I hang up the phone. “We’ve got friends in Boston.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding. “Thanks. And they’re going to check in on her?”
“They will and they’ll report right back to me. I can tell you right now that she’s probably fine, Nicolette, but I wouldn’t want to take any chances.”
“Good. Alright then. Thank you.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “And it’s probably time for us to get into disguise. My God, I feel like I need a drink, but I don’t want to lose any of my control.”
I can’t help it. I pull her over to me and kiss her temple. I kiss her cheeks and then brush my lips over hers. “I’ll help you lose control.”
“I know you will,” she says with a sigh. “Why does that both excite and terrify me all at once?”
“Because control is a heavy thing to carry. It can be erotic surrendering to someone, because it makes you vulnerable and pushes the element of trust. But it’s also scary because you have no idea what this actually means, do you? What I’ll do.”
Nodding, she turns to me and frames my face in her hands.
I blink, suddenly strangely emotional at the tender look she gives me.
“What?” I ask on a whisper.
“I want to remember you like this,” she whispers back.
I want to tell her she doesn’t have to commit me to memory. I want to tell her that we can stay together and will, because I won’t let her leave even if she wants to. I want to tell her that if she feels what I do, that we can make this last, that we can make this work, that the two of us were meant to be together.
“I’m getting nervous about the time,” she finally whispers. I glance at the clock. We have fifteen minutes before the security shift.
“Let’s go. Thankfully these disguises are simple enough to do, right?”
“Yes.”
We won’t dress here so we don’t rouse suspicion. Instead, we’ll dress in the car on the way there.
“We’ll exit through the back entrance.” This entrance is the one reserved for V.I.P.s for a price, for people of incredible stature who would be recognized immediately if anyone saw them. We charge a substantial fee for privacy, so no paparazzi ever suspects a Prime Minister or celebrity’s slipping into Corsica’s most popular brothel.
Nicolette nods, and we leave my place hand in hand just as her phone beeps.
“Oh, it’s Savannah,” she says on a sigh. “Thank God.” Pushing a button on her phone, she answers in a rush of words. “Savannah? Is that you?”
She pauses long enough to listen, then slumps against me and sobs. Poor girl was more keyed up than I thought. A pang of guilt stabs me.
I hold her to me. “She’s alright,” she whispers, though her brow is knit with concentration as she listens. “No! Oh my God, no! Are you serious?” Her eyes come to me and she quickly takes her phone from her ear long enough so she can put it on speaker. Her hands shake.
“Savannah, this is my friend Fabien. Fabien, my sister Savannah. Savannah, Fabien’s sending his team to check in on you.”
We walk quickly down the hall to get to the car I’ve ordered to be brought to us. We have ten minutes to get to security.
I push open the door and step outside into the darkening night. I hold her hand.
“Fabien, thank you,” Savannah says. “Last night, I was being followed by a guy and it scared me so I went to my friend’s house. He tried to take my purse, but I managed to get away. I called the police, and they couldn’t catch him, but I was nervous to go back to my place.”
“Of course you were,” Nicolette says passionately. “Oh you poor thing!”
I open the car door and retrieve the keys, then open her door for her.
She slides in the seat beside me, and I listen to her sister’s details. “I’m glad you’re alright,” I say to Savannah finally.
“Me, too,” Nicolette adds. “Listen, honey, we have a quick job to do and then I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”
“Sounds good. And thanks again.” Savannah clicks off and Nicolette puts the phone down. “I wish she was here. Okay, so let’s go over this again, shall we?” Nicolette asks.
