I dropped Carlos to the floor. He crumbled like a bag of potatoes and gasped for breath.
“You’ll regret this,” he rasped, massaging his throat.
“Getting rid of you? Hardly.”
We passed the secretary in silence. Paris put on his sunglasses and a black baseball cap before we called the elevator.
Back in the garage, Boone bounded out of the car andtoward Paris. He scooped Paris into a tight embrace, burying his face in Paris’s neck.
Terry eyed them then smiled at me.
I gave him a kiss.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“We’ll talk in the car.”
Boone drove directly to Paris’s estate while Terry sat in the passenger seat, asking question after question. Looking tired, Paris left the explaining to me. I didn’t pretend to understand his reasoning, so I recounted the interaction with Carlos until the point we’d left.
“We can’t rely on Carlos being afraid to share the images,” Terry said.
I had to agree with him. If that was Paris’s strategy, it might not work.
Paris sighed. “Before we get into this, I want coffee.”
I’d never been to Paris’s estate before, only to his three-story apartment in the city.
We passed through an iron gate and entered a sprawling park. Boone stopped in front of a villa half the size of my home.Huh. I’d have expected something more opulent from Paris. The property seemed larger than mine, though. Boone opened the car door for Paris, and we followed them into the house. Paris led us to the other side of the building, to a cozy patio surrounded by potted palm trees. It offered a view over the estate and the mountains of Cross River National Park rising in the distance. Yep, the pool was bigger than mine, and hello, a horse barn! A few beasts grazed on the meadows below us, and I spotted a cluster of small cottages between the trees. Presumably, that was where the staff lived.
Boone exchanged a few words with a middle-agedomega in a white suit who must have been the butler, then he sat by Paris’s side.
“The drinks will be ready in a couple of minutes.”
“Thank you, Boone.” Paris smiled at him gently, and Boone melted like ice cream on a hot pavement.
Terry put an arm around me, and I gratefully rested my head against his shoulder. It had been a long couple of days.
I expected Paris to start explaining, but he lifted his phone and dialed someone.
“Hello, Allan. I’m good, thank you. Listen. I’m being forced to make a public announcement about my relationship status, and I need you to find me a suitable channel—whoever has a good enough reach and is available at short notice. It needs to happen tonight.”
Terry stiffened next to me, and I sat up.
“Yes to both,” Paris continued. “Renner is good too. I don’t watch his talk show, but his reputation is stellar, I agree. Promise them exclusive information about my private life.”
I looked at Terry, who shrugged.
“There’s been a leak. It might affect some of the projects we’re working on, but I need to control the narrative from the start.”
Silence followed. I couldn’t distinguish what the other person—obviously Allan Caspian—was saying. Paris looked as calm as ever.
“Thank you for trusting me with this, Allan. I appreciate it.”
After a quick goodbye, Paris put the phone on the coffee table.
“Allan Caspian knows?” Terry asked.
“Yes. He was a guest at our wedding.”
