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The wheelchair-bound old man had a heavy blanket covering his knees. Despite his shock of white hair and shrunken features, there was a charisma with which he wore his snow-white tuxedo and black bowtie that felt vaguely familiar.
She watched him wheel his electric wheelchair closer to a frame that held flamboyant scrawled writing. Looking closer, Reiko saw that it was a poem—a simple but very powerful sonnet about love that brought a lump to her throat.
‘Men are stupid.’
The bold statement caught her by surprise.
‘We think we rule the world,’ he continued in a thick French accent. ‘We beat our chests, measure our dicks and crow when we think we have the biggest balls. But all comes to nothing in the face of a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman can make a man’s dreams come true or destroy him with a simple flick of her smallest finger.’ He turned his head and fixed piercing ice-blue eyes on her. ‘Is that what you’re doing to him?’ He nodded to where Damion stood, surrounded by his guests.
Startled, Reiko quickly shook her head. ‘Oh, no, you’ve got it wrong. There’s nothing between—’
‘That’s what you’re telling yourself right now. That’s probably what he’s telling himself. He’s arrogant enough to think he holds all the cards. He always has been. But I can tell this time he’s screwed.’
A bitter laugh escaped before she could stem it. ‘Not by me,’ she choked out, then felt heat rising in her face. ‘I mean, I have no interest in screw … in attracting anyone. Not now. Not ever.’
He just smiled. ‘Of course not. Because the last thing you want is him, correct?’
‘Yes.’
His attention returned to the poem. ‘Like I said—stupid,’ he muttered.
His breath shuddered out, and his gaze was so intent on the words she felt as if she were intruding.
‘We’re all stupid, but given the choice we wouldn’t change a thing.’ He turned back to her. ‘As you can probably tell, I won’t be around much longer.’
Again the intensity in his eyes teased at her, reminding her of—
‘I fear that my grandson will let my mistakes and his own past experiences get in the way of his happiness. But, should he be helped to see past those experiences, he will love deeply and completely.’
‘Your grand—?’ Reiko looked closer at the old man and everything fell into place. ‘You’re Sylvain Fortier,’ she murmured. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognise you.’
The smile on his age-lined face was weary. ‘I recognise you, ma petite. As I also recognise that certain decisions I took in the past may have impacted you.’
Reiko tried to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat. ‘You’re talking about my grandfather?’
Eyes very similar to Damion’s bored into her. ‘Oui. If I ventured an apology, would it be well received?’
‘It would certainly receive a fair hearing.’ She glanced over to where Damion stood, surrounded by his guests.
‘Bon, then I ask for your forgiveness. Although I think perhaps it is a different apology you require?’
Reiko opened her mouth to deny it but no sound emerged.
He nodded as if she’d answered him. ‘Will you remember what I said about my gra
ndson?’
More than a little dazed at the exchange, Reiko nodded. ‘Um, yes. I will.’
Sylvain Fortier smiled. ‘Bien. Au revoir.’
Still reeling from the meeting, she wasn’t prepared when she spotted her quarry several minutes later. Despite the slick veneer of his clothes, Reiko recognised Pascale Duvall instantly.
He stood beside a steel sculpture, a look of undisguised avarice on his face. Knowing how he’d acquired the jade figurine made her stomach turn, but she summoned a smile and approached him.
‘Monsieur Duvall. I was hoping to run into you.’ She introduced herself.
His wariness evaporated in the time it took for him to slide his gaze over her from top to toe. ‘Mademoiselle Kagawa—a pleasure indeed.’ He bent to kiss the back of her hand. Over his balding head she saw Damion shoot her a hard, dangerous look from where he stood beside his grandfather. Her nape tightened. Fearing he would guess why she’d wangled an invitation, she spoke quickly.
