The Little Antique Shop Under the Eiffel Tower (23 page)

I topped up his champagne flute. He returned the favor, refilling mine, the bubbles bursting on my tongue, as I took a sip. Perhaps this is why people crossed to the dark side, to be able to afford champagne that tasted like stars.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you,” I said with a breathless giggle. “Then I’d have to kill you, and blood is so messy.” I flashed a smile, and had another guzzle of champagne.

Tristan leaned back on his chair, and clasped his hands over his lower belly. I couldn’t help but picture the tanned, lithe body under his clothes. The champagne made me flush, or maybe the room was hot – I felt a little intoxicated by my role as temptress.

“You can trust me, though, can’t you?” he drawled. I topped up his glass again, bringing us to the end of the bottle. I signaled to the waiter for another one, and hoped Tristan would pick up the bill, otherwise I’d have to leave my antique onyx bracelet as collateral.

“Trust you, Tristan? I don’t know a thing about you. Not really.” Through the glassiness of my own eyes, I tried to determine if he was feeling merry from so much champagne but he was hard to read with only the flicker of candlelight in our darkened corner of the wine bar.

“Sure you do,” he said, flicking me a saucy eyebrow raise. “You know I’m American. You know my name. You’ve –” he held up his fingers and made quote marks “– researched my company online.”

That was enough to make me choke on a mouthful of champagne. “Your company?” I said incredulously. “An obvious front for something more sinister, trust
me
,” I said. “I know exactly what it’s like to have to hide who you really are.”

I hoped my musings were making sense to him; they weren’t making a lot of sense to me
. I should have had dinner!
The champagne had a way of relaxing me to the point I was almost floppy.

Tristan gave me a half grin, and leaned across the table. “So you’re saying outwardly you act like this Marilyn-esque ingénue but really you’re a calculating manipulator…”

“Moi? Non!” I laughed, my voice too high, too manic, but I suddenly found the situation hilarious, because he was describing himself. And I guess he hoped that underneath all my bluster I could be molded into a criminal like him. Little did he know, I was sharper than he gave me credit for, and my act was just that an act…

“You’ve got me,” I said. “Cunning, and more clever than most people think. If only they paid attention to…” I lowered my voice and leaned across the table “…what was right in front of them.”

“You’ve got away with it for so long, haven’t you? No one’s suspected the young glamour puss right under their noses.”

I nodded. “Years,” I said, thinking fast, but foggily.

He shook his head as if he were awed by it.

“I’ve seen a lot of crooked people in my life, but never one like you.”

A gasp caught in my throat. My role-playing was working! “Thanks,” I said. “I suppose it’s easier to fly under the radar when you know what you’re doing.”

He drank his glass down in one gulp. “Have you ever wondered what you’d do if you were caught?”

Caught? Caught for what? He was the thief. Not me! I racked my brains. I had never so much as stolen a piece of candy, but then I thought of the debtors I still owed, the pressure that was waiting for me back at the house and I steeled myself. Better to play along than give up the role now, so I flashed him my most coquettish grin and said, “I’d lie my pants off.”

“Now there’s a vision…” His shoulders dropped forward ever so slightly as the alcohol worked its magic around his bloodstream.

“Focus, Monsieur Black.” I winked, American-like. I hadn’t had this much fun in ages, completely uninhibited, and undaunted by anything. I liked the feeling. Although I knew none of it was real, it was fun to play a part, and pretend to be that vavoom type of girl for a change.

“It’s hard to do anything around you, Anouk. I get so easily distracted and that’s not good.”

I was fuzzy-brained. Thoughts were slipping just out of reach. It felt like we were having two very different conversations. “It’s not ideal, is it? Soon you’ll be leaving, right? Off to the next place, following the sun…”

“My life isn’t as exciting as you seem to think it is.” That same pained expression returned, as if his criminal life took a toll. Maybe guilt caught up with him on brief occasions? But he could easily choose to stop, and do the right thing.

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Otherwise why would you continue to do it? Searching for a Bonnie, are you, Clyde?”

He laughed, a low deep sound. “Are you available for the position?”

I folded my arms. This was as close as a confession as I’d gotten tonight. My belly flipped, at the realization. And I just hoped my expression didn’t betray me. “More champagne?” I said, buying time.

