The Prada Paradox

by Julie Kenner

  “There’s a look.”

  “A look?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice defensive. “There’s a look between the two of you.”

  “There’s no look,” I say firmly.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Why don’t you just tell me?”

  “Dammit, Blake. There’s nothing to tell.” Since that’s a blatant lie, I back off a little. But I don’t want to tell him about Andy’s stolen kiss. That would be too much like gossiping on Andy.

  He curls a strand of my hair around his finger. “There was a time when you’d tell me anything.”

  I look away and lift a shoulder. But whereas before I would have been angry, now I’m only sad.

  “Devi,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me.”

  “Sorry is just a word, Blake.”

  “Do you really believe I don’t care about you?”

  I shake my head, forced to admit the truth. “No.” I press my face against his shirt, breathing deep of his scent. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m right here,” he says, and then his mouth closes over mine, the kiss hard and possessive, and yet at the same time sweet and sensual. I open my mouth to him, tasting him, pulling him in.

  Our bodies are pressed together, and there’s a desperation in our touches, in our kisses. As if we both know we might not live to see tomorrow, and we have to fight for this one moment of intense pleasure.

  His hands stroke me, sending chills racing through me. I want him—I want him so desperately—and yet this is hardly the time or the place. And the fact is, we do have company downstairs.

  “We can’t,” I murmur.

  “I know,” he says, but his body tells a different tale, his lips demanding, and his low moan of pleasure almost undoing my resolve.

  “Blake…”

  “I know, I know.” And this time he really does pull away. We look at each other, speaking without words, and then he presses his finger to his lips, and then mine. “Believe me, I know better than anyone. It’s time to get back to work.”

  The way he says that makes my heart break, and I reach out to stroke his cheek. “I’m so sorry I got you into this. I’m so sorry you’re—” I can’t finish the thought.

  “I’m not going to die,” he says, holding firm to my wrist. He smiles at me, the expression warming me right down to my toes. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see anger in those eyes. After all, he’s in this mess—literally—because of me. But I don’t see anything there but love.

  I can’t help but feel a little humbled.

  “We’ll find the antidote,” he promises. “And you didn’t get me into this. That honor goes to the bastard who’s yanking our chain.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But I’m not doing a very good job getting you out of it. I can’t even remember where I put the damn note.” And then I look at him and thwack the heel of my hand against my forehead. “Duh! The script. I stuck it inside the script.”

  We race back downstairs to find Andy hunched over his Treo, busily typing. “What are you doing?” Blake demands.

  “Covering all bases,” he says. “Sometimes information about the game comes into a player’s message center.”

  “Like the note that said the toxin was delivered,” I say.

  “I half hoped I’d have a message giving us some idea what to do next.”

  “Any luck?” I ask, hopefully.

  “Not a single message.” He looks at me. “You?”

  “The note’s in the script,” I say. I have it now, and rifle through the pages, finally holding it up in triumph. “Although you raise a good point. Should I check my messages, too?”

  “Absolutely,” Andy says. “Check your messages. Go to that Web page. Do everything and anything we can to get the game moving along with as much information as we can collect.”

  I nod, then sit down in front of my computer, oddly invigorated. But we have a plan now, with at least two steps before we’re stymied again. It may not be a good sign, but at least it’s something.

  The Web site on the card is www.YourGivenchyCodeMovieNotes.com, and I try there first. But my browser is slow, and nothing much seems to be happening. I figure the Web page is probably huge, filled with slow-loading graphics and the like. Either that, or my Internet connection is just slow.

  I open up another browser box, letting the YourGivenchyCodeMovieNotes page load in the background. In the new address bar I type the URL for Play.Survive.Win, then navigate to the message center as soon as the page loads.

  “I was right,” Andy says, tapping the screen. “You have a message.”

  I shift in my chair and give him and Blake a quick look. Andy is looking at the screen, but Blake is watching me, and now he puts a hand on my shoulder for strength.

  I hold my breath, and click on the icon to take me to the messages. As soon as I open it, the sender alone sends shock waves of terror through my body—Janus.

  I must have whimpered, because immediately Blake’s arms are around me, and he’s whispering curses as he reads over my shoulder.

  I just sit there, numb, the world closing in like a tunnel around me, as Blake scrolls down, revealing the full text of the waiting message:

  >>>http://www.playsurvivewin.com<<<

  PLAY.SURVIVE.WIN

  …please wait

  …please wait

  …please wait

  Password approved

  >>>Read New Messages<<< >>>Create New Message<<< …please wait

  WELCOME TO MESSAGE CENTER

  You have one new message.

  New Message:

  To:

  LuvPrada

  From:

  Janus

  Subject:

  My Darling Devi

  You broke the rules.

  Next time, solve the clues without help.

  Chapter 30

  Everything is black. I mean everything. The world around me. My thoughts. My fears.

  All colored black. And slow. As if I’m moving through tar.

  This can’t be happening! This can’t be real!

