That time, she’d been careful with her punctuation.

But it was very possible she could’ve just been so busy responding to Lily’s texts that she’d forgotten to stick the notebook in her bag.

When she got back to the inn, she quickly took the elevator up to the third floor, exploded into the room, and stared at the night table.

There was nothing there.

A creeping sensation tickled its way up the back of Diana’s neck as she surveyed the room. Housekeeping had been there, making the bed and setting right the flowered duvet. The towels had been replaced, and the shaggy gray carpet had fresh track marks in it from the vacuum.

Her inn room was very small, but just what she needed. It had a sliver of a view of the Eiffel Tower, too, as promised. But there weren’t many hiding spots where the agenda could’ve gone to. The housekeeper hadn’t moved it anywhere in view. All the surfaces in the room were empty.

Helplessly, she started to open drawers. A panicky feeling bloomed in her gut, spiraling out to her chest, crushing her.

If I can’t find my agenda, my trip is ruined. I might as well go home!

She stormed around the room in a whirlwind, pulling drawers open and slamming them closed. With every one she opened, she only got more frantic.

“What did I do with it?” she mumbled. It had to be here. Or did it? Maybe she had brought it with her this morning, and it’d fallen out of her bag when she’d gone to grab her map.

Her palms sweated. She could just imagine heading back home and telling everyone she had to turn back because of her agenda. They’d think it silly. But they didn’t understand. That agenda was her life. It had so much in there, so much more than just where she was planning to go on a particular day.

“No,” she cried, almost near tears. “No, no, no!”

She dove for the small night table drawer, by this time expecting all she’d find was the room service menu since she’d seen it there before.

But atop it, easily visible, was a hint of green. Her agenda. The housekeeper must’ve tucked it away here.

She grabbed it in her hands and held it against her chest, sighing with relief and intent on never letting it go again. Then she opened it up. Sure enough, everything was there, just as she remembered.

She wiped at her forehead, surprised to find out it was covered in sweat. Then she looked across the room at the mirror. For a second, she didn’t recognize herself. That wasn’t the Diana St. James who ruled the boardroom at Addict Cosmetics. No, this woman looked wild, manic, like someone who wasn’t in control of her life. Someone crazy.

She quickly started to write down the itinerary for tonight, but only two of the things stayed in her mind: Rent the most gorgeous costume at Versailles, no matter what the expense and Make this night absolutely unforgettable . . .