He nodded, clasping his fingers together, as if he was waiting for an answer like he was interviewing me for a job. “I do wish I could stay once in a while,” he said. “But I can’t, sadly.”

Yeah, because then they’d catch you.

“It’s a real shame.”

He gave me a wan smile. “Sometimes it is.”

I weighed up what to say next. My brain was screaming to tell him to stop stealing to fund an empty lifestyle but would he listen? I didn’t know if he stole because it was a thrill for him, or if he needed the money to pretend to be someone else. Misty-eyed, I toyed with other reasons… What if he funded an orphanage with the money? Could I forgive him that? Or maybe he was building a hospital for women in a third world country?

I gazed at him, my head spinning at the thought, with his bright blue eyes, and shock of blond hair, those shiny white teeth, and aquiline nose, maybe that perfection was all a front for a soft and squishy heart – he was a modern-day Robin Hood! Robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Wouldn’t that be the most romantic thing?

“I’ve lost you,” he said, catching me mid-daydream.

I waved him away, stuck in my mind about what might be. “No, I think you’ve found me.” The room spun on its axis.

“I think we’d better have dinner.”

Chapter Twenty

Filmy sunlight filtered through the gap in the lace curtains, bringing with it the mind-numbing bang of sledgehammers. I cupped my head, realizing the crashing was coming from inside my brain. The night before coming flooding back.

Oh no!

Groaning, I pulled a pillow over my face as the memories came thick and fast.
He was a modern-day Robin Hood.
What was I thinking! The champagne headache hit me anew. I’d failed at my first mission in the worst possible way. In my fog, I couldn’t remember getting any information out of him. All I could recall was the things
I’d
said, and even worse, the assumptions I’d made after too many glasses of bubbly. He funded an orphanage? What had my desperate heart conjured up? Built a hospital for women? Urgh.

Vaguely, I recalled we had walked home, stumbling and laughing, both pretending to be someone other than who we were. I could have kicked myself for wasting an opportunity to catch him out. In my attempt to get him to talk, I’d quaffed as much champagne as he did, which I bitterly regretted today.

The clock beside my bed shrieked ten a.m. in neon green. I wrenched back the covers and stopped dead. Beside the bed was a note:

Anouk,

When I close my eyes, I can still taste the champagne on your lips. We’re doomed to wander alone, or that’s what you said anyway. Who knew you were such a poet? Hope your head isn’t too sore. You sure can put it away.

Until we meet again,

Tristan

WHAT! We kissed again? I closed my eyes and tried to summon the memory of it, and came up blank. Surely, I’d remember kissing him? The kisses in Saint-Tropez had pervaded my dreams. I ran my hand across my traitorous lips as if I could feel him there but nothing.

In snapshots, the arrival home played out in my mind… Maman had just returned from seeing the Eiffel Tower alight again, while Lilou danced around the apartment, Henry strumming a guitar and crooning out folk songs.

Tristan was lying! I’d walked past everyone, and taken a glass of water from the kitchen and then flopped into bed and fallen into a dead sleep. I narrowed my eyes. Nice try, Mr. Black, but you’re going to have to do better than that. Next time I’d stick to sparkly water, and I’d be better prepared.

How did his letter get here though? He could have given it to Lilou or Maman… I’d have remembered if he crept into my room.

I’d have to ramp up my investigations.

But right now, I was woefully late for work. On the bedside table was a glass of water and a sheet of painkillers. A groan of relief escaped me.

“Are you awake?” Lilou edged into the room, giving me a maternal smile. “You need to rehydrate. Get that water into you, and take the pills. I’ve made you a smoothie for breakfast, full of hangover-busting vitamins.”

“Since when did you become the responsible one?” I asked groggily, realizing with a dull throb of pain that our roles had been reversed. Lilou was playing nursemaid to me – there was one for the books.

She shrugged. “Just being a good sister. I could envisage the wake up wasn’t going to be pretty.”

“Oh, God, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know what I said or did.”

“You were fine,” she giggled. “Sometimes it’s good to let loose. You can’t be staid all of your life!”

“If today is an indication of what cutting loose entails, I am more than happy to be staid. Want to walk to work with me?” Lilou was still hanging out at Madame’s under the guise of making jewelry.

