European Secrets (Paris - Vol. Two) Read Free Page B

associated with which man.
     
    She jumped at the sound of the doorbell and grabbed her purse. Adrien was dressed immaculately again, this time in a lilac shirt and dark grey suit. He led her to his car, and she climbed into the passenger seat tingling with anticipation and anxiety.
     
    “So where exactly is the house?” she asked, a little coy.
     
    “It’s an apartment near the Bastille...close to le Port de Plaisance,” he explained, shifting gears and subtly eyeing the cleavage exposed from her dress. He drove through narrow streets and wide boulevards, all lined with trees and small crowds of people. As they neared the port, she saw boat masts and the flicker of sunset dance over dark water. Adrien parallel parked with more expertise than she would ever master, she guessed, and then he turned to face her.
     
    “Are you ready?” he probed, staring at her in the dim light of dusk.
     
    “Yes.” She opened the car door and stepped out, wobbling a little in her heels.
     
    The apartment sat at the top floor of a large, angular and modern apartment block, overlooking a row of yachts anchored to posts along the river. As they exited the elevator and knocked on the door, she heard the laughter and loud chatter of guests inside: a combination of French and English. She exhaled in relief. A man in his forties opened the door, peering at them behind small tortoise shell glasses and then smiling broadly.
     
    “Adrien...and...Annie, correct?” he asked in a thick accent, leading them into the hallway. Annie nodded and smiled as he kissed her on both cheeks.
     
    She held her breath at the opulence of the apartment. Thick, pale Persian carpets covered the wood floors, and gilded edging shone from cream sofas and armchairs. A heavy chandelier hung over a high ceiling supported by columns. Annie stepped into a large reception room, filled with a sampling of well-dressed and affluent Parisians. She thanked herself for choosing her most expensive heels, and felt only slightly under-dressed.  A table sat in the hallway near the door. She remembered the cards in her purse and looked around, wondering where to start.
     
    Adrien motioned her toward a group of people talking in a corner. “Come and meet some people.”
     
    A tall man in a blue shirt nodded as they approached. Adrien introduced her in French and then switched to English. “Annie is a writer. She’s in Paris for a few days.”
     
    “Nice to meet you Annie. My name is Antoine. This is my wife, Marcelle.” He looked at the woman next to him, who smiled and nodded.
     
    Annie deflated. He wasn’t one of them. His wife stood next to him. Adrien wouldn’t make things so simple for her, she surmised. As the conversation unfolded, she tried to focus and appear attentive, but the object of tonight’s game held her in a grip. She needed to find the three men, and make her decision.
     
    “Excuse me for a moment.” She extricated herself from the conversation and walked over to a long table lined with drinks. She suddenly felt alone and awkward, surrounded by strangers. She grabbed a tall glass of white wine and stood by the table, sipping and watching the crowd. She wondered if Kate had instructed the three men to ignore her or approach her.
     
    As the thought stirred, a good-looking man with dark blonde hair and blue eyes approached her from the side, holding a glass as tall as hers. He uttered a string of French that was lost on her, and as she furrowed her brow trying to understand, he smiled.
     
    “English?” His accent was a little thicker than Adrien’s.
     
    “Yes, Sorry. I’m Annie.” She smiled awkwardly, unsure if she should shake his hand.
     
    “My name is Serge. Are you visiting friends in Paris?” He stood close to her, and she swore he glanced more than once at her dress.
     
    “Yes. I’m just here for a few days. You live in Paris?” She started to plan her path to discovering who he was, hoping he’d make it easy.
     
    “No,