For 100 Nights (100 2)

“This is what you do for a living?” It makes so much m

ore sense now. The multimillion-dollar apartment in the Park Place building. The closet filled with designer clothes and shoes—a wardrobe I marveled at during my stay as her house sitter while she was in Japan those several months.

But if she isn’t an actress—

“What about the game show pilot?”

Now her smile falters. She swallows, glancing away from me. “I really shouldn’t keep my friend waiting. It was so nice to see you, Avery.”

“Claire. There never was a job waiting for you in Japan, was there?” My face feels numb. My heart is thudding heavily in my chest, a sick awareness washing over me. “Why did you lie about that? Why not just say you were going on a trip or vacation? Why the need for the elaborate story when you hired me to housesit your place?”

She takes a step away from me, her lips pressed flat. Refusing to answer any more of my questions.

“Claire, please. I need to know.” The doorman and her companion are staring at me now, everyone looking uncomfortable with my suddenly rising voice. They can’t possibly feel as disturbed as I do. “Claire, tell me. Why did you lie to me?”

Finally, she pauses. Pivoting to face me, her expression is wooden, resigned.

Apologetic.

Even pitying.

“Maybe you’d better ask Nick.”

Chapter 27

I hear Nick’s voice in another room of the flat when I enter. It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me. My mind is numb. My body is moving as though in a trance.

No, not a trance.

A terrible dream, where I am engulfed in a fog so thick I can barely force my lungs to breathe. Each heartbeat feels as though it is cracking my chest open, exposing me to a chill I feel all the way into my bones. Down to my soul.

“Baby? Hey, there you are. Why didn’t you answer just now?” Nick is smiling as he comes to the living area to greet me. His handsome face and tender gaze only breaks my heart open even wider. “Sorry to abandon you like that. I hope you enjoyed your walk.”

He draws me into his arms. I’m too shell-shocked to fight the contact, but he notices my wooden stance as soon as he touches me.

He pulls back, frowning. “What is it? Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“I ran into someone we know.” At the sound of my toneless voice, a flicker of unease enters his normally unflappable gaze. I don’t wait for him to ask the question. “Claire Prentice.”

“Here in Paris?” He grunts, clearly taken by surprise. “That’s interesting.”

“Yes,” I agree. “It was interesting. She was just arriving at the hotel next door with a . . . client, I suppose you’d call him.”

“Client?”

I scoff. “Are you going to tell me you have no idea what she does for a living?”

“What are you saying? That Claire’s a call girl?”

“She’s definitely not an actress. She just admitted that to me on the street a minute ago.”

I hold his gaze, feeling some of my shock dissipate, morph into something sharper when I see how deftly Nick can craft a dodge. Doesn’t he realize? I am the master of lies and obfuscation.

At least, I was before I met him. He tore down all of my old defenses. He left me bare.

Dear God, I can’t believe I’m only seeing it now. He’s played me like no one ever has before.

“Why, Nick?”