Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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 a million euros won’t be too much. Can I give him my trust? Logic tells me no, but my heart says something different. Once again, I’m at the precipice of a test, and I don’t want to fail.
I retract my hand.
The man purses his lips. “I didn’t take you for stupid.” He offers the box to Maxime. “Have it your way. Twenty grand. That’s my last offer.”
Maxime leaves the glass on the desk. “We’re done here.”
The man snarls, shaking the box in Maxime’s direction. “Take the fucking box.”
“You know where the door is,” Maxime says.
With a curse, he dumps the box on the bed and charges for the door. Caught off-guard, I step aside as he storms past me and slams the door.
I move to the bed. “What’s wrong with—”
“Don’t touch it.”
I stop in my tracks. Sweat breaks out over my body. “Poison?”
Maxime rounds the bed. “Explosives.”
“Oh, my God. Are you sure?”
“No, but there’s one way to find out.”
When he picks up the box, I utter a shriek. “Maxime, no!”
He walks to the open window, peers down, and throws out the box.
A loud explosion shatters the silence.
I run to the window. Bits of paper drift in a billow of dust in the air. There’s a big hole in the lawn next to the pool. Through the dusty cloud, it looks like a sepia picture of paper snowflakes. People storm out onto the terrace. A hotel staff member shouts loud instructions for everyone to stay back.
I grip the windowsill. “If I’d opened the box—”
He rests his hand next to mine, our pinkies overlapping. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
I’m shaking with cold, even though it’s warm. “That man. What about that man?”
He cups my cheek and kisses me. “They’ll lock down the hotel. We have to go.”
“Maxime,” I cry out when he lets me go to grab his bag from a chair.
Picking mine up from the floor, he opens the door and peers around the frame. “Come. Quickly.”
I rush out ahead of him. Instead of going toward the elevator, he ushers me to the fire escape. We run down the two flights of stairs and exit into the parking lot. He unlocks his car and dumps our bags in the trunk while I fit my safety belt, and then he tears out of the parking space.
My heart sinks when we approach the boom. It’s down. Maxime has a shady history. He’s only cleaned up his act recently. The police are always looking for a reason to arrest him, especially now that he’s no longer under the mafia’s protection. If they get their hands on him, they’ll use any means necessary, including torture, to make him give up information about his criminal family.