Once Vaughn had finalized the paperwork and paid for his new purchase, it took a week for us to move into the flat and another for it to be furnished so that we could function. Our king-size bed was crucial, but the area rug wasn’t.

I was on week three as a Parisian and could almost qualify our flat as ready. Ready for what, was the question. I felt as if I were preparing for something critical, but I had no idea what it was.

There were certain things we needed immediately, and certain things I had time to piece together, like the two extra guestrooms. I still wasn’t sure what our time table was in Paris, but I had to assume we were going to stay a while. When I asked, Vaughn assured me I needed to decorate all the rooms.

“How do you want your office to look?” I had asked.

“You know me, Em. You know what I like. I need to be able to work in it. That’s all.”

I scrunched my nose. I wanted more than that. I wanted to know if we were going to entertain members of Blackwing. I wanted to know if he would have meetings with other contractors in his office. Did I need to prepare for his boss? Did he need a conference table or a bar? What did his work entail? It was enough to make me tug on the ends of my hair.

Finally, I selected navy and deep hues of wine for his office. It was dark. Intriguing. But overall, I thought it looked masculine and stylish. I was proud of the pieces I had chosen and the leather accents.

I had unlimited access to his accounts. Plastic was a part of my life again. My cards now read Kate Birch. He said I could decorate however I wanted. His only request was that he wanted it to be perfect. Whatever that meant. Every time I thought about complaining about my task, I stopped. Outfitting the flat did give me something to do while he worked.

As stupid as I felt some days, leafing through fabric samples and examining wood detail on table legs, it made the time pass. It ticked off the seconds until he was home again. There was a surprising sense of accomplishment when I pulled a room together. Even he commented on how I made it seem effortless. We were both surprised.

For three weeks, I kept the same routine. I ordered coffee at the bakery directly across the street from the flat. It was convenient and quaint. My favorite thing was that they made American coffee for me. For that, I threw extra money in the jar each week.

“Bon jour, Kate.” The baker smiled at me when I walked inside.

The smell of fresh baked croissants wafted around me. I rubbed my arms together, trying to shake the mist from my heavy coat. A fog had descended on the city overnight. Everything outside looked gray and dark. I didn’t like these kinds of mornings in Paris.

“Bon jour, Marie.” I grinned.

She let me stumble through my order without correcting my broken French. It was another thing I loved about the bakery. She was tolerant of my mistakes. Not everyone was as tolerant as Marie.

This morning I chose a chocolate croissant and an extra-large coffee. I inhaled the scent of both. It was a delicious combination.

“Merci.” I thanked her and reached into my purse to pay. “Oh shit,” I mumbled. “I don’t have my wallet.” I groaned at my mistake.

“It’s ok,” she said. “Pay me tomorrow.”

“No, it’s not ok. I’ll run up to the flat. I’ll be right back, Marie. Give me a few minutes.” I gave up on trying to speak all of it in French. It was harder to remember words when I was flustered.

“No, no,” she argued when I ran out the door, carrying my order with me.

I hustled across the street and rushed into the apartment. I burst through the front door, frantic to find my wallet. I looked on the kitchen counter and then in the bedroom. I tried to remember where I had last seen it. I was still holding the coffee and the warm croissant, but I was determined to pay Marie.

I remembered Vaughn mentioned he had to switch out one of my credit cards. Maybe he had forgotten to put my wallet back in my bag last night.

I walked into his office. It smelled like him. Masculine and spicy. I really did love how the dark navy walls looked in here. I grinned when I saw the Prada leather wallet on the corner of his desk.

“Ah-ha!” I snatched it up, but not before my eye caught what was in the waste bin tucked under the desk. I wasn’t sure I had read it correctly.

I knelt to dig through the trash. I held the newspaper in my hands. The headline couldn’t be any clearer.

U.S. Senator Mitcherson resigns over sex scandal, sends Congress into damage control

I blinked. I tried to swallow, but slumped into Vaughn’s chair as I read the article. The paper was dated with yesterday’s date.

