At that moment, her cell phone chirped. She smiled apologetically. “That’s an incoming text. I should probably check it.”
The phone chirped three more times in rapid succession.
“Go ahead. I’ll tell the chef to hold the next course.” Nicholas stood and walked into the house, leaving her in privacy.
Acacia retrieved her phone and found two voicemail messages from Luc. She ignored them.
Kate had also sent several texts.
Your apartment was trashed.
I’m so sorry.
Don’t know when it happened.
Didn’t hear anything.
Door is wide open. Everything on floor.
Should I call police/Luc?
Acacia sat back in her chair.
A new text arrived with photographs of the inside of the apartment. Clothes were ripped from the closet, dresser drawers pulled out and their contents dumped. Even her mattress had been slashed and upended.
Every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen was open; glasses and dishes lay shattered on the floor.
Acacia stifled a gasp.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
“What is it?” Nicholas’s voice came from over her shoulder.
Wordlessly, she lifted her phone.
He took it and scrolled through the images. “That’s your apartment?”
She nodded.
He cursed and handed back her phone. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No. My neighbor is taking care of my cat. She didn’t hear anything, but saw that my door was open.”
He passed a hand over his mouth. “Someone didn’t take my message seriously.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I told you, Acacia, anyone who fucks with you, fucks with me.” His expression hardened. “We’ll make them pay. I swear it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“NO,” ACACIA SAID RESOLUTELY.
Nicholas peered down at her. “What?”
“I don’t want them to pay, because I don’t want this to escalate.” She picked up her phone and tapped out a quick text to Kate.
Nicholas turned on his heel and walked to the bar. He retrieved a bottle of wine and showed her the label. She nodded, and he opened it, pouring the cabernet sauvignon in generous portions.
Acacia took the wine gratefully. “Thank you.” She swirled her glass, her mind a jumble.
“What are you afraid of?” Nicholas asked.
Her eyes met his. Concern was etched across his strong features.
“I know what happened to your sister.” Acacia tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. “I’m so sorry.”
Pain flashed across his face. “Your situation is completely different.”
“Until we know who is behind this, we don’t know what kind of situation this is.”
Nicholas lifted his glass and took a long drink. “Do you want to call your boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “I texted Kate and asked her not to call anyone yet.”
He seemed surprised. “What about the Paris police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Acacia forced her voice to remain even. “If I want to continue in the hospitality industry, I have to stay out of the media. It’s going to be difficult enough for me to find another position once Roy fires me.”
She placed a hand over her mouth and removed it quickly. “I forgot about my landlords. They’ll need a police report for the insurance, and so will I. I need to go home.”
He leaned against the bar and faced her. “You left Paris so you’d be safe.”
“You saw the pictures. There’s thousands of Euros in damage.”
Nicholas regarded the currant-colored liquid in his glass. “I’m puzzled as to why you wouldn’t call your boyfriend.”
“That’s none of your business,” Acacia snapped.
He lifted his head and his dark eyes glittered. He nodded, as if affirming something to himself.
Something clicked in Acacia’s mind as well. “You knew,” she whispered.
“What did you say?”
She thrust her chair back and stood. “When we spoke on the phone, when you were convincing me to leave Paris, you warned me to remove everything valuable from my apartment.”
“I did.” Nicholas seemed unruffled. “The man who attacked you escaped. If I were he, I’d have followed you to your apartment.
“You told me you had a cat, Acacia. Men who would attack a woman wouldn’t hesitate to harm a pet.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You were protecting my cat?”
He frowned. “Not just your cat. They would have taken anything of value, anything you couldn’t afford to lose.”
She gestured vaguely, her mind racing. “Did you set this up?”
“Acacia,” he said softly. He waited until she made eye contact before he continued. “I have no reason to attack you or to ransack your apartment. I was worried something like this might happen, which is why I told Rick to keep an eye on you. It’s a good thing I did, since the BRB was nowhere to be found this morning.”
She grabbed her phone. “After Rick dropped me off at the airport, did he go back to my apartment?”
“Of course not.” Nicholas gave her a pointed look. “While we’re on the subject, what do you think those men were looking for?”
“What makes you think they were looking for something?”
“The ransacking appeared systematic.”
Acacia lifted her chin. “Maybe they were looking for you.”
Nicholas stretched his arms wide. “I’m not in your apartment.”
“You were in the building.”
“They could have come after me then. They didn’t.”
“Because you had a large, armed security detail, and the BRB had me under surveillance.” Acacia froze. “It was a diversion.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You wanted me to see the painting in your suite and call the BRB. You wanted the diversion.”
Nicholas shook his head. “I was using an alias. Why would I invite scrutiny?”
“Because of the meeting Marcel arranged. You said names are never exchanged. What if the art dealer learned your name before you arrived? He found out you recover art for various governments and sent men to attack Marcel in order to derail the meeting.”
