Page 34 of Icebound

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” she said, not cowed. At least, not very much.

“I always look ahead to complications. Don’t I, Luc?” His voice was silken with menace.

“Don’t annoy him, Chloe,” Luc warned her. “There’s no telling what he might do.”

Bastien cast a cynical look in Luc’s direction before turning back to Chloe. And then suddenly he leaned back in his chair, with a smile that didn’t reach his cold, dark eyes as he greeted the waitress.

She behaved herself. By the time they were back in the Renault, it was mid-afternoon, and she was achy and tired. She had no idea how long it would take them to get to Lake Como, but it couldn’t be soon enough.

Lake Como was one of the most beautiful places in the world, and she’d never been there. She wished she could drum up some enthusiasm, but she was too worried about what Bastien intended to do there. The longer they drove, the quieter he got, and she could sense the waves of tension coming off him. Would he really kill her? Or could she trust in her misguided faith in him?

Bastien continued to drive in silence, and to her relief, he concentrated on the busy roads, not the spectacular views. It was summer, and the roads were packed with tourists, forcing him to slow his usual breakneck speed. She could just imagine how fast he’d drive on this mountain highway if he had his way.

They were descending from the highest peaks when Luc turned to her. “We’re coming to the Mont Blanc tunnel. I hope you aren’t claustrophobic?”

Chloe stared at him in horror. Bastien should know she was. She hated tunnels, she hated dark, enclosed spaces with a passion. “Is there another way?”

Bastien laughed without amusement. “No. You want to get to Italy from France, you take the Mont Blanc tunnel. Don’t worry—it won’t cave in on you.”

Panic sliced through her. How did he know exactly what her irrational fear was?

Traffic had slowed way down, a line of cars and trucks stretching back into the mountains. “It’ll take a while to get through the tolls,” Luc said in a reassuring voice. “It’s very safe, Chloe. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You aren’t a travel guide,” Bastien said sharply in French. “If she doesn’t like it, she’ll simply have to put up with it.”

“You could always drive faster.”

“You know they watch the speeds carefully. All we need is to get stopped. You think our little guest would keep her mouth shut?”

Little guest, Chloe thought, seething. She was about to respond when she remembered she wasn’t supposed to speak French. Instead, she sat back in the car, determined not to feel any panic as they entered the long, dark tunnel.

It didn’t help that it took them almost an hour to pass through the toll booth. It didn’t help that the tunnel was brightly lit, that Bastien drove at a reasonable speed and there was a safe distance from the cars around her. Where was his lead foot when she needed it?

She curled up in a corner of the back seat, forcing herself to breathe slowly. She had had nightmares for years after she first met Bastien, and she learned many ways of coping with them. Box breathing, meditation, visualization, would normally stop her panic attacks. Nothing was working.

She looked ahead, but there was no end in sight. The tunnel went on forever, time had begun to lose its meaning, and she was breathing too fast. Luc was facing forward, unaware of her distress, and besides, what good would it do her? They were trapped, and she couldn’t catch her breath, and she could feel the damned tears slide down her face.

She tried closing her eyes, but that made things even worse. How many times had Bastien held her while she fought off the effects of a nightmare or a panic attack? Now he would probably kill her if she made a fuss. In fact, he was probably already planning to kill her, and he’d never know that it was the mother of his children, the woman he loved, the⁠—

“Grow up, chérie!” Bastien snapped from the driver’s seat. “It’s a fucking tunnel, not a torture device.”

“I…don’t…like…enclosed places,” she choked out.

“A grave is worse.”

His words were so callous they shocked her, right out of her hyperventilating. “You bastard!” she gasped, as feeling began to return to her tingling face and hands.

He laughed. “And here I thought you were so fearless. Trust me, I’ll do you a great deal more harm than this tunnel.”

“I wish you were dead.”

“Of course you do, mon ange,” he said calmly enough. “But if I were dead, we’d smash up against the tunnel and the other cars and it would take forever to rescue you, if you even survived the crash…”

“Jean-Marc,” Luc said reprovingly. “Can’t you see she’s having a hard enough time as it is?”

“There’s no room for weakness in this life. If a tunnel has her weak and blubbering, then how will she react to Como? She will be of no use to me.”

“I’m not blubbering,” she snapped, wiping the tears from her face. Too late, she realized they’d been speaking in French, and she held herself very still, waiting for the axe to fall.