The French Thief: An International Legacies Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  “Publicly kissing her is one thing, André, but spending a private night together in a hotel room?” Hélène says, her voice filled with disgust and disappointment. “The only thing that accomplished was to incur suspicion, specifically from the Order. Never mind tainting yourself…and the risk of producing a half-breed?” She actually shudders at the thought.

  This time my facade remains intact. I’m used to her white supremacist ramblings, but now that I’ve experienced them directed specifically at Brielle, I find it hard not to react.

  All the same, I’m in no hurry to extend this meeting longer than it needs to be. At some point, the facade will crack and I will lash out. Probably starting with the smug pig sitting across from me.

  “I’m attempting to get her to reveal the location of the diaries. Unless there’s yet another ulterior motive here that I’m not aware of?”

  “Merde!” Hélène exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Can you for once just do something as ordered without question? Obedience leads to inclusion, André. My protection of you can only last so long.”

  That one has me suddenly interested again. “Why would I need protection?”

  “I think the better question is, why your grandmother sacrificed so much to maintain this protection for so long,” Bernard says, the smirk on his face becoming even more smug.

  “Bernard!” her voice is even more insistent this time.

  He just ignores her, eyes still boring into me as if trying to pierce the mask he obviously knows I’m wearing. “Nonsense, if he wants to learn all our secrets, I think we should start with the ones most relevant to him.”

  “This meeting is over!” Hélène hisses, standing up as she makes the announcement.

  “I’d like to know,” I say, my voice like granite, even as I feel the dread begin to seize my veins.

  Hélène remains standing as if to encourage us to heed her order. Both of us continue to ignore her.

  Bernard is now wearing a full-fledged smile. “What do you think happened to your father? That he just wandered off?” he taunts.

  Hélène sinks to the sofa in defeat.

  I remain impassive, mostly because I always suspected the truth. The way my mother continued to speak lovingly about him even when it was apparent he was never coming back was my first clue. Later, learning about her side of the family tree, and then his, cemented it in my mind.

  “That you, the Werwolf Order killed him?” I say, just for confirmation.

  Bernard laughs, making me want to jump out of my seat and punch him. What I get is far more satisfactory.

  “Of course they did. A man with no past? No family? No assurances that his blood was pure? A man who corrupted your mother even more than she already was, filling her head with vicious lies about her own mother, her own heritage?” he shrugs. “It was an easy decision to make.”

  “How?” I ask, hearing the hitch in my voice betray me.

  “One bullet, one empty ditch, the way it should be. We’re nothing if not efficient. Unfortunately, that didn’t put an end to things. Your mother was intent on discovering the truth.”

  I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. Already my fists are curling into balls, ready to recklessly react to what he’s about to tell me.

  “Bernard.” This time Hélène’s voice is murderously low.

  Without so much as looking her way, he places one hand up to silence her. Even though I despise my grandmother, I hate him all the more for that small gesture of disrespect.

  “Killing your father earned neither your grandmother nor you any bonus points. Killing your mother, on the other hand…”

  He shrugs and tilts his head as though to casually say they had no choice.

  I feel my vision go completely red. Now, I fully understand how my great-grandfather succumbed to attempted murder. I turn my gaze to my grandmother and find the truth of what Bernard has said in the tears that begin to fall from her downcast eyes.

  “How could you?”

  Her gaze remains firmly focused on the floor as she tightens her lips and shakes her head, refusing to either answer or look at me.

  “I see you both have a lot to discuss,” Bernard says with a satisfied tone in his voice as he lifts his large body out of the chair. Before walking away, he turns to me with a warning glance. “You have until Friday to handle Brielle. Otherwise, we will have to resort to a more…final solution.”

  He laughs at his little joke before heading toward the front door and leaving.

  I disregard him for the moment to turn my wrath on my grandmother, the woman who had a part in my mother’s—her own daughter!—death.

  Murder.

  Relabeling what I always thought was an accident only reignites my rage.

  “Look at me!” I roar.

  She stifles the flow of tears and with one deep sniff, lifts her head to give me a defiant look. “Your mother was no longer my daughter, a traitor to the cause. Why do you think it took me so long to tell you the truth about what you were doing? Why do you think you’ve been on the outer circle for so long? Because—”

  “Fuck the circle!” I shout, causing her to flinch.

  I think back to when she first took me in, now wondering how honest those tears she shed with me were. I think about how easily she lured me into my life of crime, making it seem not only ethical but exciting.

  Then, I think back to when she revealed our role in the Werwolf Order. I was a freshly minted adult then, and the sense of betrayal and self-disgust was nothing compared to what I feel now. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to leave and never talk to her again…until Celeste.

  That thought calms me only a little bit, suppressing the rage that currently colors my common sense. Now, I have more reason than ever to bring the entire Order to its knees.

  “You can’t leave the Werwolf Order, André. Not now that you know too much. Why do you think I still work with them?”

