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The atmosphere in the sumptuous room changed, became electric — as if the mention of death had somehow charged it with life.
Xavier stared at the woman with the dark red hair and felt the slow, powerful beat of his heart — followed by an odd, inexplicable twist of pain which he quashed as ruthlessly as he would a fly.
Drawing himself up to his full impressive height, Xavier subjected Laura to a stare of insolent question. 'Is there anything else you want to tell me, cherie?' he drawled, his rich accent edged with sarcasm. 'Mmm? '
Laura shook her head uncertainly. Hadn't she already said enough?
'No? Not about to disclose that you are working for some cable TV reality show and are carrying a secret camera to film me in the sanctity of my office?'
Laura was about to ask him why he was being so suspicious — until she remember the snatched photos in Bonjour! magazine. No wonder the black eyes were glittering with such hostility.
'Get out' he said quietly.
This wasn't how the meeting was supposed to end, and Laura stared at him in disbelief. 'But surely you want to — '
'Do not try to second-guess me!' he interrupted furiously. 'Just go — and go now! Maintenant!'
Laura looked into his face and read something implacable there, and she knew that further words would be wasted. She nodded and picked up her bag, taking from it one of her business cards which she laid down on the desk. 'That's my mobile number,' she said. 'I'm staying at the Paradis if you want to contact me.'
She went to pick up the photo, but his voice rang out across the office.
'Leave it here, ' he ordered. 'If it is — as you say — a photo of my father, then I can lay a greater claim to it than you.'
But — '
'I said leave it!' he said icily. 'And go.'
Aware of his dark eyes burning into her, Laura made her way across the vast room and somehow managed to walk out of the door with her head held high — but by the time she had re-emerged on the pavement in the fashionable eighth arrondisement her hands were trembling.
Her hotel wasn't that far away — but her fancy new suede shoes were most definitely not designed for walking. So she hailed a cab, which crawled through the affluent streets before dropping her at the Paradise. Was it possible that she had failed in her mission at the first hurdle?
The lift zoomed her up to the vast suite which the Sheikh's aide had insisted on providing for her. Just as he had insisted on supplying a stylist, who had taken her on a comprehensive shopping tour once she had arrived in the city. Because it seemed that although Laura had the brains, the discretion and the qualifications needed for this very unusual job, she did not have the wardrobe to carry her comfortably into the highest echelons of society.
And, whilst her well-pressed navy blue suit and cream blouses were ideal for life as a small-town lawyer, she was infinitely grateful for the couture clothes she was wearing today. Clothes could protect you, she realised. They could make you look the part you were playing — even if inside you felt as insecure as a little child left alone at a party where she didn't know anyone.
Once safely inside the suite, she kicked off her shoes and lay back on the sumptuous hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what on earth she should do next. Hang around like a puppy dog, waiting to see if Xavier would take the bait and call? And if he didn't, then what?
Then she would have wasted a perfect opportunity to explore a city she'd never visited before. Time would hang heavily if she just waited, and she would find out soon enough whether or not she would be banking the huge sum of money she had been promised if she succeeded in her mission to return with Xavier.
Carefully, Laura took off the new suit and hung it in the wardrobe, enjoying the luxury of choice before pulling on a russet-coloured cashmere dress which should have clashed with her hair but somehow didn't. A gold chain belt and flat brown boots completed the look, and she set off to sightsee. Yes, it would be easy to get used to being a wealthy woman, she decided ruefully.
'Are there any messages for me?' she asked the chic young woman at the reception desk. 'Non, madesmoiselle,' the girl replied, with an apologetic shrug.
The major attractions were all within walking distance, but Laura felt as if she was only half there. To the outside world she was aware that she must look like a woman awestruck by the sights of the city, bewitched by the majestic Eiffel Tower which straddled the Trocadero like a giant steel croquet hoop, enchanted with the Sainte-Chapelle, whose glowing stained-glass interior was lik
e being inside a jewelled casket.
But beneath Laura's pleasure ticked the worries which had arisen as the result of her meeting with Xavier, and her automatic questions about whether she could have handled it any better.
It had all seemed so simple when her boss had called her into his office to ask whether she would like to take a short sabbatical and earn enough money to substantially reduce her debts by working for the royal house of Kharastan.
Laura had still been reeling from the huge hole in her finances — if not quite her heart — left by her boyfriend Josh's departure, and she had blinked at her boss, wondering if she'd misheard him.
'Working for a royal family?' she had verified.
'That's right.'
'You mean I'd have to fly out to Kharastan?' she asked.
