Page 107 of Seduced By You

“Monsieur Kingcaid?”

My eyes drifted past the unexpected visitor to the cop car parked behind my Aston. “Yes.”

“I am Monsieur Lavigne, and this is my colleague, Madame LaRue. We are from the Police Municipale. May we come in?”

Goddammit. “I’m busy right now. Is it important?”

“Oui, monsieur.”

Sighing, I stepped back and let them in. Blaize stood as the two cops followed me into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?”

“They want to talk to me. No idea what about.” I motioned to a seating area off the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, merci.”

The four of us sat. I folded my hands in my lap and tried not to fidget. Now that I’d decided to talk to Lee and beg her forgiveness for being an absolute—to use her favorite word—twat, this unexpected interruption was grinding my gears.

“We’ve recovered your vehicle,” the male cop said. I’d forgotten his name. “There wasn’t any fluid in the system, which is why the brakes didn’t work.”

Fuck.I side-eyed Blaize. A pulse thrummed in his cheek.

“A mechanical error?”

“No. The maintenance records show that the mechanic topped up the brake fluid six weeks before you hired the vehicle, during its annual service. Besides, if the brake lines were empty to begin with, you’d have discovered the issue far sooner.” He breathed in. “The lines were cut.”

A hiss of air whistled through Blaize’s teeth. I gaped at the cops. “Cut? By whom?”

“We were hoping you could tell us.” He flipped open a notebook, pen poised. Must be an old-fashioned cop who preferred tradition. “Do you have any enemies, Monsieur Kingcaid?”

I laughed. “My family has businesses all over the globe. Enemies come with the territory.”

“This feels more personal, though,” Blaize said, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t think—”

“No. I don’t.” I glared. It wasn’t Henry’s family. Not after all this time. If they were going to exact revenge, they’d hardly have waited over nine years to do something about it.

The cop’s eyes volleyed between me and Blaize, his jaw tight. “If there’s someone we should talk to, then it’s important you tell us.”

I pondered his question, giving it careful consideration. The only person I’d pissed off recently was Lee’s ex. Benedict wouldn’t do something like this, though. Would he?

“Monsieur Kingcaid,” the cop prompted. “This is a criminal investigation. Withholding information is a serious offense.”

I scratched my forehead, flicking strands of hair out of my eyes. “My girlfriend and I recently went to her ex’s wedding. He made it clear to her that he wanted her back. But I don’t see him doing something like this. He’s spineless. Weak. He wouldn’t have the guts to tamper with brakes on a car, nor deal with the consequences.”

“Let us determine someone’s capability to commit a crime, Monsieur Kingcaid. His full name, please.”

Chapter33

Leesa

Saved again by my beautiful, damaged, surfer-loving, billionaire beach-club owner.

My stitches itched,and although it took superhuman effort not to scratch, my doctor’s stark warnings about scarring did their job. If I absentmindedly clawed at my face, I’d put on a pair of mittens. Or wear oven gloves. Although, both would make everyday tasks like going to the loo or cooking a little tricky.

Then again, what did it matter if I scratched? A small, confrontational part of me celebrated the disfigurement, almost a “fuck you” to the world who dared to judge women solely on their looks. Besides, I had more than enough to keep me occupied. When I’d told Papa about Ayesha and my idea to launch a body positivity modeling agency, he’d given me the phone numbers of a couple of contacts worth talking to. As determined as I was to do this by myself, I’d take all the contacts I could get.

Dash jumped up onto my lap and curled into a ball. I stroked his soft fur. “Just you and me, puss. We’ll be okay. Bank on it.” He purred, then hopped down, heading for the kitchen. Ah, he wanted his dinner. I followed him, refilled his water, and opened a packet of his favorite tuna cat food.

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