Paris (Entangle Me Book 4) (8 page)

All of a sudden I hear a muffling of the receiver, and I hear Tristan mumbling something indistinct in the background. Then I hear someone breathing heavily into the phone.

“Can you ever fucking leave us alone?”

The color drains from my face at the sound of Victoria’s voice.

“I…I…”

“Hey, what are you doing? Give the phone back to me.” I hear Tristan walk back towards the phone, it sounds like he’s charging towards it.

“NOOOOOO! If this is the only way to get your attention, then so be it. And
you
, Miss
Laney
. He’s mine! Alright? Do you hear that, you fucking whore…” She directs so much vitriol at me. She hates me so much she can’t call me by my name.

“Give the phone—”

All of a sudden, I hear a glass smash on the floor and my eyes widen, now alert.

“Youuuuu are not going
anywhere
Tristan, we still have lots to discuss tonight,” she says, panting. Is she drunk?

“What the fuck are you talking about? You are creeping me out, you psycho.”

“I swear I could hold you hostage. Don’t think I won’t, because I will. I will, I will, I will!” She shouts, her voice hostile.

Tristan laughs derisively. “Come on, lay off the meds alright? You’ve had a bit to drink. I’m going to leave—”

“YOU DARE TO LAUGH AT ME? AT ME?” She shrieks, and I blink furiously at everything that’s unfolding. It’s all so rapid and sudden.

“What are you going to do? Hold me hostage?” Tristan laughs some more and my stomach churns anxiously, he’s seriously making a mistake doing that. He’s only provoking her.

Then she breathes into the phone, seething loudly. “DID YOU HEAR THAT LANEY? That’s exactly what I’m going to do. You’re not seeing him tonight sweetheart. Get that through your stupid thick head. He ain’t going anywhere.”

And with that she hangs up, and I can only hold the phone in my trembling hands.

Tristan is in danger, and I have to go and help him.

“Oh my god,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. It takes me a moment to realise that I’ve been holding my breath in for way too long.
“What’s wrong?” Gabe takes another sip.

“We have to leave now! Tristan’s in some sort of weird hostage situation. I’ll explain in the cab.”

Gabe frowns, looking baffled. “What do you mean hostage situation? He’s a big guy, he can take care of himself.”

I stand up, grabbing my clutch with shaking hands. “I know, but we have to go and see if we can help him out. We don’t have much time!”

Still looking befuddled, he gets up and follows me out of the bar without a further word.  Pushing the door, I look frantically for the nearest cab rank and after briskly walking down the street I hail a cab, we get into the back and I hurriedly take out my phone to find the text message Tristan sent me.

“Take us to…
Résidence Jupiter
…” I whisper, my voice frail. I can’t think right now. My thoughts are all muddled at the thought of Tristan in danger. It’s ridiculous. Of course he can take care of himself, but something deep in my gut tells me that there’s more to this than I initially thought. He has to be okay, he has to be okay…oh god please let him be okay. I’m finding it hard to breathe at the thought of him being seriously hurt.

“It’s a twenty-minute drive from here. Hopefully we can get there faster since it’s night time.” Gabe sits forward to talk to the cab driver and raises his voice. “Take us to
Résidence Jupiter
, quickly please!”

The car starts driving and I grab Gabe’s hand tightly. “What would I do without you?”

He smiles at me softly. “It’ll be okay sweetie. He will be fine; she wouldn’t do anything drastic.”

I lean into his shoulder. “I can’t believe everything that happened to him…and he’s been handling it so well….and here I thought…”

Have I been reading all Tristan’s signals wrong this whole time? Tristan wanted a new start by coming home, he wanted to start fresh and didn’t need any complications. I had no idea he was coming because he was forced to, because of lies made up about him. Now it all makes sense – how dedicated he is to the business, why he is so driven, why he kept pulling away from me. He didn’t want the same thing happening again, in case it didn’t work out…But it doesn’t matter anymore, I don’t care what’s happened in the past. I don’t care about this stuff with Victoria, how blindly jealous I was at the thought of him being with her. I want to show him how much I care about him, how I want something with him.

“He’s a cool guy, we won’t let anything happen to him. Come on, we’ve dealt with crazy bitches before. We do it all the time, remember that bride for that Vaucluse wedding? This will be a piece of cake compared to her,” he winks at me, tapping my hand.

I nod slowly, trying to remain focused. “Don’t ever change, okay?”

“Right back at you, darl.”

We sit in the cab in silence as we drive through the streets of Paris, driving towards the unknown in this dark and long night.

