Surrender

by Violet Paige

  Tomorrow was another one.

  I tried to force myself to sleep, knowing this was one of those tests I was failing miserably.

  Chapter Two

  French coffee was bitter. I didn’t expect it. I placed the small porcelain cup on the saucer.

  Vaughn’s eyes were covered by sunglasses. We sat outside at a small table on the sidewalk in front of the bistro.

  “Merci,” he thanked the waitress for our breakfast. “Veuillez apporter la facture.”

  She smiled. “Bien sur, monsieur.”

  I still couldn’t get over how easily he spoke French. It was the only language I took in high school. I gave up after I fulfilled the requirement. But Vaughn—he sounded like a native. He didn’t hesitate. I wondered how many years it took him to speak fluently.

  I wished it would come back to me more quickly. I was going to have to immerse myself if I was going to be able to function in the city.

  The waitress seemed mesmerized. I tried to ignore her stares at my boyfriend.

  “Don’t you love Paris mornings?” He smiled wolfishly.

  There was an energy in the city that was entirely different from DC. I wanted to explore the museums. Walk along the Seine. Try all the pastries I saw in the patisserie windows. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was for culture. For a new type of freedom.

  I had spent months studying law, teaching law, and practicing law. I wouldn’t exactly call it steeped with rich art, music, or prose. I had barely seen a movie. The only reason I went out was because of Vaughn. He was the highlight of my DC experience. The night he showed me the Jefferson Memorial had brought us closer. It was hard not to think about it and wonder if it was truly his favorite spot in DC.

  I replayed parts of that night every now and then. How easy it was to be drawn to him. How beautiful the night was. How the lights bounced off the water. How his words tugged at something I needed.

  “I thought with your appreciation for law it might be meaningful to you.”

  I whipped around. “You did?”

  “Aren’t you the girl who’s going to change the world around here?”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m the girl who used to think that.”

  “What happened to her?” The deepness in his voice held me.

  “She’s trying to figure things out,” I admitted. “Trying to start over.”

  He shoved his hands in the front of his pockets. “Then maybe you need a place here where you can think in silence.”

  I smiled. “Maybe I do.”

  It was those small conversations. Those glimpses of his intensity that made me crave more of his insight. More of his perspective.

  “Em?” He brought me out of my fog.

  I inhaled deeply. “Yes, yes of course I do. It’s weird it’s not a holiday weekend here. It should still feel like Thanksgiving, but of course that’s not a thing in France.”

  Sometime before the sun rose I had finally fallen asleep. Vaughn let me sleep in this morning.

  The couple at the table next to ours was huddled together while their dog rested at their feet. I didn’t know what they were saying, other than picking up the words for party and food. I needed to find a good app I could download and refresh my French.

  “Did you finish the entire crossword?” I stared at him in disbelief.

  “All but two.” He held up the folded paper.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Practice.” He smiled.

  “I can’t even finish the ones in English.” I grinned at a man who left the café with a small poodle on a leash. It was white and fluffy with a studded collar. He held a paper bag and a coffee. The contradictions made me laugh. “Do you like dogs?” I blurted out.

  “What?”

  “Dogs? Do you like them?” I asked.

  Vaughn shrugged. “I guess so. I can’t exactly have one in my line of work. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “But if you could, would you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I guess so.”

  “We always had a dog when I was growing up. Garrett and I used to fight over who Pickles would sleep with. Every night it was a knock down drag out fight.”

  “You had a dog named Pickles?”

  I laughed. “He was from Mount Olive. The place where they make pickles. We weren’t the most creative kids I guess.”

  “You’re looking for a French Pickles?”

  “I didn’t say that. The dogs everywhere made me think about it. What if you’re a cat person and I don’t even know?” I teased. At this point, what could shock me?

  He shook his head. “I can say no, I’m not a cat person. It would definitely be a dog before a cat.”

  “Good.”

  He tucked the pen into his pocket. “Why don’t you pick out a dinner spot for us for tonight? I can make reservations. Say around nine?” he suggested.

  I nodded, trying the coffee again. The locals drank it. Vaughn drank it. I should be able to figure this out.

  “Do you have a favorite restaurant here?” I pressed. I wanted to know more about his real life now that the secrets had evaporated between us. At least they were supposed to be gone. We had tried to dissolve them one by one.

  It was as if there was an entirely new layer to discover about him. I had to stop myself from going through everything I knew and asking him to sort out fact from fiction. I had to accept that what he told me now was the truth. He liked dogs. He could complete French crossword puzzles. He liked to snorkel. All of this was good information to have.

  “This is your first night out. Wherever you want to go is fine with me.”

  I twisted my lips together in disappointment. “I don’t really know where to start. I can look online for some recommendations I guess.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe you can find some other things to do today.” He looked up at the waitress when she returned with the check.

  “Merci, monsieur.” She waited while he handed her cash.

  “Merci.”

  He rose from the table and I started to push back in my chair to follow him.

  “No. You sit and enjoy the morning,” he directed.

  “You’re leaving? Already?”

  He nodded. “Headed to work.”

