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[Alma
I bow before the king…]
[Vadim
Don’t call me that.]
[Alma
You’re the one who picked that name!]
I slip a mock-innocent emoji into the conversation.
[Vadim
I’ve got to make a quick trip to
London, but when I get back, I’ll deal
with this matter… and your sass.]
[Alma
Hurry back, Arcadi, I think my tyrannical
boss has his eye on me.]
[Vadim
I’ll be away for three days, tops. Tell your
CEO that if he tries anything, I’ll destroy him.]
I spend the rest of the day talking with the various department heads in an effort get to the bottom of the leak and minimize its consequences. Kate and I eventually decide that this wasn’t a simple human error. The leak was the work of someone with malicious intent. One of our own.
But who?
Around seven in the evening, after congratulating Lily on her first day, I agree to go with Maximilian to the Buddha Bar for a drink. Just one. He admits that he feels lonely in Paris, especially when his mentor is away. We try to get to know each other better, and I discover that he is far more mature and perceptive than I had imagined. We chat for a good hour in the hushed atmosphere of the bar, with its chic, exotic décor. About everything and nothing. About work. About Paris. About cinema. And about Vadim.
Every opportunity counts if it helps me learn more about the man who is still such a mystery to me.
Maximilian is a little too curious about me, though. He keeps trying to get me to talk about my personal life and my past. I answer some of his questions, but dodge most of them. When my best friend’s face appears on my phone, I pick up right away, thinking she’ll give me an excuse to leave.
“Clem? Is everything okay?”
“Raphaël is in the hospital! It’s serious, Alma. Meet me at Pitié-Salpêtrière!”
18
Trigger Warning: this chapter contains an account of perinatal loss
Alma
I battle my way through heavy traffic for the longest time before finally reaching my destination—and when I make it inside, the gloomy corridors of the hospital in the thirteenth arrondissement are freezing cold. After a quick interrogation, the overwhelmed nurse at the reception desk gives me a few basic details.
Raphaël Coste, my ex-fiancé, is still in the intensive care unit. Room 113.
***
