Chapter 7 #2
The bathroom was mercifully untouched, my bag of toiletries standing exactly where I’d left it.
The space was clean, bright, and shockingly normal.
I clung to that as I turned on the sink, splashing water on my face and scrubbing away the grime from the tunnels.
My reflection stared back at me, pale, wide-eyed, hair a mess, but at least my knees were whole again.
There was no sign they’d ever been injured, and my wrist did not so much as twinge as I used it. That alone should have been enough to send me spiraling again. Instead, I accepted it, because apparently that’s what today was. Either I rolled with the punches or I’d go crazy.
I changed quickly, pulling on clean pants and wincing slightly as my body reminded me that just because things were healed didn’t mean I wasn’t exhausted.
I freed my compact mirror from the old pants and checked it for cracks, but the silver surface didn’t even have a scratch.
The compact was empty of cosmetics, but I kept a few folded euro bills inside it in case of emergency.
My phone rang just as I was tucking the mirror into the pocket of my clean pants.
I froze, uncertainty shivering through me.
As pathetic as it sounded, I didn’t really have anyone who’d call me.
Certainly not while abroad, though I’d paid for a plan that would work on vacation just to be on the safe side.
I dragged my phone across the counter toward me and stared as the screen lit up.
Boldly across it was a name I hadn’t wanted to see again: Logan.
Sure, why not add a call from my jerk of an ex to today?
I stared at it for another second while my finger hovered over the answer button.
I shouldn’t answer; I knew I shouldn’t answer, but my finger moved anyway. “Hello?”
“What the hell did you do?” he snarled in my ear.
His voice was as familiar as breathing, and that included the furious snarl.
He’d snarled a lot at me after I’d caught him cheating with his stupid secretary.
That reminded me of how uncertain my future was, and how stupid I’d been to date someone with the kind of influence he had. A recipe for disaster.
“What?” I asked, with not nearly as much snap in my tone as I would have liked.
Logan the jerk didn’t deserve a moment of my time, but he was on the board of the chain of stores I managed.
He hadn’t tried to get me fired yet; I was really good at what I did, and he was mostly a silver-spoon trust fund kid.
He would pull those strings, though, if he felt slighted enough.
“Your bag, Susie,” Logan said, not furious now but sounding tired and annoyed. “Don’t play dumb. The carry-on. You took it.” A sigh followed that vividly made me picture him sitting in his office, pinching his brow with those big, capable hands.
I straightened slowly as the words sank in. “Of course I did. That’s my bag.” See, I knew there was a reason they’d slashed up the carry-on, why that strange blonde on the plane had tried to take it. This all tied back to him—but why? What did he have to do with it?
“Bullshit,” he shot back. “You’ve always been like this! Stubborn, selfish! All you had to do was let the bitch take the bag.” Let the bitch take the bag, he couldn’t have been more dismissive when he said that. It proved it had been a setup from the start.
“Oh, we’re not doing this right now,” I said, anger flaring. It was dangerous, playing with my future, but I couldn’t hold back that anger. Thanks to him, my hotel room had been ransacked, and he had the guts to blame me?
“Where is it?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve…” The door behind me opened, and my attention was yanked from my phone and Logan’s tirade. I knew I’d locked it—I was absolutely sure of it—and yet Raoul stepped inside as if it had never been closed at all.
“How did you get in?” I asked, startled, my voice cutting through Logan’s furious words. Raoul didn’t answer, his dark eyes lighting up like molten gold. I held up my hand as if I intended to block him. He ignored it and stepped closer, way too close.
My breath hitched as he leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space.
His lips hovered near my ear, and then, in a voice low and cold enough to send a shiver straight down my spine, he said, “It is considered exceedingly poor form to address a lady in such a manner.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “…Who the hell is that?” Logan demanded. I could picture his confusion and his fury. He would not expect me to have moved on with my life, to have another guy so soon. His ego would not allow it.
Raoul’s gaze flicked to the phone, his expression darkening. “End this,” he said quietly to me. “Before I am compelled to destroy that device.” I muffled a laugh and yanked the phone away from him.
“Okay, I got it! No destroying,” I said quickly, fumbling slightly and nearly dropping the device. With a demonstrative flick of my thumb, I tapped the screen, ending the call.
Silence fell, the kind that was charged, laden.
Not because some random thief had ransacked my room, but because Logan had intruded on the thing brewing between me and my vampire.
Now my vampire was on a warpath; I could feel it.
Raoul straightened, though his attention remained fixed on me, and the gold in his eyes faded to normal brown. “Explain,” he said.
I hesitated, because this was a pathetic story and I hadn’t told anyone about it yet. Not even my family—definitely not my friends, as far as they were friends. Then I sighed and gave in; it was only fair I shared some of my secrets with him, wasn’t it?
“He’s my ex,” I said. “We broke up two weeks ago because I found him cheating on me with his secretary in my apartment. In my bed.” There, I’d said it, let it out. I felt surprisingly light after having done so. I had nothing to be ashamed of; this was on Logan, not me.
Raoul’s expression shifted. It was subtle, but there.
No glowing gold, but I knew he was furious anyway.
Furious on my behalf. “And now,” I added, frowning, “he’s calling about my bag.
Which makes zero sense, and...” I gestured vaguely toward the other room, “...clearly someone else was looking for it too.”
The coincidence sat heavy in the air, too heavy to be anything but related.
Logan had done something to my carry-on, and now people I didn’t know were after it.
Raoul looked dangerous again, like he was ready to haul Logan through my phone and punch his lights out, but in the most sophisticated manner possible.
Not out of control, but it teetered on that edge.
Weirdly enough, I kind of liked that. It wasn’t scary; Raoul didn’t scare me, and his fury in defense of my honor?
It was flattering, which might be a problem.
I didn’t want to get emotionally entangled with a vampire in Paris.
I wasn’t ready for a nice, sweet Parisian guy, so definitely not a vampire.
“Okay,” I said quickly, before my brain could go anywhere else with that. “You need clothes.”
He stared at me as if I’d just announced the sky was purple. “I beg your pardon?” No, not a purple sky, it sounded like I’d just insulted his taste in clothes or implied he was indecent, and he really didn’t like that.
“You can’t go out there dressed like that,” I said, knuckling down because, for some reason, I had absolutely no problem telling Raoul what I was thinking.
“You’ll get arrested for vagrancy, or worse, put on social media.
Either way, not great. I’m gonna grab you something, quickly.
” It was the perfect excuse to slip away and put a bit more distance between us so I could gather my thoughts.
“I will accompany you,” Raoul assured me, and he already began heading for the door, an arrogant tilt to his head. I was willing to bet I’d get a spiel about tailors and the right size and all that, but I was only running to the nearest boutique to buy the guy a T-shirt and some jeans.
“No,” I said immediately. “You will not. I’m not going far.” If he walked into a store looking like he did, we’d get so many stares. In the subway and walking on the sidewalk, people looked, but I was pretty sure they assumed he was a street performer. In a store, though? That was just weird.
His jaw tightened. “I would prefer…” he began to protest, but I ruthlessly interrupted him. If he kept at it, I’d cave, because I kind of liked his presence, too. He did make me feel safe.
“I know,” I said, softer now. “But I’ll be fine. I promise.” Before he could argue further, I stepped closer. Apparently, today was just a series of impulsive decisions, because I leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
“There,” I said, pulling back. “Stay. Don’t interrogate anyone or threaten to kill them while I’m gone, okay?
” He didn’t look reassured, but he also didn’t stop me.
So I grabbed my bag—well, what was left of it—and headed for the door, hoping, just for a second, that I wasn’t making a terrible mistake.