On my way to Paris, I send a text message to Veronica telling her I won’t be in and instructing her to keep up the fort. I ask Janice, who lives closer to the boutique, to put a sign in the window saying we’re exceptionally closed today. I get some work done, and by the time the train pulls up in Paris, I’m nervous. I should warn Maxime of my arrival, but I still don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing this. I tell myself I want to surprise him, but the truth is I’m keeping my options open in case I want to back out.
I get a taxi and give the driver the address. Less than thirty minutes later, we stop at the hotel. I confirm at the front desk that Maxime is in. Since he booked a double room, there’s no need to upgrade. After proving my identity, I convince the concierge to give me a card for the room so I can surprise my husband.
With my heart beating a strange, crazy rhythm, I take the elevator. When I stop in front of Maxime’s door, my nerves almost fail me. I consider turning around and going back where I came from, but when I think of taking the train home after I’ve already come this far, I take a deep breath and swipe the card.
A voice I don’t recognize filters from inside when I open the door. I pause. Maxime’s louder voice overrides the first, and then they speak simultaneously. Both men stop talking when the door shuts with a click.
A man appears from around the wall separating the bedroom from the entrance.
My throat goes dry.
It’s the man I saw at Alexis’s apartment on the night they tortured the woman. He smells like sweat and cabbage, clutching a shoebox under his arm.
He bares his teeth in a gesture that resembles a smile. “Your wife’s here.”
A curse sounds.
Maxime rounds the corner with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gray eyes are expressionless, his voice flat. “What are you doing here?”
I look between the men. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Bad surprise,” the man says. “At least for you, Mr. Belshaw.”
I drop my bag on the floor, my body going rigid in an involuntary flight response. “What’s going on, Maxime? What is he doing here?”
“Go downstairs,” Maxime says.
The man steps closer to me. “I brought something for your husband, but I think you’ll appreciate it more.”
I glance at the box, my scalp prickling with premonition. “What is it?”
Unfazed, Maxime takes a sip of his drink. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Maxime is making a deal with a torturer? After what this man did to that woman?
“The deal has just changed.” The man turns to me with a feverish light in his eyes. “Your letters.”
Coldness travels over my body. “What letters?”
He tips his head in Maxime’s direction. “The ones he never mailed.”
“She knows,” Maxime says with a lazy drawl. “And the letters are at home in my safe.”
“I took them out of the envelopes and put blank paper inside,” he says. “I stole them from your study when Alexis moved in, before you had time to move everything out.”
Maxime regards him with a twisted smile. “You’re bluffing.”
Fishing a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, he holds it out at me. “See for yourself.”
I take the folded paper with a trembling hand, already recognizing the yellow color and ink seeping through the thin sheet before I’ve unfolded it. It’s the first letter I wrote to Damian.
I look at the man. “Why would you steal them?”
“To have something to hold over my head,” Maxime says, swirling the drink in his glass.
If he thought I didn’t know Maxime never mailed the letters, it would’ve been something to bribe Maxime with, but what is his motivation for giving it to me? Does he know what it means? Those letters were written in a code language that told Damian I’d been taken and kept against my will. It will give me immense power over Maxime, because if those letters fall into Damian’s hands, they’ll start a war. Damian won’t let it go, not what Maxime did. If my brother knows the truth, he’ll ruin Maxime and then kill him.
My hands shake more as the realization settles. That box could be my ticket to freedom. I could use it to blackmail Maxime into letting me go.
Maxime studies me with a cold gaze, his clever eyes telling me he understands my reasoning.
“I was going to sell them back to him, but they belong to you.” The man holds the box out to me. “Take it.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I’ve done some things…” He shoves the box at me. “Just take it.”
I stare at the box. I could take it to destroy Maxime and save myself, but a war between Damian and Maxime could go either way. Maxime could still hurt the people Damian loves. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Those letters aren’t safe in anyone else’s hands. I have to get them back and destroy them. Damian must never see them.
I reach out.
“Don’t take them, Zoe,” Maxime says in an even voice.
I lift my gaze to my husband. Is he kidding?
“He’s afraid you’ll use them against him,” the man says. “You can take your letters and walk out of that door right now.”
Maxime doesn’t reply. He only stares at me with that stoic face that demands blind obedience. I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, and he’s telling me to look down. He’s telling me to trust him to bid on me, that
