Revealing Us (Inside Out #3)(55)

“I don’t care how it happened, as long as she’s not a suspect,” Chris says into the phone, glancing up and motioning me forward. “Just get her passport reissued.”

Chris falls into listening mode and I walk around the desk, leaning on the edge next to him as he says, “Of course, we’ll go to the embassy for the paperwork. Just tell us when.” He takes my hand and smiles up at me, and I smile back as I digest what I’ve just learned. I’m not a suspect in Rebecca’s murder, and my passport situation seems to be in the process of being resolved.

Add to that my business starting to take shape, and so far, today is a much better day than yesterday.

“I have another call coming in, Stephen,” Chris announces.

“Let me call you back—or better yet, call me back when you have Sara’s paperwork in order.”

He ends the call and glances at me. “Just one more minute. This will be fast.” I nod and he hits the button on his phone to answer his incoming call. He immediately says, “I hear Garner Neuville has been making a showing there on the weekends.”

I listen eagerly.

A female voice replies, “He might.”

Something about the voice sends unease through me.

“That’s a yes,” Chris replies, sounding irritated.

“Not a yes, but a ‘make it worth my while,’ ” the female replies, and my chest lutters with the suggestive comment.

Chris squeezes my hand, willing me to look at him. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Isabel.” His tone is biting in a way I never hear from him. “Call me when he shows up. And don’t tell him you did it.” He kisses my hand.

“It’s been weeks since he’s been in, Chris.” She sounds snappy now.

“Then he’s due a visit,” Chris replies, and hangs up. He reaches for me and pulls me in front of him. “She’s just a contact to try to get to Neuville. I’m making sure Neuville doesn’t get to screen me out. We have mutual acquaintances, and I’m putting them to use to get a one-on-one.”

I nod and settle my hand on his jaw. “Yes. I know, and I appreciate all you’re doing.” I let my ingers trail downward, his one-day stubble rasping against the softness of my ingers.

His eyes narrow. “But?”

“I’m not jealous, if that’s what you think. I just . . . I felt this pinch in my chest, hearing her taunt you like that. I’m not sure why.”

His hand settles on my upper thigh. “You’re in a strange country, and you’ve had a week of hell. I’d say that’s a pretty good reason.”

I lean in and kiss him, wondering why this is bothering me.

“I love that I can say anything to you.”

He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, warmth radiating in his voice when he says, “I love that you say what’s on your mind, rather than get upset. How was your call?”



I ease back fully onto the desk. “It was good. Really good.

I’ll tell you about it, but is there any news on Ella at all?”

“Not yet. I’m working every angle I can. I have people looking into everything, from any changes to Neuville’s inancial portfolio to any trips out of the country. Speaking of which, your passport situation should be in order in the next few days.

Stephen’s been assured it was an administrative error.”

“And yet the embassy questioned me and knew about Rebecca?”

“I said the same thing, but what matters is you’re not a suspect, and they’re clearing your passport.” His hands settle on my hips. “Tell me about your call with the attorney.” I relax and share all the details, and when I inish, he stands up and laces his ingers with mine. “I want to show you something.”

Our destination turns out to be an empty room on the same loor as his gallery. “You can use this as an oice.”

“It’s huge.” The size of three corner oices, with its own archway window.

“You can use it to display the art you buy and haven’t sold,”

he suggests.

The idea gets me excited all over again. “Only if you promise to paint me a dragon of my own. The one in your oice is amazing. When do I get to see the collection you said you store here?”

He pulls me close. “Next weekend. I want us to go to the place my parents left me, right outside the city. That’s where it’s at.”

I immediately think of how he’d started to say next week and stopped himself, when we’d been talking about his past.

This trip is about what he’d almost told me yesterday; I know it deep in my gut. There’s something about this trip that will reveal one of his dreaded secrets.

I step close and wrap my arms around him. “Next weekend it is,” I say, and I don’t miss the shadows in his eyes before he kisses me.

It’s near seven on Saturday evening when Chris and I inally break away from one of the staf members raving about his work at the Louvre. I tug my rain jacket closer and Chris tucks my hand in his as we step into the elevator leading to the parking garage.

“I still can’t believe I saw the Mona Lisa,” I say with a blissful sigh. “It’s much smaller than I imagined it to be.”

“It has a lot of hype,” Chris comments, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and turning me toward him.