The Socialite by J'nell Ciesielski

Author:J'nell Ciesielski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2020-04-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

“She yelled, then I yelled. She yelled, and I yelled some more. It was ugly.” Kat swirled her glass of ginger ale around. The fizz had long since gone since she’d stormed into Barrett’s office over two hours ago. A long walk down the Seine hadn’t been enough to cool her off, and the ease of railing at someone else was too good to pass up. How he’d come by that honor he had no idea. Possibly because she was still angry at him for discovering her plot to flee to Switzerland with Ellie in tow. As if she stood a chance under Eric’s unblinking eye. From the moment he’d spotted those train tickets in Kat’s hotel room he hadn’t let Ellie out of his sight. The fiasco also known as dinner with Hitler two nights ago had been the perfect excuse to whisk them all back to Paris the following morning. He had more control in the city.

“She couldn’t understand why I was so angry. Hmm, not sure, but probably something to do with my baby sister having an affair with a married man. And not just any man, but a Nazi. Are you even listening?”

Barrett looked up from the Resistance flyer, Défense de la France, he had spread in front of him. It was the only true source of information being printed since the Nazis had seized the national papers for their own bloated propaganda. “Yes. Contrary to popular belief, I can do more than one thing at a time. I need to see what the other cells are up to since we’ve been gone.”

That and if he looked at her for too long he’d be forced to remember the last time they’d been alone together. That night in her hotel room where he’d lost complete sense for the sake of needing to prove something to himself. Only thing he’d proved was that he couldn’t trust himself when it came to Kat.

He watched her over the top of his paper. A picture of pure grace and beauty in her blue dress, though she would probably argue and proclaim it something fancy like Aegean blue. Either way, it turned her eyes to a mesmerizing shade of watercolor. One he found himself drowning in with no wish of a life preserver. She was the brightness to his gloom. The lightness to his burdens. The call to his heart, and how difficult it was not to answer it in full.

She traced a watery bead down the side of the glass. Lonely in its solitary journey, it stuttered and stopped in resistance to its fall until the heat of the air pressed it down to plop meaningless onto the desk. “Do you know what she kept saying? ‘He’s going to leave her. He’s promised me. It’s a loveless marriage and she’s vicious.’ As if that makes it any better.”

He turned the page on his paper. More guerilla attacks near Chaville. “Men like him never leave their wives.” Her sharp intake of breath jerked his attention back up.

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