Dark Angel Read Free

be nervous. He’d organized so many events over the years that by now it was mostly routine. He was Gotland’s very own Bindefeld, the party king. Slightly older, a bit thicker around the middle and without the same network of contacts, but still a local celebrity. Viktor Algård was elegantly attired in a black suit tailored in a fashionably modern style. His lavender silk shirt was handsomely cut, giving him a touch of the dandy. He was past fifty but clearly in excellent shape. Hardly any wrinkles were evident on his open, friendly face except when he laughed, which he did frequently. His hair was still dark and thick. In honour of the occasion, he had combed his long hair back so it reached almost to his shoulders. He had an olive complexion, which he’d inherited from his Tunisian-born father, along with his dark eyes and full lips. In general, he was quite satisfied both with himself and with his appearance.
    Now he gazed with pleasure at the building’s hyper-modern banquet hall, which could hold up to a thousand guests.
    He took a certain pride in being allowed to arrange a dedication, in being the very first on the scene. He’d spent the past few months meticulously planning this event, fine-tuning all the details down to the very last minute.
    He raised his hand to give a wave to the governor, who smiled at him. He could understand why she was so happy. The only disappointment was the blustery wind, which had forced them to hold the welcome ceremony indoors. But what did that matter when the champagne was expensive and the glasses gleaming?
    He went upstairs to the kitchen to make sure everything was going as it should. He found the place in a frenzy, with eight chefs working to create the perfect meal. The appetizer was being plated. On the menu were: salmon and lemon parfait with feta and arugula creme, followed by mustard-marinated roast lamb with root-vegetable gratin. And dessert was a nougat panna cotta with raspberries marinated in elderberry juice. All typical Gotland fare, elevated to a sophisticated level. He shouted encouragement to the chefs, who were sweating over the stoves, before he returned to the bar. He noted with satisfaction that the glasses were being rapidly refilled. It was important not to be stingy with the booze; the guests needed to be warmed up as quickly as possible. Linen tablecloths had been placed on the tables and the waitresses, all dressed in white, were lighting the candles in the silver candelabras. It looked as though it was going to be a perfect evening.
    The lobby was crowded with guests and, judging by the laughter and chatter, they were already in a festive mood.
    A short distance away stood his lover, carrying on an intense conversation with two of the island’s foremost artists. Her fiery red dress and platinum-blond hair made her stand out among the other guests. Almost queenlike, if it weren’t for her exuberant spirit. She laughed loudly and waved her arms about to underscore her words as she apparently regaled the artists with one of her countless anecdotes. Both men stood very close to her, their expressions rapturous.
    Algård chuckled and gave her an amorous glance as he hurried past.
    Their relationship had begun two months ago. It happened at a gallery opening that he had arranged in town. She was strolling about, looking at the paintings, and they had struck up a conversation. They got on so well that they left the event together. They took a walk along the seafront and ended the evening by having dinner. By the time they parted, late that night, he was in love.
    So far no one knew of their relationship. They had chosen to wait to make their love public. Visby was such a small town that gossip was rampant, and his divorce from Elisabeth was not yet final. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than necessary. Elisabeth was so weak. Fragile, both physically and psychologically.
    Nothing like his lover.

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