Chapter 30
GAVAN
We stay four more nights in Paris. Everyone else I send home. But Eilish and I?
We just fucking disappear.
I mean, yes, a lot of those four days are spent fucking—in bed, or the shower, or out on the balcony, making each other explode. But it’s more than that. For the first time in my life, I actually do real couples shit .
We go out to have fantastic dinners with amazing wine.
We take long walks along the Seine and through the Luxembourg Gardens.
We do all the stupid tourist shit like selfies under, or at the top of, the Eiffel Tower.
Or putting a lock with our names written on it in Sharpie on the Pont Des Arts footbridge over the river.
We do all the museums, eat all the cheese, and drink all the red wine. It just might be the best four days of my entire life.
Eventually, of course, we have to go back to the real world. Still, when the Range Rover pulls up beside my plane on the runway, we’re both grinning like idiots.
We might be going back to the real world, but the real world just got a whole lot better.
The driver is just shutting off the engine when my phone rings.
“Mr. Tsarenko.”
I frown. The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Who is this?”
“You might want to be alone for this conversation.”
I don’t fucking like this. I hate bullshit like this. I’m also curious as to how this person even got my goddamn phone number.
I put the phone down and turn to smile at Eilish. “I have to take this. Get comfortable on the plane. I’ll join you in a second.”
“Okay.” She grins, leaning over to cup my face and kiss me softly. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
She slips out of the car, and I allow myself the indulgence of watching her ass as she climbs the stairs to the plane before turning to my driver and raising the partition between us.
“Who the fuck is this,” I growl quietly into the phone.
The man on the other end chuckles chidingly. “ Manners , Mr. Tsarenko.” I frown, again trying and failing to place the voice with the Eastern European accent.
“I’m not a fan of games. So if you’re going to play them, whoever you are, this conversation is…is…”
I frown, blinking as my head starts to swim.
Something’s wrong .
I try to swallow, but my throat has gone numb. The inside of the car starts to go cloudy and hazy. I try and reach for the door handle. When I pull, I realize it’s locked.
“Open the door!” I yell.
But it’s not a yell. My voice is barely above a whisper.
My blood runs cold. What the fuck is happening.
I turn toward the partition, almost slamming my face into it as I lurch for the button. When it raises, all I see is my driver collapsed over the wheel.
My vision blurs. My mouth feels cottony, and I slump sideways across the back seat.
Oh, fuck .
My gaze swivels out the window, and my stomach drops when I see the plane door closing. With a surge of adrenaline, I hurl myself at the door, kicking and then slamming my fists against the window with the last of my strength.
A man suddenly steps in front of me, on the other side of the window.
“Hello, Gavan,” he rumbles through the phone in his hand into the one in mine.
My reality glitches. I can’t understand why Svetlana’s antiques appraiser is standing outside of my car.
“I’m sorry that we have never been properly introduced,” the man growls with a thin smile on his chiseled face. “Allow me to remedy that. My name is Drazen Krylov.”
Oh fuck .
Oh FUCK.
I blink rapidly, trying to force my vision to clear as I stab my gaze past him to the plane containing Eilish.
“I did say you had lovely taste, didn’t I?” Drazen purrs. “In fashion. In office decor, and art.” His lips curl. “In women .”
My face goes livid, my lips snarling as I try to slam a hand against the window. But I’m too weak. The last of my strength feels like it’s seeping out of me like blood from a fatal blow.
“You…” I mumble.
“You have something that belongs to me, Gavan,” Drazen says quietly. “And now I am taking something that belongs to you until I get it back.”
No…
“I’m texting you a location.” He lowers the phone and hammers something with his thumbs before bringing it back up to his ear. “You have twenty-four hours to bring the egg to—”
“The egg…” I blurt, the world spinning around me. “Is…smashed…”
He nods. “Yes, I know. Some people just can’t be trusted with nice things.
Luckily, I can be trusted with your nice thing, so long as you do what I ask.
” He presses his forehead up against the window.
“As I was saying. Twenty-four hours to bring the pieces of the Imperial Shield along with the stand it sat on to the location I texted you. Come alone. And please don’t make me explain what will happen if you don’t do exactly as I say. ”
The world starts fade.
Eilish .
Eilish…
“Sweet dreams, Mr. Tsarenko.”
Me eyes drop closed, and when I sink under, I just keep on sinking…