As we reach my corner of the basement, I turn around and Toni kneels beside me, locking up my ankle once again.
Simone glares at me. “You should have kept the dress. It had many layers.” She nods up to the narrow windowsill behind the reinforced rebar. “I read tonight will be freezing.” She checks her watch. “I’ve got a meeting.” She leans over and kisses Toni on the cheek. “Don’t wait up. I will be late.”
My cold wet hair sticks to my neck and shoulders as Simone leaves the basement.
“I could get pneumonia,” I say to Toni, sinking down on the mattress. I glance over to a throw blanket draped over her computer chair. “I-I won’t tell her…”
Toni gives me a flat look. “Go to sleep, Emery Jones.”
My stomach twists, but I don’t beg. I don’t barter with her. I simply curl up into a ball, and hope that I don’t die.
Please. Please find me. Please let me go.
Please give me a chance.
Please.
At some point, I stir awake in the middle of the night and nearly cry.
For the first time in my life, my prayers are heard.
A blanket hugs my body.
THE OLD FRIEND
QUINTON
“Let me do the talking.You just…” I glare at Damon as we linger outside Vivienne’s Parisian residence. “You just stay quiet. I know that’s a hard ask, but I strongly believe your silence would be beneficial.”
Damon rolls his eyes, and I press the intercom, Vivienne’s voice crackling through. "Yes?" she asks in French. “Who is it?”
I clear my throat, anxiety gnawing at me. "It's Quinton Marquis. We need to talk."
There's a brief pause, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. “Quinton?” she hums. “I must say I am surprised to hear your voice. What… What do you want? I’m rather…occupiedat the moment. Perhaps you can come back later. Say, a few hours.”
“This cannot wait,” I state, clearing my throat. “It’s urgent. I need to talk to you.”
Before Vivienne can respond, Damon pipes up, impatient and gruff. “Open the fucking door, Vivienne!”
“Oh…” A mischievous hum floats through the intercom, dripping with amusement. "Is that Damon Cavanaugh with you? I’d recognize that voice in my sleep.” She chuckles softly. “What a treat. Two for the price of one. Very well, come up."
“I told you to stay quiet,” I grumble as we pour into the building and head to the lift.
“Seemed like you needed assistance,” Damon retorts, adjusting his pocket square as we ride the lift to the top floor. “Maybeyou’rethe one who should stay quiet. I got us invited up, didn’t I?”
“No more talking,” I grunt as the lift doors open. I stare down at him. “Understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Damon jeers. “Understood.”
With a deep, stabilizing breath, I rap my knuckles against the door, and instantly, Vivienne answers, dressed in a silk robe with fur lining the collar.
She smirks up at us, tilting her head. “Apologies for the ensemble,” she coos, looking back over her shoulder. Several distinct male voices sound from the bedroom. “I was in the middle of something.”
My expression flattens. We can’t risk any of her…guestsoverhearing our conversation. We’re already treading the line by coming here and seeking her help. Damon stiffens beside us, equally aware of the potential repercussions of our Hail Mary actions.
“We need to speak in private,” Damon says before I have a chance to open my mouth. He nods over Vivienne’s shoulder. “Dismiss your playthings.”
Vivienne perks a brow. “Now, Damon, while I can appreciate a demanding man, I only take orders in the bedroom.” She crosses her arms. “Would you like to try again?”
