Page 16 of The Crimson Lily

I wait for hours at the nearest cafe, sipping on multiple cups of coffee until it’s time to leave and my hangover is almost gone.

I walk the Place du Carrousel again and make it to the pyramid of glass, where I spot Alejandro in a blue T-shirt and beige trousers.

He waves at me, takes me in his arms, and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.

We walk the Tuileries together for a while. I tell him seventy percent of everything. I share the accident, the memory loss, the fact that William may have something to do with all this, my reunion with Béatrice…

“Damn!” he exclaims. “I never believed Béatrice leaked those papers, by the way.”

I smile. I knew I could trust him. Not as much as Béatrice, but Alejandro is far from being a bad guy. That, I just know.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Lili,” he says, with sadness in his voice—the kind of sadness you don’t know what to do with.

I really just have one question. “What happened between us?”

He looks surprised by my inquiry, then his eyes change. He remembers the memory loss part.

“We dated for a while, then you ended things,” he stutters.

He passes his hand repeatedly through his hair and clears his throat a few times.

“I wasn’t really feeling nice after that.

I saw an opening for a project in Paris, and I took it.

I’ve been here for about three months. I’ll be going back to New York in December. ”

I lay my hand on his arm, the guilt installing itself. It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way. I just know I felt the same, three months ago, when I ended things with Alejandro Reyes.

“I’m sorry, Alejandro,” I apologize.

He stops his march and looks at me. “I know. You said the same thing last time.”

He forces a smile. I know he’s still hurting, and it hurts me too. That sentiment of remorse still lingers in my heart. What have I done?

“Why did I end things?” I have to ask—I can’t not ask.

He takes a deep breath and starts walking again. Then he looks to his feet and chuckles awkwardly.

“You said it was you, not me.” He tries to say that nicely, but he’s actually begun to sound cynical. “You said you weren’t sure of your feelings. You said you didn’t want to hurt me.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Please, Liliana,” he implores. “Stop saying sorry. Why have you really come here?” His patience has run out. I can see it in his eyes. He stops and turns to face me. “Why did you have a bruise on your face?” he asks with a frown.

I have tears rising in my eyes. I don’t know what to say, nor where to start. I didn’t mention the Bratva. I haven’t mentioned the dagger yet. I have to go from what I said about William.

“I think William is going to do something very illegal,” I say. “And it all has to do with the freaking dagger Béatrice and I found in Siberia.”

“Did William hurt you?” he intervenes, incredulous.

“No!” I have to tell him; I’m on the verge of crying. “I got myself in a real bad mess, Alejandro.”

Everything comes crashing down on me. The accident, finding myself alone for two months, the Bratva at my door, Maksim’s dangerous allure, the memory of a gun, the stranger who yelled at cars, Mr. Zhang, William de Loit.

I feel lost. I’m going to crumble, but Alejandro wraps his arms around me.

He holds me tight, my face in the crook of his shoulder.

My tears want to flow like a torrent, but that doesn’t happen.

“I think someone wanted me dead,” I concede, realizing it myself.

Unconsciously, I think, he brings his hand to my face and makes me look up. For a brief second, he delves into my eyes with his own, then he goes for my lips.

We stand there, embraced, like we’re alone in the Tuileries Garden. His tongue slides between my parted lips. He’s pressing me closer, fastening his arms around me. When he releases me, I’m still a little shaken, but then something hits me. A feeling, a picture, a memory. Why I let Alejandro go.

Why I’m thinking of Maksim right at this moment.

I feel torn. Not because I led Alejandro Reyes on, but because of what I’ve never been able to feel.

The bliss of love. The delight of satisfaction.

I broke up with Alejandro to protect him from me. I have never loved a man. I have never felt satisfied, never felt fulfilled. I made it my reality that I would never feel that spark. It just isn’t for me. This is why I never let anyone come too close. I am unloving.

Numbness returns to my veins. I take a step back and search Alejandro’s eyes.

“I can’t be with you,” I say.

Alejandro forces another smile. He purses his lips before speaking again. “Figures,” he retorts, then his smile turns into something more real. “It was nice to see you again, Liliana.”

I don’t return his smile. I give him a simple nod, turn around, and take the nearest exit. I disappear back into Rue de Rivoli, my eyes swollen from the tears I still want to shed but that refuse to come out.

