Kissed in Paris (19 page)

I let out a quiet breath as Julien went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Let’s talk about it when I get home, okay? I have a lot going on here right now, and that’s something we need to talk about in person.”

“Promise me you’ll think about it and really consider it, okay?”

“Okay, Paul. I will. I’ll think about it. I hate to run, but I have to get back to work here.”

“Can I have the hotel number where you’re staying?”

“You know, I don’t have it on me at the moment. I’m calling from a colleague’s cell phone. I’ll call you later on before I go to bed. And don’t forget to pick up Sophie at the airport tonight. Her flight comes in at seven.”

Paul sighed loudly into the phone. “I really wish you were here right now. I can’t believe this. Just make sure you get home by Wednesday. Your dad and sisters are arriving then, right?”

Ugh. “Yes. I’ll be back by then. I promise. And I’ll try for earlier, but no guarantees.”

“And don’t use the debit, okay?”

“Got it.”

After hanging up the phone, I rested my head in my hands and closed my eyes.
God, what a mess
. But what was I supposed to do? Should I have told Paul that my entire wallet was stolen, so at least the debit card fiasco would make a little more sense? I hadn’t thought any of this out, and I hadn’t realized it would go this far. That I would be seven hours from Paris, letting the lies roll off my tongue each time I talked to the man I was marrying in just five days.

I gazed down at my engagement ring—which I had slipped back on this morning before leaving the hotel—and silently thanked God that Julien had gotten it back. I couldn’t even imagine what Paul would’ve said about that. I had no idea how I would explain the rest, but at least I had the ring.

Julien appeared at my side. “You are okay?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“You talked to your fiancé?”

“Yes.”  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I just talked to my
not-a-man
fiancé.”

“I am sorry I said that yesterday. I do not know him, but . . . never mind. I should not have said that.”

I shot up from the chair and paced the room. “What am I going to tell him when I do finally get home? How is the illegal activity on my bank account going to be cleared? How is he not going to find out what really happened? And if he does find out, is he even going to want to marry me this weekend?”

Julien reached for my shoulders and pushed my butt down onto the bed before sitting next to me. “Like I told you, I have seen Claude do this many times before. I can’t promise that things will go well once you go home, but I can at least help you get there.”

 “Why do you have my picture on your phone?” I demanded, not willing to just go along for the ride anymore.

Julien’s voice caught in his throat as he opened his mouth. “What?”

“I looked at your phone last night when you were in the shower. You had the same picture that the police had of me, with some strange message underneath that had my name in it. What’s going on?”

“You already know everything that is going on, Chloe. I told you I work for the government, and I have been assigned to find and arrest Claude. There is nothing more to tell.”

“That’s funny because when I asked you how you knew it was me in the hotel lobby yesterday morning, you said it was the signature red dress and the bewildered look on my face. You failed to mention the fact that someone had sent you my name and my picture. Who sent it, and what does the message say?”

Julien stood abruptly and walked to the window where he avoided my gaze . . . and my questions.

That was it. I’d had enough. I walked over to him, grabbed his face and pulled him toward me so he couldn’t avoid me for another second.

“Don’t ignore me! I’ve gone along with everything you’ve told me, I’ve followed you around this damn country, and all the while, I’ve been lying to my fiancé, who I’m marrying this week! The
least
you can do is explain to me what the hell is going on and why you have my picture on your phone.”

Julien didn’t break my gaze this time. “The connections I have in my job . . . they are powerful, Chloe. And like I already explained to you, I am under strict orders
not
to help you, but instead to let the police deal with you. After all, my agency does not know for sure that you are innocent, so they would rather let the police interrogate you while we focus on finding Claude. But there is one friend of mine—the government agent who assigned me to this case and who is very high up—who made a promise to me a couple of years ago after something very bad happened to one of the women that Claude scammed. He promised that if Claude started up again, he would assign me to the case so that I could personally take him down. And so I could make sure nothing like that ever happened again to another woman. He sent me the picture that the undercover cop took of you at the hotel that night and told me that if I stopped you from going to the police and helped get your passport back from Claude, he would make sure you are able to leave the country without any trouble.”

“Okay. Assuming that’s all true, I still want to know what happened to that woman that you would go to such lengths to make sure it never happened again. And in the text message, I read the word
tableau.
It means
painting
, am I right?”

“Yes, it does. There is more to this story than you need to know, Chloe. Or than I can tell you. It is a long story, and it is nothing you need to worry about.”

“There you go again with your long stories.”

