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To Friday’s dismay, Striker didn’t say anything
at all.
Chapter Twenty
The penthouse, New Amsterdam Hotel
New York City, Northern Territory
“Why am I here?” Serge Abramovich sounded bored as he lazed back on the decadent red sofa. “I’m a busy man.”
Sandrine Cherbourg was certain he was a busy man—busy getting drunk and screwing his way through New York’s elite. Instead of snapping at him to be serious for once, she poured him a glass of the hotel’s finest Scotch and handed it to him.
“We’re here to discuss the methods Miriam is using to deal with her missing scientist.”
“I thought she’d sent an Enforcement army to head her off at the coast.”
“Seems Ms. Jones slipped through their net.”
Serge grimaced. “Not a good look for Miriam.”
No. It wasn’t. A fact that pleased Sandrine no end. She tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and sat back into the armchair facing Serge. She’d chosen the form-fitting red dress she wore because it flowed over her curves, showing her body to her best advantage. After all, her body, like everything else at her disposal, was simply a tool she could use to achieve her aims.
“I’m assuming you’ve jammed all comm devices in this room.” Serge pointed with the hand that held the glass.
The man was even too lazy to use his free hand to gesture. If she didn’t need his alliance, she wouldn’t give the buffoon the time of day. But she did need him.
“Of course.” She crossed her long legs, letting the spiked heel of her red leather shoe dangle like a lure in front of her. “We are in Miriam’s territory, non? It would be foolish to assume privacy.”
She watched Serge lick his lips as he followed her movements. “You won’t mind if I check for myself.”
She inclined her head. “But of course.” She watched as Serge used his implant to attempt to communicate with an outside team.
His smile was wide, but his eyes were dead, when he discovered it was impossible. “Tell me what you want, Sandrine.” He took another mouthful of liquor.
That was one thing she did like about Serge—the man didn’t like to waste time on small talk. Not when he could be using that time to indulge his desires. If she hadn’t seen him in action in the boardroom, where he was ruthless and cutting in his intelligence, she would never have imagined how such a man could retain power over his region.
“I want to align forces. I want”—she licked her red, red lips before continuing—“to find this missing girl before Miriam kills her.”
His eyes turned sharp. “You want to download the information in the scientist’s head and use it against Miriam.”
“Oui.” She purred the word and watched his face flush.
Men. Too, too easy.
“But, Sandrine darling, have you forgotten that you, too, were at the meeting? If you compromise Miriam, you also compromise yourself. You compromise all of us.” There was a bite of warning in his tone that she dismissed.
“True. But if one were to leak other information at the same time, that person could make it seem as though their only role in the meeting was to undermine the nefarious plans of the group.”
“You want to tell the world you were there acting as a spy? That your involvement was for the greater good?”
Her laughter was tinkling. “Well, at least we can say it was for my good.”
“For the public to believe you were there with honest intentions, you’d need corroboration of your story.” His smile was knowing. “You’d need me.”
“We can spin the meeting any way we like. The way I would tell it is that we were invited to take part, but once we learned what they intended, we instantly made our views known. After that, our consciences wouldn’t allow us to do anything else but go public with the information and undermine their plans.” She ran her palm down her thigh, watching him follow the move. “It will weaken their companies’ stock.”
“It will leave a power gap that you can step into.” Serge threw back the rest of his drink and placed the crystal glass on the table beside him.