“The thought had occurred to me,” Nicholas said. “That doesn’t explain why he’d send men after you—assuming the men who attacked you are the ones who assaulted Marcel.”
“I’m leaving.” Acacia yanked her purse from where it hung on the back of her chair.
Nicholas stepped between her and the doorway. “Kurt will take you to the airport, but you’ll be running back into a burning house. You’re safer here.”
At six-foot-three, Nicholas was taller than Acacia. But her years of training had settled steel into her spine. She stood toe to toe with him and flashed angry eyes. “If they know who you are, they’ll know who your parents are. That will lead them here.”
He grew very, very still. “Even if they discovered Breckman’s identity, they won’t necessarily connect him with me.”
“But they know my name. They could trace my passport. They could find my information in the passenger manifest from the flight.”
“They could, if it was there.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means my security team deleted your name from the manifest.”
“That’s illegal.”
“A computer malfunction.” He gestured to the door. “You can leave at any time. But if you want to avoid the police and the media, you should stay. The next time these men approach you, they’ll be even more vicious.”
She stopped; his observation had merit.
Nicholas’s hand curled into a fist. The muscles in his arm bunched beneath his suit jacket. “You know what happened to Riva. What you don’t know is that she’s the reason I became involved in the black market. Everything I do is because of her. Everything I do is an attempt to right those wrongs. I’m not the enemy, Acacia. I’m your ally. Be mine, as well.”
Acacia glared. “You’re withholding information.”
“So are you.” He gestured to the dinner table but Acacia crossed her arms. He huffed impatiently. “For an alliance to work, information needs to flow in both directions. What were those men looking for in your apartment?”
“Oh, excuse me.” Gretle’s voice broke into their conversation. She stood nearby with a large serving tray.
“It’s all right, Gretle.” Nicholas turned back to his houseguest. “Are you staying for the main course? The chef has prepared Chateaubriand.”
Acacia looked from Nicholas to Gretle and back again. If she returned to Paris, she would have to go to Luc. He was the only one who could protect her.
But Luc’s colleagues had failed him. They’d left her unprotected because they’d been paid off or for some other reason. It was possible he’d find himself at odds with the BRB if she went to him for help.
There was also the matter of her personal connection to him. Returning to Luc would mean undoing the most difficult decision she’d had to make.
She couldn’t do it.
Acacia took her seat and glowered at her host. At the moment, at least, he seemed her best option.
Gretle served the main course and topped off their wine glasses before she returned to the kitchen.
“I’ll stay for now. But I want answers.” Acacia lifted her fork.
“So do I.” Nicholas speared his steak aggressively. “I’ve already shared some of my information. It’s your turn.”
“How do I know you’ve been telling me the truth?”
“I’ve been open with you, Acacia. My alias appears in the hotel records. The Minister of the Interior knows who I am, and so does Madame Bishop at KLH. Would someone intent on deceiving you leave behind so many breadcrumbs?”
Acacia shifted in her seat. He had a point.
“I brought you here, to my parents’ home, where you’d be safe and where we’d be chaperoned. Again, why would someone intent on harming you involve so many potential witnesses?
“You were assaulted.” Nicholas’s voice grew soft. “Your home was invaded, and your possessions destroyed. But I can help.”
She moved the food around on her plate.
His large hand slid across the tablecloth but stopped just shy of touching her. “I’ll send a team to repair the damage and clean up the mess. I’ll ask them for an inventory so you can see what’s damaged and what’s missing. You won’t have to go through the insurance. I’ll replace everything.”
“Why?”
“If the art dealer is the one behind this, then I’m the true target. I feel responsible for what happened to you.” He stared at her intently.
She pushed her hair back from her forehead. “The superintendent will see the damage. She’ll call my landlords.”
“Then I should make the call right now.” He pushed his chair back.
“It’s after hours. You won’t be able to hire anyone tonight.”
He gave her a half smile. “What if I were a guest at the Victoire? Could you find contractors that work at night, for me?”
She shook her head. “I could find someone who would be there first thing tomorrow morning, but not tonight.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
She pondered his offer and thought about the journal she’d hidden upstairs. She hadn’t locked her room. It was possible someone had already searched and found it.
If the men who attacked her knew she had the journal, perhaps Nicholas knew as well.
“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you what the men were looking for. Rick doesn’t speak French, does he?”
“Not really.”
Acacia grasped the stem of her wine glass and toyed with it. “When the man attacked me at the hotel, he spoke to me in French. He asked for the book.”
Nicholas leaned forward. “What book?”
She sighed. “Marcel’s journal.”
“Do you have it?” His tone was eager.
She searched his eyes. “You know about it?”
