‘I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.’
I spun around at the voice behind me and let out a small yelp of alarm as I was confronted with Kranz propped up on one elbow, pointing a small pistol at me. It was a tiny silver gun, small enough for a handbag, and I assumed it must be Chanel’s.
The corners of Kranz’s mouth curled but not into a smile. They formed something rather more sinister, and there was a hint of depraved pleasure.
Kranz threw back the covers and swung his feet down onto the floor, before standing up. He was naked, and I looked down at the floor, not wanting to see him. He revolted me in every possible way.
Kranz made a scoffing noise. ‘Don’t insult me, otherwise I might be inclined to show you a thing or two.’ He strode over, purposely coming close to me, his arm brushing against mine as he reached around me for the gun. I could smell his breath. His body odour. Stale alcohol, sweat, and sex. ‘I’m going to enjoy making you pay,’ he whispered in my ear.
I could hear the pleasure in his voice, and I wanted to vomit.
‘Just stay there and don’t move,’ he ordered as he stepped away. ‘Pick up my clothes and lay them out on the bed.’
I did as I was told, unsure of what was happening now. ‘Turn around and kneel on the floor,’ he snapped.
Again, I complied. In any other situation, I would have expected him to execute me there and then, but I was certain he wouldn’t do that in Chanel’s suite, let alone her bedroom. No, Kranz had other plans for me. I could hear him dressing and a minute later, he was dragging me to my feet.
‘Consider yourself under arrest. Now move.’ He shoved me out of the bedroom and out of the suite. With his hand gripped tightly around my upper arm, he marched me down the corridor and into the elevator. The tears were welling up in my eyes. I should have just shot him. I shouldn’t have hesitated. I hated myself for being such a coward.
Monsieur Tache, the hotel manager, must have been alerted to what was happening, but even as he tried to protest as Kranz marched me across the hotel lobby, his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Kranz barked an order at a soldier on duty outside the hotel and a car instantly appeared.
‘You are I are going to spend some time together,’ said Kranz. ‘Now get in.’
Chapter 21
Darcie
Before Matt had even pulled up, Darcie knew that the black Audi TT cruising to a halt in front of her apartment was his. He buzzed down the window and leaned across the passenger seat.
‘Wanna ride?’ He grinned and winked at her, before jumping out and opening the boot.
‘You should be careful, I’m sure kerb crawling is an offence here.’
‘Let’s get outta here, then,’ said Matt, emphasising his American accent to comedic effect.
‘I’ve only brought the sketchbook with me,’ she said, handing Matt her bag to put in the car. ‘I didn’t want to cart the dress around with us.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Matt, closing the boot and then going around to open the passenger door for her.
The traffic was slow going out of the city, but eventually they were cruising along the main route out of Paris with the air con blowing gently and a Glenn Miller CD playing, which Matt said he thought she would like.
Darcie smiled at the music. It reminded her of the shop and the reason why she was in France in the first place. She hoped Lena and Chloe were all right. She hadn’t phoned them since she’d arrived, more at their insistence than her choice, but she couldn’t deny she was enjoying not having the responsibility of being chief carer. Almost immediately, a wave of guilt rushed over her for even thinking such a thing.
‘You all right?’ asked Matt, throwing a glance in her direction.
Darcie forced a smile. ‘Yeah. Just enjoying the scenery.’
Matt looked over again, this time with a questioning expression before reverting his attention back to the road. ‘You sure? We’re on a motorway and all I can see is tarmac and trees.’
‘Just nice to be out of the city,’ she said. Even to herself it sounded unconvincing. ‘So, what time do you think we’ll arrive in Ploërmel?’
‘About another three hours,’ said Matt. ‘We can stop on the way and have some lunch. In typical French style, I’ve brought a picnic. Just some bread, ham, salad, that type of thing.’
‘Sounds great. I hope you’ve also brought a picnic table and tablecloth.’
‘I even have wine,’ said Matt, ‘but we can drink that later when I’m not behind the wheel.’
