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  Not wanting to be there any longer than I needed to be, I started packing up. Will spoke in hushed angry tones to Stewart before coming back to me.

  "What are you doing?" he asked

  "What's it look like? I'm packing."

  "Don't."

  He crossed the room and exited. I hated feeling like such a wuss and knew some of it was from the lack of sleep, but all I wanted to do was feel sorry for myself. Poor me! I made my dream come true and was standing at Paris Fashion Week. Yeah, that pity party didn't last long.

  My mind started to work, and I wondered how many women walking around the mall on the other level would walk down the runway for me. It couldn't hurt to ask.

  "Let's go find some models, Dianna."

  As we entered the hall, Mimi walked towards us with Will by her side. She reached out and held my hand between her cold bony hands as she spoke with a thick French accent.

  "There was a horrible mistake. Gianni was supposed to be in this room, but he changed last minute. I've sent the girls to him, and yours should arrive soon."

  She patted my hand when she finished talking and then shot Will an annoyed look before walking off. Dianna and I went back into the Hargrove's room and as I unpacked the few things I put away, my new models entered.

  Now these were the real Amazons. My new models didn't look like they'd need to seek shelter on a windy day. They were as close to being normal women as one would find on the runway. These were the models used in plus sized ads, and while that made them controversial for runway, I couldn't be happier seeing them.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I held myself back from hugging Will, not wanting to reveal our relationship to all the strangers in the room. Dianna immediately got to work, taking measurements and a photo of each model. She came up with the idea that if we planned hair and make-up ahead of time, it would take the stress out of choosing their look after they were dressed. I loved the idea and couldn't wait until later when I'd play paper dolls with their photos.

  As I pulled the measuring tape out of my sewing case, Will came up behind me and kissed my neck, sending goose bumps over my body. So much for not revealing our relationship. Truth was I didn't care anymore. People could say what they wanted. My designs deserved to be there.

  "Mmm, you smell like oranges. Let's get out of here, just the two of us," he whispered before nibbling on my ear.

  "We can't. I have a lot of work to get started on, and you know Stewart won't let you out of his sight."

  "Look at Stewart. I think he's in love."

  I scanned the crowded room a couple of times looking for him. He had an uncanny way of changing his appearance just with his body language, and for a brief moment I didn't recognize him. It wasn't until I realized Stewart was the man commanding the attention of two brunette models that I realized where he was.

  "So? He's still not going to let you go alone."

  "He doesn't need to know I'm going. I arranged for a 1959 BMW 507 to be delivered. It's a roadster, a two-seater. It's probably already outside. We can sneak out and tour the countryside."

  "I'd love to, Will, really I would, but I need to be here. I can't just leave all this on Dianna."

  "She won't mind. Look at her, she's loving this. Just ask her, okay? That's all I ask."

  Dianna was busy taking measurements of a blonde model I recognized from a Vogue photo spread. I motioned to her that I wanted to talk and then stayed out of her way until she was done. She grinned happily as she walked over.

  "Do you have any idea how awesome this is?" she asked. "Of course you do, you're here too, duh. I'm just so star struck right now, you have no idea."

  "I know! Did you see some of the designers here? It's mind blowing to think I'm showing my collection on the same runway."

  "You know," she said as she glanced over to Will, "if you want to go sightseeing with Mr. Sexy, you can."

  "Where'd that come from?"

  "I'm just saying that if the gorgeous man of my dreams was in the most romantic city in the world with me, I'd want to spend some quality time with him."

  "I can't, Dianna. I can't leave you here alone to work while I run off and have fun. It's not right."

  "No, you have to. I'll never have an experience like this again, and I know you will. While you're gone, I'm not going to lie, I'm going to pretend it’s my collection," she said as she laughed. "Plus I need to live vicariously through you, remember? If you don't spend some alone time with Will, then I won't have anything to dream about. I will be expecting details in the morning when we get to work on the alterations and everything else."

