Chapter Eleven

ACACIA WAS SO RATTLED by her conversation with Monsieur Roy that she agreed to spend the morning with Luc. He took her to Notre-Dame and walked with her around the great cathedral, a favorite pastime of theirs when they’d been a couple. He even accompanied her to the house of Héloïse and Abélard. Then he took her to lunch at one of her favorite cafés in the Latin Quarter.

He drove to her apartment building and accompanied her to the front door.

“I can stay,” he offered. The light in his eyes shone unconcealed hope.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Slowly, oh, so slowly, he leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek. “You’re my biggest regret.”

She grimaced. “Why would you regret me?”

“I regret that I didn’t fight for us.”

Acacia closed her eyes. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She already felt raw from the day’s events. Her job and possibly her residency permit were in jeopardy. She didn’t want to add Luc to the mix.

He brushed the curve of her cheek and kissed her lightly.

Sadness and longing washed over her. She fought for control, not wanting him to see what she was feeling.

“Call me.” He touched her cheek, waiting for her to open her eyes.

When she did, he gave her a small smile and walked to his Renault. He lifted his chin to his fellow BRB agent, who sat in an unmarked car nearby.

Luc climbed into his Renault and drove out of sight.

A lone tear streaked down Acacia’s cheek. She’d done what she needed to do in the past. She wasn’t going to second-guess herself. At least not today.

She touched her chest, willing the pain to subside. Then she unlocked the door to her building and began to climb the stairs.

Her thoughts turned to the day’s events. With one act of civic duty, she’d practically ended her career. She could only hope Monsieur Roy’s anger would wane and she would be able to work herself into his good graces once again.

Luc had been furious when she’d dragged him from the lobby and explained in hushed tones what had happened. He’d wanted to speak to Monsieur Roy himself, but Acacia had dissuaded him. She needed to fight her own battles. And she didn’t want to lose the possibility of receiving a reference for future job applications.

I hope Monsieur Roy doesn’t fire me.

She was so deep in thought she almost didn’t hear the voice behind her.

“Mademoiselle.”

Acacia startled and clutched at the metal railing of the staircase.

“Careful.” Monsieur Breckman approached from several steps below. “You’ll fall.”

“Stop!” Acacia lifted her voice. “Don’t come near me.”

The man stopped, Rick at his side. He frowned. “There’s no need to be alarmed.”

Acacia retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. “Leave or I’ll call the police. There’s a BRB agent parked outside.”

“Yes, I know. With an agent close by, you’re perfectly safe.” Monsieur Breckman turned to his bodyguard and addressed him in English. “Rick, wait downstairs, please.”

The bodyguard moved, his gaze trained on her.

“I don’t know how you got in without the agent seeing you.” Acacia watched Rick’s departure over the edge of the railing.

“Rick is very resourceful,” Breckman said drily.

He cleared his throat. “I had hoped to speak to you at the hotel. When I checked out, they told me you’d been sent home.”

Acacia waited until Rick was out of sight and turned her attention back to the former guest. “Were you hoping I’d be fired?”

“Of course not.” The man inspected her features. “I hoped we’d have a chance to talk.”

She bristled. “I’m not interested in talking to you. Why are you here?”

“I mean you no harm.” His voice was gentle. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

She clutched her cell phone, poised to dial. “I had you arrested and you’re apologizing to me?”

“I wasn’t arrested.” The man sniffed. “I was merely interviewed.”

“Merely.” Acacia scoffed. “I was sent home and demoted to night concierge. Monsieur Roy is threatening to fire me.”

“That’s why I’m here.” The man climbed a step. “I defended you.”

Acacia made a derisive noise. “Why?”

“We had a misunderstanding.” The man thrust his hand in the pocket of his coat. “I should have told you the painting was a reproduction. Still, you did what any decent person would do. I admire you for it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He gazed at her with admiration. “Your suspicious nature will serve you well.”

Acacia retreated a step, still clutching her phone. “I want you to leave.”

The man lifted his hands. “I’m leaving Paris, but before I go, I wanted to encourage you to fight your employer. Concierges are supposed to report illegal activity to the authorities. Roy knows that.”

“I embarrassed him. He’s already heard from the corporation that owns the hotel. They aren’t happy.”

“They’d be more unhappy if someone alerted the press to their hiring practices. You’re the only visible minority in the entire hotel who has a rank above bartender.”

Acacia pressed her lips together. “Why would anyone speak to the press about that?”

“Because ‘injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.’”

Acacia’s eyebrows knitted together. “Your commitment to justice, if genuine, is admirable. It’s still inappropriate and intimidating for you to appear at my building.”

“I don’t disagree. As I mentioned, I had hoped we’d speak at the hotel. But you were sent home.” The man opened his trench coat and retrieved an envelope. He held it out to her.

“What is it?”

“Your gratuity.”

“No, thank you.”

The man opened the envelope and showed her the cash. “I thought I could smooth things over with Roy. I was wrong. He intends to fire you, even though he has no legal means of doing so. Use the money to hire a lawyer.”

“If he fires me, it will be too late for lawyers. Concierge positions are difficult to get, especially in Paris.”

“Then resign your post and use this until you can secure another position.” The man extended the envelope once again.

“No.” Her refusal was firm. “I don’t want your money.”

“It isn’t my money,” Breckman protested. “It’s yours. You earned it.”

“I won’t accept it.” Acacia ascended the stairs, cell phone in hand. She kept a watchful eye on the former guest.

The man lowered his arm. “I’m simply rewarding you the way I’ve always rewarded Marcel. Stop being stubborn.”

“Stop following me.” She began pressing numbers on her phone.

“Who are you calling? Your boyfriend from the BRB?” His tone dripped with disdain.

Acacia ignored him.

“Wait.” Breckman paused a moment, then cursed. “The Paris police still haven’t discovered who attacked Marcel. It’s possible you’re in danger.”

Acacia lifted her head. “Why?”

Breckman shifted uneasily. “You’re Marcel’s replacement.”

“I don’t know anything about his activities. The only suspicious guest I’ve had to deal with is you.”

A muscle jumped in the man’s jaw. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t warn you in advance.”

“No, you’d just accost me at my apartment and issue threats.”

He placed the envelope on one of the steps. “I am a lot of things, mademoiselle, but I am not without honor. I’m not a thug, and I’m certainly not a thief.” He gestured to the cash. “The money is yours.”

Acacia’s thumb hovered over the screen of her cell phone. “Take the money with you.”

Breckman stood still. “Whether you believe me or not, I didn’t mean for you to be demoted. Quite the opposite.”

“Get out.” Acacia completed her call and ran as fast as she could up the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder to see if the man followed her.

From below, she could hear quick footsteps and Breckman cursing.

She leaned over the railing and caught sight of the man and his bodyguard as they exited the ground floor hallway through the back entrance.

As her call connected to Luc, she burst into her apartment and bolted the door.