He shoves fingers through his wavy dark hair and says something to her in Italian, which she answers in English. “We’re trying to jolt her memory and find the necklace. Are you convinced to get up now?”
“That does the trick,” he says, shutting his MacBook and standing. “I’ll be in the TV room. I’m calling Marabella to bring food.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sasha says as he exits. “Ask her if she has any of those chocolate croissants she makes,” she calls after him, but he ignores her. “Maybe we should call ourselves.”
“She’ll take care of us,” I assure her, claiming the visitor’s seat while she sits down behind the desk and powers up the desktop.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she says, and then moves on. “Okay. I know you were at Garner’s place, so I’ll start by printing out things around his building.” She grabs a pad and pencil and hands them to me. “Write down other locations you want me to focus on. And really, anything you remember. I’ll try to turn that into a destination and photo.”
“Chocolate shops,” I say. “I went to one the night I called Neuville for help, and I’m hoping that finding the one I visited could flip a memory switch.”
“I’ll go out on a limb here and estimate that there are about a hundred chocolate shops in Paris,” she says. “Can you narrow it down at all? Was it near his home?”
I write down the address I found inside the necklace and hand it to her. “Near this location. And I need pictures of anything and everything around this address.”
She types in the address. “Five chocolate shops within only three blocks. I’ll start printing them out.”
“What about within eight blocks? I went that far after the murder.”
“Trying to disappear,” she says. “Smart.” She keys into the computer. “Another four.” The printer begins to hum and I start writing down the places I do remember.
A few minutes later, I’m looking at a printed image of the store and street fronts for all nine shops, and I see one that I’m certain is the location I’ve been looking for. I stuff it at the back of the stack, not wanting to black out in a flashback right now.
“Anything?” Sasha asks.
“Not yet, but when Blake Walker shared things with me, I didn’t immediately feel the trigger. It came later in the day.”
“Well then, let’s just print out everything and get you armed.”
I hear the exterior door opening and I push to my feet, exiting the office as Marabella calls out, “Chocolate croissants have arrived.”
I round the counter and rush to meet her, finding her lugging two picnic baskets, and I have this sense of belonging, of rightness here in the castle. Death might live here, but so do new beginnings, healing, and perseverance. I belong here, no matter what my past might try to say otherwise. It’s at that moment that a peal of thunder rattles the store windows, as if I’m being told the calm before the storm is over.
An hour and a half later, my stomach is stuffed, my stack of papers is substantial, and there is no word from Kayden, which has me feeling pretty antsy. “I think that’s about everything,” Sasha says, finishing off a croissant before handing me one last page. “I even printed everything I could find here in Rome that’s near the alleyway where you were found. But there’s one other place in Paris I wanted to mention. Did you ever go to the club?”
Ice slides down my spine and I quickly shove away the memory of being tied up, the whip biting into my skin. “He took you there?”
“Fool that I am,” she says, “I went by choice. Naively—who’d ever think to call me that—I didn’t see that we’re his targets. He likes powerful women he can break. If they submit easily, he doesn’t want them. But I guess that’s good. I mean, think about how he affects us. Can you imagine what he would do to someone with a different nature?”
“I don’t even want to consider that.”
“But maybe that’s the point,” she continues. “He wants to be able to push and push and push some more.”
“Why were you involved with him?”
“We had a contract with a French diplomat who wanted to take him down once and for all. The paycheck was huge and I’d get to take down the brutal head of the French mob. I was so inspired that I stayed even when it got bad. Did he ever make you call him Master? That was where the trouble started for me. I have this ‘never surrender’ mentality that he saw as a challenge.”
My mind starts swimming with images, and I begin to tremble. I drop my head forward, fighting the flashback I can’t have here. Not in front of Sasha, and with Matteo nearby, perhaps walking in at any moment. I fight hard, but it’s no use. Suddenly I am in the past, though not at the club. I am in his bedroom. Garner Neuville’s bedroom.
I am naked. He is not. He’s dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt. I’m on my knees and he’s holding the flogger I hate so damn much. I stare at the floor, willing myself to just get through this.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I ignore my warning to myself and his command. “Look at me.”