Killain's POV
Paris greeted us with a grey sky and a chill that clung to the air-fitting for the reason I was here. This trip wasn't leisure, and it definitely wasn't a coincidence. I was here for one purpose: the painting Richard Kent had left behind and Arianna unknowingly turned out to be the key to it. Fate had handed me an advantage wrapped in innocence.
At the hotel, the staff bowed, addressing me by name. “Monsieur McLeod, bienvenue.” The McLeod name always opened doors in Europe- wealth had that effect.
Arianna, on the other hand, looked stunned by the luxury, her eyes widening as we stepped into the grand lobby of the Le Mirage Hôtel chandeliers dripping crystals and gold.
“Your room is on the 10th floor,” I handed her the key card. Her fingers brushed mine as she took the ca