  “That’s no excuse. You know everything, far more than me. Enough to destroy them all.”

  She blinks in surprise. “Why would I do that? I’ve long come to terms that they did what they needed to do. I may not—” Her voice catches. “I may not agree with their methods, but I still believe in the cause. Don’t forget it was because of a Jew that your great-grandmother was nearly killed. The Werwolf Order is the only reason my parents made it out of France when everyone here turned against them. They are the only reason they were able to thrive in Argentina. They are the only reason I was able to come back with a clean slate. They are my family—your family.”

  “No. No, they aren’t. They never were.”

  A cynical smile comes to her face. “Then they’ll kill you…and Brielle Christopher. Unlike your mother, I’m giving you fair warning. You keep that in mind the next time you think of doing something reckless.”

  I stare at her for a long moment. “Oh, I won’t forget.”

  I don’t bother waiting around for her response, or doing her the honor of saying goodbye. I don’t know how long I can keep from doing something “reckless” at this moment.

  Once I’m back on the street, I fall against the side of the building and close my eyes, breathing deeply to collect myself. When I open them, I scan the sidewalks, now realizing that I’m under constant surveillance. Thank God I had the good sense not to introduce Elle to Celeste in person.

  By now, the two of them have to be wondering where I’ve gone. I quickly walk back to the metro and head back to my apartment.

  It’s only once I’m safely inside the front foyer of the building that I pull out my phone. I press on the app that I opened when I first entered Hélène’s apartment and closed out of as soon as I exited. The first voice I hear is my own.

  “Bernard Gaultier.”

  “I see that there is no need to introduce the two of you.”

  “I’m quite familiar with him.”

  That’s good enough for me. Everyone’s voice is loud enough to be not only heard
but recognized.

  The irony is that, despite being on the “outer circle,” I was trusted enough for both of them to be perfectly frank with me. I can only attribute this to the fact that I’ve played along with their schemes, to the point of criminal activity, long enough to evade too much suspicion.

  It was something I thought of long ago, back when meetings were only between Hélène and me. She was wise enough not to be too self-incriminating, at least out of context.

  It was Bernard’s ego that did him in. I think of the smug look on his face as he told me about my parents’ murders. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he’s the first domino to go down.

  Inside my apartment, I’m pleased to see Celeste and Elle still happily chatting. I can only imagine how much she’s learned about me. If she can manage to hold my grandmother’s interest this long, she must be something special.

  Which I’ve known all along.

  “I knew it even before Jaques found out that Lisette was no longer tied to the Werwolf Order,” Celeste is saying. “It was in his voice when he finally got in touch with me. Never mind the fact that it took him so long to get at the truth, almost as though he didn’t want to confirm that she was a member.”

  My grandmother is talking about my mother and father. I’ve heard the story of their meeting many times.

  Elle laughs, her eyes rolling up to me as I enter. A brilliant smile comes to her face, causing that dimple to deepen. It reaches her eyes, causing them to gleam with pleasure.

  “Cherchez la femme, as we say. Look for the woman. It was either the city or Lisette that had a hold on him. Once he found out she had cut all ties to her mother and those terrible people, he wouldn’t stop talking to me about her. That’s when I knew…it was the woman.”

  The only two women in the world I can talk to about what I’ve learned today are now are, in essence, right here before me. I listen to my grandmother’s voice, nostalgic as she reminisces about happier times. I watch the woman sitting on my couch laugh and smile more than she has in a long time.

  “You have until Friday to handle Brielle.”

  That’s four days away.

  It can wait.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Elle

  “Is that my grandson you are rolling your eyes to?”

  “Yes, he’s finally back,” I say, allowing them to settle on André as he approaches.

  I’ve completely lost track of time as Celeste—quite possibly the world’s greatest storyteller—regaled me with stories about André and his parents, her own life growing up in Italy, the snippets she gathered from Lili’s diary about the Ardants and Noémie.

  “Have you been spilling all my dirty secrets?” André says to his grandmother in an easy voice that belies the slightly concerned look I saw on his face when he first entered.

  “That would take much longer than the hour that you were gone,” she retorts. “So what was this surprise you had for this lovely woman sitting next to you?”

  There’s a blank look on is face, as though he has no idea what she’s referring to. He’s quick to recover.

  “Still a surprise,” He says with a grin.

  “Well, I suppose that’s my cue to leave you two to enjoy what little remains of the day,” she says with a sigh. “I look forward to hearing all about this surprise the next time we talk.”

  André smiles at the screen. “Absolument, grand-mère. À bientôt.”

  “Au revoir, André,” she says, fondly smiling back at him. The smile brightens as she shifts her gaze to me. “Goodbye, ma cherie.”

  “Adieu,” I reply, feeling impressed with myself for actually using one of the few words I know in French, just so I don’t sound like I’m mimicking the two of them.

  Celeste tsks-tsks my attempt. “Adieu implies we will not be seeing each other again.”

