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The hand resting on the desktop curled in upon itself. “You are foolish to play games with me that you have no hope of winning.”
“Then let’s end the game. Stop terrorizing Belinda.”
“I intend to institutionalize your mother. Lock her up in a sanitarium for incurable alcoholics.”
“That might be difficult considering that she no longer drinks.”
Alexi chuckled. “You’re still naïve. Nothing is difficult when one has money and power.”
The day had been long, and she could feel her own weariness catching up with her. She wanted to go back to the hotel, call Jake, and feel that life was sane again. “Do you really think I’d sit by and let you do that? I’d scream so long and so loud that the whole world would hear.”
“Of course you would. I don’t know why Belinda hasn’t realized that. I’d have to silence you first, and that would be quite impossible without resorting to barbaric measures.”
Fleur thought of Jake with his blazing Colts and ready fists. Jake, who was so much more civilized than the old man sitting in front of her. She took a chair across from him and wished he’d turn on the desk lamp so she could see his expression more clearly. “You’ve never had any intention of locking her up.”
“From the beginning, you’ve been a worthy opponent. I expected you to discover the fire in the basement, but substituting the dresses was quite clever.”
“When you’ve been around a snake long enough, you learn how to crawl in the dirt. Tell me what you want.”
“How very American you’ve grown. Blunt and vulgar. No patience for nuance. It must be the influence of those crude friends with whom you keep company.”
A chill crept through her. Was he talking about Kissy? Michel? Or was it Jake…? Alarms shrieked inside her. She had to keep her relationship with Jake tucked safely away, well hidden from Alexi’s ruthless calculations. He surely knew Jake had lived in her attic. Maybe he even knew about her trip to his house. But he had no way of knowing she’d fallen back in love with him.
She crossed her legs and launched her counterattack. “I’m happy with my friends. Especially my brother. You made a disastrous mistake, you know. Michel is an extraordinary talent, and he has a brilliant career ahead of him. Admittedly he’s bad at business, but I’m very good at business, and I’ve made sure his money is tucked safely away.”
“A dress designer,” Alexi said contemptuously. “How can he hold up his head?”
She laughed. “Believe me, with the entire city courting him, he doesn’t have any trouble. It’s funny. He’s so much like you. The way he carries himself, his walk, his mannerisms—they all come from you. He even has your habit of looking at someone he doesn’t like with his eyes narrowed and his brow lifted. You can practically see the person shrink. It’s very intimidating. Of course, he also has the humanity that you lack, which makes him a far more powerful person.”
“Michel is a tapette!”
“And your mind is too small to see beyond that.” She heard his sharp intake of breath and concentrated on keeping her gaze even with his. “Poor Alexi. Maybe sometime I’ll be able to pity you.”
He slammed his hand down on the desk. “Do you feel any remorse for what you did? Any shame for destroying an object of such remarkable beauty?”
“The Bugatti was a work of art, and it’s sad that it no longer exists. But that’s not really what you’re asking, is it? You want to know if I’m sorry.” She pressed her fingers into the beadwork on her skirt. Alexi leaned slightly forward, and she heard the soft creak of leather as he shifted his weight. “Not ever,” she said. “Not for one moment have I ever been sorry.” The beads bit into her fingers. “You declared yourself the emperor of your own private kingdom, a man who’s above the law, just like Belinda’s movie stars. But nobody is above the laws of decency, and people who try to crush others should be punished. What you did to me was horrible, and I punished you. It’s as simple as that. You can threaten Belinda and keep on trying to ruin my business, but you’ll never make me regret what I did.”
“I’ll destroy you.”
“I think I’ve grown too strong for that, but if I’ve miscalculated—if you somehow manage to destroy my business—then so be it. I still won’t regret what I did. You don’t have any more power over me.”
The chair screeched as Alexi settled back into its depths. “I said I would destroy your dream, chérie, and that is what I intend to do. The score will finally be even between us.”
“You’re bluffing. There’s nothing you can do to hurt me.”
“I never bluff.” He slid a small envelope across the desktop. She looked at it for a moment. A chill passed through her. She reached out to take it. “A keepsake,” he said.
She slit open the envelope, and a battered piece of metal fell into her lap. The letters embossed upon it were still visible: BUGATTI. It was the red metal oval from the front of the Royale.
He pushed something else across the desk. In the dim light, it took a moment before she saw what it was. Her blood froze.
“A dream for a dream, chérie.”
It was a tabloid newspaper—an American paper with that day’s date—and the headline leaped out at her:
NEW KORANDA BIO REVEALS CRACK-UP
“No.” She shook her head, willing the ugly words to disappear, even as her eyes skimmed the sentences.
