"Merci beaucoup!" I called over my shoulder. On the outside I was happy enough, but I was really experiencing turmoil. I snuggled into Mathieu's arm and tried to think happy thoughts, but naturally I failed at that. We walked away from the restaurant and along the lonely street. It really wasn't supposed to turn out this way; I wasn't supposed to actually like Mathieu, I was sent here to pretend. But somehow my real feelings got entangled in the mess. A lone tear slipped on to my cheek as I thought of how horribly wrong things were. Mathieu reached down and wiped it away with his thumb. He stopped and looked at me and that's when I did it, broke the all important spy rule. "I'm a spy! And I'm here to get info about your Dad's drug empire. I know you'll probably hate me because you'll think these four weeks weren't real but I swear they were." I braced myself for his anger but instead heard him laugh.
Now thouroughly confused I searched the growing darkness to read his expression but came up with nothing, he was totally unreadable. With the aid of the Parisian moonlight I noted that he was hailing a cab. When it stopped he grabbed my wrist and yanked me on to the backseat. Before I could utter a single syllable in protest or question he pinned me down and muttered what I knew to be a string of cursewords at me and directions to his family home to the driver, in French. He returned his attention to me, "Silly Leigha, did you actually think we had something?" he asked before giving me a kiss in jest. I threw my head forward into his, as a last means of defense against his attentions.
He smiled cruelly. "Fiesty. Regardless, I'll do you a favour and tell you a secret: if it weren't for one of your corrupt agents I wouldn't have known all about you. It's a shame I'll have to kill you though, because you are kind of pretty but business is booming and we can't have it shut down," he whispered menacingly.
Suddenly the car did a high speed U-turn and roared off, in the wrong direction. The driver released the wheel momentarily, turned around and knocked Mathieu out cold in one swift, fluid movement. The driver must have smelled a rat and I was just thankful that my undercover associate had a better sense of smell than I did.