“You can’t be sure,” I say. “You can’t know he didn’t sell you out. You cut him out of hunting, Kayden. He resented that.”
“Adriel always had the power to come back, and he knew it,” Kayden replies. “He didn’t resent me. He resented Giada for forcing him to make the decision to get out of the hunting game. Adriel is loyal, Ella. He would die for either one of us.”
“I want to trust him, Kayden.”
“Do you trust me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then know that he is one of the only other people on this planet that I’d trust my back or yours to, and I don’t trust my back to anyone.”
“Those close to us are the ones who can hurt us the easiest,” I say, the words spoken from some dark part of my memory I can’t yet access.
“Are you talking about Neuville? Or someone before him?”
“Don’t make this about me.”
“Tell me why you were with him.”
“I want to talk about Adriel.”
“After Neuville. You had a flashback in the car.”
“I’m not letting this thing with Adriel go,” I insist. “We’re circling back to it.” I don’t give him time to argue. “And yes. I had a flashback.” I sit down in the chair, crossing my arms in front of me. “It was the same moment I’d remembered previously. We were on a deserted Paris sidewalk, and David was bleeding out and warning me to protect the necklace.”
“What was new about this flashback over the past ones?” Kayden asks, rounding the desk and stopping in front of me, leaning against the hard surface. “Because clearly something was, or you wouldn’t have said you now know why you were with Neuville.”
“It was more detailed,” I say. “And I knew that I had the necklace in my pocket.”
“Is that because you ripped the chain beyond repair?”
My hand goes to my neck. I’d ripped the chain from my neck. “Yes,” I confirm, seeing myself leaning over it where it had landed on the floor—but another memory comes to me, as well. It plays in my mind before I speak it out loud. “But ironically, when we landed in Paris, David had warned me not to wear the necklace. He said it would attract pickpockets.” I grimace. “I hate how I get these random memories, but the entire picture won’t fall into place.”
“There are more of those random memories now than ever, though,” he reminds me. “When you first woke up, you were completely blank.”
“Yes,” I agree on a sigh. “There is that, and it seems now that when I talk about a memory, I suddenly know more about it.”
“Well then, let’s talk about that night,” Kayden says. “Previously, you said that David left you at your hotel and your purse and identification disappeared. Where did you go, and what did you do?”
“I’d met Neuville in the hotel lobby right after the fight with David. I’d gone downstairs to get coffee at Starbucks, and I couldn’t get my key card to work to go back upstairs. Then the desk staff told me they couldn’t let me in without my identification. I was furious that David had left me in that situation, so when Neuville showed up and asked me to dinner, I accepted.”
“It’s a safe assumption that he ensured your key card didn’t work,” Kayden notes.
“I’m guessing that to be true,” I agree. “And when we got back from dinner, things snowballed. I was told my room was no longer active, but they got my suitcase from housekeeping. My purse was missing.”
“And Neuville was still there.”
“Yes. He waited with me while I called my credit card companies and found out they were cancelled.” And like a snap of fingers I am back in the hotel lobby, the moment after I’ve discovered my last card is as dead as the other three. Neuville steps in front of me, looking like Mr. Tall, Dark, and Prince Charming in a finely fitted suit, his dark hair slicked back:
“Your key,” he says, offering me a small envelope.
I don’t reach for it. “What do you mean?”
“I paid for two weeks for you. That gives you time to replace your passport, and hopefully have dinner with me at least one more time.”
“I’m a stranger. Why would you do this? The room is expensive.”
“The money is of no consequence to me,” he says. “You being on the street, however, I find, is. Take the key, Ella.”
“This doesn’t mean I—”
“Of course it doesn’t. There are no strings.”
Only there were strings, I think bitterly, though I know bitterness is a dangerous emotion. “He paid for my room for two weeks and promised it came with no strings,” I say, shaking myself back to the present. “Which, of course, we now know was all about building a fa?ade of trust.” The way I’d built the one where I was a schoolteacher by trade, I think before adding, “Getting back to David and my flashback—I don’t know how I found him. Maybe it was the address in the necklace. Did you check it out?”
“I did,” he says. “It’s a large building with residential and commercial tenants. The unit in question is vacant.”
“Vacant? That makes no sense.”
“It sounds like a drop location for the necklace.”
“Who owns the property?”