“There’s nowhere you can go without being spotted,” Sawyer warns.
Annabelle squeezes my hand over the counter, her gaze soft but unwavering, trying to anchor me, woman to woman.
“There’s one place…” Sutton mutters.
Sawyer goes pale.
“That’s a really bad idea.” His voice drops, controlled but deadly serious. “And as your legal representative, I don’t want to know anything about it.”
Sutton doesn’t seem affected. “I need to get Charlotte and Preston away. We just need a bit more time to sort things out.”
“Charlotte and Preston?” Sawyer's expression tightens, looking at me as realization clicks into place of our real names.
“I’ll fill you in later. Right now, we need to go,” Sutton says, and I offer Sawyer an empathetic smile.
“I still don’t think France is a good idea,” Sawyer mutters with a shake of his head.
“If the mob can’t keep us hidden… then we have no hope,” Sutton tells his brother. Unshaken. Decided.
The air thickens as my stomach falls to my feet.
Did he just say the mob?
37
Sutton
My chest feels tight as I take the love of my life and her brother into what can only be described as an illegally funded paradise.
“Are we safe here?” she asks, her nerves lingering at the surface.
Charlotte and Preston are wide-eyed, looking out the window as the lavender-covered fields of Provence filter past. I made the call last night to Hugo, an acquaintance whom I signed some limited-edition merchandise for to give his nephew a couple of years ago. He then flew me out to do an exclusive movie premiere and a meet-and-greet at his casino here in the South of France. He always said he owed me a favor. I never thought much of it, but this is me collecting.
“They owe me,” I tell her quietly.
She looks at me curiously. “Who owes you?”
“Dragonfly.”
“Who’s Dragonfly?” she presses, understandably. I’m just not sure how much to tell her right now. I want her to feel relaxed, and it’s a toss-up if any more information will help or hinder that.
The driver, who has remained silent all this time, looks at me through the car mirror, and I swallow.
“Just some people who run a casino here.” I keep my answer vague as the driver looks at me again, with a quirked eyebrow this time.
“Are they safe? I mean, are they legal?” Charlotte whispers to me, and if it wasn’t such a dire situation, it would be comical. Because no, they’re not.
“They’re safe for us. That’s what we need. We just need to buy us some time, figure out our next steps, and keep the two of you hidden.”
“But what are they into? We just came into the country without showing our passport…” She’s smart; her mind must be spinning about all of this.
“Best you don’t know, Tinker Bell. But rest assured, there’s probably nowhere safer for us to be.” My hand hasn’t left hers. From the moment we fled Sawyer's house in the darkness of a Whispers evening, we’ve been on the go. Boarding Tanner's plane, which took us to Portugal, where we switched to another private jet. Anyone would think I’m a fucking criminal mastermind on the run, not a global movie star just trying to get a little peace.
The car slows as we enter a gated compound, and we drive around manicured gardens until we pull up and stop right at the front door where Hugo Moreau, head of the French mafia, commonly known as Dragonfly, stands, his men at his sides, making him look like the mobster he is.
“Hollywood. Good to see you.” He greets me by the nickname I hate, offering me his hand as I step out of his car. I don’t correct him. He’s a dangerous man; he can call me whatever the fuck he wants. I’m at his mercy now. He could ask me for anything, and I would have to say yes. But Charlotte’s security is my number one priority. I’d do anything for her.
“Hugo.” I shake his hand before ensuring Charlotte and Preston are by my side. Hugo’s gaze drops to her, his head tilting with interest, and my jaw tightens.