  "Are you sure? I really do feel bad..."

  "Go! We're done talking about it. I have models to measure dahling, now shoo!" she said with a snooty fake accent.

  Dianna gently pushed me away as I wondered what I did to deserve such a great friend. Will looked at me anxiously as I returned.

  "Well? What did she say?"

  "She told me to go. And Stewart?"

  "Smitten. It’s nice to see him enjoying himself for once. Now let's go before we lose our chance."

  He grabbed my hand and led me to the back of the room. Behind the three-way mirror was a door I hadn't noticed before. It opened to a long marble hallway that we followed until we reached the entrance with the crystal triangle.

  "Good, I see the car arrived," Will said as he looked ahead towards the antique shiny red roadster.

  "And what's so special about this car?" I asked as we approached it.

  "Everything. Limited run, almost made BMW go bankrupt, Elvis owned one, I could go on and on."

  The convertible was gorgeous and didn't look its age, but until I noticed Will couldn't stop grinning as he got into the car, I didn't realize the significance of it. He had never had his own car before. For his entire life, Stewart had driven him wherever he needed to go.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Remember the gate in front of King Manor?"

  "The one your mom told you stories about?"

  "That one. I found the monastery and I've always wanted to see it."

  "Then let's go!"

  As Will steered the car out of the city, I enjoyed the warm sunshine and the wind blowing through my hair. We drove out of the city in silence as we soaked in the beauty of the city. The architecture was a combination of the old, with Greek and Gothic influences, and the new. Somehow the city joined old and new together like a complex jazz piece with all the instruments working together to create music.

  The further away from Paris we got, the more open the landscape was. Eventually we were surrounded by green rolling hills that reminded me of the landscape of Canyon Cove. If it wasn't for the occasional spire of a centuries-old church or the cut of a castle against the sky, the two places might have been interchangeable.

  After about an hour into the drive, Will reached for his folded suit jacket, pulled a folded map out of the inside pocket, and placed it on my lap.

  "I need your help. We should be right around here," he said as he tapped a yellow section of the map. "I circled the monastery in red, let me know where I need to turn. I think it's coming up and I was told it's hard to spot from the road."

  As I collected my bearings looking at the map, I found the turn off he was talking about and placed my finger on it. "Wait, you asked about the monastery? Don't you think Stewart will find out? Knowing him, he'll be there waiting for us."

  Will laughed. "No, he's not going to care."

  "I think you're forgetting who you're talking about. He seems very concerned about you being in danger."

  Will's knuckles whitened on the hand that rested on the shift stick while his face grimaced. Thinking I struck a nerve, I dropped it. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin a day out with him in such a romantic location. My big mouth messed things up enough for one trip.

  "The road should be right up here," I said after spotting a mile marker the map indicated before the turn.

  An old, stone-carved road marker had t
he name of our turn, and Will slowed down as he maneuvered the car onto the road. The dirt road was packed so tight from centuries of use that we didn't have to worry about dust flying into the car.

  After driving further down the lonely road, the monastery appeared in the distance. The white limestone silhouette of the abbey jutted up into the sky, growing more luminescent as we arrived.

  "How did your mom even find this place?"

  "She loved history and this is one of the oldest monasteries," he said as we walked among the ruins. "You can see how the church still stands with its towers, and over there is what's left of the cloisters and the library. The original building is well over a thousand years old but was destroyed first by the Vikings, then later in wars after being rebuilt each time."

  The abbey was the largest of the ruins and still impressive. It looked like a medieval castle, and I could easily imagine monks from centuries ago praying there. Following the path, we came upon two pylons on either side of where the path widened.

  "This must've been where the gate was," he said as he walked over to one of the stone columns and placed his hand on it.

  His face softened and briefly crumpled, and I knew he was thinking back on his brief childhood. It hurt to see how close to the surface those memories remained.

  Hearing a sound come from the abbey, I turned around but saw nothing. Probably just an animal, I thought. As I looked up into Will's face, his eyes brightened, and he wrapped his arms around me.

