Chapter 23

In the days that followed, this same sense of foreboding would continue to grow until it felt so tangible I could almost choke on it. Some of it originated from my anxiety disorder, I was sure, but after seeing a picture of Isla and Elijah with the French prime minister, who was rumored to have invited them to dinner at his place, I knew that my fears weren’t unfounded.

My new room was compact, neat, and impersonal. By no means small as the Du Pont had a reputation to uphold as one of Paris’s only five star hotels, though it fell severely short when compared to the luxuries of the penthouse suite I’d spent the better part of two weeks in.

I missed the pool and floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, having a coffee making machine and an assortment of meals to choose from. But most importantly, I missed Elijah.

It was stupid of me to expect some sort of closure, a clean break and not this jagged stump that followed after me each time our eyes