  But it is real. Even through the pitch, I know that it’s real.

  It’s real, it’s dangerous, and I need to come back.

  But there’s comfort and warmth here in the dark, and if I can just crawl further into it—if I can just lose myself—I know that I’ll be safe.

  “Devi.”

  A whispered voice. Blake’s. So near, and so compelling. I want to go to it, but at the same time, I don’t want to leave this place. Don’t want to face the truth. Don’t want to face him.

  Dear God, can it really be him?

  “Devi.”

  This time, I have no choice. The voice insists, cutting down through the layers of fear until I have to come out. Soft hands caress me, and I breath in the familiar scent of safety, of Blake.

  “Devi, honey, are you in there?”

  The blackness starts to shift, to melt away, and as I look, the world comes back into focus. There’s Blake’s face, right in front of mine, his eyes full of concern.

  “I’m here,” I whisper. “Is it really true?”

  “Maybe it’s not the same Janus,” Blake says. “Maybe our assassin just picked that name, knowing it would scare you.”

  “I doubt it,” Andy says, and Blake shoots him a look that could kill. Andy cringes, but doesn’t back down. “We have to face reality here. And the truth is that Janus must have been the user name of this guy for a while. At least before the game started. I’m guessing whoever’s behind the game did what the police couldn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “They figured out who Janus is. And then they offered him another chance at you.”

  “Oh, God.” I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick.

  “Devi.” Blake squeezes my hand.

  “I’m okay.” I suck air into my lungs, then squeeze back. “I
can handle this.”

  “Yes,” he says. “You can. We both can.”

  I nod, because I know him well. He’s not going to say more than that, but he’s terrified, too. Both for me and for him. He’s in as much danger as I am. And we both need to get moving if we want to survive. And I have to survive. “I want to see that bastard dead,” I say, with a sudden burst of fury. “For what he did to me. And for what he did to Mac.”

  Revenge. That was my fragile link to sanity. Under the circumstances, though, I was happy to take whatever I could get.

  “The page is up,” Andy says.

  I look over and see that he’s closed the screen with the message from Janus, leaving the YourGivenchyCodeMovieNotes page that had been loading.

  And although I’d expected it to be overflowing with graphics, in fact, it’s simply a blank page with a pink background and a clue in the middle:

  Trap a parent, be a brother

  You just need one place or another

  Where the Loire meets the Angels

  Where Led rides to be seen

  Where Bogie plays with a thumb so green

  The service is stunning, it’s sure to wow

  So find the message—for the girl you are now.

  Chapter 31

  “Damn this fucking game,” Devi said, slamming her palm so hard against the laptop screen that Blake was afraid the thing would break. “So here we are with another fucking dumb-ass clue. What does it mean?”

  “It means we’re one step closer to finding my antidote. And after we do that, we can find a safe place to hole up for a nap. I don’t know about you guys, but that’s pretty damn motivating.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It is.” It was after two a.m., and he’d been up since seven. Devi, he knew, had a five a.m. call, so she’d been up even longer. At the moment, they both had to be operating on adrenaline.

  She tapped the screen. “Any ideas?”

  “You’re the movie buff,” Andy said, which earned him a frown from Devi. A little fact that didn’t bother Blake in the least. She might have said there was nothing going on between them—and she might have even meant it, too—but he still couldn’t stop the little green thoughts in his head. He wasn’t proud of them, but that didn’t mean he could stop them.

  “So let’s take this one step at a time,” Devi said. “‘Trap a parent, be a brother.’ What can that possibly mean?”

  “Boys getting their parents back together again?” Andy asked.

  “Maybe,” Devi said.

  “Even if it is, so what?” Blake asked.

  “We’re just trying to work through it,” Devi said reasonably. Blake nodded, but he wasn’t feeling particularly reasonable at the moment. Not with the hours ticking away, and the chance of finding the antidote right along with them.

  He stood up, pushing the fear out of his mind. The same technique he used for fighting was coming in handy at the moment. Though in a way, he supposed it was apropos. He was fighting, after all. Fighting an unknown toxin and an unknown assailant.

  Fighting to stay alive.

  “What about the next line?” he said. “‘One place or another’?”

  “No idea,” Devi said. “But I think it’s too vague. I bet it’s not a clue. I mean, it’s part of the riddle and means we have to go someplace, but I’m betting that’s all it means.”

  “Andy?”

  “I think she’s right.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Good job.”

  Her smile lit the room, and she turned eagerly back toward the screen. “Okay, this next one, though. ‘Where the Loire meets the Angels.’ Any brilliant ideas?”

  “Something French that’s here in Los Angeles?” Blake said.

  “Oh!” Devi held up her hand. “That’s got to be it. L.A. is the City of Angels, right?”

  “Progress,” Andy said with a grin. “Hallelujah.”

  “So, what would be French?” Devi asked, more to herself than to him and Andy.

  “Wine,” Blake offered, because it was the only thing he could think of.

  “Fashion,” Devi said.