  I grin at her, not even feeling embarrassed. How can I when she’s so sweet about it?

  “À bientôt?” I say, repeating her words.

  “Bien,” she compliments, nodding her head. “I look forward to seeing you again as well, Elle. Hopefully next time in person?”

  “I look forward to it.”

  She’s the first to sign off. André closes the laptop and I turn to him.

  “So where have you been and what is this surprise?” I say, wriggling with anticipation. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy with life—the last time I felt such a warm, comforting feeling. I don’t even crave anything sweet right now. The man sitting next to me is enough to sate all my needs.

  Having chatted with Celeste for so long, I now understand the fondness he felt for Georgette. I might as well have been talking with the woman who raised me…with a French accent.

  Instead of answering my question, his eyes wander over my face as though studying every detail. My own eyes get lost in that gaze, green specks glowing like pieces of stained glass touched by the sun.

  I blink when his hand reaches out to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. This move of his usually sends tingles up my spine. Today, it’s layered with something hot and heavy, filling my body with an intense blast of heat that warms every inch of me.

  “I’ll always protect you, no matter what,” he says.

  “Okay,” I say slowly, reading his face more carefully. “Where is this coming from?”

  A small smile touches his lips. “Nowhere, just…it’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head.

  I pull away from his hand. “You have to tell me, André. No keeping secrets, not anymore—even for my own protection.”

  His smile fades, and he slowly nods in agreement. “I think I have what I need to take down the Werewolf Order.”

  “Really? That’s great, André!” I exclaim, smiling with excitement.

  “Oui, but…it means taking down some very powerful people—including my grandmother.”

  My smile disappears, and my eyes drop in understanding. As evil as Hélène is, it’s still a big deal to go against family this way, even if it is for the right reasons.

  “I know it’s hard to betray her like this.”

  “Hélène?” he says, and his brow shoots up in surprise. Then something dark fills his eyes as he looks past me. “Non, not anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  “I received an unexpected summons while I was out,” he says, with a deep crease in his brow. “Here, listen.”

  He pulls his phone out and presses an app. The first thing I hear is his voice saying Bernard Gaultier’s name. My eyes shoot up to his in surprise. André nods, urging me to continue listening.

  So the bastard was a part of the Werwolf Order after all. In retrospect, I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s probably why the painting hanging in the Gaultier Building was a fake. He knew ahead of time it would be stolen. He could collect the insurance money and keep the original while helping the Werwolf Order’s cause by eliminating one more link to their history.

  I listen to the whole thing, hearing three voices. The female voice is the only one I don’t recognize, but I assume that’s Hélène’s. My initial shock at hearing both Gaultier’s name and voice turns to disgust, then horror as the recording continues.

  “Oh, André!” I cry out when I hear about both his father’s and mother’s deaths—murders.

  He stops the tape and looks deep into my eyes. “Now, you see what I mean. If Bernard Gaultier is a part of all of this, then—”

  I reach out one hand to cup his cheek the way he does with mine. “Don’t worry about me,” I insist. “You know you have to do something with this.”

  It takes him a while, but he eventually nods in agreement. His hand comes up to press against mine, still resting on his cheek.

  “Tonight, we won’t worry about that. You have yet to see all that Paris has to offer, and you deserve to have at least one day of enjoyment without being brought into this mess again.”

  “André,” I say dismissively, thinking that’s an absurd thing to focus on consi
dering how serious this is.

  “Non,” he says. “If there is one thing I’ve learned from all of this is that we should enjoy every moment while we can…with the people we care about. Georgette? My grand-mère? My mother? What little I remember from my father? They would all agree, no?”

  My concentration had faltered the moment he mentioned people we care about. It’s been evident that André cares about me since his confession back in Victor’s old apartment. It unlocked something inside of me that shouldn’t have been so easily released. There really was something more to these past two years than pure hatred.

  “No—I mean, yes,” I say, smiling as my mind collects itself.

  “Bien,” he says, smiling and squeezing my hand. “Allons-y. I have yet to give you your surprise.”

  I smile, suddenly relishing the recklessness of what we’re doing. The last reckless thing I did was go to work for Gaultier in hopes of getting access to the painting. True, I hadn’t originally planned on stealing it, but I do distinctly remember getting excited about the idea after André suggested doing just that.

  “Allons-y,” I say, surprised at the giggle that comes on the heels of that. I don’t do giggles.

  Until André.

  This time when he squeezes my hand, he pulls it away from his face and stands up, using it to help me up from the couch.

  It’s fully dark this late in the evening, and the trendy streets of his neighborhood seem more exciting. During the day, what I saw driving toward his apartment was adorable but trendy.

  Now, the shops and galleries are lit up with bright lights that advertise high-end but hip clothing, adventurous art, eclectic cafes and bars, and the excited laughter and chatter that only youngish people living with the ease of wealth can produce. It’s…vibrant.