Page 41 of Temptation and Tyranny

“I know, I know,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “It’s crazy. But there’s something about him, Jo. When I’m with him, it’s like...like his dark sides don’t matter. All that matters is how I feel when I’m kissing him…”

Joanna’s expression softened, a mix of concern and understanding crossing her face. “Oh, honey. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of elation and fear. “I think I do. But I’m scared, Jo. His world...it’s…I’m not willing to be a part of it. I’ve seen that life, and it’s not for me.”

Joanna reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Does this have to do with your father?”

I sighed, knowing that the subject would come up at some point. “Yes. My father—he’s in a similar…world as Cooper. It’s his fault my mother died. It’s why I don’t talk to him, why I don’t use his name and instead, my mother’s name. I spent the school year with my father at his estate up until the age of ten, and then…I ran away to my grandparents’ vineyard. They took me in permanently. He didn’t fight it.”

“Listen to me, Al. You’re one of the strongest people I know. Just...be careful, okay? And remember, I’m here if you need me. Always.”

I smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for my friend. “Thanks, Jo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

We spent the next half hour chatting, Joanna peppering me with questions about Cooper that I did my best to answer without revealing too much. As we were finishing up our dinner, Joanna glanced at her watch and let out a small gasp.

“Oh shoot, I completely forgot! I have to go to the pharmacy before they close.” She stood up, gathering her things. “You okay to head back on your own?”

I nodded, waving off her concern. Tomas was apprehended, after all. And I’d received an email from my lawyer, letting me know that his case was pretty much closed. He’d be spending the next ten to fifteen years in jail. “Of course. It’s just a few blocks. I’ll see youat the clinic tomorrow.”

Joanna hurried off, leaving me to settle the bill, which was fine. We usually took turns paying. As I stepped out of the warmth of the restaurant, I inhaled deeply, enjoying the soft glow of the setting sun. The street was busy with dinner crowds, the air filled with the sounds of traffic and snippets of conversation.

I set off in the direction of my apartment, my mind drifting back to Cooper. It had been five days since I’d last seen him. The memory of our kisses, the passion in his expression, the electricity of his touch—it all haunted me, mixing with a growing sense of unease that I couldn’t quite shake. I thought about the way Cooper had looked at me, like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. I’d never experienced that before. Tomas told me I was hot, but I’d never felt…cherished. Adored. How was it that a criminal could make me feel better about myself than anyone ever had before?

Lost in memories of Cooper’s touch, I barely registered my surroundings. It wasn’t until I nearly missed my turn that I realized how distracted I’d become. I rounded the corner ontoRue des Rosiers, and that’s when reality came crashing back—a prickle ran down my spine, the unsettling sensation of being watched.

I glanced over my shoulder, my heart rate quickening. The street behind me was empty, save for a few tourists window shopping at the boutiques that lined the road. A couple stood hand in hand, peering into a patisserie window. An elderly man walked his tiny dog, the animal’s nails clicking on the pavement. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But as I continued down the street, the feelingpersisted. It was as if eyes were boring into the back of my head, watching my every move. I tried to rationalize it—I was just on edge because of what happened with Cooper, or it was the effect of being too near my father and his dangerous world. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered that this was something more.

I passed a small café, the line at the register stretching onto the street. On an impulse, I stopped, pretending to study the menu posted outside. In reality, I was using the reflection in the window to scan the street behind me.

That’s when I saw him. A man in a dark suit, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his gaze fixed firmly on me. He was unremarkable in appearance—average height, brown hair, forgettable features. But there was something in his stare, the deliberate casualness of his pose, that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

As our gaze met in the reflection, he straightened, reaching into his jacket. My heart leapt into my throat. Was he going for a weapon? I didn’t stay to find out.

Without thinking, I plunged into the crowded café, pushing past the startled patrons getting their after-dinner coffee, to the back of the room. The kitchen door swung open as a waiter emerged with a tray of fresh croissants. I slipped past him into the steamy kitchen, ignoring the shouts of protest that followed me.

“Pardon!Excusez-moi!” I called out, weaving between surprised kitchen staff. Pots clattered, someone yelled in French, and the overwhelming smellof chocolate and yeast filled my nostrils. I spotted a back door and made a beeline for it, bursting out into a narrow alley.

The evening air hit me like a hard punch, carrying the pungent scent of garbage and rancid cooking oil. I looked left and right, trying to get my bearings. To my right was a dead-end. To my left, the alley curved out of sight, promising either escape or a dead end.

The sound of the café’s back door opening spurred me into action. I turned left, running down the alley as fast as my heels would allow. The cobblestones were treacherous, threatening to twist my ankle with every step. The walls seemed to close in around me, graffiti-covered stone blurring past my vision as I ran.

I emerged onto another street, this one quieter thanRue des Rosiers. Without pausing, I kicked off my heels, leaving them behind as I ran barefoot across the road. Why had I changed to meet Jo for dinner? I should have kept on the practical clothes I wore during my sessions.

The pavement was rough against my stockinged feet, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins dulled any pain.

I ducked into another alley, this one leading to the Seine. As I ran, my mind raced. Who was that man? Why was he following me? Was it because of Cooper? The image of his face flashed in my mind—his easy smile, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at me. How could someone who made me feel so safe also bring such danger into my life?

Or could it be...no. I pushed the thought away. My father couldn’t be involved in this. He might be acriminal, but surely he wouldn’t...The memory of our tense encounter at the gala surfaced. The veiled threats, the hint of something darker beneath his polished exterior. For the first time, I allowed myself to consider the possibility that my father’s world and Cooper’s might be more closely linked than I’d even realized.

The sound of rapid footsteps behind me cut off my train of thought. I chanced a glance over my shoulder and saw the man in the suit, his face a mask of determination as he gained on me. He was closer now, close enough that I could see the glint of something metallic in his hand. A gun? A knife? I didn’t want to find out.

Panic surged through me, my heart racing hard enough to explode. I put on a burst of speed, ignoring the pain as my bare feet were scuffed against the rough pavement. Up ahead, I could see the river, thePont Mariestretching across its dark waters. The sight of it sparked an idea.

I veered right, towards a set of stone steps leading down to the riverbank. As I descended, I could hear my pursuer’s footsteps echoing off the stone walls, getting closer with each passing second. At the bottom of the steps, I didn’t hesitate.

I plunged into the icy waters of the Seine.

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