“It’s beautiful,” I said, touching his hand, and he took my wrap from my shoulders.
When I turned back to face him, I was bathed in the candlelight and I could see Wagner’s expression clearly. Madame Blanche was worth her weight in gold. And my only regret was that it wasn’t Graham who was looking at me like a blind man seeing for the first time.
Wagner put his hand to his chest.
“Are you all right?” I asked, moving toward him.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said. “I just wanted to check and see if my heart was still beating. The sight of you takes my breath away.”
“Flattery will get you everything,” I said seductively.
“I had a gift for you,” he said.
“Had?” I questioned.
He nodded to a long box tied with a red ribbon that sat in an armchair against the wall. “I’m afraid it’s a useless gift.”
“I love gifts,” I said. “Especially when they’re useless.” I made my way to the chair and picked up the box, slipping off the ribbon so I could lift the lid. Delicate tissue paper lined the box, and underneath it was a sheer black negligee that would’ve had Madame Blanche blushing.
“I was thinking I’d like for you to slip into this before dinner, but I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “You’re perfect as you are. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” I said, giving him a coy smile and then moving around his personal space, inspecting the smattering of pictures he had sitting on top of his dresser.
He’d made himself quite at home in someone else’s house, and it reminded me that he wasn’t a man to underestimate. He didn’t have a conscience, and there was no reasoning with the Devil.
“Is this your family?” I asked, watching him move to the sideboard and pour two glasses of wine.
“Yes,” he said, shooting me a sheepish grin over his shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ll find me quite sentimental when it comes to family loyalty.”
“I think that’s a good thing,” I said. “Do you ever think about having a family of your own?”
“My career has always taken precedence when it comes to my priorities in life, but lately I’ve found myself wanting something different. Something more. I believe that’s why we’re here tonight.”
I laughed, a tinkling sound I’d perfected over the years—one I found men thought quite amusing. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” I admonished. “I believe there’s a proper order for weddings and babies.” And then I added conspiratorially, “Honeymoons are negotiable, of course.”
“Of course,” he said, walking toward me with the wine. He handed me the glass and then he touched his glass to mine. “To a lifetime of honeymoons,” he said, gazing deep into my eyes.
“Thank you for making tonight so special,” I said, letting him lead me to the table he had set for dinner.
The courses were already laid out, and there were several wine pairings to go with each course. The sight of all that wine and food would have been enough for the people of Marseille to storm the castle, so to speak. They’d been living on rations and scraps for weeks, and I felt guilty for even being in the same room with such waste.
“You have no idea how much I want to skip dinner right now,” he said, pulling out my chair.
I sat, somewhat surprised and eternally grateful for his restraint. “We can always move straight to the dessert course.”
“Patience, my love,” he said. “You deserve the romance and the rituals. Let me wine and dine you. I want us to know all about each other in every way before the night is through.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “I wish I’d led as exciting of a life as you have.”
“You’re young yet,” he said. “Give yourself time, and you’ll have had as many grand adventures as I have. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
I picked at each course, enraptured by his every word. He told me of his childhood and bragged about how he’d impressed Hitler from their first meeting, and then his rapid rise through the ranks as a commander of an elite police force. He never flinched at the stories he told, or the brutalization of human life. To him, the people he tortured were no more than animals.
The duck in front of me sat cold as I moved the meat around on the plate, waiting for my stomach to settle as he told a particularly gruesome tale of his last visit to Les Milles.
“Is something wrong with the food?” he asked. “You’re not eating.”
“It’s delicious,” I told him. “I think the anticipation of tonight has made me a little nervous.”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t feel the same,” he said.
“Can I get you more wine?” I asked, standing to my feet and moving toward the sideboard.
I was thankful that I’d grown up with a father who’d never minded strong spirits in the house. Because if I’d been a normal woman, I would have already been passed out from the different wines we’d had with each course.
“More wine would be wonderful,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He was watching me as I moved across the room, and it wasn’t an altogether pleasant look in his eyes. “You’re a very intriguing woman.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“It feels as if you find that more of a compliment than when I tell you you’re beautiful.”
“Beauty fades over time,” I said. “But I can be intriguing until my last days on earth.”
“I suppose,” he said, his frown thoughtful. “And do you enjoy living a life of intrigue?”
There was something about the tone of his voice that had me pausing as I stood in front of the sideboard, studying the final bottle of unopened wine on the sidebar.
“Like I told you before,” I said, “I haven’t lived such an interesting life as of yet.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Something tells me that might
