AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I opened my eyes.
Royal purple wasn’t something I normally wore. For years I’d dressed for the job, and that meant midnight blue, which is actually harder to see at night than black, or black, or—if I was trying to seduce a target long enough to get him away from his goons—bright red. But maybe I ought to rethink that.
Because purple . . . looked pretty good.
Make that very good, I thought, surprised. It was kind to my complexion and brought out heretofore unnoticed depths in my hair and eyes. The gold spangles, which had looked so gaudy amid sweaty tourists and a profusion of other colors and fabrics, looked strangely fitting here. The embroidery work was really very fine, and even the huge phoenix on the back didn’t take away from the whole. In fact, it added a merry, what the hell quality to it.
This was a happy, party sort of robe, swishy and fun.
And I was pretty sure that I even had the right shoes to go with it.
I got so involved in finding the goddess sandals, with flat soles and gold leather, that Radu had insisted on packing, and then doing my eye makeup—because when else were Cleopatra eyes gonna be suitable—that I failed to notice I had an observer.
Some sixth sense had me looking up, to find Louis-Cesare leaning against the door, holding a huge bouquet and smiling slightly as he watched me. I checked out the flowers in the mirror, which were beautiful but unnecessary, especially since it looked like he’d bought out the shop. I finished the eye I was working on, completing my over the top look, and turned around to lean against the dresser.
“That’s not gonna help you.”
He produced a ridiculously huge box of chocolates from behind his back.
“And neither is that.”
Then he brought out the big guns, and proffered a bottle, which initially confused me, because where did he get three hands? But it turned out that the flowers were actually in the crook of his arm, so that was all right. I walked over and regarded the bottle, which was a distinctive shape.
“You’re really sorry, huh?” I asked, taking the fat little jug of Louis-XIII, better known as the cognac of the gods.
And then he ruined it.
“I am sorry you were upset,” he informed me.
I looked up in surprise. “Oh. So, we’re gonna fight?” I waggled the bottle at him. “Then why bring out the good stuff?”
He frowned. “I have no desire to fight. But I cannot apologize when I did nothing wrong.”
I bent over and carefully placed the bottle onto the bedside table, because there was no reason to risk good cognac. Then I stood up and smiled. Louis-Cesare started to look worried.
“Nothing wrong?” I asked. “You’re seriously leading with that?”
His back straightened.
Yeah, we were gonna fight.
“And are you seriously telling me that you didn’t see that . . . thing . . . target you? It chased you halfway around the temple!”
“Because I was shooting at it—”
“Or because Jonathan told it to!”
I scowled. “You heard what it said; it didn’t take orders. And anyway, Jonathan doesn’t care about me. Jonathan probably doesn’t even remember me—”
“He remembers you.” It was grim.
“Isn’t it more likely that he was here for you? He’s obsessed with you—”
Louis-Cesare brushed it away. “It amounts to the same thing. If he caught you, he knows I’d do anything, give him anything, even betray the family to keep you safe.”
I’d been about to say something else, but I stopped, wondering how I was supposed to reply to that. It was often a problem with us; Louis-Cesare could be incredibly tight lipped when he wanted to be, but when he did talk, he just laid it all out there. He somehow managed to be infuriatingly stiff necked and completely vulnerable at the same time, and it never ceased to throw me.
For once, I decided to reply in kind.
