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“This favor got anything to do with pretty little Adele?”
“It does. She says her fake identity is because she’s hiding from an old boyfriend. What would it take to make it more… concrete?”
“How deep do you want it to go?”
“Deep enough to stand up to the scrutiny of the US Government. I can’t very well marry her if she doesn’t exist.”
“Marry her?” The teasing smile vanished, replaced by his usual scowl. “Jesus, Cole, you just met her. And you still don’t know a goddamn thing about her. You don’t even know her real name!”
“Once you work your magic, Adele will be her real name. And we’ll have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
My lips twitched at the obvious irritation in his tone, but I managed to hold back a smile. “And Mikey… while you’re trying to dig up dirt on my girl, do me a favor and see if you can locate the boyfriend. I’d like to pay him a visit before we leave Paris.”
Adele
For the first time since I’d begun spending the nights with Cole, I woke before him. Flat on his back with a lock of dark hair over one eye, he looked nothing like the dangerous criminal I knew him to be. Even having seen the dossier on him, I was struggling to believe it.
For a moment, I considered waking him for a repeat of our fun from the night before. But I still had a job to do, and this was a perfect opportunity to explore his apartment, so I slipped out of bed and crept out of the bedroom toward the office where I’d found him chatting with “Mikey” the night before.
Michael DeCosta, Cole’s cousin on his father’s side. Raphael DeCosta, current “alleged” head of the DeCosta crime empire, was the oldest of four boys, all of whom were married with children of their own. All male again, with the exception of Camilla DeCosta. There hadn’t been as much information on her in the file, giving me the impression she was kept hidden away, the princess in the tower.
Mikey, however, had made quite a name for himself within law enforcement circles. The man was a whiz with computers and there was considerable speculation that he was the one responsible for the DeCostas’s squeaky clean public records. It was all pure speculation though, because he was good enough to not leave a trace of himself behind during the cleanup. All of the files on the brothers and their children were littered with “allegedly” and “believed to” comments.
My search turned up a fat lot of nothing, until I reached the top right drawer of his desk.
Locked.
And the key was nowhere to be found. If I had to guess, he carried it with him. A man like Cole wouldn’t leave it laying around for just anyone to find.
What the hell was he keeping in there?
“A little early for snooping isn’t it, little girl?”
I froze at the sound of his voice, slowly lifting my head to meet his gaze. “Hi. I wasn’t snooping.”
“Oh? Did you get lost, then?” His tone was amused, but there was a coldness to it that sent warning bells ringing in my mind. “I know it’s a larger apartment than you’re used to, but it’s not quite large enough for you to lose your way.”
“No. I, um, was looking for a notepad and a pen. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but I assume leaving without a note of some kind would not bode well for my backside.”
An almost boyish grin stretched across his face, and he visibly relaxed at my explanation. “You assume correctly, sweetheart. How about we go out for breakfast, see a bit of the city?”
I had some time before I needed to be at work, so I returned his grin with one of my own. “That sounds lovely. There’s a bakery not too far from here with the most delicious escargot aux raisins.”
Confusion knitted his brow. “You want snails. With raisins?”
Laughing at his misunderstanding, I rounded the desk and slipped my arms around his waist. “Yes. That is exactly what I want.”
“Well. When in Rome, right?”
“Exactly! They are my favorite breakfast.”
Half an hour later, we were seated at a small table outside of the bakery, with Cole staring down at the pastry on his plate. “I am so confused.”
“It is a snail. See?” I circled my finger over the pastry, pointing out the shape of the bread which did, indeed, resemble a snail’s shell.
“I’ve spent the last thirty minutes hyping myself up to eat snails with goddamned raisins on them for breakfast and the whole time you were talking about bread?”
