But it is my fault. Like my father, I couldn’t help forming an attachment with a civilian; I pulled her into this by becoming friends with her. I am not someone who can have friends. Yet I love this woman, and I have to save her.
I lift a finger, letting her know I’m listening to Neuville’s conversation. We’ll be at the location in five minutes. His people don’t know if “he” is in the city, but the plane they sent as a decoy in Neuville’s name should have ensured that “he” followed. I assume they’re talking about Kayden. The rest of the conversation provides little information. The car begins to slow and Neuville ends the call.
We pull into a driveway, and Sara looks out of the window as motion detectors illuminate the property we’ve entered. “No,” she whispers, he
r voice lifting more and more as she repeats, “No. No. No.”
“What is it, Sara?”
She whirls on Neuville. “You will not do this here.” Her voice trembles not with fear, but anger. “If you want to rape me or kill me or whatever, you will not do it here.”
“What is this place?” I ask, looking for the game-changing confirmation that we’re in France and not far from the city. “Sara, talk to me.”
“It’s sacred,” she says, looking at me. “It can’t be here.”
“It’s Chris Merit’s chateau,” Neuville says, and he holds up the naked photo of me again. “It’s really perfect. Lots of rooms for play. A dungeon where I can chain Kayden.”
“A studio for Chris’s work,” she snaps. “This is his escape from the city.” She looks at me, desperation in her voice and eyes. “There are reasons he can’t lose this place, and me, Ella.”
“It’s too late to turn back in the name of fine art, though he is quite talented. I have one of his pieces in my den. But at this point,” Neuville holds up the phone and the photo of me naked in the airplane seat, “once we’re inside and my men have secured the property, we’ll send some photos to Kayden and have him join us, alone of course. His noncompliance will come with a price for you ladies.”
“Paris?” I ask, seeking complete confirmation in a way that won’t make him suspicious. “You dared to come back to Paris?”
“The countryside outside of Paris,” Sara says, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I will do anything you want. Just not here.”
Neuville gives her an amused look and then glances at me. “She gives me what I want too easily. Don’t you think?”
“I’ll take you to the necklace,” I say, setting my trap, and getting the intense reaction I expect.
His expression instantly turns explosive and he pulls me hard against him. “Where is it?”
“In the city, not far from your house. But if we go there, she’s free the minute I hand it to you.”
“Tell me where it is.”
I shake my head. “I get it myself, and she goes free right now. Leave her here.”
He glares at me, anger crackling off him, and then he releases me. “She goes with us.” He looks to the front of the car and calls out, “To the city.”
One of his men doesn’t like this idea, warning him of the dangers, but as I expect, Neuville’s jaw sets. “To the city,” he orders again.
The man doesn’t give up, suggesting that part of the convoy take me and return with both his prizes. But again, Neuville is predictable. He’s not going to let me or that necklace out of his reach. He barks an order and the car starts to move. Neuville then moves, sitting across from me, next to Sara, grabbing her leg and aligning it with his, his fingers at her knee. He stares at me and I stare back, a challenge between us. Sara for the necklace.
nineteen
The entire hour-long ride, Neuville holds onto Sara and stares at me. Sara shuts her eyes, enduring the devil at her side in her own way, and it works. It won’t get her beaten or killed. It’s calm. It’s not panicky. It’s the kind of reaction that intrigues Neuville enough to make him want to fuck you, not kill you. Which is still torturous, but at least it’s not dead.
Unfortunately, the convoy follows us. Fortunately, Neuville’s arrogant need for a huge SUV limo makes us stand out like a sore thumb that Kayden will surely notice. When we reach the city, I direct them to the Champs-Élysées. Sara’s eyes light with the name that places us close to her home, and the many people looking for her and us. Greed, like his arrogance, has led Neuville down the wrong path. My path. The one that ends in death.
“Where now?” Neuville demands.
I call out the address to his driver, as well as the name of the chocolate shop.
“A chocolate shop? This had better not be a game. You know how I feel about games that I don’t start,” Neuville warns.
“Would you have ever thought to look there?” I ask. “And this is the last place I remember having it. I hid it there the night David died. But I can’t promise I didn’t move it. If I did, though, I’m close to remembering everything. I’ll find it for you.”
“Who else knows about this chocolate shop?”