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I’d learned a great deal about French politics over the years, each municipality handling their jurisdiction slightly differently. Louis Visage was a minister within the parliament, considered a man who ruled with an iron fist. He held control over Paris and the surrounding areas. What he said mattered. He’d done his buddy, Judge Garber a favor by making two phone calls.
One to have the municipality begin the paperwork to shut down the project and a second to the local police planning on filing extortion charges. It didn’t matter if Visage provided evidence or not.
The Frenchman lived in a sinfully large estate, one that took up an entire city block. As soon as Dumas pulled up in front of the sprawling location, I eased from the vehicle, eager to get back to my lovely submissive. Her story had lingered in my mind well into the night, preventing me from getting more than a couple of hours of sleep. I couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through, but it explained her initial reckless behavior and the reason she’d moved so far away.
It wasn’t just about running but trying to find herself while eliminating guilt. Sighing, I shoved my hands into my pockets and headed toward Dumas. He’d somehow managed to secure a meeting with Visage. I didn’t ask how. I didn’t care. Whatever influence he’d used was in our favor. I was only here to ensure the Frenchman knew I’d use my weight within the States to bring down his glorified empire if necessary.
Philip had a sly grin on his face as he headed in my direction. “I see you had no trouble finding the location.”
“None at all. How could you miss a pink house sitting on the top of a knoll?” I squinted from the sun, glaring at the massive stone gargoyles adorning the front windows. Garish was the word for the style.
“Well, be warned. He’s a holier than thou asshole.”
“I know the type. Let’s get this over with.”
As he started to head toward the house, I stopped him, pulling him back. “I am curious what your father has on him.”
Philip laughed. “Let’s just say Louis enjoys going to Spain for his recreation.” He tugged an envelope from his pocket, allowing me to look inside.
My reaction was the same, laughing from the ridiculousness of the costume he wore while being punished by a huge man with a whip in his hand. “Colorful.”
“And not something he’d want to get out in the public.”
“Why didn’t your father supply this before?”
Philip sighed. “You don’t understand my dad. He wrote me off years ago.”
“Then how did you convince him?”
He grinned. “I returned my share of the winery.”
“Interesting.”
I trailed behind him as he walked to the door, knocking twice. When the housekeeper opened it, they spoke for a few seconds before she allowed us in.
Mr. Visage was waiting for us outside in the sunroom. He didn’t bother looking up from the book he was reading as we walked in.
I leaned against the doorway, keeping my hands in my pockets while Philip moved to the chair across from him, sitting down without being invited. I was beginning to appreciate his way of doing business more than I originally thought. After sliding the envelope in front of the man on the table, he sat back, crossing his legs and sliding one arm over the back of the chair.
Two minutes passed. Then two more.
Neither one of us acted antsy and I was surprised I continued to be amused.
Finally, Louis looked up, barely acknowledging Philip’s presence before glancing at the envelope.
He spoke in French, his greeting gruff.
Philip didn’t respond for a few seconds then nodded in my direction. “English in honor of my business associate. I’m sure you know Jameson Stark.”
Louis tilted his head, studying me with hard, cold eyes. “I’ve heard of him, yes.”
It apparently didn’t matter that I was in the room. I finally walked closer, taking the small sofa located off to the side. “We’ve come to conclude business with you, Mr. Visage. I hope you’ll understand that we anticipate the troubles my associate has been forced to endure will end as of today.”
Louis laughed, the booming sound of his voice echoing in the room. “Your associate has a long list of grievances against him, Mr. Stark. I’m afraid that I can’t be but so helpful in his endeavor to clear his name.”
To Philip’s credit, he didn’t respond as I normally would with anger, choosing to remain where he was, acting as if he had all the time in the day.
“As you might imagine,” I continued, “I’m well aware of your friendship with Judge Daniel Garber. I believe not only do you go way back prior to you accepting your position, but you’ve been friendly enough to go on lengthy vacations together.”
