Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“What did he say?”
“I told him you were my guest. End of story.” He made it to the roundabout, parking on the cobblestones next to a fountain surging with water. He unclicked his safety belt and turned off the car at the same time.
I looked up at the historic landmark, knowing it’d been there since the Renaissance. It reminded me of the chateau, a piece of real estate that must be valued at over one hundred million euros. It was beautiful, but that didn’t make me less afraid to go inside.
He turned to stare me down.
I met his look, breathing harder than I wanted.
“You gave me your word.”
“I know…”
He got out of the car.
I joined him, standing in my heeled boots, the cold air immediately making my lungs tighten.
He moved ahead and didn’t wait for me.
I followed behind him, unsure what to do with myself. I wasn’t to speak, so all I could do was stand there and hope the desperation in my eyes would be enough for him to take pity on me…even though he didn’t seem like an empathetic person. He wouldn’t run a labor camp and conceptualize the Red Snow if he had a single ounce of kindness in his heart.
He rang the doorbell then turned to look at me. “You want to wait in the car?”
I shook my head.
“You look like a ghost.”
“Because I’ve never been so afraid in all my life.”
He studied me, his eyes dropping in subtle softness. “Nothing will happen to you when you’re with me.”
I was too anxious to cherish his words. “I’m not worried about that…I’m afraid to leave here without her.”
The door opened and sabotaged our chance to speak.
It was an older man in a tuxedo. “Bonsoir, monsieur. Comment allez-vous?” How are you?
“Très bien.” Good.
He opened the door wider and ushered us inside.
I walked with Magnus, seeing the bright chandelier hanging from the ceiling at the third level, the French paintings on the walls, the grand piano in the corner…like this was a room to host grand parties. A high table was in the center, showing a sculpture of a ballerina.
It wasn’t what I expected.
The boss seemed like someone who lived in a cave or something.
The butler walked ahead, conversing with Magnus in French like they were well acquainted. He escorted us into a large sitting room in the rear, the sophisticated artwork on the walls worth more than the value of Paris as a whole. There were couches, a large hearth, another chandelier, and sculptures and art pieces that showed his incredible wealth.
I didn’t know money like this existed in real life.
It made me a little sick to know I’d paid for some of it with my labor, as did the others.
And some paid for it with their lives.
The butler said a few more words before he departed.
Magnus stood there, looking out the windows to the incredible landscaped backyard, the large patio, enormous pool, and the gardens that stretched for acres, all lit up to be seen in the darkness.
At least my sister was in a beautiful place.
Footsteps sounded a moment later, heavy against the large pieces of tile on the floor. They weren’t light and careful the way the butler’s had been. They came from behind us. Magnus didn’t turn right away.
I wasn’t sure if I could turn at all.
The boss spoke. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” He spoke in French, but his voice was slightly hostile, like he didn’t like the evening visit. What?
Magnus turned to face him. “Le moment est mal choisi?” He said something back, matching his tone. Inconvenience?
I finally found the strength to look at him. I stayed behind Magnus because I didn’t want to be closer than necessary. He was exactly as I remembered, with short brown hair, brown eyes that possessed a wildness that was fiercer than the woods I’d had to survive. His eyes were on me, drilling into my face, dissecting my features as if his eyes were two daggers. He stepped closer to me to get a better look.
Magnus moved slightly in the way, stopping the boss from getting too close.
Would the boss be furious when he recognized me? When he realized that one of his men had helped me escape? Magnus didn’t seem worried about it.
The boss shifted his gaze to Magnus. “Ils m’ont dit qu’elle s’était échappée.” He spoke in quick French. Living in Paris had given me some vocabulary to understand his words, but by no means was I fluent. I could only pick up enough to deduce a couple things. Something about my escape. So, he did recognize me. He shook his head. “C’était toi.” You.
“Les hommes n’en savent rien. C’est tout ce qui compte.” Men. Nothing else matters.
He stood in sweatpants low on his waist, and he’d skipped the shirt, like he didn’t give a damn who saw him this way. He was bulky and strong, with lots of muscles in his chest and arms. He looked like a bull. “Tu m’as piégé. Tu es venu ici pour jubiler?” Trick. He raised his voice, growing angry.