The Paris Apartment (Love Nests Book 1)

by Sophia Karlson

  “Does dad know?”

  “No,” she sobbed. “Please…don’t tell him. Not until I’m ready.”

  She hadn’t told their dad? At that time, James had long left home for good; he’d run as far away as possible. Literally. Leaving his sister exposed. Of all the horrors, he’d never imagined this would ever have happened to her. In their home.

  Stacey had known he was always there for her. Had he really been?

  “But she knew.” Stacey’s voice broke. “Mommy knew. I told her the next day, when she’d sobered up. And then she made sure that they were both dead one week later.”

  And in the aftermath of their mom’s traumatic suicide, everything else had tumbled through the cracks.

  chapter 42

  Mila tossed Jane Eyre to the side with a discontented grunt. Why didn’t she see it coming? James was just another man with a secret. Were all men like that? Rochesters, all of them?

  The subtle sway of the train was lulling. The other passengers in her carriage were asleep, leaning their heads against windows or against each other. Couples held hands, tucked in close, which tore at her because she’d never felt so alone in her entire life.

  Not that she needed to be. Her phone had been vibrating in her pocket as if was about to rocket-launch. She stared out of the window into the night, which wasn’t dark at all. The train was passing through the outskirts of Paris, and the scenery was incongruous with everything she’d experienced from James’s luxury apartment in the heart of the city. High-rise apartment buildings blinked at her with a thousand eyes as the poorer side of town encroached on her very soul. It wasn’t pretty.

  Nothing that night had been pretty, but it had been real.

  She was in love with James Sinclair. With a man who had lived so far outside her comfort zone that she was as lost and frightened as Gretel without Hansel. She was in the void between two worlds, clueless as to which direction to take. She couldn’t navigate her way back to where she came from, but she wasn’t ready to plunge into James’s world either. She’d never be able to go there again.

  What had the past few days been like for him? She still couldn’t figure it out, despite all the comments he’d dropped. About eight months. Marlène and whatever had been happening between them had nothing to do with his ex. That night he’d said It drives me crazy that you’re all I need.

  He would have told her about the club himself sooner rather than later. That much she knew about James. He didn’t like secrets. This thing they had was too fresh, too pure, too new to bring to a sex club.

  What if she’d never known? Would it have mattered?

  She swallowed and rubbed at her brow. She’d never been so confused.

  Maybe to bolt like she’d done wasn’t fair on James. One thing was sure—she’d never be the same person again and keeping her heartache from her family was going to be torturous if not futile. She simply didn’t want to go back home and face any of them. Never mind the doses of shame she’d be forced to swallow for her actions, her family would expect her to conform to the same mold of perfect saintliness she’d been squashed into from birth, despite a broken heart.

  She’d be living a lie.

  Those days were over. She couldn’t live in pretense, as if nothing had changed. Even if she never told them about James, even if they never guessed, it was more than that. The past week in Paris had liberated her on more than one level.

  When her phone vibrated again she pulled it from her pocket with resignation. Paris was long gone and that deep into the night nobody would pack up and follow her.

  Stacey’s happy face smiled at her from the screen. A warm rush of relief swept through her. James had managed to pull her from Marlène and Damien’s clutches. The least she could do was to let Stacey know that she was all right. She’d pass the message on to James.

  “Hi, Stace.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mila.” Her voice sounded exhausted, broken by too many tears. “I should never have taken you there. If I’d known—”

  “It’s okay, Stace. Good Lord,” she chuckled mirthlessly, trying to de-stress the situation. “To think we got in there for free. You saw the club fees on that document we had to sign? They’re crazy.”

  “I feel bought. Cheap.”

  Mila closed her eyes. Of all the things Stacey should feel, those were the last she’d wanted for her friend.

  Stacey breathed into the phone. “Where are you? I feel horrible for having left you alone with Marlène.”

  “I… I’m going out of Paris for a few days.” Mila swallowed, now knowing she’d left both Stacey and James in the lurch. “I’m sorry. It was all just too much.”

  “You’re telling me. James is a caged beast. He wants to talk to you too.”

  “I—” She broke off, biting her tongue to stop every emotion pouring into the phone. “Stace, I can’t. Not now. Please.”

  “Okay…” A beat of silence followed. “Is there something I need to know here?”

  Mila lowered her head, groaning. “Can we talk tomorrow?” she whispered. “It’s late, and I really, really need to digest a few things.”

  “I have to tell you something too,” Stacey admitted softly. “But tomorrow is better, honestly. I’m drained.”

  They rung off and Mila stared out of the window. The landscape had changed; gone were the bright city lights. As the countryside sped past, she seemed to have entered a tunnel, in which the little lights of a hundred exits beckoned. She had no clue which one to take, as if she had a choice in changing the direction of the train.

  James brushed his hand down Stacey’s arm and gathered her in a sideways hug. “She’s okay?”

  “Yes, but she didn’t tell me where she’s going. But she’s safe.”

  He sighed but gave way. He had to also respect Mila’s feelings and actions in this imbroglio.

