Season of Desire: Complete Edition (42 page)

I pull my phone out. It’s Beth’s name on the display. ‘Jacob, it’s my friend, she’ll be worried about me. Let me answer and tell her I’m safe—’

‘I don’t give a shit!’ shouts Jacob and he goes to snatch the phone from me. As quickly as I can, I press to connect the call and cry out, ‘Beth, I’m with Jacob, he’s got me!’

But I don’t know how much she can hear, if anything, before Jacob hits me hard across the face with one hand and takes the phone with the other.

I gasp with pain and shock as the sting of his flat palm burns over my cheek. I turn to stare at him. His face is a mixture of anger and fear, as though he can hardly believe what he’s just done.

‘Jacob!’ I say in a stunned voice. ‘You hit me! What are you doing? What the hell are you thinking?’

He looks like a frightened boy for a moment, and then his face becomes maddened and resolute. ‘Don’t you talk to me like that,’ he hisses. ‘You’re to blame for all this shit! You’ve ruined my life and you’re going to damn well pay for it!’

‘What are you talking about?’ I demand, angry now myself. ‘How have I ruined your life? I didn’t force you to sleep with those prostitutes!’

He looks furious and I wonder for a moment if he intends to hit me again. Then he pulls back, and says, ‘Don’t say another fucking word, Freya. I mean it.’

I decide to keep quiet for now. Jacob is clearly in a volatile state and I don’t want to make things worse. I knew he would be upset by the press reports, but his reaction seems out of all proportion – and how can he think of blaming me for it? I have the distinct feeling that I need to find out more about what’s brought him to this, but that I’ll need to tread carefully while Jacob is this agitated.

I gaze out of the window, continuing to wonder where we’re heading. I wanted to get close to Miles and instead I’m being taken further away from him. Is this how it’s going to be for us, with the world doing its best to keep up apart? He doesn’t even know yet that I’m in Paris. What will Beth do about the fact that I’ve disappeared? She doesn’t have a way to contact my family. But then, I remember with a fresh hit of despair, I can’t trust Jane-Elizabeth after all. A piece of the jigsaw falls into place – how would Jacob have known how to find me if he hadn’t been told about my whereabouts by the one person who knew I might be at the Hôtel le Bristol? Who, of course, is Jane-Elizabeth.

The whack that Jacob gave me across my face counts as no pain at all compared to this awful blow.

The car comes to a halt in front of a row of garages in a back street. I wonder where on earth we can be and the unsavoury atmosphere of the location makes me even more apprehensive. The next moment Jacob is round at my side of the car, opening the door and hauling me out.

‘What are you doing?’ I shriek, really scared now. ‘Let me go!’

He grabs my arms and I realise that the driver has got out and has opened one of the garage doors. Jacob pushes me over towards the dark space beyond.

‘Jacob!’ I cry, bewildered. He isn’t the man I remembered at all – the old Jacob would never treat me like this.
What on earth is he capable of now?
‘Stop it! No!’

He won’t listen and he’s far too strong for me. Against my will, I’m half pushed and half pulled to the sour-smelling darkness, then he shoves me hard so that I fall down on to the cold concrete floor. He steps back, slams down the door and just as I shout ‘No!’ one more time, it closes with a crash and I’m alone in complete blackness.

I sit on the chilly concrete for several minutes, trying to take in what’s just happened. I’m completely bewildered by how everything has transformed for me in such a short time. Just over an hour ago, I was drinking tea with Beth in a luxurious flat in St-Germain. Now I’m alone in the dark in a freezing garage in God only knows where, with no phone and no way out. I’m half terrified and half confused. I can’t believe that Jacob would really hurt me, and yet he’s already struck me a hard blow across the face. Why is he so angry? How can he possibly blame me for the revelation of his sordid past? He must realise that I had nothing to do with it.

I’m shivering, despite my warm coat and hat. The darkness is beginning to oppress me and awful feelings of fear are swirling up inside me. I’m alone. I know this terrible sensation from all those years ago, but somehow the fear is magnified by the blackness I’m surrounded by and the utter isolation. I’m shaking all over, on the edge of hysteria and total panic.

