Chapter 21 The Old Friend
THE OLD FRIEND
QUINTON
“Let me do the talking. You just…” I glare at Damon as we linger outside Vivienne’s Parisian residence. “You just stay quiet. I know that’s a hard ask, but I strongly believe your silence would be beneficial.”
Damon rolls his eyes, and I press the intercom, Vivienne’s voice crackling through. "Yes?" she asks in French. “Who is it?”
I clear my throat, anxiety gnawing at me. "It's Quinton Marquis. We need to talk."
There's a brief pause, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. “Quinton?” she hums. “I must say I am surprised to hear your voice. What… What do you want? I’m rather…occupied at the moment. Perhaps you can come back later. Say, a few hours.”
“This cannot wait,” I state, clearing my throat. “It’s urgent. I need to talk to you.”
Before Vivienne can respond, Damon pipes up, impatient and gruff. “Open the fucking door, Vivienne!”
“Oh…” A mischievous hum floats through the intercom, dripping with amusement. "Is that Damon Cavanaugh with you? I’d recognize that voice in my sleep.” She chuckles softly. “What a treat. Two for the price of one. Very well, come up."
“I told you to stay quiet,” I grumble as we pour into the building and head to the lift.
“Seemed like you needed assistance,” Damon retorts, adjusting his pocket square as we ride the lift to the top floor. “Maybe you’re the one who should stay quiet. I got us invited up, didn’t I?”
“No more talking,” I grunt as the lift doors open. I stare down at him. “Understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Damon jeers. “Understood.”
With a deep, stabilizing breath, I rap my knuckles against the door, and instantly, Vivienne answers, dressed in a silk robe with fur lining the collar.
She smirks up at us, tilting her head. “Apologies for the ensemble,” she coos, looking back over her shoulder. Several distinct male voices sound from the bedroom. “I was in the middle of something.”
My expression flattens. We can’t risk any of her…guests overhearing our conversation. We’re already treading the line by coming here and seeking her help. Damon stiffens beside us, equally aware of the potential repercussions of our Hail Mary actions.
“We need to speak in private,” Damon says before I have a chance to open my mouth. He nods over Vivienne’s shoulder. “Dismiss your playthings.”
Vivienne perks a brow. “Now, Damon, while I can appreciate a demanding man, I only take orders in the bedroom.” She crosses her arms. “Would you like to try again?”
Damon’s jaw locks and I sigh. Fucking buffoon. “Vivienne,” I say, sweetly. “Would you please ask your friends to give us a few moments alone? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t of the greatest importance.”
Vivienne purses her lips, thinking. And eventually, when she’s made us wait long enough, she concedes, stepping aside and motioning for us to enter. “Honey beats vinegar, my dear Damon. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll join you in a minute.”
With her head held up high, she waltzes away to her bedroom.
Damon and I stride into the living room, the wide historic windows providing a panoramic view of the Eiffel Tower and the surrounding gray skies. I find the bar and pour myself a whiskey neat before joining Damon on the sofa, both of us tucking ourselves into the farthest corner.
Damon glowers at me, hiking his ankle over his thigh. “It’s 11 a.m., Quinton. Have some self-control.”
I scoff. “I’m not the one with substance abuse issues, Cavanaugh. This drink won’t derail my whole life.”
“Wow,” Damon hums, clicking his tongue. “How would the medical board feel if they heard you speak about a disease with such disdain? They should pull your license for such lack of compassion and understanding.”
“Yes, and then we can both be unemployed,” I mutter, my temples pulsing from his constant yammering.
Damon snorts. “Even with no job, I’m worth more than you’ll ever be, Quinny. But don’t worry, you’re not the only philanthropist around. If you wanted, I could sponsor you. Give you a little monthly allowance.”
“I enjoy the work I do,” I retort. “It keeps my mind sharp. Plus, there’s something special about helping make the world a better place.”
Damon blinks. “By peddling opioids for migraines? Yes, you’re a true savior.”
My jaw locks. “NovaTech doesn’t fuck with opioids and you know that. Don’t you dare undermine the work we do.”
“The work you do?” He cocks his head, contempt gripping his features. “Such as sell off patents to money-hungry hedge fund managers?”
My lip twitches. “It wasn’t my choice, Cavanaugh. We had two bad quarters. The board made a rash decision.”
“For which you had final approval.”
I slam the whiskey glass on the side table, veins buzzing with anger. “What do you want me to say?! Huh? That it’s entirely my fault that Emery is gone? That she’s been kidnapped by a fucking lunatic because of me? Fine! Yes, it’s my fault! Happy now?”
The front door to Vivienne’s condo slams shuts, and she suddenly appears before us, eyes clouded in stunned curiosity.
“Emery’s been kidnapped?” Both Damon and I stiffen as Viv circles the living room, sitting down on a chaise opposite us. She crosses her legs, the silk robe drawing open as she reveals her bare legs. “Well? What happened?”
I clear my throat, leaning forward and resting my forearms on my knees.
I roll my hands together, my insides roaring with unease.
“Two nights ago, on New Year’s Eve, Emery was taken from the resort,” I begin.
“I-I received a ransom message to my satellite phone and a video of Emery. I… We’re putting the money together now, but…
but I believe they’ll kill her either way. ”
“We need to call Nariq Al Husan,” Vivienne says, reaching for her phone. “The General will—”
“No!” Damon barks, abruptly standing. “No police. No Interpol. They were very clear.”
