The Paris Game (30 page)

“I don’t think so. You can trust me, Sophie.”

She looked up at him, imploring him with her eyes. “I’m not ready to go further—and I know you want to. I just can’t.”

He sighed. “If I promise not to go any further than you want, would you stay?”

“I need to go.” She clasped his hand. “Thank you for today. It was lovely.”

He bent to kiss her, but she turned her head. He released her hand. “Let me get that book for you, then I’ll walk you to the taxi stand,” he said.

“Thank you.” She gave him a grateful look. He had been so close. He silently cursed Jeremy Gordon. He wished now he’d done more than just knock the man unconscious. He forced himself to relax and sublimate the anger. He held the door for her, letting her precede him into the hall.

“After you, ma chérie.”

Chapter 16

Sera’s voice faltered for the second time that evening, fading out in the midst of the last line of Piaf’s classic ‘
Adieu mon coeur
’. The first time, she’d thought that Jeremy had been weaving his way through the crowd, and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest until the man lit a cigarette and the illumination had shown it wasn’t Jeremy at all. This time, the man’s movements were too familiar, his stature just the same, and she stood frozen until Benoît played the last bar with a flourish on his piano. She gave a nod to the crowd, though they’d already turned their attention to their companions and another round of drinks. She could just see Edouard at the bar; he flashed her a puzzled look.

“Come on, Sera,” Benoît said in her ear. “Let me get you a drink before our next set.” She followed him from the stage.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so awful,” she said once they were away from the crowd, tucked into the tiny dressing room.

“It happens to all of us,” Benoît replied. “Don’t let it bother you.”

“But I’m better than this.” She took a tiny sip of the glass of wine he’d fetched for her.

“You still have one more set to make up for it. Do you want to change the setlist?”

“How many songs?” She couldn’t even remember. She rubbed her eyes.

“Ten. But we could cut it to eight. I don’t think anyone would notice.” Benoît looked concerned. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look tired, and you haven’t been quite yourself.”

“I’ll be okay. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Her dreams had been filled with Jeremy; either he chased her down and dragged her away, or he killed Marc before her eyes. She dreaded sleep.

“If you’re sure,” Benoît said. “We’ll cut the two Dietrich tunes. Jean won’t even complain then. I’ll go let Serge and Patrice know.”

“I’ll be out shortly. Thanks, Benoît.” Once he’d gone, she set the wine aside and picked up her glass of water. Everything will be fine, she told herself, wanting to believe it was true. Jeremy couldn’t hurt her here in the club, not where Edouard and Benoît could come to her defense.

She rose and straightened her dress. It glimmered with tiny sequins sewn into the layer of taffeta. She’d loved it since she’d first set eyes on it in the secondhand shop, even if it had cost her more than she could afford at the time. She refreshed her lipstick and smoothed her hair. She looked every inch the sultry femme fatale, even if she didn’t feel it. One more set to get through and then she could go home.

When the second set passed without incident and Jeremy didn’t appear, Sera started to relax. The applause put a smile on her face and Benoît grinned at her as she turned to give the band their due. Colette waved at her from a table near the bar and Sera left the stage, heading up to take a seat next to her.

“That was a fantastic set,” Colette told her, leaning over to give her a hug. “And that dress. It’s ravishing on you.”

“Thank you.” Sera smoothed a wrinkle from the taffeta near her hip. “You look lovely too—is it a special occasion?” Colette had outdone herself, wearing a slim-fitting red dress with dramatic, plunging cleavage. A dark scarf was draped over her shoulders and her hair had been put up in a chignon.

“I’m headed to meet Lise shortly. We’re going clubbing. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I think I’ll pass. Tonight I’m just going to go home and sleep. I need it.”

“Late nights? Have you found a man to replace Marc?” Colette asked.

“Hardly.”

“Where is he tonight anyway? I thought he was always here when you sing.”

Sera shrugged. “No idea. You know how he is. Jetting off somewhere. And I couldn’t care less if I never saw him again.”

“That bad? What did he do this time?” Colette asked.

“It’s a long story—I don’t want to get into it.” A glass shattering on the floor made her jump. A young woman picked up the shards as one of the waitresses came with a dustpan. She took a deep breath. “Jean’s going to be furious if that girl keeps breaking glasses. She dropped one earlier too. I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked her out.”

Colette looked skeptical. “Are you sure you don’t want to come out with Lise and I? It’d take your mind off of things.”

“I’d be the third wheel...Lise would get annoyed with me before too long.” Clubbing would take more energy than she had to spare.

“You know that’s not true. Lise loves your company,” Colette replied.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. She likes to have your undivided attention.” Sera changed the subject. “What have you been up to?”

The question set Colette off on a long rant about the travails of her current theatre project, but Sera didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to try to forget some of her worries and rest.

“We’ll have to get together for dinner on your next evening off,” Colette said, smoothing her hair. The gold bracelets on her arm jangled.

“Yes, we should,” Sera replied. “It’s next Tuesday I have free, I think.”

“Consider it a date.” Colette grinned. “You can come to mine and we’ll make something delicious and have a few drinks.” She stood and wrapped the scarf snugly around her shoulders.

“Leaving already?”

“I told Lise I’d meet her at 2—it’s nearly time.” Colette gave Sera another hug. “Have a good night, but pop by tomorrow afternoon if you’re not still sleeping and I’ll tell you about my night.”

“You’ll be sleeping!”

Colette laughed. “Yes, I probably will.”

“Have fun.” Sera waved as Colette headed to the door, then she went to collect her things from the dressing room. She ran into Benoît on her way out.

“Are you leaving? Want to split a taxi?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m meeting a friend up near your place.”