Stay calm, stay calm!
I pull in a deep gasping breath and release it on a shaky exhale. I do it again and again. I hear a voice in my mind.

Winter, you’re brave and strong. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let them break you.

‘Miles?’ I whisper. ‘Miles?’

There’s no answer from the silent blackness but I feel some measure of comfort somehow, as though Miles is thinking about me and sending me strength. I know I can endure this if I have to because I’m certain Miles believes I can.

I don’t know how long I’m alone in the darkness. At one point, I try to get up and find my way to the wall so I can feel my way around and maybe locate a light switch but the enterprise is too difficult and dangerous. There are obstacles in my way and I have no idea what I might be grasping hold of. I sink back to the floor and wait, passing the time by thinking about Miles and recalling every moment we’ve spent together since that day when we plunged down the mountain together.

Keep the faith, Miles said to me as he left me yesterday morning, and I’m going to do that. We might not be together at this very moment but I can still take strength from him.

I will keep the faith. I won’t let anyone break me again.

It feels like about three hours later when the sound of an engine outside brings me back to the present moment. I’m instantly alert. I’ve thought hard about what Jacob’s motives could be for imprisoning me like this, but I’ve drawn a blank. I need to make sure he stays calm now – I have a feeling he’s teetering on the edge of doing something stupid in retaliation for whatever it is he thinks I’ve done to him.

There’s a crash and the garage door opens, revealing the dark shape of a man. I blink hard, trying to make out if it’s Jacob.

‘Get up,’ says a harsh voice in heavily accented English. It’s not Jacob’s.

‘Who are you?’ I call. ‘Where’s Jacob?’

‘No questions,’ he retorts. ‘I take you to Jacob.’

I realise he probably doesn’t have enough English to answer me anyway, and his mention of Jacob reassures me a little. Besides, I’m desperate to get out of here. I’ve been as strong as I can, but the cold, lonely darkness is almost more than I can stand.

The voice says more sternly, ‘Come out here. Get in the car.

‘Okay, I’m coming.’ I’m stiff with the cold of sitting on the concrete floor and I stagger as I get up. The man grabs my arm and yanks me hard, so that I almost fall before I catch my balance. Then he pulls me out of the garage and into the street, where the dim light from the street lamps on the road is incredibly comforting after the pitch black inside the garage. A car is waiting, its engine purring and the back door open. The man thrusts me on to the back seat of the car and I catch a glimpse of him: he’s a meaty type with a buzz cut and the kind of stupid mean face that gazes out of pictures accompanying stories about mindless killers. He slams the door shut, climbs into the front seat and we’re driving off, heading somewhere else entirely.

I don’t think there’s any point in asking this thug questions: he doesn’t seem like the confiding type. I wonder if I should try to escape, but I’m so tired and stiff now, I wouldn’t be likely to make much of a fist of it. Besides, they’re apparently taking me to Jacob, and he’ll be able to explain what’s going on. It’s been a very long day, and the cold and shock I’ve suffered have exhausted me. The purring engine of the car is soothing and I have a deep desire to sleep but I know I must fight it. Rather than waste my energy trying to run, I should keep my wits about me. It’s what Miles would tell me to do, I know that.

Stay alert, Winter. Where are they taking you and why?

We’re back in the busier streets of the city now. There are bright lights and people everywhere. Where are we going?

I try to think it through as we go. Would Jacob really want to hurt me? He’s vain and cocksure, but he’s essentially weak. Despite the slap he gave me, I can’t believe he would harm me. It doesn’t fit with anything I’ve known about him.

I can hear Miles’s voice again, almost as if he were at my ear, talking softly.

Maybe he’s changed. Perhaps he’s fallen in with a bad crowd. Maybe there are tough guys who’ve got close to him for the sake of his money. Don’t take anything for granted, Winter. Do you understand?