♦

“Okay
Résidence Jupiter
, here we are,” the cab driver stops, parking the car. Are we really here?

Gabe quickly hands him two twenty euro notes and I try and intercept, taking out a twenty euro.

“Hey I need to pay for—”

He pushes my hand away. “No time, we need to hurry up.”

The cab driver gives him the change and we thank him, hurrying out of the cab. As we step out and rush towards the entrance, I crane my neck up. Whoa…this is really high. Taking a deep breath, I keep dashing forward. I can’t let my fear of heights get a hold of me, this is a potential life or death situation. This is for Tristan; someone I really care about. I have to cast my terrors aside and help the man I’ve come to really like and even…adore.

The twin doors that lead into the lobby are pristine white with golden handles and as we push in I can’t ignore how beautiful it is. The lobby is sumptuous and decadent, the floor tiled in fine marble, the domed ceiling at least 100 feet high. A chandelier hangs above, lighting up the room completely. I run past embroidered silk sofas, and a flat-screen television. The reception desk is made of amber-colored wood and a green granite top. Exquisite paintings hung from the rich, red walls. Every step we make echoes as we run across to the elevator, but the receptionist doesn’t say a word and before we know it we are standing outside the elevator, waiting for it to arrive.

Gabe grabs my arms, and looks at me with compassionate eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this. Are you sure you
can
do this?”

Breathing rapidly in succession, I look at him and nod. “Yeah, I think I can. I’ll just duck my head and—”

Ding. The elevator arrives and the door opens. Inhaling sharply, I step into the beige marble walled hell trap with buckling knees. Gabe holds my hand and walks backwards, coddling me one step at a time.

“It’s okay, look at me. It will only take a second.”

Gripping onto his hand tightly, I walk in slowly, thankful I’m wearing my comfy ankle boots instead of heels. As soon as we step in, Gabe presses the button with 30 on it and my eyes widen at the sight. Okay, I’m going up. This will be fine, as Gabe said it will only take a second.

The doors close and I turn around to face the wall, leaning my head in.  I shriek internally when I can feel the rumbling beneath my feet and the metal box reverberates as it ascends, quickly. The alcohol is swirling in my stomach, round and round.  Gabe comes behind me and rubs my back gently, and I close my eyes, counting from one to ten.

“It’s okay, darl. Almost there.”

Breaths are coming in short spurts, and I put a hand on my chest, anxious for this to be over. The elevator continues its ascent towards the heavens, and I have to ignore how much I hate the noise of the metal gears clicking, the creepy and eerie silence in here, the way the floor shakes beneath my feet.

After what feels like an eternity, the lift grinds to a halt and the doors open. I open my eyes, my French Blonde haze catching up to me. I’m here, level thirty. Level freaking thirty! Whoa, nelly. Shaking my head, I turn around and Gabe takes my hand and we walk out to the pristine teal carpeted floor.

“Okay what room was it again?”

“Level 30….30….” I inhale sharply, trying to think straight.
Get a grip Lacey
, someone’s life is at stake here and I’m worried about being over three hundred feet above the ground…breathe, just breathe.

“Room 3017. It’s to the left,” I finally say and I walk ahead of Gabe, pulling
him
now. Walking briskly down the long corridor, my heart is thumping like a jackhammer the closer and closer we get. Please be okay, Tristan. I don’t know what I would do with myself if he was hurt…

We reach the white door and Gabe tugs my hand. It’s slightly ajar, practically inviting me in. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I want you to stay out here,” I order, my voice curt.

“What why?”

I touch the handle, my hand shaking. 

“I don’t want you to be in any danger. I can’t risk your safety.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “You’ve done enough for me coming here, taking me up here.”
He looks at me with concerned eyes, and hugs me quickly. “Be careful, hun.”
Taking a deep breath, I push the door gently and walk in - slightly scared, slightly panicked, extremely concerned. 

The penthouse suite is barely lit, and with the exception of two table lamps it’s quiet but in a creepy way. Decked in black marble, the wide ceiling high windows overlook all of Paris. It feels empty, is anyone here? Am I in the right apartment? I scan the room, desperate to find Tristan. My eyes widen at the scene before me, and I know things have been heated. A broken wine glass lies on the carpet, a chair tipped over, a sofa cushion half tattered. 

