Chapter 508
Chapter 508:
“Thanks, incredibly helpful, as always p>
“I am helpful. I know you better than anyone, and I know when you’re about to blow up your own life just because you’re scared it might actually work out. If you love Ashton, talk to him. Ask him about Red Dress, tell him what’s eating you, and maybe act like you care about your own bloody wedding. And if you don’t p>
“What if I don’t?” I clutched the pillow tighter.
“Then you need to tell him. Be honest. Give the ring back, apologize, and move on p>
“Easier said than done,” I mumbled.
“You asked for advice, I gave it. Now you’re sulking.” I could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Honestly, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d slap you p>
“Thanks, Yvie. I’ll think about it p>
“You’d better. I’ve already picked out my maid of honor dress, and you’re paying the deposit p>
I hung up, tossed my phone onto the nightstand, and groaned into the pillow.
When it rang again, I assumed it was Round Two from Yvaine.
But the number was unfamiliar.
I declined it.
It rang again.
I declined it again. Probably some pushy telemarketer.
But it kept ringing.
“Hello?” I snapped. If Parisian telemarketers were this relentless, I’d blacklist the entire country.
“Madame Mirabelle Vance?” The man’s French accent was strong, though he spoke English.
I didn’t confirm. “Who’s asking p>
“This is Inspector Alexandre Silva, from the Brigade Financière. I’d like to speak with you regarding the company Valmont & Cie, specifically Monsieur Fabrizio Marchetti p>
Complet3 c0nt3nt at
I sat up. “You’re a police officer p>
“Yes.” He gave me his full name, rank, and department. “You’re welcome to call our office to verify p>
“I will,” I said, though I was already starting to believe him. “What’s this about p>
“I’d prefer to discuss it in person. And I must ask that you not mention our conversation to Monsieur Marchetti p>
“You’re investigating him? What for p>
“I’d rather not say over the phone p>
“Well, if you expect me to meet, I need to know if I’m a witness or a suspect. I don’t have to meet you p>
A pause. Then: “I can meet you at the café opposite your hotel. A public place. Thirty minutes p>
I checked the time. 8:45 p.m.
“It’s a bit late p>
“I know. Apologies for the hour.” His tone turned faintly reproachful. “But you and Monsieur Marchetti are nearly inseparable, dining together every day. It’s been difficult to find a moment when you’re alone p>
I didn’t like his tone, but what I liked even less was what he’d just implied. They’d been watching us. Or rather, watching Fabrizio.