Surrender (Careless Whispers #3)

The entire hour-long ride, Neuville holds onto Sara and stares at me. Sara shuts her eyes, enduring the devil at her side in her own way, and it works. It won’t get her beaten or killed. It’s calm. It’s not panicky. It’s the kind of reaction that intrigues Neuville enough to make him want to fuck you, not kill you. Which is still torturous, but at least it’s not dead.

Unfortunately, the convoy follows us. Fortunately, Neuville’s arrogant need for a huge SUV limo makes us stand out like a sore thumb that Kayden will surely notice. When we reach the city, I direct them to the Champs-élysées. Sara’s eyes light with the name that places us close to her home, and the many people looking for her and us. Greed, like his arrogance, has led Neuville down the wrong path. My path. The one that ends in death.

“Where now?” Neuville demands.

I call out the address to his driver, as well as the name of the chocolate shop.

“A chocolate shop? This had better not be a game. You know how I feel about games that I don’t start,” Neuville warns.

“Would you have ever thought to look there?” I ask. “And this is the last place I remember having it. I hid it there the night David died. But I can’t promise I didn’t move it. If I did, though, I’m close to remembering everything. I’ll find it for you.”

“Who else knows about this chocolate shop?”

“No one,” I say. “I remembered it on the plane.”

His eyes glint like hot coals. “Are you lying?”

“Matteo told you about my amnesia. You watched me on the castle cameras. I didn’t know until I saw you again. You were my trigger.”

He leans forward, grabbing my legs now instead of Sara’s. “You and that necklace are mine. Sara, I will release. But you aren’t leaving me again. Understood?”

“You’ll never have me,” I promise him. “Even if I’m with you.”

His lips curve. “Ah, Ella. I do so enjoy the way you challenge me.” The car begins to slow and he leans back, releasing my legs, the driver telling him in French that we’ve arrived. “Is that the place?” he demands.

I look outside. We’re stopped in front of the row of stores and businesses where the chocolate shop is nestled, and thankfully it’s still open. “That’s it,” I say, my senses tingling in ways I understand but couldn’t explain to someone else. This is it. Everything ends here.

“Pull around back,” he orders the driver, a directive I revel in. The odds that Kayden will be here or have someone here are more than 50 percent, and the back of the building gives him room to take action. Or me. I’m no princess waiting to be rescued by her prince; the back door works for me as well. Especially since Neuville is concerned about a surprise attack and instructs the other two vehicles to take up strategic positions near the store. He’s worried about Kayden and that works for me. Fewer men for me to kill at one time.

“Where will I find the necklace?” he demands as we claim a chunk of the tiny lot, which seems to be for employees, not oversized limos.

“I hid it inside a certain display box,” I say, but in my mind’s eye, I see myself in a hallway by the bathroom, burying it under the foliage of a fake plant. “I’ll need to go in myself.”

He considers me a moment. “Bastile,” he calls out, ordering him to escort me into the store in French, at the same time that he grabs a chunk of Sara’s hair. He yanks her to him, leaning in to speak beside her ear. “Tell her if she calls for help, I’ll kill you. Choke you to death, one breath at a time. Right here in this car.” Sara doesn’t comply and he jerks her head backward. “Tell her.”

“He’ll kill me,” she repeats, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I’ll choke you,” he says, disgustingly licking her ear. “Tell her.”

“He’ll choke me,” Sara repeats and now her eyes are open, the look I find there resolved to whatever comes next. Not panicked, just . . . resolved.

What comes next is Neuville dying and her going free.

“No phone calls,” he says. “No conversations with strangers.” He reaches up and attempts to rip down the front of Sara’s dress. Luckily the lining defeats him, but he acts as if it hasn’t. “Her dress comes off if you are one minute over ten.”