32 So Many Questions (2/2)

”Where is Will, again?” he asked.

”I told you, she isn't here.”

”But, Gemma.” He grabbed her arm, and for a moment she was afraid of him, afraid of his hard hands pressing the fabric of her shirt, thin and weak as he was. ”Where is she instead of here?” He spoke very slowly. She hated the feel of his body close to hers.

”Don't you ever fucking touch me,” she told him. ”Ever. You understand?”

He let her arm drop and walked into the living room, where he draped himself on the couch without being invited. ”I think you know where she is. That's all.”

”She probably went to Paris for the weekend. You can go really quickly from here through the Chunnel.”

”Paris?”

”I'm guessing.”

”Did she tell you not to tell me where she went?”

”No. We didn't even know you were coming.”

Chance sank back in his seat. ”I need to see her. I texted her, but she might have blocked me.”

”She got a UK phone, with a different number.”

”She doesn't answer my emails, either. That's why I came all the way here. I was hoping to talk to her.”

Gemma made them some tea while Chance phoned hotels. He had to make twelve calls before he found one with a room he could book for a few nights.

He'd been arrogant enough to think Willow would let him stay.