  “What’s going on, James?” Stacey slipped from his grip. Her eyes scanned his face, searching. “Mila said she had something to tell me… and surely she wouldn’t have run off like that if nothing had happened?”

  There was no getting away with it—how could he not tell her the truth when she’d bared everything to him? He was going to look like a monster, and in his sister’s eyes, one of his princesses, that was the last thing he’d ever wanted to be.

  “I slept with Mila.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, it was more like we slept with each other.”

  Stacey’s eyes widened as she scanned his face, emotions flashing back at him like mirrors to his own soul. Did she think exactly the same of him as he’d thought that first morning? He was a debauched, defiling son of a bitch who had no right to Mila’s sweet innocence.

  But then there was more. Her gaze softened and she bit her lip. “Were you easy on her? She was a virgin.”

  After her revelations about Nick, these were the last words he wanted to hear from Stacey. She’d been a virgin too.

  “She didn’t tell me until after the fact.”

  Stacey’s eyes widened. “Really? Well… I hope you made it memorable.”

  “Jesus. Of course I did.”

  She looked away for a moment, gathering her hair in a twist that she let fall over her shoulder. When she met his gaze again, she shook her head. “You shouldn’t have… James—” She huffed a sigh and swallowed. “James. You can’t mess with Mila.”

  “You think the worst of me after tonight?” He’d never wanted Stacey to know. He would have hidden this dark corner of his soul from her for his entire life. And yet, between them there were no more secrets, their baggage zipped open and the fraught contents exposed.

  They were both equally fucked up.

  She reached for his hand and he took it gingerly in his. “You live your life like this because of Mommy. Because of how she hurt Dad. Don’t you?” She groaned. “You’re scared to get hurt—staying with Marlèn
e was just to be safe.”

  He shrugged, his throat tightening. She read him like a book. What did he expect? If anyone would get it, it was Stacey.

  “You’re nothing like her, Jamie.”

  He wasn’t like their mother, and never intended to be. Their mother wasn’t a swinger, she was a sexed-up, cheating egoist who’d walked over their dad as if he was a set of train tracks that crisscrossed her life again and again. Random, permanent, immovable, but to be picked over with her daintily shod feet until she could fall into her next lover’s arms. Swinging might have been his dad’s saving grace, but he hadn’t bothered getting involved.

  “I… fuck it, Stacey. I don’t understand why he never did anything to stop her. Why did Dad allow her to do that to herself? To him? To us?” He gripped her hand tighter. She was the only one who would understand the warped upbringing they’d had.

  “Because she was abused herself, Jamie. When I told her about Nick it all came out. She was brutalized early in life and for such a long time, it was the only thing she knew.” Stacey let go of his hand and wiped at her cheeks. “Until she met Dad. And he loved her despite everything. Just as she was.”

  Stacey broke down, and he had to pull her to him to clamp down on his own emotions. “And here I am, following in her footsteps, sleeping with any random guy in his messy, dinky dorm room, to get the memories of Nick out of my head.”

  “Fuck it, Stacey,” he breathed. “I wish you’d have told me sooner.”

  “I was raw… too broken to tell you. The guilt of Mommy’s death—”

  “That wasn’t your fault, Stace. It was her choice. Please.” This was killing him.

  For a long time, they stood in each other’s embrace, then Stacey whispered, “She’s perfect for you, Jamie. Mila is pure gold. She’d never do a thing to hurt you.”

  He let go and held her at arm’s length. “It’s a mess. I’m a mess? I can’t even dream of someone like her ever wanting to be with me. To want me.” To love me. “Not once they know who I am.”

  Stacey rolled her eyes. “Is that attitude supposed to get you anywhere?”

  He chuckled. At least Stacey was battle fit for him, even if she had no energy left for her own uprising.

  “Let’s get a bloody drink.” Getting his head around dealing with this situation was going to take some liquid support. Only one thing was certain: he wanted Mila Johnson by his side, and he’d do anything to get—and keep—her there.

  chapter 43

  Mila woke up, reluctantly. It was bliss to be in a fog of sleep, where everything was only a bad dream. She rubbed her eyes, sat up and pulled the stained curtain to the side. Bright sun flooded the room, making dust sparkle and dance. At least something was in good spirits.

  She groaned as James’s image popped up in her mind’s eye, and she fell back against the pillow to get a grip on her emotions. Close that tap.

  Her phone vibrated and she felt for it under her pillow. Glancing at the time, she blinked. Good Lord. It was almost eleven in the morning. She had to be out of there in no time, or pay for an extra day.

  There were several messages from Stacey; it was a miracle that she hadn’t woken up earlier.

  She rolled out of the bed, careful not to bump her head against the bunk above her. Luckily she hadn’t shared the dorm room with anybody else. Rouen didn’t appear to be the hot spot for backpackers that weekend. Propping her glasses on, she unlocked her phone and read Stacey’s messages.

  Can we meet for breakfast? Sent 08h13.

  Where are you? Sent 08h32.

  Brunch would work too. Or lunch.

  Whatever. Just let me know!!!!!!!!!!! Sent 09h54.

  Are you ignoring me? Sent 10h43.

