Like two sharks in the sea.
There’s even a soft side there, underneath that sharkskin of his. Small things, like the way he holds my hand or touches the small of my back as we walk side by side. He’s protective. Dominant.
“What’s really your plan, Magnus?” I urge.
Something in his eyes seems to flash, and it’s followed by striking clarity. He tosses back the rest of what’s left in his glass and steps back away from me.
“I should go.”
“No,” I say, reaching out a hand to take his. “Tell me.”
He allows it, if only for a moment. Something in me suspects it’s just the touch of my hand blessing even this small part of his body that keeps him from snatching it away.
Then he does.
Magnus leans in closer so that his eyes are level with mine.
“The only thing you need to know is that right now, you and yours are protected. That, and the assurance that I will make it so that you don’t have to worry ever again.”
“Then, I just go back to New York as though this never happened?”
“Don’t ask me for something I’m incapable of giving. Sharks don’t change their ways, Sloane.” He reaches out one hand to stroke my chin. “I wasn’t lying when I said I find you intriguing. If there’s any woman I think could be my equal, you are it. But…the road I’m heading down will change things. You don’t want to be a part of it.”
Try me.
The words are there in my head, screaming. I know what darkness lies ahead for him, and a daring part of me wants to be there with him, by his side. But the goody-two-shoes girl, the one who plays by the rules, who accepts defeat even when she knows the playing field was hardly fair, who bows out gracefully and vows to try harder next time—she’s still operating the machinery in my brain.
If sharks don’t change their ways, perhaps neither do guppies.
But who knows what can happen in forty days?
Chapter Forty-Three Magnus
“They arrived in Monte Carlo this morning.”
Even though the interruption of the phone call was a distraction I didn’t need, I now perk up at Jaques’s words.
“Where are they staying?” My sister knows there’s always a room for her here at La Mer, but she also knows I’d be aware of her every move if she stayed here.
“With your aunt, it seems, at least for tonight. There is no record of a reservation at any hotel yet.”
Not that Estelle Reinhardt would need one in this town.
But staying with Mona is a surprise. Although my aunt is far less likely to judge any of Estelle’s new beaux, my sister holds her in far more regard than she does me. Not just introducing someone to Mona but staying in her home means that Estelle must be somewhat serious about this man.
Or just making a show of it for some agenda.
Either way, now that she’s here in Monte Carlo, she fares no better than a fly caught in a web—my web.
“Tell me what you know of her plans.”
“She and some friends of hers are going to the White Party tonight. After that, her plans seem to be open-ended. No return tickets booked, either for Paris or anywhere in Italy.”
“Thank you,” I say before hanging up.
So her only plans for tonight are the White Party at the Buddha Bar, one of the most well-known annual events in Monte Carlo. The dress code is white; the atmosphere is nowhere near that pristine.
It would be the last place on earth that she’d introduce me to Giorgio Conti. Estelle knows I’d rather pull my fingernails out one by one than attend an event like this.
Which makes it the perfect venue to introduce myself to her new friend.
My mind races back to Sloane in that white dress. I do owe her another, and this party would be the perfect opportunity to show her off in it.
It’s been a few days since that night in her suite. I’ve been preoccupied with my upcoming trip to South Africa to take care of a certain someone, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about it.
In fact, the main reason why I haven’t given myself an excuse to call her or see her is that she’s such a distraction. It isn’t just looking at her, remembering what it felt like to be inside of her, feel her skin against mine, even breathe the air around her. It’s that she’s a new tickle in any of my future plans.
She was right. We can’t keep operating like we have.
I’ve always been forward-thinking, but that momentum has always had an end-goal in mind, with no concern for what came after. It’s like a train traveling across the continent in search of the ocean on the other side just for the sake of finding it. I never thought about the boat I’d need to continue the journey onward.
And who knew it would come in the form of a woman working for my final nemesis?
As much as I’d like to imagine a life with Sloane by my side, it’s something I have to put off thinking about. Letting my emotions for her interfere, especially when murder is on the table, would be disastrous.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t utilize her while I still have her here in Monte Carlo.
I pick up the phone and call her.
“Magnus,” she answers. Despite myself, I try and read into that one word and how she’s said it for any clues. Is she happy to hear from me? Upset that it’s taken several days to finally call her? Hopeful that I’ll want something more than work from her?
Damn this woman!
I shake those thoughts free from my head.
“I hope I’m not disturbing anything important,” I say in a slightly bemused tone. I haven’t given her any work to do,