  “There you go. So who are some French designers?”

  “Ah, um. Prada is Italian,” she finally offered. “Honestly, I mostly just buy what I like. I know who has stores in Paris, but I don’t know if that’s home base.”

  “Right,” he said. “Fair enough.”

  “So maybe we should get on the Internet and figure it out?” Andy suggested.

  “Go for it,” Blake said. “We’ll work our way through the rest of these clues.” At least, he hoped they would.

  While Andy got settled in at the computer, Blake and Devi sat across the table from him, studying the cryptic message they’d copied onto notepaper.

  “The only Led I know of is Led Zeppelin,” Devi said.

  “‘Stairway to Heaven,’” he said. “Anyplace in L.A. fit that description?”

  “Nothing I can think of. Besides, what’s the ‘ride’ reference?”

  “What are any of the references?” he countered, frustration coloring his voice. Time was ticking away, and they weren’t getting anywhere. “Like this reference to Bogie. That’s got to be Humphrey Bogart, but in what? A movie? There are dozens and dozens to choose from.”

  Frustrated, he pushed back from the table and started pacing, determined to keep the fear at bay. And equally determined not to look at the clock.

  “Maybe it’s someplace that Bogart and Led Zeppelin have in common,” he said, forcing himself to get with the program.

  “Okay, but what? This is insane!”

  “Babe, I completely agree. Not exactly number one on my list of ways to pass the time. Especially since time is passing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, immediately contrite. “I’m tired. I’m not thinking clearly. And I’m scared to death.”

  “I know.” He reached out and stroked the back of her neck, wishing he could transfer all the tenseness he felt there from her body to his. He looked up at Andy. “Have you figured out anything on the France-L.A. angle?”

  “Not a thing,” Andy said. “You want to give it a go?”

  “I do,” said Devi. She moved around to the computer, and Blake heard her tapping on the keys. After a second, she started tapping faster. And then, after she’d practically typed out a novel, she looked up, a wide grin on her face.

  He held his breath, not quite able to believe there was good news after all the crap that had been thrown at them so far.

  But then she spoke, lighting a tiny spark of hope.

  “Come on, boys,” she said. “I know where we’re going.”

  Chapter 32

  He kept the engine off, just in case. The computer, however, he kept powered up, and the bluish glow from the screen illuminated the interior of the car, making him slightly visible to anyone who might be looking.

  So far, no one seemed interested.

  The tracking software had yet to kick in, but he was a patient man. And now he was patiently waiting outside her house, almost half a block from the gated entrance and just around a curve in the road.

  Amazing, really, that the game knew an address that he’d been trying to track down for years.

  He thought of all the time he’d missed watching her coming and going….

  Such a loss.

  Soon, though, the past would be forgotten, and they’d be together for an eternity.

  It was almost too much to believe, too much to hope for. And yet he knew that it would come true.

  Once more, he glanced at the computer, still notoriously silent, refusing to give up its secrets. He knew that she had already solved the qualifying clue—the computer had revealed that much. He wished the tracking software would cooperate, but he was willing to be patient. All that mattered was that the game had commenced…and she was now fair prey.

  Minutes passed, seemingly as long as hours. Cars eased by, but only a few. The hour, after all, was late. When he saw the lights approaching, he gently close
d the laptop, dimming its light.

  No one questioned him.

  He was simply there. Part of the scenery. All of which confirmed his belief that he belonged there. Belonged with her. Why else would it be so easy?

  His thigh muscles were beginning to ache, and he shifted uncomfortably, weighing his choices. He was just about to open the door when the gate in front of her house eased open, and a long convertible rolled out. He couldn’t see the driver, but he knew without a doubt that Devi was in that car.

  With a smile in his heart, he turned the key, the engine revving to life, mirroring the power that now pulsed through his veins.

  The hunt was on.

  Chapter 33

  The Chateau Marmont.

  As we race through the night, I ponder our destination, because once I started thinking along the right lines, interpreting the clue really had been simple.

  It was the reference to trapping a parent that helped me figure it out, and I hoped like hell I was right. I thought I was, though, and the guys agreed with me, especially after I ran through my reasoning.

  Once it clicked in my head, actually, it was pretty obvious. I’d started by putting trap and parent and Hollywood into Google. The first hit was The Parent Trap, which was an awesome movie, both in its original Hayley Mills incarnation and its Lindsay Lohan remake.

  It was Lindsay, though, that caught my memory. Because not too long ago there’d been a whole big to-do when she was called on the carpet by a producer who thought she was partying too much. (Sounds like me back in my wild days, although I never missed a call.) The letter was all over the trades (and the tabloids…and the Internet) and was addressed to Lindsay care of the Chateau Marmont, where she happened to be living at the time.

  Okay, that was my starting point. And honestly, I just got lucky. Because the Chateau is one of my all-time favorite places in the world, and the whole Lindsay fiasco made me think of it. And since the famous hotel looks like a castle, I knew I had to be on the right track.