It was my case buried in the foreign news section of the paper. My case.

Lana had come to me. No one else. I was the person she trusted when Senator Foley fired her because she got pregnant. She had put faith in me to make sure her child would be taken care of. I provided her the only means she had to gain control again. To make a man who had used and manipulated her for sex, pay for the consequences of his actions.

Vaughn had supported every second I worked on her case. He had even volunteered to drive us home early from the romantic vineyard weekend. He had been nothing but a strong shoulder for me.

I felt my hands tremble. I could barely hold the paper upright to read it. Some of the details were there, but not all. Lana’s story about the senator. Her pregnancy. I raced to get to the end.

I slammed the paper on the desk. What in the hell was it doing in the trash? Was it because he had read it? Had Vaughn hidden it from me? He knew how important Lana was to me. He knew how hard I had worked. What a risk I took by agreeing to go up against a senator. Hell, he was there when I thought she had gone missing.

My phone beeped. “Damn it.”

It was a reminder that I had an appointment at the furniture store to select the final coffee table. I glared at my calendar. I had enough time to pay Marie for breakfast and make it to the store, but I had to leave now. I folded the paper and stuffed it in the top drawer of my nightstand.

I wasn’t going to let this go. I wanted to know why Vaughn threw it away.

* * *

I stood in the furniture store, chewing my bottom lip, debating between two coffee tables. The sales woman had left me scowling. My heart wasn’t in it. I wanted to scour the city for more articles about Lana. I needed details. I wanted to know who was representing her. Who else was going to testify? Had they found credible sources? I couldn’t go online like I wanted and conduct a proper search. I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near my old life. Leaving a digital footprint wasn’t allowed. One of the first places Agent Kenneth would look was where I had left things in DC. He would track Greer, the university staff in my office, and any contacts I had with loose strings. Everyone knew what Lana’s case meant to me.

I didn’t know how hackers searched for tracers, but Vaughn assured me they were there. One search wouldn’t alert the agents—it would be the connection of pings I sent into the cyber world. The spider web of my interests that would signal I was still very much attached to my old life.

I stayed away from American news online. I had zero ties to social media. I tried to keep my interests on what happened in Europe, unless I read the paper or purchased entertainment magazines. Even then, I was hesitant to get caught up in American headlines. I knew how easy it would be to get sucked back in.

I had stopped debating between the two coffee tables and sat in a wing-backed chair nearby. My coffee was cold by now. The chocolate croissant was still back at the flat on Vaughn’s desk.

“It’s a hard decision.”

I turned to see who had spoken to me. It wasn’t the sales lady.

“I would go with the lighter one.”

“Eloise.” I hopped up from my seat. I would have recognized her cinnamon curls anywhere. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“How is the decorating going?” she asked.

I shook my head. I needed to forget Lana Foley. For now.

“I’m almost done. Kind of.” I laughed. “It’s a big space. I’m going room by room.”

“Which table are you going to buy?” She pointed at my final choices. “Is this for the living room?”

I sighed. “Actually, it’s for the sitting room. I can’t make up my mind. You really think the lighter one is prettier?” At this point, I didn’t care. I’d buy a milk crate.

“You could go with that one, but I think Vaughn likes darker hues. You do still call him Vaughn, don’t you?”

I felt my veins slowly turn to ice as her words sank in.

I tried to keep my voice calm. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve confused my husband with someone else. It’s Leo,” I emphasized. “Leo and Kate Birch?” I tried to jog her memory, but my stomach was already flipping over.

“It’s ok,” she whispered. “I think we should talk, Emily. Freely. But not here.”

My heart raced. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. She wasn’t supposed to know who I was. No one did. I had practiced multiple scenarios. Never this one.

I stumbled backward, looking for a way out of the store. I had to get out of here. Away from Eloise. Away from the stupid coffee tables. As I pushed through the glass doors, Eloise was only a few paces behind me.

“Follow me to the park,” she instructed.