“Sure. Anything to save us a bit of money. I just need a couple of minutes.” Sera slung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the bar. She ducked into the back corridor, pulling an envelope from the pocket of her bag. She’d scraped together almost every bit of cash she had and had just managed to make the payment. She knocked on Royale’s door, hoping he wouldn’t be in.

“Entrez.”

She pushed open the door, the envelope held in front of her where he could see it.

“Ah, mademoiselle. Is it that time already?” She handed over the money without a word, watching as he flipped through the bills. “I’ll need more next time,” he told her.

“But—” Her objection faded as Royale gave her a stern look.

“Six hundred next week. Minimum.”

“But, I—”

“I’m not a customer friendly lending institution,” Royale snapped. “Six hundred. Allez!”

Sera backed out of his office, stumbling down the corridor towards the bar. She could never make that much money by next week. Benoît was waiting for her when she emerged, jacket slung over his arm.

“Ready?”

The night was warm, the wind calm, and the boulevard was busy, but Sera hardly noticed. Her stomach roiled with nausea.

“Typical,” Benoît remarked. “I hope we can get a taxi.”

They managed to flag down a taxi a few blocks away, just as a young couple were getting out. Benoît kept up the small talk as they headed up to Montmartre and Sera replied as best she could, even though her mind ran through endless calculations. She barely managed to pay Royale this week, and six hundred euros would be completely impossible. When the taxi drew up to the top of Sera’s street, she blinked tiredly and fumbled in her bag for a bit of money.

“Catch me when I see you tomorrow,” Benoît said. “Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s only half a block. Goodnight, Benoît.” She watched the taxi pull away and then headed towards her building. She took out her keys and fumbled them as she tried to slide her key into the lock. Her second try was more successful and she pushed open the heavy door.

The light in the entryway was dim and she saw that one of the lights had burnt out. Hopefully the concierge would notice, if she were even home. She started towards the staircase, reluctant to climb the five flights to her apartment. She put her hand on the banister, but paused as she heard a rustle behind her. A man stepped out from the shadows.

“Who are you?” she asked, puzzled. The man only smiled.

A hand clamped over her mouth and nose and she found herself wrapped in a tight embrace, against a large, solid form. She tried to scream.

“Hello, my dear.” Jeremy’s voice was low in her ear. “You kept us waiting. That wasn’t very nice of you.”

She writhed in his grasp, her lungs starting to burn at the lack of oxygen. His hand tightened. She tried to focus on the man in front of her, pleading with him silently to help her, but he just watched her with a detached interest. Her body convulsed, desperate for air. The world faded into blackness. Sera hoped she would die quickly, but somehow, with Jeremy, she knew it wouldn’t be so.

She wasn’t dead.

She was, however, completely disoriented. Footsteps echoed on stone and she found herself moving, flung over a strong shoulder. The air burst from her lungs all at once and she gasped for breath.

“Guess she’s awake then,” said an unfamiliar voice. Her body rocked as the man carrying her began to climb a set of stairs. The movement, and the smell of the stairway, damp and sour, sickened her and she groaned.

“If you fucking puke I will drop you,” the man holding her growled.

“Now now, Claude,” Jeremy’s voice came from the side. “You know what will happen if you drop her.” His voice hit her like a fist in the solar plexus. She squirmed against the man holding her, feeling the panic rising.

Claude staggered and the world tilted precariously, but the fear was stronger than her need for safety. She’d rather tumble down the stairs than stay where she was, where Jeremy could hurt her.

A strong hand seized the back of her neck, the sharp press of his fingers immobilizing her. Stars danced in her vision and the hand let go. She felt the nausea rising and swallowed back the bile.

Claude grumbled. “Wish there was a fucking elevator in this shithole.”

“Yes, but all the posh places were full up.” The man with the unfamiliar voice strayed into her limited range of vision.

“Shut up, Michel, or you can carry her,” Claude retorted.

“Enough.”

Both men fell silent at Jeremy’s command. She caught a glimpse of a doorway, then another. The blood rushing to her head made her feel woozy again, but Claude began to climb the next flight of stairs, impervious to her distress. Finally he stopped on a landing and she heard the turning of a key in a lock. He carried her through a doorway and into a dark apartment that smelt musty. It was close and warm.

Without warning, he flung her down on a bed, not caring that she landed in a tangle of limbs. The bed frame creaked and the door slammed shut. Sera blinked in the darkness. A sliver of light found its way through the boarded up window and she could just make out the plain lines of the room. There was no furniture aside from the bed and wallpaper dangled in tattered ribbons above the wainscoting. Claude had been too generous—this was a hovel.

The sound of voices from the other room drew her attention. They hadn’t left the apartment. She could barely make out the words, but Claude’s raised voice traveled clearly.

“This isn’t going to work,” the man called Claude said.

“I don’t remember asking you for your opinion,” Jeremy replied. “I didn’t have to let you live. It would have been simpler to kill you.” She tried to puzzle this out, but it didn’t make any sense. Who were these men with Jeremy? She heard footsteps and the door opened, the man’s figure a silhouette from the light in the other room. When the lamp came on above her, she squinted against the brightness. A hand stroked her hair. She flinched.

“Good evening, darling,” Jeremy crooned, turning her head so that she had to look at him. “It’s been so long since we’ve had any time together. Did you miss me?” He laughed. She shuddered and pulled away.

“Michel!” he barked. The man came immediately, scurrying into the room like a scared rodent. If she’d seem him on the street, she would have thought him harmless, and he still looked it, next to Jeremy.

“What is it?”

“Give me your phone.” Jeremy held out his hand and Michel passed it over. He pressed a few buttons and pointed it at her. When she wouldn’t look at him, he grabbed her chin roughly. “Look into the camera, darling.” She heard a click and then another.