Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2) (28 page)

“I
suppose that’s possible,” I conceded. “So how do we let my family know I’m okay
and convince them that I truly want to be here with you?”

“You
can write letters to your friends and family. To be on the safe side, we’ll
have Rafael mail them from the states, so they can’t be traced back here. Then
you can follow up with a phone call from another burn phone. Eventually, I can
fly them here, or we can travel to Montana to see them.”

I
linked hands with Michael. “Aren’t you worried about going back to the states?
There may be criminal charges pending against you. I don’t want you to end up
in prison.”

“That
will require a bit more work,” he admitted. “My efforts to defund a terrorist organization
may help. The Lisbon authorities are going to want to ensure my availability to
testify when they track down the missing partners, in the event those
individuals don’t accept a plea agreement and force the matter to trial. If I
have my contacts within the Portuguese government reach out to the U.S.
government, then perhaps we can get the charges dropped, especially if you sign
a statement or a written affidavit that confirms you are here willingly.”

I
turned his plan over in my head. “You know, Michael… that just might work.” A
smile spread slowly across my face as I dared hope for a future that included
Michael and my family.

Michael
kissed me on the cheek. “Why don’t you work on your letters while I talk to
Rafael and make the necessary phone calls? Would you like to use stationary or
a laptop to write the letters?”

I
ran my fingers through his hair. “I think my family would find more comfort in
a hand written letter.”

He
smiled. “Very well, then. I’ll have some stationary sent up for you.” He reached
for his cell phone. “How is your stomach,
ma chérie?
Are you up for
breakfast? Would you like to try some coffee?”

I
silently assessed my stomach. I didn’t feel the least bit nauseous. “Breakfast
sounds good. No coffee, though. The mint and lavender tea is kind of growing on
me.”

He
shot me a look that suggested I had sprouted two heads. He sent a quick text to
the cook, tossed the cell phone on the bed, leaned over, and kissed me quite
thoroughly. “So,
mon coeur
, assuming we can straighten everything out,
where would you like to be married?”

I
flopped back against the pillows. “I don’t know. What kind of timeline do you
think we’re looking at? Who would you want to be there?”

Michael
smiled as he sat next to me on the bed. “I would marry you tomorrow,
ma
chérie,
if I thought you would agree to it, but we need some time to work
things out so your family can be there. I won’t invite many guests. I would
prefer to keep it small so the wedding doesn’t make the news. I don’t want the
wrong people knowing you have married me. That would only endanger you further.
The timing would also depend on whether you want an indoor or outdoor wedding.
It’s already October.”

I
quietly considered the options.

Michael
broke the silence. “What about Notre Dame?”

I
shook my head. “That cathedral is too big for a small wedding. My two favorite
places in France have been Giverny and the Palais Garnier
.
Would either
of those two places be an option?”

Michael’s
smile widened, just as the cook slipped our breakfast tray onto the table by
the fireplace. “Anything you could dream would be an option.”

I
sat up. “Well, if we have a winter wedding, I would like to get married in the
main foyer of the Palais Garnier.
There is just something about that staircase.
If we have a spring or summer wedding, then I would prefer to be married in the
gardens at Giverny.”

Michael
stood and pulled me out of bed. He folded me gently in his arms, then kissed
the top of my head. “Why don’t we have the wedding on Christmas Eve on the
grand staircase at the Palais Garnier?”

My
heart thrummed its agreement. “That sounds perfect,
mon chérie
. Do you
really think we could organize it that quickly? What are the odds the opera
house would be available on such short notice?”

Michael
laughed a loud boisterous laugh. “
Mon coeur,
you really have no clue who
you are marrying do you?” He patted me on the bottom as we walked over to the
breakfast tray. “I will make the necessary arrangements. The only thing you
need to worry about is picking out the dress and writing those letters to your
friends and family.”

*
* * * * *

Michael
walked into the library. His personal assistant, Devry, trailed behind him with
some paperwork. Michael stooped over my chair and kissed me on both cheeks.
“How are your letters coming along,
mon amour
?”

I
smiled up at him. “Good. I only have one letter left.” My letter to Kadyn was
proving extremely difficult to write.

Michael
eased into the chair across from me. Devry continued to stand. He played
absently with the papers in his hand. Michael leaned forward in the chair. “I reached
out to my contacts in Portugal this morning and explained everything. They
agreed to help smooth things over with the U.S. authorities. It took them a while
to locate the federal agency in charge of the investigation, but they have
spoken with the lead investigator. They just called with the news.”

My
heart tripped. “It’s good news I hope…”

Michael’s
eyes captured and held mine. “The U.S. authorities will close the kidnapping
investigation and forego any criminal charges against me on two conditions.
First, they want you to meet with staff from the U.S. Embassy in Paris and sign
an affidavit that attests to the fact that you are staying here willingly.”

I
carefully released the breath I had been holding. “Okay. What’s the other
condition?”

“The
office manager has to agree to this.” 

“That
could prove difficult, given what you put her through,” I responded softly.

Michael
nodded. “I’d like to send Rafael to DC tonight, so he can talk to her before
the federal investigators do. How much more time do you need to write the
remaining letter?”

“An
hour?” I speculated.

Michael
rose from his chair. “Okay. I’ll make sure Rafael and the jet are ready to
leave by then. We can go to the embassy first thing in the morning.”

I
suddenly felt very nauseous. “Are you certain they can’t force me to leave the
country? Maybe you shouldn’t go with me. What if they arrest you?”

Michael
stilled. “You are here in France legally. I made sure of it when I brought you
through customs. If everything has been smoothed over with the authorities,
there should be no risk of them arresting me or sending you back to the
states.”

