He chuckles on the other end, as though beer with his sister is a nice thought. I can’t blame him. It sounds like heaven to me as well, considering the circumstances.
“Bye, sis.”
“Bye, Theo.”
I hang up and set the phone down, trying to force my body to relax. Maybe I should take Magnus up on that spa visit.
Before I can even ponder the idea, I hear a knock at the door.
What the hell is it now?
Chapter Twenty-Three Sloane
I open the door, and I’m surprised to find Lisette standing there looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle!” she says in a perky voice, lifting the leather-bound booklet she has in her hand. “I come to…ah… how you say…breakfast?”
I stare at her for a moment, long enough for her brow to start creasing.
“By all means, Lisette. Please come in,” I say, opening the door wider for her.
She walks in and turns around, still with the overly bright smile stretched across her face. “Alors—”
I raise a hand to quiet her. “Let’s stop with the no parlez vous English bullshit, shall we?”
Her eyes go wide with confusion and innocence. She’s good.
I simply place one hand on my hip and wait.
It lasts longer than I expected, but I’m pretty skilled in the art of negotiation. Sometimes all you need to do is outlast your opponent.
The transformation that comes when she realizes the jig is up is…surprising.
The wide-eyed ingenue transitions into a cunning minx.
“Okay, I will play along,” she says in a cool voice that sounds like something that should be coming from the lips of Mae West or some other 1930s dame.
She has a hint of an accent that tells me English is probably not her first language, but at the very least, she appears to be far more fluent than originally implied.
“So what are you, a private detective or just some actress Magnus paid to spy on me?”
She chuckles as she walks over to the minibar and boldly reaches in to grab a small bottle of vodka. As she pours it into a glass, adding part of a can of Sprite to it, she eyes me with a cynical look of humor.
“I’m whatever men,” she allows her eyes to wander up and down my body, “or women pay me to be.”
It takes me a moment, and I’m ashamed to admit that it’s only Magnus’ earlier insinuation that leads me to the correct conclusion. Once again, my mouth drops open.
“You’re a…a..?”
She chuckles before taking a sip and swallowing. “Welcome to Monte Carlo,” she says, lifting her glass.
“Should I just assume every woman in this city is bought and paid for?” I won’t allow myself to think about the fact that I very much fit into that description.
“Are not we all in one way or another?” She asks, tilting her head and taking another sip. “You are an attorney, right? At some big firm in New York? How much of yourself do you sell on a daily basis?”
I’ll just ignore that uncomfortable thought.
“What did he pay you to do?”
She sets the glass down and pulls at the sides of her black dress as she curtsies. “French maid. Depressingly cliché but common all the same. Especially when they hire a girl who, how did you put it? Parlez vous English with a proper French accent?” She laughs. “At least this one was a nice change of pace from the norm.”
“I doubt he paid you just to deliver dresses and ask what I’d like for breakfast.”
“He is still my employer,” she hints, saying nothing more.
I wait, until I realize she’s not about to rat him out. Then I laugh.
“Here’s the thing, Lisette—if that’s your real name—I’m also employed by him. In fact, I’m going to be meeting up with him tonight. I can tell him what a wonderful job my French maid is doing…or I can tell him that she fucked up on the job and accidentally let slip that she’s quite fluent in English and somehow knows all about me.”
Her eyes slowly narrow, more filled with animosity. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
She sighs and finishes her drink in one gulp, setting it back down hard enough to clank loudly. “I do not know anything. I’m just supposed to report on things I overhear or see or…” she shrugs as though to finish that thought.
I tilt my head to consider her. “How much is he paying you?”
“Not nearly as much as he’s paying you,” she says with a cynical smirk.
I think about the ten million dollars. “How do you know how much he’s paying me?”
“I do not,” she says with a shrug, then flashes a devilish grin before looking around at the luxurious suite. “But I do know he is very interested in you, and that must be worth something.”
I straighten up and cool my gaze. “I’m Magn—Monsieur Reinhardt’s attorney.”
She laughs. “All when you could be so much more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Something in her eyes flashes, and she seems to remember herself. “Nothing.”
“Don’t hold back now, Lisette. By all means, spill all your worldly wisdom on me.”
Now, the fear hits her eyes. “I should go.”
A sudden bout of sympathy hits me. Whatever her role, she doesn’t deserve to incur the wrath of Magnus, especially considering what I know about the man after last night. Specifically, how he deals with people who cross him.
“Never mind,” I say with a sigh of resignation. “You can go.”
“You are not going to tell him about...?”
“No, no, of course not,” I say, waving her off.
She visibly relaxes. “Merci, Mademoiselle.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Do you still want breakfast?”
I look at the menu she placed on the bar to pour her drink and laugh at the absurdity of the request.
“You know what? I think I do.”
She laughs with me, no doubt feeling her own sense of the absurd and hands me the menu.
Ten minutes later, my eggs Benedict with mimosa and coffee are ordered, and Lisette is gone. At least I have some semblance of an
