“I can’t stay here for forty days.”
“I recall you saying that was the extent of your stay when we first met. Forty days….and nights.”
Her eyes go wide, then narrow with derision. “I also recall saying that I didn’t plan on using all forty days.”
“Now, you will.”
“And just how do I explain to my firm that I’m spending that much time here in Monte Carlo, of all places?”
“The retainer I send them first thing in the morning will eliminate the need to explain yourself.”
I swear I can actually see her heart leap from her chest. Ever the ambitious woman. Whether she knows it or not, Sloane is just as much a shark as I am. We just have two different flavors of prey. Let’s see if that hunger for success works in my favor.
Before the conversation can continue, our meals arrive. I smile as I see Sloane’s eyes light up at the piece of meat so artfully plated for her. Her taste for flesh is alluringly symbolic.
“Fine, as your newly hired attorney, I suppose I should get more background on you,” she begins once the waiter leaves. “Perhaps we can start with what future plans you have for your various enterprises?”
So she’s going straight for the kill. But it at least confirms my suspicions, especially now that I know she’s indirectly working for Gabriel Fouché.
“Let’s not ruin our fine meals with talk of business,” My eyes narrow in on her. “After all, we have thirty-nine more days after tonight.”
She meets my gaze, matching the level look. “Very well, what shall we talk about?”
“You could ask me about my hobbies,” I say in a droll tone, a subtle smile coming to my lips. “Isn’t that how you usually butter up a client?”
One side of her mouth hitches up into a sarcastic smirk as she chews the cut of meat. When she swallows, she sighs and grabs the bottle of wine to pour a glass into her empty snifter. She leans back in her chair, holding it up as she considers me.
“Magnus, I was fascinated to learn about your success in pentathlon races. Do tell, how did you first get involved in them?”
“I could have had them bring a proper glass for you,” I say, my eyes falling to her wine before taking my own bite of meat.
“No need to put someone to work for the sake of propriety. After all, we’re well past the point of being formal with one another, aren’t we?”
I swallow, raise one eyebrow, then take my own sip of wine.
“Alright, to answer your question, I’ve always been a swimmer. I’ve also always been competitive. Most races that incorporate swimming also incorporate running, so I set my sights on excelling in that area as well. I had very little interest in bicycles so I skipped past triathlons directly to pentathlons. It helped that it incorporated certain skills that I thought would be useful in my future endeavors.”
“Is that so?” She sets her glass down to return to her meal.
“Yes. Learning to ride a horse was the most challenging, but there’s something appealing about mastering another animal, gripping her by the reins to lead her in an exercise of intense focus, athleticism, and, of course, submission.”
Sloane tries but fails to maintain eye-contact during that bit of elucidation.
I smile and continue. “As for fencing and shooting? Well, there are never too many ways to learn how to, let’s say, defend one’s self.”
“Or commit murder.”
“If one were so inclined.”
She continues to eat her filet mignon, eyeing me across the table like a lioness used to being comfortably secure in her place near the top of the food chain, but now faced with an enemy that might just force her out of her natural habitat to sink or swim.
“And you? What are your hobbies, Sloane?”
“I don’t have hobbies. I work, I eat, I occasionally sleep. Rinse and repeat.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“It is when you want to succeed,” she says, aggressively cutting her meat.
“And are you succeeding?”
Her eyes roll up to me, filled with resentment as she continues to cut. “Apparently, by tomorrow morning, I will be.”
“That’s what comes from taking risks. Something I suspect you’ve been lacking in life. It’s no wonder you have yet to make partner.”
She drops the knife and fork to glare at me. “Excuse me?”
I resume eating before answering, assessing her as I chew my piece of veal.
“Taking risks, cheating the system, even committing the occasional crime. That’s what pays off, Sloane. It’s something I learned early on in life. In many ways, I’m grateful for having had such a rude introduction to that fact. It provided me with a better education than any university could.”
“Well,” she says, eyes narrowed as she picks up her fork and knife again. “Maybe I should resort to murder then.”
“Perhaps you should,” I offer, lifting my wine glass toward her.
She only glowers with contempt before shoving a piece of meat into her mouth. Oh, so apt.
“Do you play poker?” I ask, sitting back to watch her.
“I don’t gamble, period,” she says after swallowing.
“There’s a difference between playing poker and gambling.”
“In my case, the two are one and the same.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“All the same, I don’t play poker or gamble.”
“Why is that?”
She sits up straighter to stare at me, wry amusement playing around the edges of her eyes and mouth. “The trick to gambling is to go into it knowing you’re going to lose. The house always wins, isn’t that the saying?”
“Indeed.”
“Indeed,” she repeats, her gaze intensifying. “I never go into anything assuming I’m going to lose. But now that you bring it up, perhaps I should consider gambling. It will make it all the more exciting when I actually win against the house.”
With her eyes still on me, she cuts a piece of meat and slowly brings it to her mouth, lips puckering around the fork as she slowly slides it out.
Game on.
Chapter Eighteen Sloane
Maybe it’s the brandy,