Where is—
 

“Aieeeeee!” A toe curling scream emerges from the bedroom down the far left of the room. My heart thumps and I sprint through the living room and stop right outside the bedroom. Pushing the door open gently I gasp at what I see - Tristan grabbing Victoria’s wrists as she keeps swiping a
knife
at him. Oh my god. A. Goddamn. Knife. Is. Being. Swung. At. Him. My heart drops for a moment at the sight of this barbaric violence. They are standing on the balcony and Tristan is trying his best to overtake her without hurting her. The bedroom is a mess – a fallen chair sits near them, the sheets are ripped, the lamp on the floor. And the knife, it’s freaking huge. How the hell did she get her hands on one? It doesn’t take me long to see his hand is bleeding, her dress is torn at the hem.

There’s been an altercation, a blood-filled one.
This is probably the time to freak out, scream or just curl into a corner but no. A strange calmness washes over me and I know exactly what to do. Shoving the door open loudly it hits the wall, Tristan and Victoria stop to look at me. 

“Stop this, right now!” I yell out, exasperated.
Victoria looks at me with delirious eyes, Tristan turns to look at me and I can see the anxiety in his eyes as he uses the interruption as an excuse to pull the knife out of Victoria’s hands, dropping it on the floor. This loud mouthed bitch needs to be taken care of, as this protective urge takes over me.

“How dare you! He has been nothing but a gentleman and that has caused you to act like a crazy bitch?” I shoot Tristan a serious stare. “Go and call reception, send someone up here
now
.” 

Tristan nods and comes back into the bedroom to clamber onto the queen sized bed, reaching for the phone to dial quickly.

With trepidation, I walk out onto the balcony and use all my newfound zing to focus on Victoria. Not daring to be near her, I stand on the other side of the balcony. Victoria’s eyes are bulging, practically popping out of their sockets.

“Why are you here? WHY?” She cries out, hostility in her voice. “Hercules and I were having such an amazing time—”

“That’s not what it looks like to me. You attacked him!” I shout back, incredulous at what she’s done. What the hell is wrong with her?

Grabbing the balcony railings, she starts leaning her body back and forth, shaking her head.

“I just wanted him to want me! Is that so hard?”

“Honey, no man is ever worth pulling out a knife for, ever. Violence is never the answer,” I say as calmly as possible. “You got that? Ever. If a man truly loves you, you won’t have to ever pull out a knife to get him to be with you.”

She turns to look at me, her lips are ghost white. “I didn’t want him to leave…he’s so wonderful. All the other guys I know only want me because of daddy’s money or just to get in my panties. But Tristan was always so nice, and wanted to get to know me.”

Looking at her beautiful and frenzied eyes, I feel sorry for her. I would have thought someone beautiful and rich like her would have it all, but it turns out all she wanted was a guy to love her the way she is. I turn to look at Tristan, speaking on the phone. She’s right, he is pretty wonderful. I thought he was just my brother’s snotty best friend, I thought he was just my boss but he doesn’t need any labels. He’s just Tristan, a man I really care about.

Arching an eyebrow at Victoria, I smile at her, changing tack. “He’s not that wonderful.”

Victoria looks confused, glaring at me. “What do you mean?”

“He’s bossy, he’s arrogant, he’s condescending,” I murmur. But dammit, I wouldn’t change any of it.

Tristan gets off the phone and walks up to us, stepping out on the balcony.

“Someone is coming now, to get you stitched up.”

Victoria’s face contorts in the ugliest way, and I can see her trying to fight back tears. “I’m sorry for all this…I think I should go home now.”

Tristan walks up to her and grabs her shoulders tightly, so she lets go of the balcony railing. She turns around slightly, and tries to hug Tristan but he grabs her shoulders tighter and locks her in her position, forcing distance between them.

“It’s okay, no harm done.”

Poor choice of words but I know where he is coming from.

“Are you going to tell daddy? Are you going to press charges?” She whimpers, looking up at him with pleading puppy eyes.

His nostrils flare loudly, and he stares down at her with utter contempt. “I won’t tell your father because frankly, he’ll probably blame me again for this shit. And I won’t press charges if you promise to leave me, and Lacey alone for the rest of our lives. You got that?” He dictates, his voice compelling and full of ire.

Struggling to hid the emotion on her face, she looks down at the ground, ashamed of Tristan’s admonition. “Okay…”

All of a sudden, I hear loud footsteps outside and into the bedroom. “
Oh non! Quelle pagaille
!” A middle-aged French man runs in, seeing the blood on the sheets and carpet. He is soon followed by a young woman, who gasps when she sees the mess and takes out her walkie-talkie. I guide Victoria towards the kind looking French man and seeing that she is ghost white now, he takes off his tailored blazer and puts it on her and ushers her out of the room. The woman starts talking into her walkie-talkie in French and leaves the room as well.