Mia sat in the back seat of the sleek black car, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as the city lights of Paris blurred past. Liam sat beside her, his gaze steady on the road, while Adrian lounged in the opposite seat with his long legs stretched out. Dain drove, his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze sharp in the rearview mirror.
“You really think your father’s going to tell you the truth?” Adrian’s voice was sharp and cutting.
Mia’s gaze slid toward him. “He doesn’t have a choice.”
Adrian’s mouth curled faintly. “You’d be surprised how slippery men like Laurent Bellerose can be.”
Mia’s jaw flexed. Her pulse hammered painfully beneath her skin. She could still feel the weight of Viktor’s gaze—the chill of his voice.
Liam’s hand brushed over her knee. “He’ll talk.” His voice was
