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“Security is there and has footage. I’ll know more soon. Laurence, you’re with me. Please call André and have him stay with Nadia.”
“On it,” Laurence said. “I’ll get some other security stationed outside.”
Paul stood and squeezed Laurence’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m worried.”
“I understand that, but I need to know you’re safe, and that’s here.” His tone was authoritative and absolute.
I turned away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see my fear. But he wrapped his arms around me from behind. He pressed his soft lips to the back of my neck and hummed. A moan vibrated through me. Please be safe. I trembled, leaning back, and he held me tighter. “Try not to worry. I’ll send for you when it’s safe.”
The security guards arrived, and Paul gave me a quick kiss and walked out the door.
There was someone else that would steal from Paul’s office, but it seemed outrageous.
Ingrid.
But why would someone like her break into his office? She was beautiful, rich, and accomplished in her career. They were collaborating on her family documentary that she seemed to care for. Paul seemed to believe they had made progress. No, it can’t be her.
Then again, who wouldn’t do something like that? We had people like Christina Ralls upset about her husband, who had been arrested recently. Landon and Trevor were likely to have friends internationally. Linux or a disgruntled artist could have done it. Actually, anyone could have done it.
I changed into a shirt and pencil skirt. My bags were going to the duplex, and when I went into the studio, most of it was empty. Still, there were a few dresses inspired by the Kusama exhibit I had started. I made a note for Nicole to have Opal send the knits from the apartment in New York City to Paris. I sat down and stared at her response.
Nicole: I’ll have it overnighted tomorrow morning. Congratulations to you both.
Nadia: Thank you! I am so excited.
I touched my face. The options I had available were also a part of my new life.
A knock on the door had me turning toward the hallway. It was André. “Housekeeping let me in,” he said to my surprised expression. “Congratulations, Nadia.”
“Thank you, André.”
“I thought he’d murder me that day we lost you in Versailles.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I told him again.
“It’s all right now. You learning more about getting around?”
“Yes. I’m doing an internship here and practicing French.”
“Oh? Say something.”
“Quelque chose,” I told him “something” in French.
He wrinkled his nose, and I laughed with him. His phone chimed and my pulse picked up. “Oui. Merci, Laurence.” He ended the call and turned to me. “Time to go to the office.”
André surprised me with a Peugeot SUV. “We change it sometimes to avoid the press.”
I climbed into the front with him. The office was located in one of the Lutetian limestone buildings, which appeared uniform unless you knew where to go. It took a few minutes before I recognized the gate and plaque that said, “Crane Enterprises Studio”. There were security guards out front and a few photographers on the street. The rumors must have been out that something serious occurred there. There was no sign of broken glass, but there was a locksmith and a security guard out front. Laurence appeared and rushed me through the front door before questions were called out.
The lobby appeared the same—contemporary couches, white walls, and no damage. I followed them to Paul’s office and nothing was disturbed there. The studio.
I walked down the corridor and gaped at the scene behind the glass. The baby grand piano was fine, and none of the guitars or drum sets were broken. However, the recording room was disheveled, with cases and drawers opened and some of the equipment missing. Paul walked in and he appeared sullen.
“This is awful,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be okay. It looks worse than it actually is. We have backups on a private server in a different location.”
