“In Paris, perhaps,” I suggest airily. “Get a flight, stay in a hotel, back the next day. They’re good for the money, aren’t they?”
Now I have her attention. Her eyes narrow.
“I don’t care about the money anymore.”
“Really?” I ask, with unbridled surprise. “Why not?”
“Because we can’tfuckingspend it.” She waves her wine glass through the air. “Not in any way that makes a difference.”
I’ve finally hit a nerve. “What would make a difference, Amelia?”
Nothing.
“Clothes?” I prod. “Cars? Travel?”
She twitches on the last one.
“Getting somewhere?” I say, leaning forward. “Seeing someone?”
“Stop.” The word cracks out, mouth twisted at the corners, eyes narrowed in hate. “I know what you’re doing. You’re part of it, aren’t you? You’re one ofthem. One of thesystem. You can tell myhusbandthat I passed his test. I’m not trying to leave any more, all right? I’m not…” She takes a breath, closes her eyes, lets it out slowly and opens them again. Her face is perfectly composed. “My apologies, that was a little sharp. I mean that I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without Lukas.” She gives me a thin smile, then pushes up to stand. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I might go for a nap.”
“Yeah,” I say, reclining into my sofa. “You should do that. Sleep well.”
I watch her walk away, and she doesn’t look back.
The room is silent, my thoughts are not.
Holy. Fuck.
Twenty-Five
Vicky
Alex is quiet for the ride back on the helicopter.
There’s a lot on my mind, too.
My hands won't stop trembling. I press them flat against my thighs, willing them still. I keep seeing the blade against his finger, the blood welling so slowly, Van Wyk's face utterly indifferent to both. Amelia, so scared she’s shut down. Alex's expression, emptied of everything, and that scares me more most of all.
I glance at him from time to time, but he ignores me, just sits staring into the space immediately before him, elbows on the arms of his chair, hands linked beneath his chin.
Was Van Wyk right? Is Alex angry with me for the offer I made?
“Alex?”
I wait; no reaction. My fingers find my engagement ring and twiddle it back and forth.
“You know why I said what I said, right?”
It’s like he doesn’t hear me.
“Alex?”
Nothing.
I bite my lip and stare miserably out of my window. Heisblaming me.
Or… maybe while I was talking to Amelia, Van Wyk was telling him how interested in Fournier I was. I wouldn’t put it past that psychopathic murdering bastard.
