“And the necklace I still can’t remember. You aren’t saying his name. You can say his name. Please say it and make me remember it.”
His lips thin, but he doesn’t deny me my request. “Garner Neuville.”
“Garner Neuville,” I repeat, drawing a hard breath and then letting it out. “I know his name, but nothing else comes to me. I still can’t remember. I need a picture.” I grab my phone to Google him.
He takes my phone. “I have photos, but do you really want to see him right now? Are you ready to remember? Because I’ve worked things out with Niccolo. There is no imminent threat.”
“Until Neuville shows up.”
“Neuville will not step in Niccolo’s territory. Niccolo is the stronger brother, which is why Neuville wants the money that necklace represents, and why Niccolo doesn’t want him to have it.”
“I’m done fearing unknown monsters that are about to jump out at me from around every corner, Kayden. I want my enemy to have a face and a name.”
He hesitates and then reaches behind me, removing a folder from his jacket. “We’re going to do this slowly.”
“I don’t want to go slowly,” I object. “Just show me the asshole’s photo.”
He hands me a photo of an expensive-looking gray stone building. “What is this place?”
“His home,” I bite out. “In Paris. There’s a view of the Eiffel Tower outside his bedroom window.”
He replaces that shot with one of a black Mercedes, and I say, “One of his cars. Kayden—”
“Who is this man?” he asks, handing me a photo of a dark-haired, athletic-looking man.
“I don’t know him.” I glance at Kayden. “Should I?”
“He’s been showing a photo of a red-haired woman around Paris.”
“He’s looking for me.”
“It would seem that way, which means he’ll know who you are. I’m trying to find him.”
“Ferguson,” I whisper, the name coming to me from out of nowhere.
Kayden’s brow furrows. “The man is Ferguson?”
“No. That’s my last name. But there are tons of Fergusons, and my identity has been wiped out.”
“We will find you with that last name. I promise you.”
I give a choppy nod. “Let’s go on.”
He studies me a moment, seeming to weigh my state of mind based on “just bad” or “too bad,” and “just bad” must win, because he slips another photo in front of me. I inhale with the image of a man’s wrist and a watch that looks just like Kayden’s. “Neuville’s watch,” I murmur.
“That I made the unfortunate decision to buy for myself, and will be donating mine to charity.”
I set all of the photos aside. “Just show me his photo, Kayden. Stop softening the blow. It’s going to suck, and that isn’t going to change by leading up to it.”
“I have more than his photo, Ella. Matteo hacked a few security cameras in areas he frequents.”
My hand goes to my throat. “You have photos of me with him.”
“I do, and I can show you one of just him, or I can show you all of them. Or we can just get naked, make love, and forget this until tomorrow.”
I grab the folder from him and open it, sucking in air as I stare down at a man who is devastatingly handsome, with thick, slicked-back dark hair. “Neuville,” I whisper, and my stupid hand starts to tremble. I grab it and will it to stop, forcing myself to look at the photo again. Images flit through my mind: Him kissing me. Him touching me. Him staring at me with brutally sexy eyes.
“Bastard,” I hiss, flipping to the next photo, my spine stiffening at the sight of me sitting across from him at a table in a café. Laughing. God, I was laughing. “What a fool I was,” I whisper.