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replied.
    I rolled my eyes. “Oh, get over yourself,” I snapped. “Can you even hear how ridiculous you sound? Where are we even going, by the way?”
    He barked a short, startled laugh. “I think I’m going to like you, Ellie. As to where we are going,” he added dryly, “I would have thought that would be obvious.”
    I looked out the window for the first time and felt slightly foolish. The car was speeding in the direction of the airport and it didn’t take a genius to figure I was going to be bundled on a plane next. “Are we heading to Paris?” I asked.
    He nodded confirmation. “This way, we maintain an element of surprise.”
    “We don’t.” I was just realizing something. Today was the nineteenth of December. I was scheduled to fly out on the twenty-first. If Lucien was tracking my movements, he would be aware of that. “Shit,” I swore as something else just occurred to me.
    I’d been living in my own, peaceful world, concerned only whether Alexander was dating someone else. But when I’d bought my ticket to Paris, I’d inadvertently telegraphed to Lucien that I was picking sides. And I had information on Lucien, information that no one else did. Information that could expose Lucien to Alexander’s attention.
    Any moment now, Lucien would be coming for me. Fuck.
    I quickly filled Jean-Luc in on the situation as the car pulled into the airport. He swore as the implications became clear. “Okay,” he finally said. “We have to assume he’s in the air right now, heading towards San Francisco. We might still have a day’s start on him.”
    My thoughts churned. Choices were collapsing and I’d been thrust into a kill-or-be-killed situation. We’d need plans. A safe place to hide while Lucien was located.
    There were more questions than answers, but as the car drove up to a large, gleaming jet that I recognized, one thing was made clear. This was Alexander’s plane. I exhaled shakily. It seemed that I was about to fly to Paris, two days earlier than planned, where the man I still loved waited.

Chapter 3
    Ellie:
    Twelve hours later, I was back in Paris, back in Alexander’s house. Jean-Luc showed me to my old bedroom. “Wait here,” he said. “Get some sleep, if you can. Alexander will be along momentarily and we can start making plans.”
    I hadn’t been able to sleep on the plane. It was rare that I could doze off in a public space, but that hadn’t been all of it. I’d been dwelling on something that I’d missed while Jean-Luc had spirited me away.
    Alexander could have come himself to get me in San Francisco, but he had sent someone else instead.
    It seemed to me that was as clear a sign as I was going to get that he wasn’t as interested as I would have hoped. I’d been busy fighting my misery on the journey, reproaching myself for thinking that there could still be a chance between us. Too much history lay in the way. Even if Alexander was interested in me, it was all still horribly tangled. His father had kidnapped me and raped me and I’d killed him as a result, using a gun that Alexander had pressed into my hands.
    My head hurt just thinking of it. It was perfectly understandable that Alexander would look for something a lot less complicated . Perhaps if I possessed the gift of being able to forget, I would have made the same choice.
    The sky was starting to darken in Paris, but it was still early evening. I sat on the bed for a while, but jumped to my feet when my eyes started to close of their own accord. I opened the closet and wasn’t particularly surprised to see the clothing that I’d left behind eighteen months ago hanging there. Alexander had always been good at the details. Of course, I’d gained fifteen pounds in that time, so I doubted any of them would fit me. Besides, the pretty summer dresses, the skimpy cocktail outfits and the glittery evening gowns – none of these fit in any version of my life. These were the accoutrements of the plaything of a rich and