  "Thank you for coming here with me. You have no idea what this means to me," he said before kissing my forehead.

  "Of course. I can't imagine being anywhere else."

  "Well, isn't this sweet," a male voice with a thick Eastern European accent echoed against the ruins. "Come out, Marco. It's him."

  As I turned around, I saw another man approaching from one of the other ruins. Marco was a monster of a man in a black t-shirt and a bald head. The man who spoke looked exactly the same except for his crooked nose, which must have been busted years ago. Will tightened his grip on me as they came closer, but it didn't matter.

  Marco grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me out of Will's grasp while the man who spoke lifted a gun to Will's head. I couldn't breathe. I considered screaming but knew there was no one around to help. As I trembled in fear, Marco squeezed his thickly muscled arm like a boa constrictor around me further, as if to tell me I was in more danger than I realized.

  "Oscar, what to do with the girl? Kill her now, yes? That will be fun," Marco said with a cheerfulness in his voice that sent chills down my spine.

  "No, no. We bring her to Dimitri, too. She might be useful. At the very least, she might be helpful in making this one talk."

  "We only have one injection."

  "Use it on her," Oscar said, then slammed the blunt end of the gun into Will's temple.

  "No! Will!" I screamed as his body collapsed to the ground. I felt a sharp prick at the base of my neck. My body went limp as I fought him. Using all my might, I tried to shove his enormous arm off me, but my limbs wouldn't move. Suddenly my vision blurred and Marco slung me over his shoulder. Hanging like a rag doll, everything spun before going black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Will

  Slowly lifting my head off my chest, I tried focusing my eyes. Seated on a wooden chair with my arms tied behind me, I closed my eyes and tried to push past the throbbing in my head.

  I wasn't alone. Voices spilled into the room, bouncing off the stone walls moist with condensation. The grey flagstone floor chilled my bare feet as I wondered why they took me and where I was.

  "Deborah?" I whispered, hoping she was close.

  I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to her. Inhaling deeply, I caught the faint whiff of oranges. She had to be near.

  I tried to move my arms, pushing against the ropes to loosen them, but nothing came of it other than my realizing my arms were tied to more than just my chair. Moving and stretching my hands as much as I could, I finally felt the soft flesh of her hand with my fingertips.

  "Will..." she whispered, her words slurring, "please be you."

  "Yes, it's me."

  "They drugged me...I...I..."

  "Shhh, don't speak. I'll get us out of here somehow."

  The only light in the windowless room came from a single bulb dangling from the ceiling. Voices echoed against the stone from an adjoining room. Forcing myself to focus despite the pain in my head, I was able to make out a long metal table and a few chairs.

  Attempting to use my legs as leverage, I realized my ankles were tied to the chair. Pushing with my feet, our chairs scraped along the stone floor. Not wanting to draw attention, I stopped as my mind spun.

  It was useless to struggle. Whoever these men were wanted us there. They knew what they were doing. Hearing a soft sob behind me, I flexed and struggled against the ropes to get enough leeway to reach her hand, which quickly closed around mine.

  "What's going on? Who are these people?" she cried, her voice filled with fear.

  "I wish I knew," I said as a tall, thick-bodied silhouette filled the doorway.

  A man in a tight black t-shirt and shaved head nodded towards us. "Dimitri, they're up," he announced with a thick indescribable accent.

  "It's about time. I was worried you killed another one too soon with that stuff," Dimitri joked.

  Dimitri's accent was American, but there was something else underneath it. As he stepped towards the light, I was surprised to see he was a slender built man with closely cropped black hair. His looks weren't remarkable or startling like his companions. Dimitri could easily blend in with a crowd. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of Stewart.

  The two men entered the small space where Deborah and I were tied up. The giant man's face was expressionless but more calming than Dimitri's eerie grin.