  “Oh.” I felt my lungs deflate. My palms were instantly sticky. I knew this moment was coming. I just didn’t know how it would feel. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right. How was I supposed to love him and let him walk into the darkness? Could I do it?

  He leaned in to kiss me. “See you tonight.”

  “But—” I opened my mouth to protest. I grabbed his forearm in the same place I had clung to him the night before when he slept.

  “Kate,” he warned, using my latest alias.

  I pressed my lips together. My eyes lowered and I let my hands fall to my side.

  “Have a good day at work, Leo.” I gritted my teeth together.

  “Thanks.” He winked as he pivoted, tucking the newspaper under his arm.

  I hadn’t quite gotten my bearings yet, but watching Vaughn walk away on the sidewalk was enough to knock me off course. I pressed my hands into my knees. He would come back. I’d see him tonight. I couldn’t let myself think there was any other scenario than the two of us tangled together tonight after a late dinner.

  I left the last few sips of coffee in the petite cup and reached for my purse. Everything I had was new, including the designer leather bag. Everything had appeared this morning. Vaughn didn’t react when I protested the expensive wardrobe. It was part of being Kate Walker, whoever she was.

  I hugged the soft blue sweater to my chest as I started walking. November was chilly in Paris.

  I could do anything I wanted. See Notre Dame. Visit the Louvre. Eat lunch at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. My steps picked up as I traveled through the streets. I stopped to look at the tourist trinkets on the sidewalk. I tried on a few hats. I bought a scarf from a woman who sold them out of a trunk.

 
The wind kicked up and I tucked the Parisian scarf against my throat. I ducked into the first shop door I spotted.

  It was a bookstore.

  “Bon jour, mademoiselle.”

  “Bon jour.” I smiled at the girl behind the counter. I hoped like hell she didn’t say anything other than hello, because I wouldn’t be able to answer her. I wondered if I could convince Vaughn to give me French lessons.

  I meandered through stacks of books, taking my time to browse the shelves. The first few I picked up were written in French, but I found a section in English. I had finished my diamond thief book on the plane the day before. I needed something else to keep me busy. I had a feeling I would be spending many days like this—with time on my hands.

  I selected a few books and smiled at the girl when I paid with cash. It was odd not to swipe my card, but I knew that was part of keeping a small footprint for now. It was easy to communicate with the shopkeeper even though we spoke different languages. I started to think that finding my way around the city might not be difficult.

  “Merci,” I called over my shoulder as I drifted outside.

  As I walked to the hotel with my bag of books and new scarf, I felt the energy tingle under my skin. I could do anything I wanted.

  There were no deadlines. No papers to grade. No meetings with Agent Kenneth. I didn’t have to worry about Garrett or the next time my parents would fight. No more Addie glaring at me from her desk. I didn’t have to deal with Max’s harassment. I didn’t have to compete for the residency position at American University. All of that was over. It belonged to Emily Charles’ story.

  I smiled.

  I didn’t expect lightness. I didn’t know letting go of the things I had clung to could make me feel like this. There was an airiness in my thoughts. In the way I imagined tonight. Tomorrow. Was it possible to live a life without constraint? I was almost giddy. Elated even.

  I moved out of the way as a young family approached. The toddler refused to climb into his stroller. I laughed as he hurled himself forward on stocky legs as if he could outrun his parents. His mother chased after him with a quick “tsk tsk” sound. “No, Henri,” she warned. The father wasn’t far behind with the stroller.

  They continued along the block, chasing and calling him.

  I stopped when I reached the hotel.

  “Bon jour,” the doorman greeted me as I walked into the lobby.

  I had no idea how much it cost per night to stay here, but I knew it exceeded any travel budget I’d ever had. It was beautiful. Vaughn didn’t seem to notice how lush and expensive it looked. He moved through the hotel as if he owned it. He was comfortable everywhere—at least he made it seem that way.

  I unwrapped the scarf and laid it across the back of the couch. I had three books to choose from. I was proud of all my purchases. I poured a glass of wine and grabbed the first book on the stack. It felt decadent to drink wine in the morning. It tasted so much better than the coffee at the tiny café. I shrugged, curling up next to the window with my glass of wine, book, and a silk throw.

  The city churned below me while I drank to my new life. While I settled into the contentment of waiting for Vaughn to come home. While I basked in the feeling of freedom, from every part of my life that had made me miserable. Finally. I soaked in the Paris skyline and just read.

  I read for hours. I took a nap on our massive bed. When I awoke, I took a long shower, scrubbing my body and washing my hair until I felt like an entirely new woman. I was. I was Kate Walker. After searching through the top restaurants recommended on Travel Hopper, I chose one that wasn’t far from our hotel. I wanted to walk and venture through the city on foot.

  There was a pair of black boots in the closet. My eyes landed on them while I combed through my new wardrobe. It was nearly nine. I wanted to be ready when Vaughn returned.

  The boots would be perfect with the black dress I had chosen. I zipped the sides from my ankles to my knees and stood back to glance at my reflection.

  I jumped when I felt arms circle my waist. I hadn’t heard the door to the suite open. Vaughn’s mouth pressed into my neck.

  “How did I get so fucking lucky?” he growled.

