“Alex? Alex Lemoine?” Roman stared at her face. They may have been introduced during Alex’s previous life.
“Yes. Small world, isn’t it? She helped Luc with a few sales, fell in love, the rest is boring. Come, let’s get a drink.” He gripped Roman’s arm in a wrestling hold, and they walked off, leaving Alex with her bodyguard.
“Did you bring anyone tonight?” Roman asked.
“No. Belinda went to Miami to visit a sick relative. Annoying, but it keeps her happy. I don’t have the patience for more drama by inviting someone else right now.”
“I understand.”
Luc, sporting a navy blazer, jeans, and boat shoes, ambled up to them with a drink in his hand. “Welcome. I’m glad you both could make it. Sorry you weren’t at the exchange this afternoon.”
Roman shook his hand and patted him on the back. “The plane was delayed in Edinburgh. Simon handled everything, I take it?”
Simon creased his brow and faced Roman. He preferred both parties in a transaction to be present to minimize his own financial and physical liability. “We’ll talk later about my additional fee for the hassle of your absence.”
The risks of a transaction always rose at the transfer point. Simon had never represented Roman’s interests in an art-only deal, preferring to be known exclusively as an arms dealer. Risking his life for stolen art and a briefcase full of cash seemed a waste. In this case, however, he wanted to reestablish contact with Luc. Alex’s presence at the transfer was a bonus.
Luc seemed uninterested in Roman and Simon’s relationship, except where it made him money. “We should meet before you both fly back to the UK. I may have some interesting business developments to share.”
Roman nodded toward Luc and then clasped Simon’s arm in a gesture of friendship. “We look forward to it.”
Several more people arrived. Simon watched Alex greet them, most likely in their native languages. She winced a few times and shifted her stance, but otherwise held herself together. Luc and Roman also watched the front door.
“I see you met my wife Alex,” Luc said to Roman.
“Beautiful. Fluent in Russian. You’ve done well for yourself.” Roman’s love for beautiful women never caused too much harm. He preferred women who were willing and available, although he often began his flirtations before a woman’s prior relationship ended.
“She’s a gem.” Luc’s face showed more of a scowl than admiration until he turned his attention to the large marble staircase. Simon’s eyes followed.
Dressed to kill in a black low-cut cocktail dress that flared out from midcalf, Nicola sauntered right into Luc’s arms. He kissed her as though staking a claim. Ballsy move in front of the new wife. It also told Simon how disposable the women were.
“I think you both know Nicola.”
Roman nodded and greeted her with a kiss on the back of the hand.
Simon glared. “We know each other intimately.”
Luc slipped his hand up toward Nicola’s breast. “Ah. Yes. You were together for a year or two. I remember. Should I separate you at dinner?”
“Don’t bother.” She waved her hand breezily. “It will make the meal much more interesting for all involved if we get to rehash his infidelities over chilled melon and prosciutto.” Nicola glowered at Simon. She always looked fantastic glowering.
“Very well. Shall we head in?” Luc linked arms with Nicola and called over to Alex’s guard. “Help my wife into the dining room, Pascal.”
A major slight in the presence of a roomful of people, but Alex seemed content to remain aloof. Simon, on the other hand, preferred a beautiful escort on the walk to the dinner table. He drifted back to the door, maneuvered himself between Alex and Pascal, and assisted her to the dining room. Pascal followed them like an ass tethered to a horse.
“Nice evening,” Simon commented in Gaelic, a language learned from his mother’s Scottish relations. He walked with a slow pace so she could limp along beside him.
She nodded. “Pleasant.”
“How do you like living in Paris?”
“Crowded and loud.”
“Not a city girl?”
“No. But don’t worry, Luc promised to place me in a small plot of my own real soon. I’m not greedy, though, I intend to share it with him.” A shimmer in her eyes materialized as she spoke.
“Very considerate of you. Any place in particular?”
She sighed, her eyes drifting away to perhaps a memory. “I imagine living in a rural town, near an ancient castle, perhaps with a horn blower to close the small square on a rainy night.”
“I know a town exactly like that.” Simon grinned at her.
She lifted her head and pushed back her shoulders as though preparing to take on the burdens of the world. “Mine exists only in my dreams.”
“Dreams are funny things. Just when your life turns into a nightmare, you wake up and realize the best is yet to come.” He squeezed her arm and made a silent vow that he’d get her out of this mess. The sadness in her eyes ripped at his conscience. After all, he’d sent her directly into Luc’s clutches.
Simon’s own dream, the woman dressed in black, escorted an enemy to dinner. He hoped to pull Nicola away from this hellish existence as well as Alex, but Nic possessed a stubborn streak of infinite duration.
Luc seated Alex to his left. A lush redhead flanked him on the right side. He focused solely on the redhead. His wife focused solely on the dinner.
Simon sat between a French model wannabe and Nicola. Roman sat on her other side.
During the fourth course, consisting of cognac shrimp with beurre blanc sauce, Roman dominated Nicola’s attention. His hand slid below the table. Despite the glowing admiration she beamed toward Roman, Simon recognized that she was reaching her limit by the tension in her neck.