Nicolette:
Let’s meet at the Louvre at noon
I read it out loud to Lyam.
“Keep control of the situation,” Lyam warns.
I swallow and shake my head before I text back.
Me:
It’s too busy there. Let’s meet at Le Square Du Vert-Galant.
Nicolette:
I’ll be there
The triangular public park, near Notre-Dame and the Louvre, is one of my favorite haunts. Raised in tribute to Henry IV, the beautiful square is situated smack dab in the center of the capital. It’s not uncommon to see people taking romantic strolls or having picnics, or for couples to take little boat trips for views of the Seine.
Lyam’s men can easily hide themselves behind the flowering bushes and majestic trees. And I, for one, will have to be regrettably late for meeting up with my sister.
We go over the plan again, and again, and again.
“And when this is over,” Lyam says in a tone that he likely thinks is threatening, “you’ll come back here with Thayer, where you belong.”
“Oh no I won’t,” I insist. “I’ll go where I think I need to, and I’m not sure where that is yet.”
Lyam grits his teeth. “I’ve never seen my brother so invested in someone so much in my life.”
“I don’t want himinvestedin me,” I snap. “I want him to love me.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Like I love him. And if he thinks the only way to keep me?—”
“I already told you why he tracked you,” Lyam begins, but I shake my head at him. I have no interest in arguing this point.
I had no idea I was being tracked. I didn’t know literally everything I touched was some kind of way to keep me connected to him.
“Question,” I say to Lyam. “Before we continue any of this.”
“Yes?”
“Can I speak with my sister?”
Lyam clenches his jaw and nods. “Of course.” He taps his phone and orders, “Call Fabien.”
I want to cry in relief when I hear Fabien’s voice on the other end of the line as Lyam joins me to the call. I didn’t know how tightly wound I was. I didn’t know how emotional I’d be just hearing his voice.
Lyam fills Fabien in. “Can you put Nicolette on the line?”
A few seconds later, I hear her voice.
“Nicolette,” I cry into the phone. “Oh, I’m so happy to hear your voice.”
I tell her everything and finish up with getting the imposter texts from her. Fabien growls.
“Her phone was destroyed by accident. Someone else sent those texts.”
“We’ve figured that out by now.” I frown. “I wonder, if we tapped her number, would we be able to trace them?”
“Possibly,” Fabien says. “Lyam’s the one to ask. Where are you going now?”