I figure whiskey is my drink. I sit on a stool at the Opera hotel bar, past the restaurant area and the wall of arches.

They really do like arches in Paris. I’m in my jeans, sneakers, and a large white University of Columbia sweatshirt.

My hair is halfway to blond and tied in a ponytail.

I look like a first-year student lost in a hotel they really, really cannot afford.

“What type of whiskey would you like?” the attendant, a pretty blond lady who has the same eyes as me, asks me with a warm smile.

I don’t have an answer for that one, but I know I want whiskey. I point at a bottle that looks like it contains bourbon.

She giggles a little. “That’s rum, madame.”

I chuckle and feel silly. “Surprise me,” I finally request.

She laughs a little, then grabs a bottle from the other side of the shelf and serves me a nice heavy glass. I give her my room number—Mr. Business Class can buy me whiskey tonight.

“Single malt, please,” I hear a familiar voice beside me.

Maksim, who has appeared out of nowhere in his dark-gray suit, comes to sit on the stool beside mine. He gives a dashing smile to the blond lady, who blushes like a ripening tomato.

I am now looking at him, the side of my forehead resting in my palm, admiring how attractive he is.

Man, he is handsome. I can’t hide it anymore after last night’s champagne sequence, today’s mountain of coffee and aspirin, and the encounter with Alejandro.

My emotions just go round and round in my head, which feels like it’s about to burst again. Whiskey is going to be my salvation.

“Long day?” I ask my favorite Russian man.

He turns to me and meets my eyes. I see a silver glimmer for a split second. His beautiful cerulean eyes sparkle with the light that surrounds the Opera bar.

“More or less,” he responds.

He doesn’t ask me how my day was. As usual, I can’t bear the silence, so I start making small talk.

“I went to the Tuileries today!” I announce with exaggerated glee.

He raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you avoid that place?” he asks.

I raise mine in response. “Why?”

“You said someone was after you,” he clarifies.

Ah! He did catch that detail, the one I mentioned two nights ago. I take a sip of whiskey, which hits me like a huge wave of relief. Confirmed—whiskey is indeed my drink. I basically down the thing and order another one. Maksim doesn’t really approve. I can deduce that from his frown.

“What’s the plan now?” I ask my favorite question. I swirl my glass around, staring deep into it, letting it stare back at me.

“I’m having some equipment delivered tomorrow,” he declares. “Then, I go in on Monday.”

Wow, he actually answered me. Maybe we can finally have an appropriate conversation!

“Will you need me for anything?” I wonder, hesitant, hoping he’ll say yes. I don’t know why, but at that moment, I want to feel needed. I want to feel useful.

He answers immediately. “You know how to open the safe.”

Hmm, no—well…?actually, now that he mentions it, I do know.

Everything about that safe comes back in that instant.

I know the initial combination to get the first set of locks to open.

I know about the inner puzzle box William picked because he fancies ancient mysteries.

And I know about the last piece of clockwork, the final engineering riddle that keeps the dagger safe.

Maksim won’t be able to open it without my help.

I’m not sure how long I’ve remembered it for, but I do, and that’s all that matters.

After that, the Bratva will have their dagger, and I will go back to New York.

Yes, back to New York. Back to my regular life. I’ll be roaming the streets of the Big Apple looking for more memories to collect. Looking for clues to the woman I was.

But can I even go back?

I gulp the second glass of whiskey and order a third. Maksim remains silent. Just freaking silent. It bothers me, irritates me. I can’t let the stillness consume me any longer; it’ll drive me insane.

“I think I had a gun held to my head two months ago, and I think I saw the man responsible for it here,” I murmur softly, then feel a lump in my throat forming as the glaze of tears appears over my eyes. “I don’t know yet how this connects to William and to my…?accident.”

He says nothing still. He simply sips on his glass of whiskey. I let my anger vanish into this pit of sadness. I feel lost, like I did earlier today.

“Do you know if that man was from the Bratva?” I ask, anxious about the answer. I don’t want it to be a yes. I can’t bear that because that will mean I’m not safe near this Russian man, despite how I feel right now. It will mean that, as soon as the job is done, I will be discarded—my worst fear.

“If the Bratva had pointed a gun at your head, it would have been mine,” Maksim firmly declares.