Episode 41
Episode 41
A Security Threat
MADAM ALANA
The flight to France felt longer than usual; it was fraught with concern and worry regarding the note I’d received. Emily played a game on her phone, watched a movie, and fell asleep within the first few hours. Christophe went straight to the office on the plane to look into what he was calling a security threat. He’d already had our home visited by the local French authorities, checked in with estate staff, and made sure no other mysterious documents or packages had been left.
When he shared that there were no additional concerns waiting for us at our home in France, a sense of relief eased through my worry, but didn’t remove it altogether. There was still a feeling of vulnerability and violation that came with receiving such threats—a gnawing fear I couldn’t quite shake.
Christophe eventually entered the lounge area where Emily was sleeping on one of the long couches. I sat on the settee opposite her, my mind going through every possible candidate and bidder I’d worked with this past quarter and coming up with nothing to offer. The bidders and candidates had certainly seemed happy as did the ones who’d attended but didn’t participate or win a bid. I made sure of this by offering complimentary top shelf drinks, catered food, music, gambling cards, and spa services within an environment that boasted luxury and relaxation. This showed each and every bidder that their time and energy had not been wasted. They’d taken time out of their busy schedules to attend one of my auctions, and I showed them I valued that gift.
“She just fall asleep?” Christo asked.
I nodded. “About a half hour ago.”
“No rest for you?” He sat down next to me and took my hand, then kissed the center of my palm.
I shook my head.
“Everything has been handled, Alana. There is nothing further to worry about. It seems as though it was a threat not backed by anything other than instilling fear into the recipient. Our home is safe. I’ve notified the hotel manager and owner of the casino. They are going to look more fully into the courier service and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. I also informed them that I wanted a walkthrough of our Las Vegas apartment no less than once a week by their security team to ensure nothing is amiss. If another threat is received, we will deal with it. As for now…” He kissed his way up my inner arm to my elbow where he swirled his tongue devilishly, sending shivers racing along my nerve endings. “…we are safe. I wish for you to let this go. Don’t let someone’s immature actions ruin our mood. We are going to show our niece a wonderful time in France. Let’s focus on that, oui ?”
“You’re right.” I sighed, trying to let the worry go. “There is nothing more that can be done. It just feels a bit disconcerting to have received something like that. Especially when we’re taking care of Emily.”
Christophe hummed in assent before he pulled me to his side, enfolding me in his arms until I rested against his chest. I relaxed as his heartbeat provided a soothing melody. “Rest, mon amour . We will be home soon, and all of this will seem like a distant, useless memory.”
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath, doing as he suggested. “ Je t'aime ,” I love you , I murmured as the stress finally took its toll and sleep claimed me.
* * * *
“This place is so dope!” Emily gushed as she spun in a circle, taking in the main living space of our home in France. “I love coming here. I’m gonna tell Dad to use some of his billions to buy us a house next door,” she said while peering out one of the large windows.
It had been a couple years since Rhodes and Emily last stayed with us here in France. We preferred meeting up at different locations around the globe to visit and vacation together.
“I don’t think your dad wants a home in France, chéri . Not when you both have rooms waiting here,” Christophe responded.
“Oh, right. That would be kinda dumb. I’m so stupid.” Emily frowned and kicked at the floor with the toe of her sneaker.
“Stop that negative self-talk right now, young lady. I’ll not have anyone talking down about my intelligent, kind, funny, fashionable, beautiful niece. It’s the same as calling one of Christo’s art pieces ugly.” I scoffed and made a face.
Emily’s corresponding smile reached her eyes. “I thought we weren’t supposed to make sour faces, Auntie Alana.”
“And quick-witted too.” I winked.
“Come, let us see what Aurelie is cooking for our homecoming meal,” Christo encouraged.
Emily bounced on her toes. “Oh man, I hope it’s Nutella and banana crepes.” She licked her lips.
“For dinner?” I questioned with a raised brow.
Christophe chuckled and wrapped his arm around Emily’s shoulders, leaning his head toward her ear conspiratorially. Those two were always conspiring about one thing or another.
“I may have called ahead and told her to have a few pre-dinner crepes available for my favorite niece,” he said loud enough for me to hear.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. Over the next two weeks, I would try to tame the teenaged beast, while Christophe spoiled the beauty rotten. Alas, I couldn’t bring myself to argue over it.
