Chapter TwentyAT TEN MINUTES TO SEVEN, Acacia left her room.
She assumed Nicholas dressed for dinner but was unable to do so herself. The contents of her rolling bag had been gathered in a panic and were entirely haphazard. She had underwear, but only the bra she was wearing; cosmetics, but no shampoo. For dinner, she opted for black jeans and a black T-shirt, since they matched.
She hadn’t slept well. In her dreams, she’d been chased through the streets of Paris and had hidden inside a darkened corner of Notre-Dame. Her attackers found her and dragged her outside. She’d woken up only to fall back to sleep and suffer a variation of the same dream—faceless men chasing her on foot through the Latin Quarter of Paris.
Acacia was halfway down the stairs when she realized she’d forgotten her
