Page 84 of French Escapade

Ken

According to the report Andrea sent earlier, all Arkady’s men are either dead or locked up. I still hesitate to leave Madison alone.

“Don’t you worry, I’m here,” Ted states, taking advantage of a red light to glance at the back seat where my sister has fallen asleep, tightly secured by her safety belt. “She’s so tired that she probably won’t wake up before tomorrow morning. You know she’s safe with me. The tower where I live is more secure than a high-security jail.”

“You’re right,” I say.

“So? Should I drop you at her place?”

“Yes, that’s great. But if she’s not there…”

I’m worried. Two hours ago, Élodie sent us a brief message: “All good.” And then she shut her phone off.

I don’t believe it for a second.

“Of course she’ll be there. Where could she possibly have gone?” Ted asks.

“I don’t know. She must have friends, right? Or she could be at her father’s?”

Ted looks at me with a mixture of mirth and exasperation. I remain quiet for the rest of the ride.

“Worst-case scenario, you still have your room atchez Josette,” he says when I leave his car. “But I’m ready to bet she’s the type to lick her wounds alone and not go ask for cuddles to her girlfriends.”

Even though I didn’t say a word, he rolls his eyes and sighs. “Yes, but no. Cuddles from you are not the same thing. A guy is not the same as a bestie.”

Ted is a smartass, but it works. I close the car door with a smile on my face.

And Ted is right, she has to be home.

I enter the building and climb the ancient staircase, thinking I’m an idiot to come empty-handed. But what do you bring to a woman who jumped in front of the bullet that had your name on it? A bottle of Champagne or a bouquet of flowers seems a little short.

For a woman like that, you need to bring your A game.

You need to give her everything.

Once on the floor landing, I knock on the door and only then notice the bell button. Before I have a chance to ring, Élodie opens the door. She tilts her head and looks at me silently. In her bathrobe, with her hair all wet, she’s breathtaking … but closed off.

“May I come in?”

She hesitates, and then takes a step back to give me the space to enter. She closes the door and stays motionless, still looking at me.

“I was worried. You shut down your phone.”

She nods and remains silent. I can’t read her expression.

Slowly I come closer, arms open, and she shakes her head. I freeze. What happened?

“I’m here for you,” I whisper extending a hand in her direction.

She backs up and bumps into the door. Not knowing what I should say, I stare at her, my gaze questioning.

“How long?” she asks, so softly that I guess her question more than hear it.

“I don’t know,” I confess.

“One- or two-night stands are not my thing,” she explains.

“I never thought they were.”

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