Chapter 28

Nick boarded the 7:00 am flight to Paris, France. It was a short flight, only an hour long. Nick sat in his seat, patiently waiting for take-off. A pretty brunette flight attendant walked by, smiling brightly, while assisting passengers. Nick stared when he saw the flight attendant – she had a striking resemblance to Nicole. Nick’s heart beat faster, his breathing shallow. Was she……..Nicole? Suddenly, he could feel the airplane getting smaller, crushing in on him.

No, Nick reassured himself. He had done his homework. She couldn’t possibly be Nicole. Nicole now lives in Paris, working at some fancy art gallery on the Rue de Seine.

The flight attendant walked down the aisle, passing Nick on her way. Abruptly, Nick reached out, grabbed her hand.

“Yes, sir? May I help you?” the flight attendant asked, attempting to pull away from Nick’s grasp.

“Uhh…..” Nick stuttered, unsure of what to say. He stared at the flight attendant, studying her features, trying to distinguish this woman from Nicole.

“Are you okay, sir?” The flight attendant bent down a little closer to Nick, a mixture of concern and caution on her face. The last thing she wanted to deal with was some weirdo passenger – it was too early for that, she thought.

Nick blinked rapidly a couple of times, his eyes focusing on the flight attendant, her face becoming clearer. No. She was definitely not Nicole – Nicole was much prettier than this woman. Nick, certain of this, released her hand.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just need some water, please.” Nick plastered a smile on his face, slowed his breathing.

“Certainly, sir.” The flight attendant hurried off, glad to be away from the passenger. Something about him gave her the creeps.

Nick sipped his water, while he looked out of the airplane window, flying over the English Channel. Soon he would be in Paris. He was looking forward to getting reacquainted with Nicole.

* * *

Nicole slipped her key into the front door, grateful to hear the click of the deadbolt sliding. It had been a long day at the gallery. She had been busy assisting a well-known, and very temperamental artist set up his upcoming exhibition for the following evening. It was to be a showing of his latest works of art, a collection of vibrant paintings of the City of Light. Nicole and the rest of the team at the gallery expected a huge turnout.

Nicole pours herself a glass of wine before going to her bedroom. Slipping out of her heels, she stretches out on her bed, relaxing.

She hears a buzz and reaches for her phone. A text from Jacques, her French boyfriend. Nicole smiles while reading his text, letting her know he would be stopping by after work. She and Jacques had been seeing each other for almost a year, having met after Jacques bought a piece of artwork from Nicole. Jacques was very charming, very French, and Nicole was very much in love with him.

Nicole turns on the water, ready for a long, hot shower. She strips down, turns on some music, and steps inside. Nicole takes her time lathering up, the steamy, hot water helping to release the tension in her shoulders, while she sings along with the music.

After a relaxing thirty minutes, Nicole steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her wet body. She hears a slight creaking noise coming from the kitchen.

“Jacques,” Nicole calls out. “Is that you?”

Silence. Probably just my imagination, Nicole thought. She quickly puts on a pair of pants and a tee-shirt, and walks to the bedroom to get her phone.

Nicole scans her bed, looks under the pillows, unable to locate her phone. Not on the bedside table, she looks in the drawer, thinking she must have put it there. She bends down and looks under the bed. No phone. Frowning, Nicole stands back up, and suddenly freezes. It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Nicole catches her breath, goosebumps prickling her skin.

She can feel someone else in the room, can feel their presence. Spinning around, Nicole’s eyes widen in panic. She is unable to move, sheer terror overwhelming her body.

“Looking for this?” Nick sneers, holding up her phone, a lunatic’s grin on his face.

“Nick!” Nicole gasps, her hand covering her mouth, her face turning white as a sheet. She felt like she had just seen a ghost.

Nicole lunges towards the door, in a desperate attempt to escape. Nick quickly grabs hold of her, pinning her arm behind her back, roughly jerking her towards him. She begins to scream, a piercing cry for help. Nick quickly puts his cold black leather gloved hand over her mouth, stifling her screams.

“Aren’t you happy to see me, baby?” Nick whispers in Nicole’s ear, his voice full of venom. He spins her around, facing him, his hands firmly clamped around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. The fear in her eyes made Nick feel powerful, in control. It was everything he had been fantasizing about and more.

“Please……..” Nicole choked, tears streaming down, eyes bulging, her face turning a sickly blue.

Nicole’s body slumped to the floor, death by strangulation.

Nick hurriedly left Nicole’s apartment, quietly closing the door behind him. He looks around, making sure no one notices him. He keeps his head down as he walks across the street, wanting to keep a low profile. No one appears to notice Nick - people busily going about their evening. He hails a taxi, making his way back to Charles de Gaulle Airport.

Four hours later, Nick Stone is on flight #452, returning to London, his thoughts now focused on Sergio Rossi.