I don’t fucking have €50,000 in cash!
Fuck me. What the hell am I going to do?
Panic starts to claw up me like a wild animal.
Think, Seraphine, think.
I can only take out so much from the distributeur, and the banks aren’t open. I do have about ten thousand in cash in my safe, but that’s not going to be enough.
I start wildly looking around my apartment, searching everything I have and quickly assessing their apparent value. I have valuable art, rare printed books, handbags, but none of those things will do.
I’m going to have to give him everything in the safe.
Which includes a lot of jewelry I inherited from my mother—jewelry I don’t ever want to part with.
It also includes a gun.
Not valuable cash-wise but perhaps valuable in saving my own life.
I head over to the safe, enter the code, and open it.
The handgun gleams. It’s completely illegal. But my father always taught me to protect myself. He said that being part of a famously wealthy family like ours only opens ourselves up to kidnappings and the like.
If only he knew that the real threats were coming from inside the family.
I take out the gun, the jewels, the cash, though I leave behind Ernest, the teddy bear I’ve had since I was adopted, and I know I’m going to need help in this. Help I don’t want to ask for, help that might backfire.
But if he does help me, maybe there is more to what he’s been saying.
I text Blaise: Want to grab a drink? Meet me at the café at eight?
I don’t know how things work, if his texts are monitored by his father or if that’s even possible, but I want to be as vague as can be, and I assume he knows what café I’m talking about.
He responds immediately: see you soon.
Damn. The tiny little thrill that rushes through me at seeing that response is completely inappropriate, considering I’m not sure I can trust him and I’m about to ask for a whole load of cash to pay off a thug who threatened to kill me if I didn’t.
Blaise lives in the Right Bank, almost right across the Seine from me, so it doesn’t take him long to show up at the café. It’s too cold and miserable outside to sit on the terrace, so I’m inside the shop, tucked away in the back corner. I’m alternating between a cappuccino and a glass of red wine, wanting a clear head but also trying to temper my nerves and my heart, which are all over the place and making me feel nuts.
I hate to admit it, but he’s a sight for sore eyes as he walks toward me; his black wool coat with the popped-up collar matches his dark hair and even darker eyes.
He takes the seat across from me and studies my face for a moment before he says, “I need to apologize to you.”
I should wave away what he’s about to say, because I’m about to ask him for €40,000, but I want to hear it.
“For what?”
He gives me a look like, You know what I’m talking about. “For being inappropriate with you. Right now, that’s the last thing you need, the last thing I should be doing. We have bigger problems, and acting on my impulses isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
He’s completely right, and I’m impressed he admitted it.
Still, when he talks about impulses . . .
Stop it. Don’t be a fool. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a woman with her own life in her hands and a gun in her purse.
“Luckily I know how you can make it up to me,” I tell him.
He nods, his expression open and interested. “I’ll do whatever it is, as long as you know that you can trust me. That’s all I ask.”
“How did you know I still don’t?”
He shrugs, licking his lips. Beautiful lips. “Since I don’t think you’ve ever trusted me before, I guess I’ll know it when I see it.”
I manage a wry smile and lower my voice. “I need forty thousand euros tonight. In cash.”
He doesn’t flinch. Instead he calmly opens up his coat to me and sticks his hand in an inner pocket, pulling out a very thick wad of bills. “I have fifty.”
I stare at him and the cash open mouthed. “How did you know?”
“I knew how much you owed him, and I knew when you owed him. You were at work all day. I’m not sure when you would have gone to the bank, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t have money lying around your apartment.”
I swallow hard. “I have some cash. And I took my mother’s jewelry.” I gesture to the bag hanging off the end of the chair. I’m not about to tell him about the gun.
“You’re not selling your mother’s jewelry,” he says sternly. “I promise you that. I’ll take care of it.”
“But how did you know he wanted cash?” I pause, trying to not let the ever-present suspicions get the best of me. “Did you talk to your father about it?”
He lets out a caustic laugh. “My father? Honestly, you’re going to have to push that fucking nonsense out of your head right now. My loyalty is with you. This money is for you. I know someone like Jones would only accept cash because that’s how these things work. You’re essentially paying off a hit man who never got to take a shot. And that’s good. Keep it that way.”
I look around the café to see if anyone is listening, but everyone is chatting loudly, not paying us any attention.
“I’ll give it to you on one condition,” he says, sliding the bills back inside his coat.
I raise my brows. “Please don’t tell me I have to sleep with you.”
“It wasn’t part of the plan, but I can always make an adjustment,” he says smoothly, heat flashing behind his eyes.
I try to ignore that, but the tightness building in my core won’t let me. “You’re being inappropriate again.”
“Guess I can’t help it around you.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “So what’s the problem? What’s the condition?”
“That I go with you. I don’t want you doing this alone.”
My stomach flutters with relief before I have a chance to rein it in. I have to think about this. Yes, I want him there, and I am beyond terrified that I have to do this alone, and the gun in my purse doesn’t help either. But . . . what if he . . .
No. Either you trust him or you don’t.
I have to make this decision right now and stick to it.
And judging by the look on Blaise’s face, that’s exactly what he’s thinking too.
“Okay,” I tell him, and even though I’m sure I only hesitated for a second, it feels like a million years have passed. “But you have to stay in the background. Like, hidden.”
“I know. He can’t see me. He won’t see me. I’ll just be there in case something goes wrong.”
I take in a deep, shaking breath. “Do you think something is going to go wrong?” I’d pick up my wine and have a drink, only I know my hands are trembling so much the wine would go spilling everywhere.
“I’ve never been an optimist, Seraphine,” he says gravely.
“Except when it comes to me, that is,” I add, testing him.
“In that case, one might confuse an optimist for a fool.” He pauses, his eyes resting on my lips. “Don’t you?”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was blushing. It’s definitely a lot hotter inside the café than I expected. I clear my throat and give him a leveling look. “Back to business. What did your note mean this morning?”