“What are you doing?” I whisper furiously. “Come inside.”
Her head shakes. “No, you have to come with me.”
“The diamonds. Do you have them?”
She hesitates. “Not here.”
“You’re going to fall,” I say, my voice rising. Elijah was right to be worried. Right to think she wouldn’t want to give the diamonds back. He was right, and everything is wrong.
“Don’t go supersonic,” she warns.
“I was so worried about you.” I’m definitely going supersonic.
“Shhhh. Mr. Downstairs took a potty break, but he’s not going to be there for long. We have to get you out before that happens.” The window is already cracked, and she opens it wider. Ancient hinges emit a low-pitched groan. “Hurry.”
“How did you disarm the alarm system?”
“You don’t want to know. Come on, Sis. It’s now or never.”
There are a million reasons to stay where I am. Starting with a very healthy and normal fear of heights. The back of the house actually drops three stories. There’s every chance I could fall to my death attempting to escape. Then there’s Elijah. While I’m pissed at him, I believe he won’t hurt me. Is that enough of a reason to stay?
In the end all my worry and deliberation is for nothing.
He may not be a danger to me, but he’s definitely a danger to my sister. I would do anything for her. Including walk away from the captor that I love.
“Scoot over,” I say, and I see the relief in her dark blue eyes.
I climb down the drain in my expensive designer dress and ballet flats, slipping only once. We make it to the street where we fit into the crowd of couples and young mothers. We are two fashionable sisters exploring Paris—one of us carrying priceless diamonds, the other with absolutely nothing in her pockets, not a single euro.
By the time we are three blocks away, I’m sure we won’t be found.
Ten blocks away, and my heart begins to hurt.
“London,” I say, my heart still pounding from fear and grief.
“I know. It’s fucking crazy. I got your messages, by the way.”
“Then why didn’t you respond?”
“It’s a long story. And I didn’t get them until after you were in France. Where did you go? I thought you’d try the embassy or something, but you disappeared.”
Disappeared. That’s one word for being kidnapped and held in a church’s underground prison. “It’s a long story, but first tell me what happened to you. Why did you stop replying?”
She takes my hand, and I squeeze back, still so relieved to have found her, safe and whole. “Mine is a long story too.”
“Let me start it for you: Holly, I have really expensive diamonds.”
“You know about that?” Her eyes twinkle. She shows me her left hand and flips a gold band around. The largest diamond I’ve seen in real life sparkles from the simple setting. “I’m engaged.”
“What?”
She snorts. “Not really. It’s just the most convenient way to keep it where people don’t ask questions. Well, they do ask questions, but I’ve made up someone tall, dark, and handsome. He’s a stock broker in New York. I can’t settle on a good name for him, though.”
We pass a shop with expensive china, its lights off. The front door says sur rendez-vous uniquement and underneath by appointment only. I pull my sister into the empty doorway of the store. “This is serious. Did you steal that?”
“Of course not. Someone gave it to me.”
Lord. “I know you found the diamonds. I know Elijah stashed them on you.”
Her expression falls. “Don’t be angry at me.”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Because when I saw them—I wanted to keep them. That’s why I went dark. That’s why I stopped responding to you. It was the only way to keep the money.”
“God, London. It’s not that simple. They’re not going to let it go. There are men after you. Not only Elijah. They want them back.”
She twists the ring backwards again. Her fingers curl around the stone. “They’re mine.”
“They’re not.”
She closes her eyes. “Holly, I didn’t want to tell you this, but I got mixed up with some bad people. I need the money.”
Her fear shimmers in the air around us, and my heart clenches. I wrap her in my arms. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together now.”