[ S E R A P H I N E ] This doesn't feel real. Or spontaneous. Nope. Not at all. One of my nightmares is becoming my reality. I'm being stalked. I'm being targeted. Why? Bad blood? Is this guy here to show off how better his life has gotten since we broke up? How the heck did he find me? Did he pay Alina? Maybe he convinced another one of my former co-workers. Something tells me his reason -- or reasons? -- for being here is not something I can freely discuss with my "husband". “Met your friend the other day.” Pierre's unwavering gaze travels up and down, assessing my appearance like it's necessary. “She didn't say?” “She told me.” I stare back at him and do my best to keep my voice steady. I wanna look and sound unbothered. Emotionless. I don't want him to think I've been waiting so long for this moment. Three and a half years, to be more specific. “Been trying to find you. Tsk. You don't make it easy, love.” “Why?” Oh dear. If his mother wasn't British, his pet

[ D O M I N I C O ] “What? No. I-I didn't mean it like that.” Stuttering. Minimal eye contact. Hands fidgeting. The topic's making her uncomfortable. Or me being unusually candid is the reason she's feeling uneasy. “But you did think I was making it all up. For a second at least.” “I-I just didn't expect it.” Sephie blushes, then glances down at my crotch area, her voice even fainter than usual. “What you said about your, um...” “Performance issues,” I say before she could think about changing the subject. I grin when she covers her mouth. I sit closer to her, trying not to crack a smile, but I already feel my poker face slipping off. Not because I find her reaction hilarious. I'm on the verge of cracking up because sex talk still makes both of us uncomfortable. Like we're two clueless, horny teenagers dancing around the issue just to not seem desperate. Like she forgot that we already have an actual priest's blessing and permission to live as husband and wife. Or I'm ju

[ S E R A P H I N E ] That first time didn't suffice. Now he's cornering me in this small and smelly convenience store restroom like it's the only way for us to have another conversation. A more serious and private one, at that. Does he want to kidnap me or something? Detain me somewhere far from Dominico and the bodyguards just so he can get all the answers he wants out of me? “What the heck are you doing?” Pierre locks the doorknob behind him and steps forward, his plain short-sleeved shirt a stark contrast to his dark slacks. “What does it look like I'm doing?” he mutters with fairly wrinkled brows. Without taking his eyes off me, he gets even closer and glances down at my dress. I avert my gaze and hold back a sigh. My heart is already banging against my ribs, but I can keep it together. For longer than a few minutes, I hope. Shucks. I want to hit my forehead for not locking the door the moment I stepped inside this restroom. But, too late. In my defense, I was on my phone

[ D O M I N I C O ] This won't take an hour. It shouldn't take that long. This late "business meeting" isn't even on my calendar. No one else knows about this. Not even my secretary. For now, that is. I close the spreadsheet on my screen and steal another glance at the 40-something blonde sitting in front of my desk. Don't know if she's actually in her 40s, but her demeanor and the lines around her pale mouth and on her forehead tell me so. Her thick sweater looks the same shade of white as her collared shirt. They don't hide all of what looks to be years-old freckles. Naomi flips to another page. I don't wanna call her by her first name. But she's been trying to build rapport, for a number of obvious reasons. And she insists on me not calling her "Officer Roux" all the time. Her ID says she's a Criminal Intelligence Officer, although something tells me it's not her only title. She's here on behalf of Mathis, the lead investigator from Lyon. We're in my new office. Bigg

[ S E R A P H I N E ] No. No freaking way. Shit. We're in trouble. We're not gonna make it through the week. If his father finds out... “Last night?” Dominico just nods. Crap. I can't believe he... “Why didn't you say anything?” I grip his arms, our voices still hushed. My heart's already beating too fast, and I think he can feel it, too. We're still stuck in an embrace. I'm not letting go until he tells me the rest. “She said it's better I don't tell anyone.” “Hold on. You...” So he came home late because he was cutting a deal with someone else from Interpol? I don't know if it means he's not being investigated anymore. Or if he's never going to prison just because he snitched on his dad. Gee. I hope and pray to God my hunch is right. “Where's your phone?” Dominico pulls a face, his hands busy checking my skirt's pockets. My clean clothes rub against his sweaty arms and torso, but I couldn't care less. I just want to hear answers. A good explanation. “Not in there