Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
It happens so fast I don’t have time to blink.
One of the men curses. The other pulls the trigger. The woman screams against her gag as the officer crumples to the ground.
My intuition screams at me.
Run.
A bullet pings and ricochets off a metal dumpster as I run as far away from here as I can get.
“Go get her!” one of the men shouts to the other. “Kill her!”
I have to think fast. He’ll expect me to keep running until he catches me. I’m faster than the lumbering idiot chasing me, so when I turn a corner, I’m out of his line of sight. I duck down a narrow passageway and into a doorway. I flatten myself against the door, completely covered in shadow. I hold my breath while he races past me. I wait until I hear no more footsteps.
Then I wait some more.
I stand in place until the night becomes an inky blanket of black velvet and my feet fall asleep.
My phone is dead. I have no idea where I am.
And I’ve just witnessed a murder.
I wish I could call my sister.
I want to cry.
TWO
Thayer
“Thayer, you here?” Lyam yells.
I stretch and stand, my muscles aching from sitting too damn long at the desk. I shut off my computer, put the pens back in the penholder, and straighten the calendar.
Fabien says I have a hair across my ass. Asshole.
My mother calls my tendencies “quirks.” I call them habits. I like my shit clean.
“In the office,” I yell back.
Footsteps approach seconds before there’s a rapid knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Lyam opens the door and enters with our friend, Mario Rossi. Youngest brother of the Rossi family in America, we became friends a few years ago over a trade our brothers initiated. We agreed it would be useful having mutual friends overseas, for both of us, and we weren’t wrong.
“Rossi,” I say warmly, extending my hand to shake his. “Didn’t expect you tonight.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to be in until next week, but duty called, and Romeo sent me out early. Grabbed the first flight out.”
The Rossi family has business in Tuscany, a short flight from here, and since we formed an alliance, they’ve begun to do business in Paris as well.
“You know you’re welcome here anytime.”
“You know why he’s here. Who wants a hotel when you can eat at Chez Gerard?”
The Rossis are sort of famous for their bottomless appetites and love of good food.
Mario playfully punches his arm, and Lyam dodges a second jab.
“I won’t lie,” Mario begins. “It’s true. So have you taken over here since Fabien tied the knot?”
I shake my head and walk toward the exit. “Not really. I was taking over business and surveillance before then. It’s just better to have me here now that Fabien’s traveling more.” And going off the grid and spending time with his wife.
For days and full weekends at a time.
I lead them to the door so I can lock up.
“Makes sense.”
“You want a drink?”
“You know it. Brought a case of wine from Tuscany to your mother.”
“Alright, then not only are you welcome, you can move in,” Lyam says.
The Rossi family wine from Tuscany is the best I’ve ever had.
I shut and lock the door to the office, one of the best rooms in this large, rambling house of ours. Though we each have residences in Corsica and privately, we always manage to meander back to our family home in Paris. Makes sense, though, since Paris is the hub for so much of the work we do.
“How’s married life treating you?” Lyam asks.
Mario grins. “Gloria’s amazing.”
“Been a while now?”
“Few years, yeah.” He chuckles. “You next, Thayer? I heard Fabien’s a goner.”
Me? Marriage?
“Oh hell, no.”
There’s a reason why every woman I’ve ever been with has been a member of Le Luxe. Le Luxe, the most exclusive club in Corsica—hell, the only master/slave club in Corsica, is my primary place of business, so I haven’t taken a partner in a long time.
Women at the club don’t require affection. They don’t require aftercare, or coddling, or any of the other bullshit a real relationship requires.
They live to serve. They know their needs are met.
Good enough for me.
The house is quiet as we walk down the hall. The housekeepers and staff have either gone to bed or left for the day, and Maman goes to bed early, so it’s just us here. It feels strange that Fabien isn’t here like he used to be. Family dynamics always change when people get married, have children.
I’m not sure I like change. I like things predictable, neat, and ordered.
We head to the living room, where my father insisted we install a full bar. Lyam’s been mixing drinks since he was twelve.
“What’s your drink, Rossi?”
Mario grins. “When in Rome…”
Lyam fancies himself a mixologist, so he waves his magic wand and hands us both a few potent concoctions. I have no idea what they are, but I’m not complaining. I sigh after the first sip. I didn’t know how badly I needed that.