I
trembled violently. “I don’t think we should go to the embassy until we know
what Mickey has to say. I don’t want them to arrest you, Michael. I don’t want
them to take you away.”

Michael
knelt in front of me. “If we are separated for any reason,
mon coeur
,
please know that I will find a way to resolve this problem. I will hire the
best attorneys, and even if I am incarcerated, I will make sure that Rafael
continues to watch over you, that you are safe, and you are provided for. If
they separate us, you have to know I will find a way for us to be together
again.”

“I’m
scared of losing you,” I whispered as a tear stole down my cheek.

Michael
pulled me to my feet as he bundled me in his arms. “I’m scared of losing you
too,
mon coeur
, but I need to make things right.”

I
burrowed into his chest. “I know. That makes me love you even more.”

“Devry
can notarize the affidavit. All you need to do is read and sign it. Rafael will
deliver it to the federal authorities in DC tomorrow. The embassy may have you
sign another statement, but I think it would help expedite things if this was
delivered to DC.” Michael nodded to Devry, who then handed me the papers.

I
quickly reviewed both pages. They were exact duplicates of the same short statement.
I read the statement aloud, assuming Devry would need some assurance that I had
in fact read and understood what was written. “I, Kristine Annabelle Stone,
being of legal age, sound person, and sound mind, do swear and affirm: 1. I am
currently residing with Michael Aveneil Garcia in Paris, France of my own free
will; 2. I waive any and all claims of wrong doing involving Michael Aveneil
Garcia’s initial efforts to bring me to France.” I looked at Michael. “That’s
it?”

He
nodded. “That’s what they requested.”

“Okay,”
I replied. I signed both copies of the affidavit and handed the documents back
to Devry. He signed and stamped the documents.

Michael
pulled me in for a toe-curling kiss. “I need to make a few more phone calls. Just
so you know,
mon amour
, Jean will be assigned to you while Rafael is
gone. One of us will come back to get your letters in a little while.”

I
watched Michael and Devry walk away as I sank back into the chair. I ran my
fingers over the textured stationary as I mulled over the letter to Kadyn. The
letters to my parents, Lexie, Kimme, Charlie, and Cenia had been fairly simple.
I assured them I was safe, told them I loved them, and promised to call soon. I
didn’t want to discuss my decision to stay in Paris and marry Michael until I
could speak with them by phone.

Mickey’s
letter had been more revealing. I apologized for what Michael had done to her
and assured her that I was safe. I confessed that I had fallen in love with
Michael, told her I was planning to marry him, and begged her to reconsider
pressing charges against him.

I
wrote a letter to Senator Rockefeller so I could apologize for missing the final
month of my fellowship, which was supposed to end in July. I thanked him for
being such a wonderful mentor and for the opportunity to work in his office.

Kadyn’s
letter was proving a lot more difficult to write. I wasn’t just writing to say thank
you or to assure him that I was safe. I was essentially ending our relationship.
Half of my heart was okay with that. The other half was completely devastated. The
last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt Kadyn. How could I possibly explain
that while I still loved Kadyn, I was marrying Michael?

My
tears flowed unchecked as I wrote the letter. I pulled myself together just
long enough to hand Rafael the stack of envelopes. Then, I walked back to my
room, shed my clothes, crawled into bed, and cried myself to sleep.

*
* * * * *

We
didn’t make it to the embassy. Michael had to reschedule the appointment
because I couldn’t stop vomiting long enough to leave the bathroom. I tried to
convince Michael and myself that it was just nerves. I was afraid of what might
happen at the embassy. Still, Michael insisted I see his physician.

By
the time the physician arrived, I was too dizzy and weak to stand on my own.
Michael had just settled me back in bed when Jean showed the doctor in.

“
Bonjour,
Monsieur Garcia, Madame Stone,” the physician greeted from just inside the
doorway. He unbuttoned his gray suit jacket as he entered the room. He was
young, certainly younger than Michael, but he had a confident air about him
that suggested he might be older than he looked. He had short brown hair, green
eyes, and a warm smile.

Michael
met the doctor halfway across the room. He shook his hand. “
Bonjour,
Dr.
Belgarde. Thank you for coming. Kristine has been vomiting off and on for days
now. I am worried she might be dehydrated. She can’t keep water down.”

The
doctor approached the bed. “May I?” he asked as he reached for my forehead.

I
nodded. I was relieved he spoke English so I could follow the conversation.

He
felt my forehead and cheeks. “No fever,” he murmured. He pressed his fingers against
my wrist while watching the seconds tick by on his watch. “Your heart rate is a
little fast.” He retrieved a stethoscope from his bag, placed the buds in his
ears, and listened to my chest.

The
room spun when he sat me upright. Dr. Belgarde moved the stethoscope across my
back. He had me take a couple of deep breaths before easing me back onto the
pillows. “Your lungs sound good. Do you mind if I draw some blood? I’d like to
run some tests to make sure you aren’t dehydrated.”

“That’s
fine,” I replied, thankful to be lying down again.

Michael
eased next to me on the bed.

Dr.
Belgarde offered an encouraging smile as he drew the blood. He turned his
attention to Michael as he slid the vial inside his bag. “I’m going to drive this
over to the lab. I should have the results within the hour. Here is the
prescription.” He handed Michael a small slip of paper. “This should help with
the vomiting, but you need to make sure she gets some water… small amounts… not
too much at one time. If the medication doesn’t work within the next
twenty-four hours, I want you to take her to the hospital for IV fluids.”

Michael
shook the physician’s hand as he rose from the bed. “
Merci
, Dr.
Belgarde.” He handed Jean the prescription as he escorted the physician from the
room.