exposed.
Adrianna was Swiss but born in England and spoke with the cultured accent of a British aristocrat. He knew her well enough to know she wasn’t an assassin or a cop or an agent of some intelligence service. He could relax in her company — which was an impossibility with someone he’d only just met. Victor didn’t trust anyone, but Adrianna was one of the very few people he didn’t completely distrust.
‘You shouldn’t bend over like that,’ he said. ‘It puts strain on your lower lumbar muscles. Bend with your knees instead, you’ll get a squat out of it too when you stand. Good for your thighs.’
‘Emmanuel, you are full of useless information.’ She looked back at him. ‘Turn a light on, please. I can’t see.’
‘There’s plenty of light.’
‘For you maybe. But I hate carrots.’
He said, ‘That’s not the way it works,’ and reached across the bed and switched on the second lamp. It had been repositioned so it wouldn’t cast shadows over the window.
‘Is that better?’
‘Much better, thank you.’ She found what she was looking for and stood up. ‘Bet you’ve had those blinds closed all day, haven’t you?’ He didn’t answer. ‘No wonder you’re so pale.’
He went to take a sip of his Scotch but found the glass empty. He watched Adrianna hook her bra and adjust her breasts so they sat correctly. She took a small brush from a snakeskin handbag and began running it through her hair. She could go from sex-messed to sophisticated businesswoman in under two minutes. She told Victor it was an art.
Adrianna always refused to tell him her age and when asked would simply answer, ‘Old enough.’ He didn’t tell her he knew she had just turned thirty, had a master’s degree in History from Cambridge, that both her parents were dead and her brother was living in America. He also knew that she worried about the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and that her hips were too big, but to Victor she was as close to perfect as anyone was ever likely to be. She never believed him when he told her she was beautiful.
She had an apartment in Geneva and one in London. He had been through every inch of both, though she had never invited him to either. The bugs he had planted were without invite as well. When they had first met in a Geneva bar he had shadowed her for a week before calling her number. He’d continued to shadow her on occasions in the following months. There had been nothing to be suspicious of. Which had surprised him. Eventually he had removed the bugs as an undisclosed courtesy. After all, he was a gentleman.
He poured himself a large measure of Chivas Regal. It was one of his preferred brands. A blend, but it trumped almost every other Scotch. Victor often found single malts to be overrated.
She laughed.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘I can tell you missed me.’
‘Why’s that?’
She held up a cream silk blouse and cast him a sly smile. ‘It’s torn.’
‘You look better without it.’
She made a face and said, ‘Hmm.’ She slipped the ripped blouse on and buttoned it up as far as it would go. She huffed, pushing her fingers through the holes so Victor could see the top three buttons were missing.
He shrugged. ‘I’ll find them and put them aside.’
‘Throw them away, I don’t sew.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Both.’
‘Okay, I’ll buy you a new one.’
‘It’s last season’s,’ she said, pouting. ‘You won’t be able to get it any more.’
He sat up straighter. ‘Then I’ll have to buy you two others from this season, won’t I?’
She grinned.
‘How about I take you for a late dinner?’
She zipped up her skirt and tucked the blouse in. ‘I’d love to, but I really can’t. Business to take care of.’
‘You work too hard.’
‘Need to pay the bills.’ She sat on the end of the bed and bounced up and down a little, as much as the bed would allow. ‘It’s hard as concrete. You should complain.’
‘I like it.’
‘I’m amazed you get any sleep.’ She put her shoes on, then was still for a moment, she spoke softly. ‘Do you realise this is the first time I’ve seen you in over half a year?’ She paused. ‘I was afraid you were never going to call me again.’
He didn’t look at her. ‘I’ve been busy.’
She glanced back at him. ‘Work?’ When he nodded, she said, ‘You work too hard.’
‘Need to pay the bills.’
She smiled and then said, ‘I always wonder what it is you do.’
‘No shop talk, remember?’
Adrianna showed her palms. ‘I know, Emmanuel, I know. I just get curious about you. That is allowed, isn’t it? I have this fantasy where you’re like a secret agent.’
‘You think I’m a spy?’
She smiled shyly. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s because of your scars, I guess.’
‘I was in the army,’ he explained.
‘I know. As I said, it’s just a fantasy. I bet you do something really boring, like a banker or stockbroker.’ She paused and smiled. ‘I know, you’re an accountant, aren’t you?’
‘Actually,’ he said with a raised eyebrow, ‘I’m a professional assassin.’
She burst out laughing. ‘You can be so funny when you want to be.’
‘No, I’m serious,’ he said, sounding anything but. ‘I just blew up a gangster with a bomb hidden in his toilet.’
Adrianna laughed harder. She put a hand to her chest. ‘Stop it, please. You’re going to kill me.’
‘Only if you pay me a lot of money.’
He set his hands behind his head and Adrianna’s laugh eventually became a smile as she took control of herself.
She examined him and said, ‘You’ve put on a bit of weight. Muscle, I mean.’
He nodded. He’d always favoured speed over strength, but a recent and very painful encounter had convinced him that a little extra power could be useful.
‘I’ve put some weight on too.’ She pinched the skin of her stomach and grunted. ‘But it’s all blubber.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘You look great, better even.’
‘You are a liar, Emmanuel.’
‘Why do you always say that?’
‘Because I know you.’ Her hand drifted to his outstretched leg and gently rubbed his calf. Her voice was quiet. ‘You were different this time.’
‘How do you mean?’
She shrugged and sighed. ‘Not bad,’ she assured. ‘I don’t know, just… different.’
‘I’ve a lot on my mind.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘I thought you had to go.’
‘I do. But you can call me later, you know, if you want.’
‘Sure,’ he said and took a large swallow of whisky.
Adrianna gave his leg a squeeze and with a big exhale pushed herself off the bed. She pulled down the hem of her skirt and combed her hair with her fingers in front of the sideboard mirror.
‘On the side,’ he stated. ‘Under the newspaper.’
Adrianna turned to acknowledge him and slid the envelope out from under the paper. She placed it in her handbag.
He watched her. ‘Aren’t you going to count it?’
