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Or she had somebody over…
But I doubted the lights would be on if that were the case.
If she had someone over…I wasn’t sure what I would do.
Not that I had the right to care. Not that I had the right to feel anything but nothing at all.
I’d been in Paris for a few weeks. Cap-Ferrat was abandoned, and now Hugo could do his deep clean of the place. The Christmas tree would be taken down, and so would all the ornaments and lights. I always spent Christmas alone, but this was the first time I actuallyfeltalone.
Felt like something was missing.
I rolled down the window and lit up my cigar, the winter cold stinging my eyes the second it hit me. With my elbow propped on the windowsill, I stared at her apartment with no intention of going inside.
I had no intention of doing anything.
Other than sitting there…and staring.
I rested my head against the wheel and imagined a life where I walked through the doors. Just let myself in like I was coming home. She’d be sitting on the couch in her pajamas, reading a book with her hair in a bun, and when she looked up at me, there would be confusion…but then longing. We wouldn’t say a word. We would just come together…as if nothing had happened.
I let my mind wander for a bit. Fantasize for a bit. Pretend that cigar was her lips. But then the dream shattered, and I was back in my car, the freezing air hitting me in the face.
Then the lights flicked off. Her apartment went dark.
And that was when I drove home. Alone.
16
CAMILLE
Every couple of days, Bartholomew would text me.
I need you.
He treated me like one of his men. Not one of his women.
After I got over the initial fear, it actually felt nice. I felt like I had more to offer than my naked body. I was intelligent and resourceful. I could make things happen if I put my mind to it. Bartholomew either had faith in me, or he just assumed it was so easy, a monkey could do it.
I need you.
I knew that meant he was right outside. Or his driver was right outside.
I got dressed, even though I didn’t know what I was getting dressed for, and got into the blacked-out SUV. The driver took me across town, pulling up to a three-story apartment building that looked unoccupied from the outside.
A man led me into an elevator, and then we stepped out into the parlor.
I knew I’d stepped into some serious shit when I heard Bartholomew’s voice.
“My world is built on skulls, and soon, my boot will be resting on yours.”
What in the actual fuck?
The man took me by the arm and guided me into the other room.
We rounded the corner into a sitting room, and Bartholomew stood there in his classic dark look with a black leather jacket. His men were spread out across the room, each of them looking unimpressed by the sight they witnessed.
A man was kneeling on the floor, hands zip-tied at his back.
Bartholomew stared him down as he slowly walked over, eyes on his prey.
