PROLOGUE
Kresley
I lay on my bed, the soft sounds of Paris trickling in from my open window. And though Andre wouldn’t approve of an open window—after he’d already secured the premises for the night—sometimes a girl just needed to let Paris in.
I contemplated pulling up another movie to stream, but I had an early class in the morning so I pulled my long blonde hair into a messy knot, crawled under my comforter, and set the alarm on my phone. I closed my eyes, thinking about my presentation the following day. I hated speaking in front of a class, but it was a necessary evil to graduate.
Just as I was about to doze off, I heard a loud thud in the sitting room and someone yelled, “Down on the ground!”
I jerked up.
“Where is she?” a deep French voice ordered.
More muffled sounds.
Then…
Bang!
I jumped at the sound of a gunshot as a shiver tore up my spine. I looked around my room frantically, knowing it was a matter of seconds before my closed door swung open. I slipped out of bed, snatching the knife off the dish with the apple core beside my bed. With shaking hands, I crawled underneath the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. My body shook as I lay in a ball trying to make myself as small as I could. My comforter didn’t reach the floor, so all someone needed to do was bend down and they’d see me.
Fuck.
Footsteps moved in the sitting room, nearing my closed bedroom door.
Please be Andre. Please be Andre.
My bedroom door squeaked open and heavy footsteps moved across my floor. I lay still, but my pulse thrashed throughout my body, and my labored breathing threatened to give me away.
An eerie silence descended over my room. Was it Andre? If so, why wasn’t he speaking?
A hand grabbed my ankle.
I screamed, my legs kicking wildly as I tried to free myself. But another hand grabbed my other ankle and I was dragged out from under the bed. I tucked the knife behind my back, gripping it tightly as my legs flailed in an attempt to break loose. But he was too strong, holding my ankles like two impenetrable vice grips. I gave up the fight and lay on my floor with my chest rising and falling as I stared up at a man dressed in black with a black mask covering all but his eyes. Another man dressed the same stood in the doorway.
“Where’s Andre?” I asked, my voice cracking and sounding nothing like my own.
They scoffed under their masks, exchanging a knowing glance.
Bile shot up the back of my throat, knowing with every fiber of my being that the gunshot had been for Andre. Tears glazed my eyes. “What do you want?”
“What do you think we want?” the man at my feet asked, his French accent taunting me with the very thing I adored about France.
“I can get you whatever you want,” I assured him, fighting to keep my voice from cracking.
He released my ankles but quickly grabbed my hand that didn’t hold the knife and yanked me to my feet. I kept the knife held against my back, terrified he’d see it. He didn’t, pushing me to the nearest wall and slamming my back to it.
My body trembled.
Andre wasn’t coming to save me.
No one was coming to save me.
My only saving grace was the knife in my hand. But did I have the nerve to use it with his partner in the door ready to hurt me if I did?
The man pressed his chest to mine, pushing me harder into the wall as he leaned into my ear. His sweaty putrid scent strangled me, and I fought not to gag. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” His spit brushed my ear. “Le fou de fortune,” he whispered. Fortune’s fool. “I want you to have your parents wire ten million dollars into an off-shore account.”
“I can do that,” I assured him as I tightened my grip on the knife behind my back.
“I wasn’t asking.”
I closed my eyes, willing back the tears that fell regardless.
“Then…” His hand slipped between my thighs, cupping me. “I want to know what a rich American college girl feels like.”
I swallowed hard.
This wasn’t happening. This was a sick dream I’d soon wake up from.
Bang!
The sound of another gunshot tore through my apartment.
My eyes snapped open as I jumped, despite the weight pressed against me.
“What the fuck?” the man holding me said as he turned to look to his partner in the doorway.
I yanked