She swallows hard and goes still, staring straight at me. I can see her trying to read into that question, but I make sure to give nothing away. I want her untainted answer.
When she sees that I’m serious, her eyes drop to the table to contemplate her answer. They rise back to me, filled with a hint of resentment. “Unsettled, I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
“Well, what do you expect?” she retorts. “You…you basically described hunting and killing in a very descriptive manner. I guess it was foolish of me to think it was simply a metaphor.”
“What else did you feel?”
“What?” She asks, eyes filled with bewilderment.
“Beyond being unsettled or scared or worried or any other variation of those terms, what did you feel deep inside?”
She twists her lips. “What? Was I supposed to be impressed? Elated? Turned on?”
“I think it tapped something deep inside of you that you don’t want to admit. The part that willingly accompanied me on the boat despite being…unsettled. The part that has you sitting here at my table despite what you just heard. The part that has you yet to go running to the police. You probably won’t be surprised to find that I’ve done my homework on you. Douglas & Foster. Princeton. Harvard. All very impressive.”
She raises her glass in an ironic salute.
“But you have yet to make partner at your law firm by now. Why is that?”
Her nostrils flare with resentment.
“Magna cum laude at Princeton.” I allow a sly smile to whisper across my lips. “I’ll bet while everyone else was walking across that stage to accept their degree, happy to enter the real world with an Ivy League stamp of approval on their record, all you could think about as you took that piece of parchment into your hands was how you failed at making summa cum laude.”
Now, her jaw is hardened, eyes narrowed with contempt.
“Was it your parents? Did they pressure you to get good grades? To continue to excel, be a success in life?”
“My parents were nothing but supportive,” she snaps angrily.
I laugh. “I thought as much. Which means it’s all you, isn’t it? Playing by the rules. Going above and beyond. Doing everything you’re supposed to, with the firm assurance that you’ll get what’s due. Because life is fair?”
I wouldn’t be surprised if she leaped across the table to scratch my eyes out. Part of me would welcome it if only to disprove everything I’ve just said. I’d love to see what this woman is like when she doesn’t play by the rules.
But that regal version of Sloane is back, the one that doesn’t succumb to emotion…or criminality. She straightens up in her chair, eyes cool, devoid of anything that might reveal too much. She sips slowly on her brandy, considering me with the barest hint of interest as I continue.
“I think that coming to Monte Carlo is the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done in your life. The first time you stepped outside of the boring and predictable.” I lean in closer, trapping her eyes with my intense gaze, evoking a brief flash of guilt before it disappears under that mask of disdain. “Because whatever it is you came for, Sloane, we both know it isn’t just a simple vacation.”
That would be what they call a check in chess—the final step before killing the king.
Your move, Sloane.
Chapter Sixteen Sloane
He’s winding me up.
My education and career were perfect bullseyes as far as targeting my insecurities—and Magnus struck them both, dead center.
He was right; it wasn’t my parents who pushed me. They were proud, no matter what. It was all me, myself, and I. Even the part about hating the fact that I only managed magna instead of summa cum laude—the highest honors—was like ripping the scab right off. I seethed for days after graduation.
Let him try and psychoanalyze me. It isn’t as though I haven’t done it to myself a thousand times already.
As for that bullshit about being thrilled at his description of the hunting patterns of the mako fish—I push that to the recesses of my mind. No need to delve that deep into my psyche.
The far more pressing issue is that conspiracy to murder with his friend. What’s the end game in letting me witness it? Was it a threat? An enticement? A reminder of what he’s capable of if I cross him?
Still, if sitting at dinner with a murderer means that I don’t get murdered myself, then my ass will be firmly planted in this seat.
Considering everything that’s happened to me today so far, I’m not surprised he suspects I have an ulterior motive for being in Monte Carlo. The only question is, how much does he really know?
More importantly, if he knew the truth, would he actually try and kill me too?
“You haven’t answered my question,” I point out.
A subtle smirk touches his lips. “Why I felt bold enough to reveal my plans for murder in front of you?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible.
“You’re an attorney,” he says. “Don’t you have rules about confidentiality?”
Now he’s just toying with me.
“I haven’t agreed to be your attorney,” I say, playing along. “I’m sure I don’t have to educate you of all people on contract law. Offer. Consideration. Acceptance. I have neither an offer nor consideration. And you certainly don’t have my acceptance.”
“How does it go in the movies? One dollar to secure your legal counsel?” He actually reaches into his pocket and pulls out a one-euro coin. “Ah, I only have euros. Will that do as far as consideration?”
Magnus places it on the crisp, white tablecloth and slides it across to me.
“I cordially do not accept,” I say, sliding the coin back to him.
“Well, at least now I know that one of your motives isn’t to seduce me into becoming a client of Douglas & Foster. A shame, I suspect that would have guaranteed a partnership for you.”
Before I can stop myself, I