“I’d noticed Marcel’s journal on previous visits but didn’t think anything of it. It only occurred to me to wonder about it after I saw you recording things in a similar book.”
Acacia felt her lungs constrict. It was possible he had brought her to his parents’ house in the hope of wresting the journal from her.
But Rick could have let the men harm her at the hotel. Or he could have come to her apartment and demanded the journal. Nicholas didn’t need to fly her to Geneva.
The journal was of no use to her. It was evidence related to a crime, and she was eager to be rid of it.
“I found Marcel’s journal at the hotel. He’d hidden it in the lobby.”
Nicholas pursed his lips. “Did you tell anyone?”
Acacia hesitated. “No. I intended to turn it over to the Paris police, but I haven’t had the chance.”
“So your boyfriend doesn’t know about it?”
“No.”
“Is it with you?”
She nodded.
“I’ll make the call about your apartment.” He stood. “Excuse me.”
Acacia watched him leave then quickly texted Kate.
If you don’t hear from me in the next few hours,
phone Luc with the information I gave you.
Chapter Twenty-Two
NICHOLAS HAD BEEN SUBDUED upon his return to dinner. He resumed his meal and made no mention of the journal.
Acacia found his behavior peculiar. She expected him to demand she retrieve the book immediately.
“Not hungry?” Nicholas finally addressed the issue after she’d rearranged the food on her plate twice.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
“I’m sorry. Workmen are on their way to your apartment.” He turned his attention back to his food.
“How is that possible?”
“My parents have an apartment in Paris. Juliet had the contact information for the contractor who recently renovated their place. He agreed to inspect your apartment tonight, as a favor.”
“Thank you.” Acacia swallowed a lump in her throat. “Please thank Juliet as well.”
“What’s so interesting about Marcel’s journal?”
“I don’t know.” Acacia pushed her plate aside. While Nicholas’s attention was focused on his meal, she placed her purse on top of the steak knife. “I read every page more than once. Marcel used a short form in most of his notes. The entry on your meeting had the letter V next to it.”
Nicholas pushed his empty plate aside as well and gestured to Gretle to remove the dishes.
Acacia had mere seconds to decide whether to steal the steak knife and hide it in her purse, or leave it for Gretle to remove.
It would be good to have a weapon, she reasoned, eying Nicholas.
But her martial arts training had eschewed weapons. She was the weapon, her sensei had said. She had to have confidence in her training and her instincts, otherwise no weapon could help her.
Nonchalantly, Acacia slid her purse off the table to her lap, leaving the steak knife behind.
“Would you prefer dessert or cheese? Or both?” Nicholas asked.
“Neither, thank you.” She lifted her napkin and touched it to her lips.
“Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please. Black.”
Nicholas nodded in Gretle’s direction, who cleared the table and left to retrieve the next course.
He fidgeted with his napkin. “You’re sure the letter was V?”
“Yes. I can get the journal for you.” Acacia moved as if to stand.
“After dinner.”
She studied his profile. She had expected a more vigorous reaction, but he was almost relaxed.
“I suppose V could stand for Victoire,” she surmised. “Perhaps Marcel intended to introduce you to the dealer at the hotel.”
“Not likely. These meetings are usually scheduled on neutral territory, with ample time for both security teams to inspect the area.”
“So V is a person?”
“Or a number.”
“Of course, the number five.” She sighed. “I wish I could ask Marcel about the people who attacked him.”
“I have contacts keeping an eye on his progress. They’ll get in touch, if necessary.”
“Are you sure you aren’t an arms dealer? You have more contacts than a concierge.”
Nicholas laughed.
She’d never heard him laugh before; the sound was deep and happy.
He smiled broadly, and for a moment Acacia realized just how handsome he was. He had an intelligent forehead, high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and an expressive mouth. His smile lit his entire face.
“I doubt arms dealers would self-identify. But for the record, again, I am not an arms dealer.” He chuckled, as if the thought were incredibly amusing.
Gretle appeared and brought espresso, a plate of cheese and fruit, and a sliced baguette.
Despite the fact that she’d refused dessert, Acacia helped herself to the cheese and bread.
“Are you still interested in seeing the art collection?” Nicholas’s tone was casual.
Acacia sipped her espresso. “Sure.”
“Good. I can give you a private tour of the gallery.”
“The gallery?” Acacia blinked. “I thought the collection was inside the house.”
The edges of Nicholas’s mouth turned up. “Prepare to be amazed.”
After dinner, the duo exited the terrace and walked on a path that led from the back of the house to the driveway at the side. There, two black cars were parked in tandem.
“I don’t usually travel without security.” Nicholas gestured to the Range Rover. Kurt and another man stood next to it. “But my father doesn’t like anyone driving his car, besides me.” He led her to the passenger side of a Porsche 911 Turbo S and opened the door.
The Man in the Black Suit Page 12