I wanted to turn and run, but something told me to listen to her. It was a couple of blocks to one of the squares. I didn’t want to be outside today. It was gloomy and cold. A dreary day in December. I shoved my hands in fine leather gloves and matched her quick pace. Of course she wore a beret cocked to the side. Everything about her had been perfect. Even the way she bossed me around.

The narrow street opened into the park. I caught up to Eloise as she sat on a bench. I glanced at her before taking a seat at the opposite end.

“How do you know who I am?” I asked. I wanted to be the one to control the conversation. I learned with Agent Kenneth that whoever started first was able to steer the discussion.

“I work with Vaughn,” she replied.

I wasn’t ready to admit I knew him by that name, but it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to go along with the facade.

“I asked how you presume to know me.”

She smiled. “I work for Blackwing, Emily. I know a lot of things.” Her beautiful French accent had disappeared.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around the side of the bench involuntarily. I could feel the cold metal through my gloves.

“What is this about?” I asked.

Eloise nodded at a mother who walked by with a stroller. Once they passed she shifted toward me. I realized that was probably not her real name. The cinnamon curls were likely as fake as her accent had been.

“It’s time for you to do your part.”

“Excuse me?”

“We could sit here for hours and both pretend we don’t know what we know, or we could be brutally honest with each other and cut this conversation down to five minutes.”

“What I know is that you were our realtor. You helped my husband, Leo Birch, buy a beautiful flat that I’m decorating. I’m shopping for coffee tables today. I have to get home to meet my husband.” It sounded strange saying it. I doubted she believed me anyway. Vaughn would be gone all afternoon.

She laughed lightly. “At least you are guarded. That’s a plus.” She checked the time on her phone. “The situation in Paris has changed. Vaughn needs to do more. He needs to act faster, but because of you he’s hesitant to do that. He’s never hesitated. Not once.” She eyed me. “It took a management decision, but I knew you were the right person to help. I’m coming to you since I know you want him to be successful. He doesn’t want to listen to me for whatever reason.”

“I’m not following any of this.” If my head would stop pounding, this would be easier.

“I don’t need you to follow. I need you do something. Can you do something, Emily?”

I was silent.

She leaned toward me on the bench. “We know what you’re capable of, probably more than you do. While we appreciate that you’re here to support him, you can’t expect me to believe a woman with a law degree—a woman who was competing for the highest honor at American University, who was trying to take down a US Senator—is fulfilled by picking out coffee tables and drapes?” She huffed. “Wouldn’t you like to do something? Something that matters?”

“He doesn’t want me to get involved,” I argued.

“I told you he’s not the same man. It has become a problem. You could be the asset that helps him through. He won’t admit it, but he needs help. This is something you could do for him. Consider it a win-win.”

I knew there was always someone who would lose when Blackwing was involved. Their victim. Despite everything running through my head, I was curious. It was the first time I had a chance to see behind the curtain. I knew it was a tactic, but it was true—I did want to do something that mattered.

I nodded. “All right. But I have conditions.”

She shifted her beret to adjust it in the wind. “Let’s hear them.”

I didn’t have time to negotiate everything. I wasn’t sure I could list all the things I wanted. I needed time to think, and time was the one thing I didn’t have.

“I’d like to know more about the people involved. I want to know who the mark is and what the target is.”

“No. Absolutely not. What else do you have?”

I pressed my lips together. “How long is the assignment for Leo?” I felt more comfortable using his alias in public.

“I’m trying to push up the timeline. Staying in Paris long-term isn’t wise.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why did you pretend to be our realtor?” I folded my arms.

She tilted her head to one side. “All right. I can answer that. It was to assess you.”

“I want more than that. Assess me for what?”

She sighed. “To see if you are compatible. To watch you two together. To test him. To see how he handled it when I pushed you to answer questions.”

“Did we pass or fail?”

“You’re still here, dear. You passed. That’s enough for questions. I’ll play along again next time.”

“Next time? I haven’t agreed to this time. You didn’t meet all my conditions.”