Christophe wanted a houseful of little ones early in our marriage, but the Universe had other plans for us. We didn’t mourn the loss—how does one grieve what one has never had— but there was a pang of emptiness we both often felt. Which was why we made connections with Rhodes so many years ago and, recently, with some of my candidates. I think it has been our way of filling that void. So much so, we were having a ranch house built in Montana of all places. I honestly could not wait to meet the Goodall twins who were set to arrive soon.
Which reminded me, I should check on them. But not before letting Rhodes know we’d arrived safely in France with his daughter.
“Darling, I’m going to call Rhodes and check in,” I announced.
He and Emily were already ahead of me, faces close. They were likely plotting all the ways they were going to get our cook to relinquish whatever home-cooked meal she had planned, so they could fill their bellies full of sugary treats. Later they would complain of stomachaches and rue their poor decisions.
I left them to their tomfoolery and took up a seat on my favorite couch. It faced the fireplace that was already crackling and spreading its warmth throughout our home. I kicked off my stilettos and pulled my legs up onto the couch, then reached for a throw blanket and put it over them. I stared at the painting above the mantel. It was one of Christophe’s first paintings he’d painted for me. It was the Grand Canyon. The same view we’d seen on what I was referring to as our honeymoon, and Christophe refers to as the start of us . We hung the painting above our bed, until he decided to paint nudes of me. I felt uncomfortable displaying those outside of our private space, so we moved this one into the common area.
This canvas showed the skyline over the Grand Canyon exactly as I remembered it thirty years ago. The canyon’s deep crevice in the landscape a swirling mixture of color as the sun’s rays shined over the craggy rocks. It had always been my favorite of his work, and I often sat and stared at it while pondering life’s challenges and successes.
Christophe appeared with a small plate in hand and a steaming cup of tea. “Before dinner nosh.” He smiled, handing me the plate with half a crepe and a dessert fork.
“You spoil her.” My lips twitched as I tried and failed to suppress a smile.
He chuckled. “Guilty. And I don’t care.” He set the plate and cup on the side table, then leaned over and took my mouth. He tasted of chocolate and tea, two delicious combinations.
I hummed and nibbled on his delectable bottom lip.
He swirled his tongue against mine as I sighed, then pulled away when Emily called out, “Uncle C! You have to try the chocolate and strawberry. It’s to die for!” Her teenaged high-pitched voice echoed through our home.
Christophe pecked my lips once more. “Wait for me!” He cupped my cheek then let his fingers glide along my jawline in a teasing caress before he turned and headed back to the kitchen.
I watched his broad shouldered, beautiful body walk away and hummed with joy at the blessings I’d been given when Christophe bought me in the auction all those years ago. My life would have been so different if we hadn’t found one another.
After taking a bite of the very rich treat and washing it down with a soothing sip of tea, I pulled my phone out of my purse that I’d set on the couch when we’d entered. I did some geographic math. France was nine hours ahead of Las Vegas. It was seven in the evening now, so it would be ten in the morning there.
I pulled up Rhodes Davenport and hit call .
It rang four times before he answered with a sleepy, “Hello.”
“ Je suis désolé ,” I’m sorry , I said, surprised to have woken him up. I knew Rhodes to be an early riser and ten in the morning was very late for him.
“Alana?” he mumbled. “Everything okay? Emily good?” he asked instantly.
“ Oui . I am sorry to have woken you. I didn’t expect you to still be sleeping.”
“Huh? Wait, where is she?” He suddenly sounded concerned.
“Who?” He knew his daughter was with me.
“Maia. She was in my bed when I fell asleep,” he answered and then groaned loudly. “Fuck, we drank too much last night.”
“Oh, I see. Things have progressed much quicker than I expected with our little pickpocket,” I teased. A smile spread across my face as I pressed the phone closer to my ear so I could hear every morsel.
“What? No. I mean, yeah, kinda,” he admitted. “But not the way you think, exactly. We just, uh, slept. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.” A pause, a groan, then, “Jesus, who allowed the tiny man with a hammer to take up work against my brain,” he griped.
“Sounds as if you and Maia had a good time last night.”
“Actually, no. Not even close.” He let out a tortured sigh.
“What do you mean? If she was in your bed, and you both imbibed…”
“Her place was ransacked last night. Whoever did it wrote some sketchy threat on the wall of her apartment after trashing everything she owned.”
I kicked off the blanket and stood up. “You’re kidding. Did you call the authorities?” My heart started to pound, and my palms began to sweat as the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.
