Free Paris Was The Place I Met My Billionaire Lover (My Sweet Billionaire Love Story Series) by Kiera Zane Page A

knows that. Who am I to say what’s right, who’s wrong, what’s what for everyone everywhere all the time?  Isn’t that just what Patrick tried to do with me at the end of our time together?  I swore I’d never do that myself, and yet, here I am...
    “ Puits bien, regard qui il est! Le vieil homme et sa enfant-jeune mariée! ”
    Caitlyn and Julien turned to see the familiar figures of the two rude French boys from the Mona Lisa line in the Louvre .  They stalked up to them, each on one side, their postures stooped as the poked and gawked like a pair of rabid roosters.
    One of the two pulled out a switchblade, a flick of his wrist and a click of the metal mechanism launching the eight-inch metal blade into position, ready to cut and slice and stab and kill.  “ Aucun gardes de sécurité à sortir à votre aide ici, grand-père ! Faites tourner la fille et vous laisserons-nous vivre, hein? ”
    “Julien?” Caitlyn managed to say, forgoing the rest:  What’s going on?  What are they saying?  What do they want?
    She knew what was going on.  She knew what they were saying.  She knew what they wanted.

Chapter Five: A Dangerous Turn
    The taller of the two young Frenchmen waved the knife in front of Caitlyn and Julien, who stood calmly, aware of the presence of the man’s friend behind them.
    Julien said, “ Je te donnerai des garçons au compte de trois. ”
    Caitlyn recognized a few of the words: garçons means boys, she silently translated, compte de trois means something like count of three.
    One of the young French punks asked Julien with a snarling chuckle, “ Et après trois, puis ce qui? ”
    Caitlyn again did some rudimentary translating for herself.  Et après trois means after three ... and after three...
    Julien said to him, “ Après trois, vous mourez .”
    That one was easy: After three, you die.
    The punk was already lunging at Julien as Caitlyn gasped and lurched backward.  She fell right into the other punk’s grip, his fingers craning around her arms from behind, pulling her close.
    Too close.
    But she didn’t have any more time to be repulsed than her attacker did to be titillated by their struggle.  The fight between Julien and the knife-wielding punk was passing in a hideous flash.  The attacker’s lunge missed the mark, Julien deftly stepping out of the way.  Julien grabbed the young man’s head and, with a quick and violent motion, twisted it early 180 degrees.  With a hideous crack and the gurgle of his collapsing windpipe, the young man dropped the knife and went limp, hitting the ground almost before his weapon did.
    Julien turned to look upon Caitlyn and her attacker, both of whom stood in shock. 
    “ Merde! Merde sainte! ” The remaining young man released Caitlyn and turned, running across the square.  A Gendarme ran up to Julien, spitting some hurried questions in French, which Julien calmly answered.  The Gendarme offered him a quick, “ Merci, M. Cherierre, ” before blowing into his whistle and running off after the other young Frenchman.
    Caitlyn looked at him, in shock and in awe, and in horror.  She looked down at the dead man at their feet, just moments ago threatening to take their lives.  It could have been her corpse lying there, Caitlyn knew well.
    Dad was right , Caitlyn said to herself, I am in way over my head here .
    Julien took her arm and gently pulled her away.  “Where are we going?” Caitlyn spat out, “where are you taking me?”
    “No reason for us to remain, it’s over now.”
    “Over?” Caitlyn pulled her arm free, but kept walking, Julien alongside her hurried pace.  “You killed a man.”
    “In self-defense.”
    “With a single blow.”
    “It’s an old technique.  I spent time in the armed forces, it’s part of the training.”
    Caitlyn stopped and turned, starring Julien down.  “You’re lying.”
    Julien held his arms out slightly, empty palms up.  “What makes you say such a thing?  I just saved your