Vivienne’s hand relaxes. “Then I am not entirely sure why you are here.”
“I need your help tracking her location,” I say, swallowing. “The video file. Perhaps… I don’t know. Perhaps there’s a location embedded in the data.”
“And you expect me to extract said data?” she asks, brows furrowed. “I am sorry, Quinton, but that is far beyond my area of expertise.”
“See?!” Damon grunts. “I told you it was a waste of time coming here. Let’s go! We need to get to Macau.”
“Vivienne, please,” I say, desperate for a sprinkle of hope. “You must know someone. Have some sort of contact that can assist us. Please, Viv. She’s… She’s going to die. I… We can’t let her die.”
Vivienne takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Quinton, but my contacts at Interpol don’t operate on a contractual basis. Unless it’s ordered by the President or is an active case, they will not lend their aid.”
My teeth clench. “And what about your contacts outside of Interpol? I know you, Viv. You must know someone. Anyone. Please.”
She purses her lips, her skeptical gaze floating between me and Damon. “I might know someone.” My eyes light up. “But it’ll cost you, Quinton. This person, they’re not tied to any country, to any bureau. They have no loyalty. They only value cash. Are you sure that’s someone you want helping you?”
“I’d hire Satan himself if that’s what it took to get Emery back,” I say with utter resolve. “Take us to them.”
“Quin!” Damon growls. “Another person? You want yet another person to be involved? Let alone someone who doesn’t know or care about us? About Emery? No. We can’t risk it. We can’t blindly trust that this person will help us.”
“What choice do we have, Damon?!” I snap back. “I know you don’t believe me, but I swear that paying this ransom will not get Emery home. Not safe. Not alive.”
Vivienne raises a finger in the air. “If I might—”
“What?” Damon barks.
“While my contact’s morals are somewhat questionable,” she hums. “I will say that Red has never failed to follow through in the many years I’ve utilized her services.” She shrugs. “It is up to you, however, if you wish to trust the keeper of the dark web.”
“Jesus Christ,” Damon grunts, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “The dark web? What are we even doing going down this route? We need cash, Quinton! That’s our priority.”
“And as I said, it’ll cost you,” Vivienne adds. “I believe the base rate starts at one hundred thousand euros for your particular type of request.”
“A hundred grand?! No, that’s it. Get up,” Damon demands, “We’re leaving.
We’re not throwing money away on this bullshit.
” He stares down at me. “I reviewed our accounts, Q. After liquidating everything we have, we’re still five hundred million dollars short.
We literally cannot afford it. Let’s go. ”
“Viv.” I ignore Damon and force Vivienne to look at me. To see how hopeless I feel. To see how hollow I am. “We need this person’s help. I-I’ll do anything to get their help.”
A ghost of a smirk graces her face. “What are you implying, my dear Quinton?”
“Do this for me, Vivienne,” I say, swallowing. “And I will do anything for you.”
She lifts a brow. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I do believe you’re propositioning me.” She tilts her head to the side, her robe slowly falling off her shoulder. “Quinton, friends don’t use friends like that.”
“Then for tonight,” I say, glancing toward her bedroom. I knew what I was getting into before we got here. I’m okay with this. It’s an acceptable trade. “Let’s not be friends. Let’s be…something else.”
“Quin…” Damon mutters beside me, frowning. “Don’t—”
Vivienne clicks her tongue. “I can tell that this is difficult for you, Quin, and if I were a more empathetic and caring woman, I would just offer to lend you the money but…” She stands up, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“But I know when to jump on an opportunity when it presents itself.” She glances at Damon, expression hardening as she tells him, “Wipe that judgment off your face, my dear. We both know we’re a different side of the same coin.
I’ve heard of the Cavanaugh techniques before. You are in no position to judge me.”
“So, you’ll call them?” I ask, standing up. “You’ll make the call?”
Vivienne smiles. “Of course, Quinton.” She nods toward her bedroom.
“Go ahead and look around while you wait. I’m sure you’ll find yourself at home in there.
” She grabs her phone and dials a number.
While it rings, she looks at Damon and adds, “If you’d like, you may also stay.
” She grins. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve both always been quite fond of the Eiffel Tower.
” With a wink, she turns away from us, speaking into the receiver. “Oui. C’est Vivienne.”
When Vivienne is out of earshot, Damon bulldozes toward me, fuming. “This is your solution? To sell yourself to Vivienne Delareux? Jesus, Quinton! What were you thinking?!”
“I’m thinking this is our only chance to get Emery back!” I bark, standing up. “Judge me all you want, Damon, but I’m doing this.”
Damon’s fists curl up into balls, his body damn near fucking vibrating. “Fuck! Damn it, Quinton!”
He paces around in front of me, muttering under his breath as I find solace in my decision. My head snaps to the entryway as Vivienne returns, a wide grin spreading on her dolled up face.
“Red will meet us at noon tomorrow,” she says, anticipation brimming. “That means we have twenty-four hours together.” She hitches both shoulders. “How exciting.” She nods down the corridor. “Shall we start?”
“After you,” I say, and Vivienne leads the way. As I follow her to her bedroom, heavy footsteps sound behind me, and I turn around. “What are you doing?”
Damon scoffs, unbuttoning his cufflinks as he shakes his head. “You don’t get to be the only martyr. Go.” He nods down the halls. “Let’s show this bitch just how demanding we can be.”
And in that moment, for the first time in years, I look at Damon and see the man I once called a friend.