It was a coincidence…nothing more , I mentally chanted.
“Yeah, of course. And get this, she lives with some biker, who was none too happy about the space above his garage being broken into. Now his entire club is on the prowl. It was a shit show…” He groaned once more. “Where the fuck is she?” he said under his breath, and I could hear a door opening and then another deep sigh.
“You find her?” I croaked.
“Yeah, she’s asleep on the couch. Why she moved there, I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Is everything good with Emily?”
“Absolutely perfect. She’s eating crepes with Christo in the kitchen right now. Do you want to talk to her?” I asked, my mind running a mile a minute about all he’d shared.
“No, I’ll call a little later, if you don’t mind. After I’ve taken some ibuprofen, fed my fiancée, and touched base with the cops and her biker brother.”
“Biker brother?” I scoured my mind for information about Maia and then remembered I’d had Christo look into a man named Sam that Maia rented from years ago. We’d exchanged pleasantries a few times when I brought Maia home from dinner or lunch, depending on the time of day. He’d often be on his motorcycle or working on one in his garage when we arrived. “Oh, that’s right. He’s connected to a rather intense motorcycle club, but they’ve never done anything other than help Maia in their own way.”
“Yeah, well, now they want to help Maia by finding and doing away with the asshole that broke into her home and left a scary message on her wall.”
“A scary message?” My mouth went dry. “What did it say?”
Rhodes cleared his throat. “It’s not something you need to be concerned with. I’ve got it covered. Just take care of Em, okay?”
“No, Rhodes. I need to know. What was the message?” I demanded, a frantic rush of adrenaline roaring to the surface. “I, too, received a threatening note before we left Las Vegas.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me about this, before you hightailed your ass thousands of miles away with my daughter?” he barked, anger suffusing his tone.
“I-I…I’m sorry. Christophe said this type of thing happens with individuals who are as wealthy as we are. He’s handling it, and it was only a note. Our home here in France was checked and the police in Las Vegas were notified too.”
“Fuck me. What did it say? I’ll send you a photo of the message and the pics I took of her place so Christophe can share with his contacts.”
“Um, it said something about me ruining their life and them ruining mine.” My voice shook.
Rhodes sucked in a hissing breath. “It’s the same fucking person, Alana. Check your text,” he growled, sounding furious.
My phone beeped, and I put it on speaker then went to my messages, clicking on the first one. There, in thick black spray paint, was the message.
SHE RUINED MY LIFE
NOW I RUIN YOURS
I covered my mouth as a sob tried to escape, and my body hunched over until my knees were so weak, I slumped to the couch.
“Alana! What’s wrong?” I heard Christo as if from far away in the distance. Sound wove in and out as he snatched the phone from my hand.
I heard words but didn’t understand them. I felt a hand on my neck and vaguely recognized the scent of Christo’s cologne. I could dimly hear my husband speaking, but it was as though his words were being said through a pillow, garbled and indiscernible.
The last thing I heard was, “I’ll be in touch,” before Christophe’s face was directly in front of mine. He spoke rapid fire French demanding I breathe with him. I did as he bade, until I slowly started to come back to my surroundings.
“Maia was threatened,” I blurted through my tears.
Christophe nodded and wiped my tears away but more replaced them. “Rhodes and I have it covered.”
“Why is this happening?” I gulped, my bottom lip trembling with the effort to be strong yet failing miserably.
“I don’t know. But we will figure it out. Now I need you to be strong, mon coeur . We have a little lady that needs us right now. She does not need to be scared, and if she sees you like this, she will be.”
I licked my lips, tasting my tears, and nodded. He wiped more of them away, and I cleared my throat.
He handed me the cup of tea, and I took a few sips before I felt capable of holding the cup on my own. “Okay, I’ve got it. Merci .”
He reached for my hand and helped me stand. “Why don’t you shower and get ready for bed, then come down for dinner when you feel more like yourself.”
“Okay, I will.” I answered on autopilot as the image of Maia’s apartment and those horrifying words invaded my mind over and over. I winced as I rubbed the tension at the back of my neck and took the stairs to our bedroom.
I set the shower spray on full blast and high heat, then went about removing my clothes. Once done, I went straight under the water, allowing the heat, steam, and pressure to ease the chill from my bones.
Why does someone want to hurt me?
Why Maia? She already had so very little to her name.
Then it dawned on me, like a slap to the face.
What if all of my candidates are being threatened?