  "Let the girl go, you don't need her," I said, knowing they only wanted me and hoping to get Deborah to safety.

  "William Hargrove King, the Third," Dimitri said slowly as he stepped directly in front of me. "You are correct. We don't want her. But we don't even want you. Make this easy, tell us where your father is, and you can both walk out of here."

  "My father? If you're asking where he is, then you're even dumber than I thought. He's dead."

  "Wrong," he said as a strong hand struck my cheek.

  The force of his hand was enough to move our chairs back. As my cheek stung then burned, I glared at him.

  His eyes narrowed intensely as he looked down at me. "I don't have time to play around, William. Again, where is your father?"

  "In a fucking cemetery. Where he's been most of my life."

  I didn't know what happened. In an instant, I felt pain quickly spread across my face and down my neck. He must've punched me, but his fist flew so fast I didn't see it. The chair held me so tight, the force of his knuckles jerked my head back and into Deborah's as the chairs jerked back. If our chairs hadn't been connected, Dimitri's punch would have knocked me over.

  "I don't have the patience for this. I'm only asking you one more time before I get the poker. Trust me, you don't want that. Where is your father?"

  Meeting his stare as the blood trickled from my nose, I could see he wanted an answer I wasn't able to give. I didn't know how to convince him of my father's death. Did this asshole really think he was alive?

  "He's in the St. James Cemetery. With my mother," I said through clenched teeth. "Now let us go!"

  My voice echoed throughout the room. Dimitri's goon cracked a smile before walking out.

  "That's what he wants people to think, but I know better. He's still active. I recognized his work. He stole from the wrong man."

  "What are you talking about? He was murdered. I saw him die!" I yelled angrily.

  "A man like that doesn't die so easily. I know the kind of man your father is. He wouldn't leave his son orphaned and ignorant," he said as he paced in front of me.

  Carefully carrying a rusted iron fire poker, its poin
ted tip glowing red from the heat, Dimitri's goon almost looked giddy. I still had no idea who these men were or why they kept asking for my dead father, but it was clear they meant business.

  "Maybe this will jog your memory," Dimitri said as he took the hot poker from his assistant and admired its red tip.

  Deborah sobbed from behind me, and I was glad she couldn't see what was going on. I thought back to that fateful night of my parents' murder and realized not seeing might be worse. I wanted to comfort her.

  "Everything will be okay," I whispered.

  Squeezing her hand the best I could, I felt her squeeze back just before Dimitri swung the tip of the hot poker into my shoulder.

  A searing pain shot through my arm and into my neck, forcing me to let go of Deborah's hand. Clenching my teeth, I growled in agony. The smell of burning cotton and flesh filled the air.

  I felt the heat of my blood ooze from the wound as my sleeve became soaked and stuck against my skin. Deborah twisted in her seat, trying to see what happened.

  "Fuck you!" I said between clenched teeth before lowering my voice. "I'm okay, Deborah. It's just...my shoulder...a fireplace poker..."

  The room swayed between the pain in my shoulder and the throbbing still in my head. The light went out as a gust of wind entered the room, leaving us in total darkness. I squeezed Deborah's hand reassuringly although I didn't know what was going on.

  "Everything will be okay," I whispered.

  The sounds of confused men echoed against the stone walls from the other room. As I tried to force my eyes to adjust, the only thing I could see was a thin line of light seeping through a boarded-up window I hadn't noticed before.

  "Stay put."

  The commanding male voice was familiar. I straightened, frozen as my mind tried to make sense of it. All the pain was replaced by confusion.

  "It can't be," I whispered.

  "Who?" Deborah asked, her voice hoarse.

  I didn't answer her. I couldn't. I had to be wrong. I hadn't heard that voice in twenty-five years.

  The clank of the fire poker hitting the floor filled the room, followed by the smell of iron I recognized as blood. Shouts came from the other room but were quickly silenced. I thought I heard the unmistakable heavy boots of the large man running but then nothing. Only deafening silence.