Category:

While he's not looking, I open my bag a little more. Wads of bills threaten to spill out, dollars mixed with the euros I changed at the airport, all fighting for space. I never actually counted the money. I saw it and took it, like it was mine. Ten or maybe twenty thousand dollars, that's my guess. More money than I'd ever held in my hands.

"Did you have a nice trip over?" Amir says, taking the bills I pushed his way.

"Yes, very nice, merci."

"And will you need help with your luggage?"

I don't know what comes over me. The exhaustion, maybe, or the dreadful realization that my life has been slipping away from me, the spiral going downward faster and faster, the end an inevitable crash.

"It was stolen. We... My... It's just me for now." The words come out in a whisper, and then it's too late to take them back.

Another attendant arrives then, a woman with long red hair, also wearing a crisp white shirt. The parents behind me let out an audible sigh of relief at finally getting help.

Amir smiles back at me, like I'm the only one here. "I'm sorry to hear that." Then, he leans over and lowers his voice. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but Paris is not always safe. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time, but it can be... Well, I would watch yourself." He glances at my bag. "And your belongings."

So he saw the money. Great. And there I thought I could go unnoticed.

He types on his keyboard for a few more seconds before adding, "I upgraded you to our honeymoon room."

"Oh," I say, ready to protest. I'm not used to random acts of kindness.

"It's on a higher floor, overlooking the courtyard. Not much of a view, but it's quieter. And there's a bathtub, too."

"I won't need that." It comes out harsher than I intended, and the confused look on his face makes me think twice. "I mean, merci beaucoup. That all sounds lovely."

He smiles back. "This way you can relax after everything that happened to you."

He has no idea how right he is.

"Here you go, Madame Quinn," Amir says now, giving me the key card.

He doesn't take his hand back right away and our fingers touch for a brief moment. I hate how that makes me feel. I hate that it makes me feel anything at all.

"And if there's something we can do to make your stay with us more pleasant, please don't hesitate to ask. My name is Amir."

He watches me look at his badge again, an excuse to linger.

I thank him once more—always that need to please, good old Taylor that I am—then make my way to the elevator, clutching the key to my honeymoon room, still not quite believing that I'm doing this. As the metal doors close in front of me, trapping me inside this tiny box propelling me upward, a cold fact dawns on me. I'm alone in a foreign city. If anything happens to me, it could be days before I'm found.

But I couldn't stay home.

I had to get away.

And Paris was my only possible destination.

 

CHAPTER TWO

Cassie

Now

A squeal escapes my lips when we enter our suite, after I managed to hold myself back throughout the lobby. The gilded lobby, I should say. It has floor-to-ceiling mirrors, glistening chandeliers so imposing they'd kill whomever was underneath if they collapsed, and thick black carpet, the kind that makes you feel like you're stepping on clouds. It's all too much, too expensive, too fancy. Everything I thought I'd never have. Most people only go on their honeymoon once, right? It's supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. So of course I want to be here. I do. Yeah, I definitely do.

As I take in my home away from home for the next week, I'm glad I let Olivier book our accommodation. There's a king-sized bed made up in white linen with black trim, monogrammed with the B from the hotel's name. Fresh white flowers arranged in a tall vase give off a powdery scent that I wish I could capture on my phone. The black velvet armchairs look deep enough to curl up in, and the wooden dresser is so polished I can see myself in it.

Hi, Cassie. Looking good! Maybe a little tired, too, but nothing a filter can't fix.