“Non, I can’t,” she said. “I have an appointment with a buyer from Charbonneau’s. I have to leave soon.”

I gasped. Charbonneau’s were a group of designer retail shops that were known all over France. They were very exclusive and reputedly impossible to sell to. I had Parisian fashion designer acquaintances who had tried and failed multiple times to get appointments with their buyers. And now Lilou had one, for what, her handmade jewelry?

“A Charbonneau’s buyer?” I noted she was wearing a smart gray pantsuit, her hair was tied into an elegant chignon, and she wore barely there makeup. She looked…grown up. In charge.

“Yes, for my jewelry sets. I sent some samples to their team and they called for a meeting. I was up late last night finishing a range of designs for winter in the hopes they’ll put an order in. They’re keen, so I figured I may as well put my all into it.”

I sat up too quickly; the room spun. “Wow, Lilou, that’s amazing. I didn’t realize you were planning that far ahead.”

She gave me a businesslike smile. “You’re not the only one who loves what they do.”

***

An hour later, I was clip-clopping my way around the corner to my shop, catching a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, standing regally on show, when Madame Dupont wandered out from her Time Emporium.

“Ooh la la,” she said giving me a slow appraisal. “Looks like someone spent the morning in bed. You missed our breakfast, but I can see why… You got a better offer?” She gave me a youthful grin, and I cringed. I’d totally forgotten about our tête-à-tête to discuss Tristan!

“Sorry, Madame. I slept in.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She lit a cigarette and took a long pull, blowing out smoke rings. “You’re all flushed and hopeful looking.” She gave me a knowing smirk.

“Oh that,” I said. “Non, non, Madame. What you’re seeing is the result of far too much alcohol on an empty stomach.”

“With him?” She narrowed her eyes, and leaned right up close to my face. “I know you, and your hands never flutter, your gaze never darts, you’re normally demure, straight-faced, even under all that makeup, and yet this morning, you’re fidgety, rosy-cheeked, downright scattered.”

“It’s just because I’m running late.”

She grinned. “And you have two different shoes on.”

I sent a fervent prayer up that I’d dissolve into the pavement but no such luck. What kind of Parisian was I? In my haste I’d thrown on any old thing, and had grabbed at the shoes in my closet without any thought.

“Oh the shoes,” I said with a quick cough as plumes of smoke drifted between us. “I thought I’d try something new… One white one black, change things up a bit.”

Madame’s gravelly laugh rang out. “You think you can lie to me?” She clucked her tongue. “Tell me every last detail!”

With a tight smile, which I’m sure resembled a grimace, I said, “I can’t remember many of them, actually. It’s all a bit of a blur. I better go, Madame. But if I do remember anything, I’ll phone you. If you don’t see me later, send hangover food.”

She laughed like she was proud of me so I kissed her cheeks, holding my breath so smoke didn’t overcome me, and strode off.

“Darling, there is one thing.” Her voice wavered, and she hesitated. I motioned for her to continue. With a glum expression she said, “He came into my shop, and asked if I’d be interested in the Audrey watch.”

I turned so fast I almost tripped over, and pounding head and all I raced back to her. “What? What did you say?”

“Your handsome American came into my shop. It could have been a sting to see if I’d buy stolen goods. I’m so sorry, Anouk, but maybe you’re right about him.”

“He was trying sell you the stolen timepieces?” Would he be that obvious?

“Well, he enquired about selling me some pieces, wanted to know the worth of certain things, but he didn’t actually have any on hand. But when you’ve been around as long as I have you pick up those nuances. He was cagey, distracted, like he was on a time limit, and was pumping me for information. I hate to say it, but I think you’re right, he could be the thief…”

My poor heart could barely take it all in. “I’ve kissed a criminal. A number of times! Including last night!” And I didn’t want him to be the smooth criminal. I wanted him to be the fishing, cooking, resident of the log cabin, by the lake in America, as he so described.

“Merde,” she said, her eyes wide. “I think it’s best if we don’t panic.”

I shook my head. “I was trying to make him talk. And my grand plan was getting him tipsy…”

She scrunched up her nose. “But let me guess, you got tipsy instead? Anouk, you need some lessons in how to deal with men.”