  PS: I know about you and James,

  so no need to hide. Sent 10h45.

  A smiled tugged at Mila’s lips as heat rushed to her face. How much had James told Stacey? Possibly everything. She pressed a hand to her sternum, willing her heart to calm down.

  She was too far out of Paris to meet with Stacey. Slumping back into bed, she dialed her number. There was no way out of this one.

  “Jeez, Mila, you made me wait,” Stacey answered. “Where are you? I’m freaked out with worry.”

  “I’m sorry. I overslept and need to be out of this youth hostel by eleven.”

  “Well, come back to the apartment. We can talk—”

  “I’m no longer in Paris, Stace. I can’t come back today.” She wasn’t ready to face either James or Stacey. “How is… how is James doing?”

  “He’s going to be bald at the rate he keeps dragging his hands through his hair. I told him to go to the gym to burn off some energy.”

  “Oh. So you’re alone?” She didn’t want James to hover in the periphery of their conversation. How did Stacey feel about what had happened between her and James?

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry about James. Truly, I am. I know you had hopes of him getting back with Marlène—”

  “Fuck Marlène.”

  Mila flinched. To hear Stacey swear, the words popping out of her sweet doll’s face mouth, was always weird.

  “She never cared for James. She never cared for me… she tried to bait me with Damien! I’ve been so bloody blind. Fuck it, Mila, that woman is poison.”

  “Did James tell you why he broke up with her in the first place?”

  “About the drugs?” Stacey sighed into the phone. “Yes. It’s too close to home for comfort.”

  “What do you mean?” Too close to home?

  “Let Jamie tell you everything, please. Jamie and I spoke for a long time last night. Mila—” She broke off. “I’ve changed my ticket; I’m leaving tonight. I need to go home, back to university to go see a psych… try to fix this mess I’ve dug myself into.”

  “What?” She’d known Stacey had issues and had realized long ago that they were deep and dark. But Stacey had never confided in her, keeping everything bottled up. But now, if she was ready to see a psychologist, maybe Stacey would talk to her too. “What’s wrong, Stacey?”

  “Please, you need to look out for James,” Stacey whispered, side-stepping her question.

  “I—I’m not ready to see James again.” Would she cave in, doing anything he wanted? She couldn’t live that life with him.

  “Please, Mila. Give him a chance to explain. If… if you can find it in yourself to listen and be there for him… If you feel anything for him, you will give him one last chance. That’s all I ask.”

  “Okay.” Tears were flowing freely down Mila’s cheeks, but she forced her voice to sound unaffected.

  “Where are you?”

  Mila bit her lip. “You can tell Jamie that I’m going to visit his flowers.”

  He knew her and he’d know exactly where she’d be.

  chapter 44

  James shoved the gears to his car into reverse and the tires screeched as he sped out of his underground parking bay. He tapped on the steering wheel with both thumbs, checking the clock on the dashboard whilst waiting for the garage gate to rattle open. Energy sizzled through his veins.

  Stacey had told him about her phone call with Mila and it was no brain tease where Mila had headed. She’d wanted to go to Giverny ever since he’d taken her to L’Orangerie. The road trip there would allow him a good hour and a half to rehearse what he wanted to say. He needed to go into this with a clear head, despite having had very little sleep and after having pumped iron weights in the gym for the last two hours. How on earth was he going to deal with his past?

  With Mila by his side he could deal with anything, an inner voice whispered.

  He closed his eyes for a second, trying to shove the ghosts and demons that still encroached on him away, despite Stacey’s pep talk. Everything she had disclosed still ate at him. But at least they’d worked out a plan for her to go forward.
With some help, support and love, she would find her path again. He would make sure of that if it was the last thing he did.

  James steered his car into the empty street and, after navigating through the city center, got on to the highway.

  Arriving at Giverny in the early afternoon had its drawbacks. There was no parking available; the whole place was packed with tourists. The gardens at Monet’s house would be chaos and he had no idea how he was going to find Mila among the dense crowds.

  When he arrived at Claude Monet’s country house a thick throng of people still queued outside the entrance. He should have known—weekends were worse than weekdays. He walked past the line slowly, searching each face for the one he wanted and needed to see most.

  Mila wasn’t in the queue.

  His chest tightened with panic. What if he’d misread her intention? What if she wasn’t here and hadn’t planned to come here in the first place?

  He bought his ticket like the rest of the tourists standing in the line and entered the garden, quickly spotting a bench where he could sit and wait with his eyes glued on the exit and entrance.

  Half an hour later, his pulse rushed, his heartbeat reverberating throughout his entire body. Mila was walking in, her signature bag with all her painting things slung comfortably over her shoulder. Her long hair was loose and brushed over her breasts. She wore sexy little shorts that allowed him to drink in the beauty of her long legs.

  James rose from his seat but she didn’t notice him as she scanned the map in her hands. He strode over to her and stopped short of taking her in his arms. Instead, he covered her hand with his. “I believe the bridge is this way.”

  The map started to quiver, but she didn’t pull away.

  “James.” She looked up hesitantly, and when their gazes met her eyes filled with tears.