I snorted at the text, but Bene just shrugged. “You can take the man out of the military, but you can’t take the military out of the man.”
“That, or he was born uptight,” I muttered.
“That too,” Bene chuckled.
At that point, we were at the St. Regis Mardavall Resort, where Lukas Dobrov, the art dealer, had checked in to one of the Royal Penthouse Suites. The drive to our home base at SesRoques took forty minutes — thirty with Bene’s hell-for-leather driving, but still — and I longed to fly instead.
I had the window rolled down, and the wind whispered,Destiny.
I nearly rolled it back up, but I closed my eyes instead, considering the possibilities.
Eventually, the tires crunched over gravel, signaling our arrival.
“Home sweet home,” Bene announced.
The image that popped into my mind was the château, but when I opened my eyes, I was disappointed to find thefincaon Mallorca.
“Back to business, Romeo,” Bene chuckled, tapping my arm.
What did he think I’d been doing all day? Buying roses?
We found Roux surrounded by documents, maps, and grainy surveillance photos, some of which we’d taken only a short time ago. I had to hand it to the guy — he didn’t just step into a job, he tackled it like a goddamn linebacker.
Henrik stood in the innermost corner of the room, sipping red wine. At least, I hoped that was what he was sipping. He and Roux were dressed to the nines, as appropriate for their roles at the party.
Roux greeted us with a nod and motioned to our rooms. “Get changed. The minute Mina and Delphine return, we’ll deploy. Bene and Marius first, then Delphine and me, followed by Henrik and Mina.”
I clenched my teeth. Henrik might not have a problem with another guy posing as his girl’s date, but I definitely did. Especially when the poser was a vampire.
“Oh, and good news.” Roux tossed me a clip-on ID. “Gordon got you on to the security detail. Just the local team, of course, not Baumann’s private squad, but still an in.”
I caught it one-handed, checked the photo, and snorted.
“How much security are we expecting?” Bene asked.
“Minimal,” Roux replied. “Think of the art dealer as a pop-up boutique operator. He won’t have time to rig the place with cameras, motion detectors, or any of the other usual safeguards. And he’ll only have a handful of guards since Baumann will want him to keep a low profile.”
“I guess he gets a commission?” I asked.
Roux shrugged. “That, or first dibs on the best pieces or just bragging rights among the millionaires he schmoozes with.” He checked his watch again. “Time for you two to get moving.”
“Five euros says I beat you,” Bene dared me on the way to his cottage.
A deal I took and easily won, with twenty-two minutes to his thirty for a shower, shave, and wardrobe change.
“Well, as security, you don’t have to look good,” he said, touching his perfectly coiffed, golden hair.
“And catering does?” I snickered.
Roux looked up, then shook his head at Bene. “Marius is right. You can’t look so…so…”
Bene flashed his best Hollywood grin. “Good? Dare I say, hot, even?”
“Memorable,” Roux grunted. “You can’t stand out in a crowd.”
Bene’s grin widened. “Not my fault I’m outstanding. I was born this way.”
“Born with extra-volume conditioner and aftershave?” Henrik wrinkled his nose. “What is that? Dolce&Gabbana?”
