Page 3 of Over the Edge

Moreau’s eyes flickered to me, his lips curving into a thin smile. “I never bring merchandise to initial meetings.”

“I hope you have something to show me other than the view from your suite, as I have the same view from mine.”

He let the silence stretch for a beat too long. “I assure you, Ms. Deveraux, you won’t be disappointed.”

Oh, gag me. If he planned to unzip more than a drone case, I’d have him on the ground before he could blink. Stiletto to the carotid, mission be damned.

Well, probably not. But the fantasy got me through the elevator ride.

As the doors slid open, he stepped aside, gesturing with a flourish. “I don’t usually conduct business from my personal quarters.” His voice was smooth, his smile almost flirtatious, but his eyes were cold. “Consider this an exception.”

“I’m flattered.” I let a touch of genuine Lyric crack through Elisa’s silk. Just enough steel to let him know he didn’t intimidate me.

The suite we stepped into was more palace than penthouse. The Diamond Suite Princess Grace—named for royalty and priced at an outrageous fifty thousand euros a night—boasted a private terrace and infinity pool with panoramic views of the Mediterranean, a dining room that could seat twelve, and rare artwork handpicked by the royal family. It was elegance, weaponized.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the terrace and the ink-black sea beyond, yachts glittering like scattered stars across the water.

In Moreau’s case, I was sure he had.

A man waited by the elevator, stone-faced and coiled for action. Ex-military. Special forces, by the way he tracked me without moving. He nodded once.

“Everything is prepared, sir,” he said in crisp, accented English.

“Thank you, Vidal. We’re not to be disturbed.”

I kept my smile in place, but the knot in my gut pulled tighter at the thought of being alone with him. This man had killed at least three women that I knew of, and probably a lot more that nobody knew of.

And now I was shut in his suite with him, with no extraction plan and no backup.

But that was the job.

And I was damn good at this job.

“Drink?” Moreau peeled away from me with that languid confidence, crossing the suite to a marble-topped sideboard that gleamed beneath the warm spill of chandelier light. “There’s champagne, wine, brandy.” He held up a Baccarat decanter. “Cognac?”

“Whatever you’re having would be lovely.”

“Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the plush sofas in a soft dove-gray. The gold-veined table between them was laid out with fruit, cigars, and a chilled bottle of champagne like seduction was just another service offered with the suite. There was also a ruggedized black case that looked out of place among the elegant decor.

It wasn’t Sentinel. It was too small. But maybe it was a prototype or something similar. Either way, I had a pretty good feeling it had come from wherever Moreau was storing his goods for the auction this weekend.

While Moreau’s back was turned, I slipped my hand into my clutch, fingers closing around the micro-sensor tracker. It was no larger than a grain of sand, but powerful enough to transmit through concrete and steel. All I had to do was plant the tracker, get out alive, and let the team follow the signal to wherever Moreau was keeping the Sentinel Mk-IV drone system.

Moreau turned back, a crystal snifter extended.

Dammit. I was too slow.

I let the tracker fall into my clutch and accepted the drink with a smile, our fingers brushing.

“To new ventures,” he said, raising his glass.

“To new ventures.” I clinked my glass against his and took a small sip, tasting notes of vanilla and oak, rich and complex. The cognac would’ve been heavenly under different circumstances.

I settled onto the sofa, crossing my legs slowly. The slit in my dress parted to reveal a calculated glimpse of thigh. Moreau’s eyes followed the movement before he took the seat across from me.

“So.” He swirled his cognac, studying the amber liquid as if it held secrets. “You’re interested in drone technology.”

“I’m interested in power,” I corrected, maintaining eye contact as I took another sip. “Power equals security. These drones are simply a means to that end.”

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