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“Are we going inside?”
He turned in the direction we were heading, approaching the entrance to the museum. We were on the other side of the prism and pond, and it would have made more sense to be dropped off on the other street.
“When people ask who I am, what do you want me to say?”
“They won’t ask.”
“What exactly is this? A dinner party?”
“A meeting.”
“Like…a business meeting?”
“Everything is a business meeting.”
“Well, what do—”
He halted and stared me down directly.
I lost my voice instantly.
“Relax.”
Relax? “That’s a little hard to do when you’re a drug dealer and I’m not sure what I’m about to walk into.”
“It doesn’t matter what you’re walking into because you’re with me. You’re untouchable. Do you understand?” Those dark eyes burned into mine with the heat of flames. He could burn down this entire city with that look. “Relax.”
We crossed through the fog then finally approached the double doors to the Louvre. The lights were on, but no one was around, so it seemed unlikely to be the location of a grand party.
We entered, the lights on as if it was business hours. The walls were covered with ancient and priceless pieces of art, from the Byzantine Empire to the French Revolution. It was all there, preserved in oils and clay.
Bartholomew walked on like he knew exactly where he was going.
I stayed at his side, bundled up in my coat.
After several long hallways echoing with our loud footsteps, we entered a larger room, full of round tables with golden chairs underneath the crystal chandelier. Classical music played lightly over the speakers, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover the quiet chatter and clink of wineglasses. There were only fifty people here, more or less.
It was mostly men, the beautiful women only there as signs of stature. The room was warm after the cold outside and the empty hallways, so I let my coat slip from my arms before a waiter appeared to take it away.
Bartholomew turned his piercing gaze on me. “Third table from the left. The man with the moustache.”
My eyes followed his directions. “What about him?”
“I need to speak to him privately.”
I looked at him again. “And what does that have to do with me?”
A heartbeat passed, and his eyes darkened slightly, as if I should already know. “He’s the president of the National Assembly. Despite the second home they just purchased in Positano, she’s still unaware of her husband’s corrupt ties. You need to distract her for at least ten minutes so I can speak with him.”
“Ten minutes is a long time…” I looked at her again, a woman who was at least two decades older than me.
“Since he’s a public figure, I have very few opportunities to speak to him without being tracked. I’m paying you a fortune, and I expect a return on that investment.”
I started to raise my voice. “You told me you just wanted someone to help you navigate dinner parties—”
“Hence, here we are.” He pivoted his body toward me, towering over me in my high heels. A waft of his scent passed over me, and it smelled like a forest in winter. It smelled like snow…even though I had no idea what snow smelled like. “Do this or leave.”
I interpreted that to mean I would be fired if I left. “Alright…” I stared at her and tried to think of something to say. My mind remained blank. But I walked over there anyway and hoped that the sense of panic would inspire me.
