A tense silence stretched across the room while everyone waited for her to speak.
Finally.
“Oui. D'accord.” She fell to the chair, allowing it to cradle her weight. “Done.” She used her sharp eyes to appraise me more closely. “But we have a few things to discuss first.”
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.
* * *
Collette was requested not only for the men aboard, but also for the prisoner about to die—one last offering before departing from this world. Some prisoners were offered this privilege, Colette had told me. Others were not. Depending on the offense. This was something the French did, but since Giovi was attempting to play nice with the new leader, he agreed to kill Brando on the yacht, and then drop him over afterward. Since it had been a joint collaboration. Killing the Dragon was something both sides wanted to be associated with. It upped their street cred.
It turned out that even though I’d have no problem learning Collette’s dance moves, I would never make it on the yacht without her lying to the man who took her to all of her “shows.” Apparently, she was in good with him, and if she told him her mother was sick and needed her, he would cover for her. This was something she did, not often, but whenever Vivian needed her. Collette had dancer friends who all circulated in the rat’s circle, so none of them had ever disappointed the crowd, or man, Collette was supposed to be dancing for. She told me she was the rat’s highest paid dancer, so she compensated her fill-ins well. As long as I didn’t disappoint, Nemours would never find out, unless he recognized me.
I flew under Violet’s name to France. My mother and Eunice flew with us, along with Vincenzo and Guido.
The brothers flew on a different flight, along with Uncle Tito, right after Lev had offered his services. They had set up a rendezvous point in France to meet. It would take more than me to see this thing through.
Colette took a different flight to France, with a young man who was new to the Faustis. In case Nemours got curious, he wouldn’t connect us. Collette said that he trusted her, for the most part, since she had been feeding him correct information, so hopefully he wouldn’t.
Once we arrived in France, I was taken off the plane by suitcase. Vincenzo rolled me out, kept me by his side in the car, until we were in the apartment building my parents owned. The complex was monitored by cameras, and after we certified that Nemours hadn’t been lurking, Colette was rushed into the building.
Once inside, Colette worked on my makeup, while my mother made last-minute adjustments to the costume. Colette usually wore all white silk and a black straight wig, with even straighter bangs, and green contacts close to the color of my own to complete the look. She had a bigger bust and was wider in stature, so my mother took it in, giving my breasts a more voluptuous appearance, while making the costume seem custom made.
It left little to the imagination.
I stood before an oval shaped mirror, looking this way and then that. My mother assessed me with a seamstress’s eye, making sure her adjustments made me look more like Colette. Not that I had to be her twin, but if Nemours were close, perhaps he wouldn’t look twice.
“It is an oblivious mother that cannot tell her child from a stranger on the street. Today, I am oblivious.”
I took a deep breath in, sighing it out. The entire costume was a bodysuit, with ribbons serving as buttons on the crotch to be untied if the need arose. White thigh-high stockings hugged my legs.
My mother bent down, pretending to fix a stray piece of material that had come loose. It seemed like she didn’t want to meet my eye.
“Mati,” I said, prompting her. If she kept fiddling with the fabric, a stray piecewouldcome loose.
She sighed and stopped moving. “I would tell you not to do this, if I knew it would do any good. However.” She picked at the material again, but only for a second. “If you do not save him, I have already lost you.”
“I—”
She held a hand up, stopping me from going on. “Come now,Hci. It is time to put your shoes on.” She grabbed for the box on the bed, separating the silk ribbons. “Whatever it is you have to say can wait. Until you both come home.”
Chapter Thirty
Scarlett
Knock. Knock.
We were at Collette’s apartment, and at the knock, I looked up from where I sat on her sofa. We were expecting company, but apparently, not the guy standing on the other side of the door. Collette turned and looked at me at the same time the man did. He spoke French, questioning her about why I was in her apartment, dressed like her, when Nemours was expecting her.
I could see that Collette couldn’t come up with a good enough answer. For once, she was struggling to find an excuse.
Who was this guy? And why wasn’t she expecting him?
She sighed loudly and told him in French, “Follow me.” When she turned to me, she moutheddoorman.
Why would a doorman care about who she had in her apartment? Unless Nemours had him spying on her? Collette had mentioned that tonight was important for Nemours. The new French leader hated Nemours and basically put his head on a metaphorical platter, ready to chop it off if Nemours didn’t help him impress the Italians.
Collette left the doorman to stand on a white fur rug in her hallway while she went into her kitchen. The doorman stared at me with narrowed eyes. Did he know who I was? It seemed like he did, or he highly suspected something was amiss. It was hard for me not to squirm under his intense gaze.
