“Monsieur Truman, your signature confirms Hôtel du France will file charges against Mademoiselle Izatt.” The officer stamped the papers and placed them atop a large claim file. Warner had worked too hard to build his empire to have it ruined over something so crass.
“Oui, correct.” He smiled, confident that he’d made the right decision. Someone needed to be made an example of.
“Take a seat in the waiting area. We’ll call you up once the paperwork has been processed.” The policeman pointed to an alcove area in the middle to sit.
“Merci.” He walked over, poured himself a glass of water and sat on the bench, closing his eyes to rest. I will never come back to Cannes as long as I live. We’re ruined.
A racket at the front from someone struggling to get through the reporters and paparazzi, who’d tried to get Warner’s attention when he arrived, caused him to look over.
“I’m here for Kiki.”
That voice. Her voice! Red’s voice?
“Over there, mademoiselle,” an officer responded from the front reception area.
A gorgeous redhead walked his way. He did a double take. No way. He squinted. Sure enough, Red had lived on.
Red’s confidence and flair turned the police officers’ heads as she walked down the main hallway. The police station was filled with criminals who’d come to Cannes, perhaps to see a celebrity. They’d caught a glimpse of something much more fantastic.
He noticed her legs first. Elegant high heels elevated her to a position taller than most men. Just below her waist, an off-white stretch miniskirt wrapped tight around her narrow hips. From where he stood, the fabric seemed sheer, revealing her peachy cream skin from her inner, ever-so-toned thighs when she walked. Must kiss.
Her “just what the doctor ordered” breasts were encased in a cream blouse and somewhat concealed by her crimson-hued, made-to-her-measurements blazer. Her cleavage had been fastened together by two exaggerated metallic sailor-type buttons. Their vivid sparkle resembled two gold bars. Must touch.
His eyes fixated on his favorite Red asset, her signature wavy ginger spice hair. Oh how he’d savored running his fingers through those locks at Privé Extreme. Must love.
Warner had developed an obsession for red-haired women after he’d met her. He hadn’t come in contact with any woman since. To his surprise, he’d learned from a stylist at his Dublin hotel, only two percent of people in the world had her natural hair color, making Red all the more special, and he’d found her.
Red walked up with her oversized sunglasses on, she didn’t see him as she passed. Two feet from where she stopped, he stood within earshot.
Unnoticed, Warner stepped up behind her and inhaled her familiar scent. It’s Red! He’d found her. Not in Sydney, Australia, the Bay of Kotor in Montenegro or the Xai-Xai Beach in Mozambique. It was the Cannes police station in the South of France.
“Officer Gaston?” Red asked.
“Oui.”
“My name’s Taddy Brill. My lawyer Pierre de Vergès spoke with you on the phone. I’m here to pick up Kiki.” She gently placed her canvas tote on the floor.
“Excusez-moi?” Gaston’s face went blank.
“Tabitha Adelaide Brillford—for Kelly Ivy Kailyn Izatt. She’s the American you’re holding. Kiki was arrested along with her friend, Dejon something-or-another.” Her hand went on her hip, gold bangles jangling from her impatience.
Brillford? Warner had heard her name before. He’d heard it in December. She’d come with the rock-n-roll star’s daughter and Farnworth Firewater heiress. It made sense to him now.
“Oui, mademoiselle, we’re processing Izatt’s paperwork.” His jaw tightened. “Monsieur Dejon was not charged. He left our station about an hour ago.”
“Typical! I want to see her. Where is she?” Red grabbed her bag, ready to be led in the direction she’d intended, to her friend. It reminded Warner of her eagerness to move on the second he handed her the bronze purse in his driveway.
“Your friend will remain here ‘til charged. You may bail her out then.” The officer looked down as if to move on with his paperwork.
Red released her belongings with a noisy thud. It caused two police officers at neighboring cubicles to stand with their hands over their gun holsters. “Prostitution and pornography are not illegal in France, correct?” She leaned her weight on one foot, digging her heel into the floor. He admired her calf muscles as they flexed.
“Izatt isn’t being charged with prostitution or pornography.” The officer took out a stack of paperwork, ready to move along with his own agenda.
Red put her hand on top of the policeman’s. Warner noticed because the officer’s face flushed. “So then—what’s the charge?”
“Trespassing.” Officer Gaston stared at Warner as if asking, “You wanna take this one?”
With a head shake to hush the policeman, Warner remained behind her. Unaware of his presence, she tapped her nails on the wooden countertop. The wavy red curls bounced around her neck as she spoke. “Who’s pushing the trespassing charge?”
He wished he could get a view of her face.
“Kiki didn’t do anything wrong.” Her foot stomped. For a second Warner thought Red would jump across the counter and strangle the officer. He could see her struggle to stay calm.
“Mademoiselle, the gentleman pressing charges is standing behind you.” The officer pointed over her shoulder at Warner, not wanting to deal with Red’s wrath.
Warner leaned against the wall. This was going to be good.
Red turned around, her jaw set. Snapping her sunglasses off, she shouted, “YOU.” Her pupils dilated. “If it isn’t the infamous Warner Truman.” She stepped forward, bringing her face close to his. He could smell her chewing gum.
“Nice to see you, too, mademoiselle.” Her beauty was more magnetic than he’d remembered. Warner extended a hand, in hopes she’d accept it. “And who are you pretending to be today?”
Irked by his cool behavior, she brushed his hand away. “I should’ve figured. It’s your hotel. Only an asshole would press charges.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, possibly to calm her huff as she exhaled.
Warner sidestepped her and faced the officer. “Do you have a private room we could use—to talk?” He eyed the detective, then directed his attention to Red.