When I'm With You Part III Read Free

him.
    â€œBut you didn’t believe her?” Lucien asked.
    â€œI didn’t disbelieve her, but . . . she did seem a bit upset,” Francesca said cautiously. Ian waited silently, watching him. Lucien set down his drink. Well, there was nothing for it now. Ian and Francesca, at least, both clearly knew he’d been dallying with Elise in the penthouse earlier. He was uncertain what else they understood or speculated about Elise and him, but that much they knew.
    â€œI’d better go after her,” he said, buttoning his jacket. “Thank you for the evening, and again—congratulations. It gives me hope, seeing the two of you so happy,” he said, shaking Ian’s hand and giving Francesca a kiss. He left without bidding good-bye to the rest of the party. He didn’t want to put it in Justin’s or Caden’s head that Elise had left.
    He didn’t want either young man to track her down, because that’s precisely what he planned to do.
    * * *
    Elise warily left her room at the Cedar Home Extended Stay Hotel and locked her door behind her before she hurried silently down the long, dim hallway. Her ears were acutely pitched for the sound of the door of Room 16 opening, but the nuisance that was Baden Johnson remained absent.
    She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she hit the landing on the staircase. The elevator in the rundown hotel had been broken ever since she’d moved in. She flew out the door of the stairwell into the dark night.
    Unfortunately, her father and mother had high hopes about her returning to Paris and conveniently marrying Erik Cebir, Swiss heir to the Cebir pharmaceutical fortune. When she’d continually refused to go along with their plans, her father had cut off all her credit cards. Her first and only paycheck from Fusion wouldn’t come until next Tuesday, so she was barely scraping by. Consequently, when she hadn’t had sufficient cash to pay the cab, she’d been screwed. The surly driver had been impervious to her charm, insisting she must go upstairs and get the money or he’d put in a call to the police.
    â€œHere,” she said, shoving her hand through the window of the driver’s side.
    â€œWhat’s this crap?”
    Irritation bubbled up in her. “It’s a watch,” she said fiercely. “It’ll cover the cost of the cab ride. About a hundred times over,” she added under her breath. It’d been one of the least valuable things she’d had in her jewelry box, given to her by her least favorite aunt who was renowned for regifting.
    The cab driver first gave her then the shabby hotel a skeptical glance and handed back the watch. “No thanks. I’ll take the twelve bucks, plus tip.”
    â€œThat’s a Cartier, you idiot!”
    â€œRight. Prince Charles himself has probably got one, but I ain’t him. I want my money.”
    â€œBut you don’t understand! You could take that to any pawnbroker and—”
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” a deep voice interrupted. She swallowed convulsively when she recognized the steel-gray hair and the large, hulking form coalesce from the shadows.
Shit.
Baden Johnson had clearly once been a very strong man, but he was going to seed in middle age. That didn’t mean he didn’t carry the vestiges of massive, brute power, however.
    â€œYou her friend?” the cabdriver called through the opened window single-mindedly. “Your girlie owes me twelve bucks plus tip.”
    Elise backed away several steps as Baden approached. “What’s this?” Baden asked, reaching for the watch.
    She snatched her hand back, but too late. The platinum watch flashed between Baden’s thick fingers. He held it up, examining it in the dim light. His gaze narrowed on her speculatively. She glanced up and down the dark street, but not another soul was in sight.
    â€œIt’s . . . it’s