mopped up from the floor, and the room returned to some sort of order. The bedroom and bathroom were the same.
Her underwear had all gone in the bin. She had found some items of clothing—sweaters, and a pair of jeans thrown into a corner of her bedroom—that were wearable, once they had been laundered. But the rest of her clothes were too badly damaged and had also been consigned to the bin.
Now there was only dinner to think about and the sleeping arrangements to sort out.
Only…
Seth had set to and helped her tidy and clean up, the two of them working together in silence. Now the work was all done, Diana felt incredibly awkward as to what happened next.
“Grayson Security has a safe house in Paris.”
She glanced blankly at Seth. “What?”
He sighed. “Our work here is done, but we have nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat or drink. Grayson Security owns several properties in cities around the world that we use as safe houses. Paris is one of those cities.”
She gave an inelegant snort. “Something else you didn’t feel the need to share?”
His jaw tightened. “I doubt you would have been willing to contemplate the safe house option earlier.”
No, she probably wouldn’t. The idea of a safe house seemed very tempting now, though. So far, only her property had been destroyed, but how long before those attacks became more personal in nature? Before she was the one being slashed, possibly killed?
She grimaced. “I’m happy to contemplate it now.”
Seth nodded. “Did you notice anything missing here?”
“Not that I could see, no.”
Seth’s itch, the feeling, was telling him more strongly than ever that all this was somehow connected to Jeremy Moore. That even though the other man was dead, something Moore had done—or not done—had put his wife in danger.
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out and taking Diana in his arms. She looked so lost and vulnerable right now.
How much more vulnerable was she going to look and feel if his growing suspicion was correct and Jeremy Moore hadn’t only been an abusive husband but was behind everything that had happened to Diana the past eight months?
“Nice,” Diana murmured appreciatively as the two of them entered what could only be called a small château.
A small enclosed château in the center of Paris, protected by high walls, security cameras, and eight-foot-high gates at the entrance that could only be opened with the secure code Seth had punched into the system.
Their method of getting here had been interesting too. First they had taken a cab via the Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe, with the beautiful Eiffel Tower visible in the distance, finally leaving the cab outside the Louvre.
They had paid their fee and entered the famous gallery, not to look at the artwork but so that they could get lost among the people milling about the crowded salons. Seth had then doubled back to the entrance so they could slip away before getting into another cab that took them to the Gare du Nord railway station.
Once they were in the station, he had purchased two train tickets for London. Tickets they hadn’t used, but instead left the railway station by a side entrance. They had walked for several streets before Seth had hailed another cab, which had dropped the two of them three streets away from the château. They had walked the rest of the way.
All very secret agentish.
The château itself was like an old manor house but with turrets at each corner of the building. The outside looked neglected, peeling paintwork, an overgrown garden. The inside was more like a museum than a home, the furnishings antique, the paintings on the walls and the statues in the four corners of the cavernous entrance hall all looking as if they might be originals.
“My father would love this as much as I do.” Her footsteps on the tiled floor of the entrance hall echoed up into the high vaulted ceiling as she stepped
Her underwear had all gone in the bin. She had found some items of clothing—sweaters, and a pair of jeans thrown into a corner of her bedroom—that were wearable, once they had been laundered. But the rest of her clothes were too badly damaged and had also been consigned to the bin.
Now there was only dinner to think about and the sleeping arrangements to sort out.
Only…
Seth had set to and helped her tidy and clean up, the two of them working together in silence. Now the work was all done, Diana felt incredibly awkward as to what happened next.
“Grayson Security has a safe house in Paris.”
She glanced blankly at Seth. “What?”
He sighed. “Our work here is done, but we have nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat or drink. Grayson Security owns several properties in cities around the world that we use as safe houses. Paris is one of those cities.”
She gave an inelegant snort. “Something else you didn’t feel the need to share?”
His jaw tightened. “I doubt you would have been willing to contemplate the safe house option earlier.”
No, she probably wouldn’t. The idea of a safe house seemed very tempting now, though. So far, only her property had been destroyed, but how long before those attacks became more personal in nature? Before she was the one being slashed, possibly killed?
She grimaced. “I’m happy to contemplate it now.”
Seth nodded. “Did you notice anything missing here?”
“Not that I could see, no.”
Seth’s itch, the feeling, was telling him more strongly than ever that all this was somehow connected to Jeremy Moore. That even though the other man was dead, something Moore had done—or not done—had put his wife in danger.
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out and taking Diana in his arms. She looked so lost and vulnerable right now.
How much more vulnerable was she going to look and feel if his growing suspicion was correct and Jeremy Moore hadn’t only been an abusive husband but was behind everything that had happened to Diana the past eight months?
“Nice,” Diana murmured appreciatively as the two of them entered what could only be called a small château.
A small enclosed château in the center of Paris, protected by high walls, security cameras, and eight-foot-high gates at the entrance that could only be opened with the secure code Seth had punched into the system.
Their method of getting here had been interesting too. First they had taken a cab via the Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe, with the beautiful Eiffel Tower visible in the distance, finally leaving the cab outside the Louvre.
They had paid their fee and entered the famous gallery, not to look at the artwork but so that they could get lost among the people milling about the crowded salons. Seth had then doubled back to the entrance so they could slip away before getting into another cab that took them to the Gare du Nord railway station.
Once they were in the station, he had purchased two train tickets for London. Tickets they hadn’t used, but instead left the railway station by a side entrance. They had walked for several streets before Seth had hailed another cab, which had dropped the two of them three streets away from the château. They had walked the rest of the way.
All very secret agentish.
The château itself was like an old manor house but with turrets at each corner of the building. The outside looked neglected, peeling paintwork, an overgrown garden. The inside was more like a museum than a home, the furnishings antique, the paintings on the walls and the statues in the four corners of the cavernous entrance hall all looking as if they might be originals.
“My father would love this as much as I do.” Her footsteps on the tiled floor of the entrance hall echoed up into the high vaulted ceiling as she stepped
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