  He spun me toward him. My heart beat wildly. Thank God he was back. He was home. He was safe.

  “Did you have a good day?” I asked.

  He grinned. “It was an incredible day.”

  “So does that mean you like your assignment?”

  “Em.” His eyes were dark. I was shut out again. Like so many times before. I had hoped the last time I would see that expression was when I pressed him for answers in my apartment in D.C.

  “What? I can’t ask?”

  He pressed his lips together. “What have you done today?”

  “Some shopping,” I offered. It had been a completely lazy and unproductive day, but I needed it. “But not these boots.” I pointed toward my feet. “These are from your delivery this morning. I love them.”

  “I love them on you.” He tugged my thigh, yanking my leg around his waist.

  I gasped.

  His fingers massaged my flesh through the dress.

  “We have dinner reservations,” I reminded him. “At a very expensive, over-the-top restaurant.”

  “I know.” He returned my leg to the floor. “Let me change and we can go.” He moved toward the closet.

  I sat on the bed, watching him toss his shirt into the laundry. I crossed one leg over the other.

  “If you’re too tired, we don’t have to go,” I suggested. “We could order room service instead. We could open a bottle of wine and watch crazy French TV.” I had no idea what his day had been like. It took everything in me not to pounce on him for answers. I had a thousand questions. More than I’d ever had for a witness I deposed.

  He fastened the buttons on his crisp white shirt. Damn, he looked delicious. I didn’t blame the waitress this morning, or the maid last night. I couldn’t necessarily blame any of the women who gawked at him. He was a complicated work of art.

  “We’re going to dinner. This is your night in Paris. I promised you we were going to celebrate. Plus, it’s Saturday. Everyone goes out this late. We can sleep in tomorrow.” He winked.

  “If you’re sure.” As much as I wanted to go out, I would have been happy ordering in again. I still hadn’t adjusted to the time difference. It was going to take a few days.

  “I am.”

  Before he unfastened his pants to change, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a box. My stomach lurched into my throat. The room spun and everything crawled into slow motion. It was a velvet box. Black velvet. The kind that extremely expensive jewelry came in.

  He tossed it and I caught it in the air between my palms. I wasn’t good at catching anything, and now I was holding a ring box in my hands.

  “Before I forget. I need you to wear this whenever we’re out,” he said in the same tone he would have used to tell me to open a bottle of wine. He was too casual. Too detached.

  I stared at it. I looked at Vaughn.

  “What is this?” My voice was shaky. I knew exactly what it was.

  “Will you wear it for me?”

  I cracked the lid on the case. It creaked as the spring released.

  Vaughn plucked the box from me. “It’s for my work.”

  My stomach flipped again. My mouth was dry.

  “It’s not…you’re not asking…” I didn’t know how to respond. What to say. How to react to the fact that there was a diamond ring in front of me nestled on top of a solid band of smaller diamonds.

  “Vaughn?”

  He held the set at the tip of my ring finger. “It’s a wedding band and an engagement ring together. This is part of the assignment I picked up today. I’m married. We’re married while we’re in Pairs,” he explained. “It’s the cover for the mark. In case our paths cross the mark as a couple, you need to have a wedding band.”

  I blinked at the center stone. It was so wide I thought it had to be two carats. But
I wasn’t one of those girls who had studied engagement rings. I didn’t idly float past the glass displays in jewelry store windows, imagining my own engagement. If a friend told me she was engaged, I never asked to see the ring first. Rings had never meant so much or so little to me until this moment.

  “Married?”

  He kissed my cheek and turned back to the mirror, continuing to dress for our dinner out on the town.

  “For the job. Look. I have one too.” He held up his left hand, revealing a solid band on his ring finger. I hadn’t noticed it until now. How could I not have seen that band of gold? “You don’t have to do anything. Only wear it. And if anyone asks, we’re married. It’s simple. That’s all you have to say.”

  My eyes lifted to his. The diamonds were heavy on my finger. I spun the band with my thumb. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

  “There should be more to it,” I whispered more to myself than to Vaughn.

  He strolled into the bathroom and closed the door. I felt the edges of the stones with my fingertips. I could hear the rush of water from the sink running while he brushed his teeth. Was he humming? Was he happy about this? Did lying about our relationship come easily to him?

  I sighed. Of course it did. It had since the night we met.

  The night he pretended to bump into me and rescued me from those assholes who thought I owed them something for a drink. He was calm. Chivalrous. Sexy. He was everything I needed in that moment in time.

  The door suddenly swung open. I looked up.

  He grinned, eyeing the ring. “You don’t mind being my wife for a few weeks, do you? I don’t see any other way to play this. The marriage is the cover, Em. You don’t have to do anything else. You’re ok with this, right?”

  I nodded. “Of course,” I answered softly. His wife. A pretend wife. A fake wife.

  “Don’t worry about your documents. I have a new passport for you. Everything has been taken care of.”

  Everything except reality.

  “Ready?” He offered his hand. “I’m starving. I don’t want to miss your reservation.”

  I rose from the bed, feeling as if the world was completely off its axis and I was separated from my body. The only things weighing me down were the platinum rings on my left hand.