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Back The Shoe Queen
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. “And may I say, those shoes are adorable.”
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. ( I )
  7. ( one )
  8. ( two )
  9. ( three )
  10. ( four )
  11. ( five )
  12. ( six )
  13. ( seven )
  14. ( eight )
  15. ( nine )
  16. ( ten )
  17. ( II )
  18. ( eleven )
  19. ( twelve )
  20. ( thirteen )
  21. ( fourteen )
  22. ( fifteen )
  23. ( III )
  24. ( sixteen )
  25. ( seventeen )
  26. ( eighteen )
  27. ( nineteen )
  28. ( IV )
  29. ( twenty )
  30. ( twenty-one )
  31. ( twenty-two )
  32. ( twenty-three )
  33. ( twenty-four )
  34. ( V )
  35. ( twenty-five )
  36. ( twenty-six )
  37. ( twenty-seven )
  38. ( twenty-eight )
  39. ( twenty-nine )
  40. VI
  41. ( thirty )
  42. ( thirty-one )
  43. ( thirty-two )
  44. ( thirty-three )
  45. ( thirty-four )
  46. ( VII )
  47. ( thirty-five )
  48. ( thirty-six )
  49. ( thirty-seven )
  50. ( thirty-eight )
  51. ( thirty-nine )
  52. ( forty )
  53. ( forty-one )
  54. ( forty-two )
  55. ( VIII )
  56. ( forty-three )
  57. ( forty-four )
  58. ( forty-five )
  59. ( forty-six )
  60. ( forty-seven )
  61. ( forty-eight )
  62. ( forty-nine )
  63. ( fifty )
  64. ( fifty-one )
  65. Acknowledgments
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. Questions for Discussion

The building was empty. Everyone had gone home to their families, their nice lives. Riding up in the lift to the fourth floor, wandering down the long corridor, he thought he might stay here for the night. Lie down to sleep on the tiger-skin rug she’d made him buy. Yes, why not make her sweat a little? He was in no hurry to go back to the Rue de Lota.

“Mr. Shelby King.”

Robert jumped and spun around at the girl’s voice.

“I’m sorry to have startled you. I need to speak to you.”

Céline, the maid!

“How did you get in here?”

“I followed you.” Her pupils were dilated in the half light. “I didn’t mean any harm, I swear.”

“You followed me? From the Rue de Lota?”

A nod.

“But this building is kept locked out of hours. I locked the door behind me.”

“Actually, sir, you didn’t.”

He rubbed at his head. “Come on through to my office. We may as well have a drink together, and you can tell me what’s on your mind. God knows I don’t have anything better to do. And neither do you, from the look of it.”

Getting out the bourbon, he gestured for her to sit down. She looked anxious—not just at the situation but at the drink itself. He supposed she’d never tasted it before. For some reason he kept thinking of Marie-Claire—what she’d say if she walked in and found him drinking the hard stuff with some slip of a girl after hours. The disapproval in her soft eyes. But oddly, this only drove him on. Even as Céline was coughing and spluttering from the first sip, he was tipping more into her glass and sitting down on the other “visitor’s chair,” close to hers.

“So,” he said. “I gather you’ve left us. Now, why would that be?”

“Oh, sir. I didn’t want to leave you. Not you. But she—she’s been…I couldn’t ignore it any longer.”

He almost couldn’t bring himself to ask the question. And yet he had to, didn’t he? “Ignore what, Céline?”

“She doesn’t deserve you. You’re so good to her. And she…”

He sighed and drained his glass.

“It started with the phone calls. He called himself Monsieur Renard. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she didn’t even bother to lower her voice! And then she’d be coming and going, all dolled up in her finery, sir, while you were out at work. Calling up hotels to book rooms and waltzing off when you thought she was sitting in at home. It’s true. I swear it on my mother’s life.”