AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He steps back, assessing me with slate-gray eyes. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?”
“May we step inside?”
“Of course.” We enter his elegant townhome in the most expensive neighborhood in Paris.
I spent the six-hour train ride from Nice researching this man and his millions. His father is an exporter who works with several businesses in New Orleans, from food to coffee to liquor. The Lovels own several houses, ranging from Paris to the villa in Nice to a condo in New Orleans.
“May I offer you a drink?” Freddie looks like he hasn’t worked a day in his life.
He’s dressed in faded dark gray trousers with brown shoes, a crisp white long-sleeved shirt with a black blazer, and a scarf tied at his neck.
“No thanks.” I take out my phone as if I’m reading notes. “How long did Lara Hale live here with you?”
It’s not really pertinent to my investigation, but fuck it. I want to know.
“I’m sorry, you seem to be mistaken. Miss Hale never lived with me. She stayed with my sister Annemarie.”
The fist in my chest unclenches slightly. He wasn’t her lover. “Is your sister’s house nearby?”
“She has a three bedroom apartment on the rue Bonaparte.”
I have no idea where that is. “That’s close to here?”
“It’s about three blocks away.”
The anger returns. “So she stayed with you overnight?”
His eyes narrow, and a small smile curls his lips. “I didn’t have that kind of relationship with Lara. She came to Paris hoping for a better life. I merely offered her a place to stay.”
“With your sister.”
“I confess, I had hoped eventually it would be with me, but c’est la vie. It never happened.”
For a moment, we quietly assess each other. Until he cocks his head. “Do we know one another? You seem familiar…”
“We’ve never met.” It’s true—we’ve never been formally introduced.
“So what’s this about? Is Lara in trouble?”
Not so fast. “How long has she lived in your villa in Nice?”
His eyebrows jump. “She moved there shortly after arriving in Paris. She stayed here barely a month when her sister began having… issues.”
“What type of issues?”
A small table holding several crystal bottles of different shades of liquor sits in front of a large, arched window. He walks to it, and for a moment seems lost in thought.
“Paris can be difficult. It’s like New Orleans… but about ten times bigger and ten times less forgiving. Add the language barrier, and some might feel overwhelmed.”
“What happened to Molly?”
He faces me. “She had trouble sleeping. Night terrors, I think you call it. Screaming in the night, dreaming of someone chasing her, hurting her. We tried getting her a little dog—”
“Did she ever say any names?” I realize I’m leaning forward, anxious for anything.
“I was never there when it happened. Annemarie told me later.” He exhales deeply, studying his fingers. “But they were both miserable here. My sister said she would find Lara crying all the time. I finally suggested they might be happier in Nice.”
“You sent them to your villa?”