 “I am trying to help you, Chloe. I am being honest, and I need you to believe me. Because what happened to her . . .” Julien turned his face from me as his eyes glazed over. “It was a nightmare. And I won’t let it happen again. Not to you or to anyone else.”

“What
exactly
happened to her? Why won’t you tell—”

“She’s dead,” he said flatly.

A chill ran down my spine as I stared at him, only silence filling the gap between us. Suddenly a sharp ring sounded, making me jump backward a foot.

Julien pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID.

“It’s Camille.”

Twelve

The call lasted no more than two minutes before Julien shoved his phone back in his pocket and smiled at me, all traces of his grim memories wiped away.

“Camille is coming to get us.”

“Right now?”

“In a couple of hours. But she will take us to Lyon tonight, so we won’t have to wait until tomorrow morning to find Claude. In the meantime, we will wait here in the hotel.”

Julien plopped down on the bed, grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, his long body stretching out over the burgundy comforter.

I sat on the corner of the bed, feeling something pull at my stomach.

“Is Camille another agent . . . or is she one of your girlfriends?” I asked.

Julien laughed. “
One
of my girlfriends? How many do you think I have?”

I ran my eyes down the length of his body. “Well, from the way you’ve talked, I just assumed that—”

“I told you I wasn’t in love with anyone.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have women that you . . .”

“That I what? Sleep with?”

I nodded.

Julien scrunched up his forehead. “What is the word you use in English for this sort of person? A slut?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

“So you think I am a man slut?”

“I didn’t say that . . . I was just wondering about Camille, that’s all.”

“Camille is my sister,” he said, pinning his intense eyes on me.

“Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister. Why didn’t you just say that before?”

Julien shrugged. “For the record, I do not have several girlfriends. At the moment, I don’t even have one.”

My stomach flip-flopped again and I thought back to what had just happened at the lingerie store and how weird I’d felt afterward. I needed to get some fresh air. By myself.

“I’m going to take a walk across the street to the lake,” I announced. What did I care about Julien’s love life anyway? It was none of my business.

Julien turned the volume down on the TV. “It is best to stay here for now and wait for Camille.”

“But you said she wouldn’t even be here for another couple of hours, so I don’t see the point of just sitting here. Plus it’s gorgeous out there. What happened to relaxing and enjoying the moment?”

Julien shot me a stern look, his eyes filled with impatience. “Just stay in the hotel for a couple of hours with me. It is not that big of a deal.”

I crossed the room and opened the door. “I need some fresh air. I’ll be across the street.”

Just as I was about to close the door behind me, Julien caught it with his hand, grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the hotel room.

“You are not walking around Annecy alone. I will come with you.” He picked up my shopping bag of clothes and nodded toward the door. “
On y va
?”

“You don’t have to come—” I began, but Julien had already ushered me into the hallway and closed the door behind us.

So much for getting some alone time.

“Women,” he muttered under his breath as he trailed behind me down the hallway. “
This
is why I do not have a girlfriend, you see?”

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, you know. I did just fine before I met you yesterday.”

“Correction—before you met Claude. After that, it seems everything is out of your control, no?”

As the elevator doors opened up, I bolted past Julien and out into the fresh mountain air. I didn’t wait for him as I crossed the street to the tree-filled park that jutted out into the sparkling lake. I wished he would just leave me alone for five seconds. His incessant jabs were driving me nuts. Plus, every second I spent alone with him made me feel like I was betraying Paul. Because I was. I was lying to him. And to my entire family.

Just as I was about to sit down on one of the park benches facing the water, hoping to clear my head, Julien grabbed my hand. “I have an idea. To pass the time, we will take a boat ride. Come.”

He led me across the lawn a little too quickly, until we reached a large group of chatty, laughing tourists who were waiting to board a massive white boat which looked like a small cruise ship.

Julien snapped his head to the side, his eyes searching the pathway leading back into town. He slid his arm around my waist and pushed me toward the boat.

“Do you see that guy again? Why are you acting like this?” I asked.

Before Julien could answer me, I discovered the reason why he’d rushed me across the park—it was Officer Laroche and Officer Fournier, charging down the sidewalk, their eyes combing the lawn we’d just run across.

Julien pivoted so his back was facing them, his body pressed up against mine, his arm still cinched around my waist. “Don’t look over there,” he mumbled. “Just get on the boat.”

As we climbed the stairs up to the deck of the boat and pushed our way through the crowd to get to the other side, I noticed that all of the other passengers were dressed nicely—the men in collared shirts and ties, the women in dresses—and they all seemed to know each other already.