shadows falling over his face. “I could ruin you. You know that, don’t you?”
Always with the questions.
I nod again.
“I could tell your father what you did. I could tell Pascal. I could tell the world. And I would make sure that you would never work again. That you would amount to nothing. Because a man who breaks the bonds of his family should amount to nothing.” He pauses, tilting his head as if considering me. Perhaps considering if he should just murder me on the spot. I’m sure with his lies and manipulation, he could make it look like an accident. I know I said I can take him physically, but who knows how many people he has in his phone he could just place a call to. People who know how to get rid of people properly.
For the first time since Gautier came barging into the house, I’m afraid for my life.
The seconds stretch into minutes again, my heartbeat growing louder in my head.
Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “You’re young, Olivier. You made a mistake. I see that. I remember what it’s like to be twenty years old, filthy rich, the world at your feet. You don’t care for anything but sex and money and power, and you’ll do anything to get them. I know—don’t think I don’t. But youth doesn’t excuse you from punishment. It doesn’t unwrite your sins.” He pauses. “I have a bargain for you, Olivier. The only way out of this. Would you like to hear it?”
I blink at him, my eyes trying to focus on the shadows of his face, but everything keeps shape-shifting.
A bargain with my uncle is a deal with the devil.
But what other choice do I have?
“What is it?” I ask, licking my dry lips as I talk, my words coming out in a murmur.
“It will ensure that neither Pascal nor your father will hear of your indiscretion. No one will know at all, and you’ll be able to go on living the reckless, selfish, stupid life that you’ve been living. Fucking everything that walks, spending your money on pointless, vapid things. You’ll continue to be Olivier Dumont, one of the many heirs to the Dumont empire, the most eligible bachelor in France.”
I clear my throat. “And so what do I have to do?”
Though his face darkens, I can see the smile spread across it, the white of his veneers standing out as sharp as the Cheshire cat’s.
“Sign a document, that’s all.”
But that wouldn’t be all.
Nothing is ever that simple with the Dumonts.
“Okay,” I say quietly, knowing I’ll have to agree to whatever it says.
I’ll be signing it in blood.
CHAPTER ONE
SADIE
Nice, France
Present day
Train ticket?
Check.
Phone?
Check.
Ridiculous travel wallet that wraps around my leg?
Umm.
Well, shit.
I rummage through the compartments in my backpack, riffle through my cross-body purse, and look around the empty dorm room, frantically trying to remember where I put the damn thing. It’s not like it contains my money, credit cards, and passport.
I’d spent the morning going for a jog along the promenade and had only taken some euros along with me for my postworkout coffee; then I spent the rest of the day hanging around the common room and munching on last night’s leftovers from the hostel’s BBQ. On those days when I don’t have to spend my money on food, I take advantage. I’m like a jackal, but with lipstick.
Only right now I won’t be able to afford another lipstick unless I find my money belt.
Then I remember stumbling to my bed last night after too many drinks at the bar and becoming suddenly suspicious of everyone in the room.
I reach over and lift the edge of the mattress.
Ta-da. My money belt.
With a sigh, I grab it and clutch it to my chest.
After two months backpacking through Europe, you’d think I’d have a better idea where I put things, but hey, at least I was being vigilant after a bottle of wine. I’ve heard enough horror stories from the people I’ve met so far to know that the worst-case scenario is always around the corner.
And currently my worst-case scenario is losing either my passport or my wallet, hence the ugly and uncomfortable money belt I wear strapped around my calf. Depending on the sketchiness of the hostel I’m staying at, that money belt sometimes stays on me as I sleep. Last night I apparently thought hiding it under my mattress was somewhat of a happy medium.
I pull up the leg of my wide linen pants, which are wrinkled