“Because?”
Uh-oh. That sounded murderous. I should change the subject. “Ugh. Because he’s an i***t. Forget I said anything.”
There’s a long, hard silence. “Did he threaten you?”
“No!” I pause. “I mean, not the way you mean it.”
The sound of teeth grinding together comes over the phone. “I’m tearing out my f*****g hair over here.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t want you to worry.”
“Too late. If you don’t tell me everything, I’m on the next plane back to Paris.”
What’s changed so much about me lately that I’ve now got men flying all over the world in a panic to fling themselves bodily onto my doorstep? “That’s not necessary.”
“It will be if you don’t start talking.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, the golden chain