Jacob must blame me for the story getting out. But what good will it do to hurt me after the event? It’s out there now. We both have to face that. The only way to deal with it is to live it down in silence and with as much dignity as we can muster, until it’s yesterday’s news and no one cares.

I think of Jane-Elizabeth, and imagine her sending emails and making furtive calls to contacts in the press, passing on my secrets and no doubt getting a handsome payback at the same time. She is probably the source of this whole scandal as well. Should I tell Jacob that, to convince him I’m not to blame?

The thought of Jane-Elizabeth’s betrayal feels me with deep, almost unbearable sadness.

Why, Jane-Elizabeth? Do you really hate me that much? Does Dad not pay you enough to secure your loyalty?

I realise that the car is pulling to a halt again, this time outside a place I recognise, except that we are not stopping at the front as I expect, but around the back. I’m hustled out of the car and through a side entrance, then into a service elevator where my new friend presses the penthouse button. I know where we’re going now, and I stand straight and silent, not willing to speak to the thug at my side. It’s not as though he has anything to tell me anyway. The elevator begins its glide towards the top of the building.

Where are you, Winter?

I’m at Jacob’s apartment. I know this place.

Stay alert, okay? I want you to look after yourself.

I will.

The conversation that’s going on with Miles in my head is keeping me calm. The service elevator opens and the hard guy with me pushes me out and along a corridor. We walk along at a quick pace, and I can tell he’s nervous that we might be seen. Hence the service elevator, I suppose.

I suddenly think about Thierry. He must be having one hell of a terrible day. From the moment I leapt out of the car and headed off alone, he must have been sweating with anxiety. And now his worst nightmares have come true. The boss’s daughter has been abducted on his watch. He might not even know. He might still pacing the suite at the Hôtel de Vendôme, wondering where the hell I am and when he has to make the phone call to Pierre that he’s dreading, the one where he confesses that he’s fucked up badly. I feel bad that I’ve put him in this position but I really had no choice. I’ll sort things out for him if I can.

I wonder what Beth is thinking now, and how much she heard of my shouted message. What good will it do anyway? Perhaps she’s called the police. I hope fervently that she hasn’t. It will be world news within the hour if she has, and that will do no one any good.

We’re at the penthouse door now, and the guy knocks on it lightly, his head flicking from side to side as he glances up and down the corridor. A few moments later, the door opens: another heavy, this time in a black suit, but with the same mean expression on his face, though this one doesn’t seem quite as stupid as the other, perhaps because of a cunning look in his piggy eyes.

Oh God, you were right, Miles. Jacob is in with some tough guys. What’s he thinking of? He’s not like this, he’s really not. He’s just a kid.

And now he’s a kid out of his depth, Winter. He’s going to be scared and that will make him dangerous. Stay very calm, do you understand?

‘This way,’ grunts the man in the suit, and leads me up the stairs. I don’t need him. I know this apartment well. I’ve been to lots of parties here, with more spoiled kids than you could count, when the music’s thumped and the drinks have flowed, and the drugs have spilled out over the glass coffee tables. Drugs aren’t my scene but I’ve seen plenty of people indulging, getting high as they stare out over the magnificent view of Paris through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’ve also been here alone with Jacob, watching movies with him on his cinema-screen-sized television, while the maid brought us cold beers or tubs of popcorn or whatever else we wanted. I can’t believe how many vapid hours I’ve wasted here.

And now I’m back. And there’s Jacob, sitting in his big black armchair, the one he liked to call his Bond villain chair, with one leg crossed over the other. Despite his tan, his face is pale, his skin sweaty and his pupils dilated. His light brown hair looks dingy and he’s fidgeting badly. He doesn’t look right at all.

The two heavies have escorted me so that I’m standing right in front of Jacob, beside one of his low glass coffee tables on the white Mongolian goatskin rug. Outside, Paris shimmers in blue and gold and touches of neon, a sparkling blanket laid out below us. I can see myself and Jacob and the two meaty men reflected in the black windows.

This feels so unreal. Maybe it’s why I’m calm.