eyebrows rose.
Chloe appeared at the captain’s elbow, linking her arm around Valois’s as if they were very old friends. Faran knew it was a trick she used to calm her clients when they were on the edge of a bridal meltdown. “They’re fighting,” she said in a stage whisper. “Like wild dogs.”
“What about?” The captain looked mildly interested.
“It’s personal,” Faran and Lexie said almost at once. She shot him a sour look.
“Is that so?”
“It’s domestic,” Faran said with some annoyance. The word didn’t sit well on a wolf.
“Sad when a marriage goes like this,” Chloe added, clearly improvising.
Lexie made a strangled sound.
“What’s your name, sir?” Valois asked.
“Faran Kenyon.”
“What’s your business in the palace?”
There was an uncomfortable silence as Faran’s brain froze. He’d lied his way in and out of hostage takings, terrorist cells and crime dens, but Lexie had flash-frozen his brain. “I had to see her,” he said with asperity.
“They work together, too,” Chloe volunteered. “He’s her assistant and her husband. Always a bad combination.”
Faran’s eyes met Lexie’s. For the first time in years, they were in complete accord: Chloe was out of her mind.
Valois gave a slow nod. “You should leave, Mr. Kenyon, and I suggest you do it quickly.”
Faran barely stifled a growl.
“But don’t go far,” Valois added. “I’ll need to speak with you later.”
Faran took a last look at Lexie. “I won’t be far. I’ll come if you need me.”
“Go,” she said. “Just go.”
Even now, she didn’t want him. Especially now, when he’d let the wolf get the better of him. With a curse, Faran pushed his way from the room.
“The ring isn’t in your chamber,” said Valois. “It is not in your belongings. So where did you put it?”
Lexie was exhausted, but sat with her spine straight and her don’t-mess-with-me face intact. Her watch said it was just after two o’clock, but it felt as if she’d been in that tiny, windowless room for days. She was bored with the grimy walls, the scarred tabletop and the gritty floor. She’d never thought it was possible to be bored and scared at once. Added to that was guilt. Faran had pushed her buttons and she’d lashed out. He’d been trying to help and deserved better than that. If Valois ever let her go, she’d try to apologize.
“I don’t have the ring,” she said. “I never took it. I don’t know who did.”
“Is that right?” Valois tapped his chin with his forefinger. “And yet I wonder about a woman such as you, one who grew up in what might be considered luxury, and now lives more or less out of a suitcase. With all those advantages in childhood, why is it that you work and live like a nomad, when you don’t truly need to work at all?”
Lexie stiffened. “I choose to work. I earn my own living in my own way. I don’t need to live off anyone else.”
“What does your family think of that?”
“I’ve never asked. They don’t control me anymore.”
His eyes narrowed at that. “You don’t miss them?”
“No.” She tried to say it without venom. Her brother had been the golden child, as vicious as he was perfect. They had both been restless, intense children, but he’d channeled his unsettled energy in dark ways. Her mother had doted on him, even after his death. “We’re not close.”
Valois didn’t waver, although he sat back with a weary air. His fingers twitched against the tabletop, though his expression was exactly the same as it had been when he’d knocked on her door early that morning. “Tell me about your husband. When we checked your background in preparation for your employment here, your marriage was not mentioned.”
Lexie’s mouth felt sticky with stress and bad coffee, as if she’d been drinking glue. He’d grilled her over and over about every minute detail of the evening, but he hadn’t touched this topic yet. Did that mean he had a fresh layer of hell in store for Mr. and Mrs. Werewolf? What the blazes had Chloe been thinking, coming up with this story? And why?
She sighed. “What about him?”
For a moment Valois almost looked amused. “He seems very protective.”
“He is.” That much at least was true.
“The front gate scanned his passport. I asked them to do a little digging just now.” Valois examined his nails. “There wasn’t much to find at first glance. No mansions or art schools like you had.”
“No.”
“In fact, there is little information about his early years. It is almost as if he had no childhood. Can you explain that?”
“He doesn’t talk about his childhood much.” And that would be the first clue he’s different. His secrecy should have rung an alarm. “I don’t think he had a happy youth. Not that it’s any of your business.”
For the first time, a flicker of interest crossed the policeman’s eyes. “From your tone it seems you are just as protective of him.”
“So?”
“You’re not exactly inseparable. No evidence of a common address. No common name.”
“I’m a fashion photographer. My work keeps me on the move.” The room felt as if it was growing smaller. Sweat trickled down the small of her back.
Valois flicked his fingers dismissively, as if suddenly changing his mind. “Perhaps you are telling the truth. There was an application for a marriage license in Paris some years ago. There is every chance that none of this is relevant.”
Marriage license? Lexie’s limbs numbed with shock. She blinked stupidly, trying to mask her surprise. Valois was regarding her coolly, studying her response.
Her hands rested in her lap, but they felt clumsy and cold, as if they belonged to someone else. Faran was going to propose back then? Was that why he told me his secret? Her heart jerked painfully at the memory, but she gave a careless shrug. “We have a unique relationship. It works for us.”
“Is he violent?”
“No!” She looked away. Not to me.
Valois caught her hesitation. “Interesting.”
Lexie didn’t reply, but rubbed a scar
