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At eleven p.m. that night Roman and I walked hand in hand to Chopin’s grave at Pere Lachaise. There were so many colorful flowers covering his resting place, lit softly by the cemetery lights, you could barely see it. A man in a dark suit stood at the foot of the grave, his black hair trimmed into a stylish sweep across his forehead. I could only see his profile: a strong jaw, cheekbones of a Renaissance sculpture and a pair of impossibly defined lips. Could this be Sevastian? As I got closer I realized he was humming something familiar. Was that…Rock-a-bye Baby?

The humming cut off. Roman and I both halted.

“Do you know that Chopin does not rest entirely here?” the man asked, his voice crisp and deep with a hint of an Eastern European accent. He was staring at the marble statue of the kneeling woman in robes on the headstone. “Chopin’s grave contains everything…but his heart. According to his dying wish, his heart was sent back to Warsaw, Poland.” He turned to face us, revealing a set of intense cerulean eyes framed with thick dark lashes. I thought I could see a flicker of annoyance in them, but it was gone before I could be sure. “I told you not to bring her.”

Roman tensed beside me. “Where I go, she goes. What I know, she knows. Any decisions, we make together.”

“Your affection for each other would be heartwarming. If I had a heart. Have you made a decision on my offer?”

Roman and I glanced over at each other, our eyes locking. He squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

He looked over to Sevastian and nodded.

“Very good.” Sevastian turned to leave.

“Why are you helping us?” I asked, stopping him.

Sevastian raised a dark eyebrow. “Would you believe me if I said I was doing it out of the goodness of my heart?”

I almost laughed. “No.”

He smiled. “Smart one, she is,” he said to Roman. “Keep her.”

“And this favor,” I said, suspicion coating my voice. “Why a favor? Why not money?”

Sevastian chuckled and shook his head. “So sweet, so lovely.”

I felt Roman bristling beside me. I squeezed his hand. Stay calm, Roman.

He remained at my side, relaxing slightly, but remaining on alert. He squeezed back. Just say the word, I’ll choke the life out of him.

“I have money,” Sevastian said. “Lots of money. If I ever need more I can get more. Money is worthless to me. Now, a favor bestowed from powerful people, people with…connections or access to information, that is worth something.”

As Sevastian spoke, I felt as if a cold draft had been let in through my body. I fought a shiver. Sevastian was not someone I ever wanted to cross.

“You’ll get a message from me when it’s done,” he said. “One more if I am ever in need of your help. Otherwise, you’ll never hear from me again.”

That, at least, was a blessing.