Black Ice Read Free Page A

you a trip.”
    “Saved me a trip? You don’t need me?” Two or more hours back to the city was not at the top of her list of things she most wanted to do, and she was even more loath to part with the promise of the money Sylvia had mentioned.
    “We are a smaller group than expected, and I think we could manage to understand each other without outside help,” he said in gentle, well-modulated tones.They were speaking English, and Chloe promptly switched over to French.
    “If you wish, monsieur, but I’m sure I could be quite useful. I have nothing else planned for the next few days, and I would be more than happy to stay.”
    “If you have nothing planned then you will be able to go back to Paris and enjoy a nice vacation,” he suggested in the same language.
    “I’m afraid my apartment is not the best place for a vacation, Monsieur Hakim.” She wasn’t sure why she was trying to talk him into letting her stay. She hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place—it was only Sylvia’s wheedling that had talked her into it. That and the thought of the seven hundred euros a day.
    But now that she was here she didn’t want to go back. Even if it was the smarter thing to do.
    Mr. Hakim hesitated, seemingly unused to argumentative women. And then he nodded. “I suppose you could be of value to us,” he said. “It would be a shame for you to make such a long trip for nothing.”
    “It was a long trip,” Chloe said. “I think the driver might have gotten lost—we passed several places more than once. Next time he should have a map.”
    Hakim’s smile was slight. “I will see to it, Mademoiselle Underwood. In the meantime, we’ll have the servants take care of your bag while you come meet the guests you’ll be translating for. It shouldn’t be too onerous a task, and when we’re not meetingyou’ll have a beautiful setting in which to enjoy yourself. And, of course, the presence of such a lovely young woman can only make our work go more smoothly.”
    For some reason the usual French good manners sat slightly askew on Hakim, and she found herself wanting to go wash her hands. She gave him the maternal smile she reserved for the most lecherous of the Laurent brothers and murmured, “You’re too kind” as she followed him up the marble steps.
    A great many of the old châteaus had been turned into luxury hotels and conference centers, with the shabbier ones becoming bed-and-breakfasts. This was more elegant than any she had seen or even heard of, and by the time Hakim ushered her into a large room she was finding herself more and more uneasy.
    At least she wasn’t the only woman. There were eight people gathered in the room drinking coffee, and her eyes passed over them quickly. The two women had nothing in common but their good looks—Madame Lambert was tall, of a certain age, dressed in what Chloe recognized as Lagerfeld, thanks to Sylvia. The other woman was a bit younger, in her early thirties, a little too beautiful, a little too vivacious. The introductions went smoothly—there was Mr. Otomi, an elderly, dignified Japanese who fortunately spoke excellent English, and his steely-eyed assistant Tanaka-san; Signor Ricetti, a vain, middle-aged man whose handsome young assistantwas undoubtedly his lover as well; and the Baron von Rutter, all to be expected, no one of particular interest except…
    Except for him. She quickly lowered her eyes, astonished at her unexpected reaction. She didn’t like men in suits, even in Armani. She didn’t like businessmen—most of them were entirely without humor and intent only on the acquisition of money. There were a great many things Chloe loved about France, but the obsession with finance was not one of them. Too bad he was one of them, she thought briefly. Unfair that she be instantly attracted to someone who was out of the question.
    Madame Lambert, Signor Ricetti, the Baron and Baroness von Rutter, Otomi and Toussaint.
    Bastien Toussaint. At least he seemed