She laughed. “It’s cute you think it works like that, but it doesn’t. Blackwing sets the rules, not the other way around.” She reached in her pocket.

“There is a couple who moved into your building a few days ago.” She handed me a folded piece of paper. “I need you to drop by the apartment, introduce yourself to the wife, and invite them up for dinner. Do you have enough furniture to host another couple?”

I nodded slowly as I opened the note and read the address.

“And then what?” I asked.

“I think that will be enough for one assignment. Leo can take it from there.”

“I don’t understand, you said you wanted to use my great legal mind. That furniture shopping isn’t fulfilling enough for someone like me. Now you want me to set up a dinner party? This is bullshit.” I was insulted when I should have been scared. I was focused on the wrong things. She had flattered me only to slap me across the face.

“One step at a time. It’s not as if we’re going to trust you with a high-level assignment on your first try. Set up the dinner party. He’ll get the message. I don’t care how it gets done.”

Eloise stood, slipping her handbag over her shoulder. “The husband is currently out. The wife will be home when you get back. Make the invitation. You don’t have much time to put this together, Emily. It needs to happen tonight. Don’t try to delay it. Stalling is never permitted.”

“I’m not supposed to tell Leo?”

“It doesn’t matter if you tell him. You need to do this. Telling him doesn’t change your assignment, it might slow you down. That’s something for you to consider.”

I didn’t like the way she assumed I was a part of her deceit. That I would so easily turn against him.

“Please don’t ask me to do this.” I wanted to keep the pleading out of my voice, but it was hard. I shivered from the chilly fog. From the fear that had crept under my coat and straight through my skin. I was covered in it.

“I’m not going to keep secrets for you. I won’t lie to him.” I sounded stronger.

“I don’t care how you handle him. That’s between you two.” She checked her phone a second time. “Looks like you better get going. You have a lot of work to do if you’re having company over for dinner tonight. It’s a good thing the French eat late. And don’t forget to pick up your coffee table. It would be embarrassing if they saw the sitting room was incomplete.”

“And if I don’t pull off the assignment?” I had more questions. More she wouldn’t answer in the bitter cold.

My only hope was that there would be a second meeting. Another chance to ask her about the mission. To pry into Blackwing.

She sighed. “Look, I like Vaughn. A lot, actually. That’s why we’re having this conversation. But don’t test us. You have an opportunity to prove how valuable you are. How valuable he swears you are. I wouldn’t waste that.”

“But I—”

I couldn’t argue with her. I couldn’t ask her what she meant. She turned and walked along the sidewalk and disappeared into the crowd along the shop front, blending in with the thick fog.

I sat on the park bench for a minute, trying to figure out what had happened. Had I been brought into Blackwing, or was Vaughn being warned?

I didn’t care what Eloise had said. I wasn’t willing to lie. I tried to call him.

“Come on,” I whispered into the ringing phone.

I didn’t know where he was, only that he was at work. I needed to hear his voice. I wanted him to tell me what I should do. I couldn’t screw this up for him. I wouldn’t go through with it, if he told me to stop. I knew that much. I would listen to him over Blackwing every single time.

I decided not to leave a voicemail. I had to make it back to the flat. I didn’t know what the consequences would be if I didn’t invite our new neighbors to dinner. I didn’t know how Vaughn would react if I did or if I didn’t.

My boots clicked along the pavement. I checked my phone and tried his number again.

The encounter with Eloise didn’t leave any room for doubt that Blackwing was a part of my life. They knew where I was. They knew who I was. They knew who I used to be. I tugged the coat to my neck. The wind kicked up. I should have grabbed my scarf.

I wasn’t trained like Vaughn was. I didn’t know how to interact with people as targets. I didn’t know how to act casual and normal, when inviting them into our home was based on a hidden agenda.

Eloise had implied that Vaughn needed me to do this. He needed my help, even if it came from his company’s direction. And if I didn’t, it sounded as if there was a consequence. A consequence that neither of us would like.

I wasn’t willing to take that chance.