Page 46 of My Super Sexy Spy
Turning in my bed I came to two realizations pretty quickly. This wasn’t my bed and I was still wearing the sundress from the plane.
The plane that I didn’t stay on. That didn’t take me back to Philadelphia and my condo.
Where the fuck was I?
I pushed myself out of the posh, king-size bed and when my feet hit the ground, they wobbled a bit, but I was able to stay upright. Glancing around the room, I considered the fourteen-foot ceilings, the gold-sheened wallpaper, the heavy maroon drapes over the massive windows.
Windows that led to wrought-iron balconies. Nothing looked American and everything looked old-world European. I walked over to one of the windows and pulled back the curtains and gasped.
The Eiffel Tower. THE FUCKING EIFFEL FUCKING TOWER!
I’d wanted to see it my whole life, and now I was standing in front of a window and it was so close it seemed like I could reach out and touch it.
I was in Paris. Were the French after my dad like the Americans and the Russians? I thought they were on team U.S.A. but what the hell did I know about global politics right now?
What I did know was that I’d been drugged. Kidnapped and brought here against my will.
Did Ted…Liam…even know? Were there people waiting for me in Philadelphia who were going to come looking for me?
I had no idea. Which meant the first priority was getting out of wherever I was and getting to the U.S. Embassy in Paris…with maybe a side trip to the Louvre.
No! This was serious. This was international shit going down with me in the center of it, and I had to focus.
I checked the room for a door. I walked over to it expecting it to be locked. I nearly jumped when the old-fashioned knob turned in my hand. I pushed the door open and heard the squeak of it and winced.
The room I stepped into was something out of my dreams. The same fourteen-foot ceilings, crown molding, a rich green paint that made me think Marie Antoinette herself might walk into the room at any moment. Certainly, I was underdressed in my simple, cotton dress.
I turned the corner and jumped again when I saw the older man sitting on the chaise lounge staring out the window. He had a blanket over his legs despite the room being perfectly comfortable, and an oxygen tank sat on a table behind him. He turned his head in my direction, and I knew I was looking into the face of my father.
Except for the sallow-colored skin, the bald head and prominent nose, I sort of looked like him. At least I had his green eyes.
“Hello, Beth.”
I swallowed. “Dad? No,” I said instantly. I wasn’t doing this. I wasn’t doing some sad sack reunion bullshit. I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t care about this guy. All I wanted to do was go the fuck home and have nothing to do with him again.
He was the reason I had spies chasing me. He was the reason the FBI had followed me. He was the reason I’d been drugged and kidnapped again!
So no, I didn’t want to hear his story. I didn’t care if he was dying. And definitely no, I didn’t want anything from him when he’d not been part of my life for twenty-three years.
“Please. I know you’re angry. But all I’m asking is that you humor me for a few hours. Then I’ll let you go, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
At that point, the brunette with the big rack stepped out of the hallway and into the living room. She moved to stand beside what I imagined was the door leading out of this massive apartment. I recognized her from the hotel when she was all over Ted…Liam! Then again as my friendly neighborhood drugging flight attendant. C-cups.
“Marta is my nurse. She has been caring for me. Protecting me. I didn’t know any other way to do this.”
“You mean other than drugging and kidnapping me,” I clarified.
“Forcing you, yes.”
He took a breath and watching him was almost painful. Like the act of inhaling took all his energy. I was sorry he had cancer. I was sorry he was dying. Like I would be for any other human on earth who I had no emotional bond to, but I wasn’t going to let sympathy keep me here.
“How about you let me go and write me a letter?” I said. I glanced at Marta and watched as she kicked her feet a little wider. Like she was prepared for a fight. Given my size in comparison to hers, I didn’t see me winning that battle.
“An hour, Beth. Two tops. I don’t have energy for more than that. Then I promise I’ll let you go.”
An hour. Two at the most, then this would be over.
Deciding on the path of least resistance, I walked over to the fancy chair situated across from the lounge where he was stretched out. While pretty, the chair wasn’t comfortable at all and I thought again of Marie Antoinette and how maybe that was why she was such a bitch.
