Page 32 of France Face-Off
Chapter 8
Alex left the room first, took the stairs to the third floor, and then crossed to the elevator, completing the descent to the ground floor. She crossed the beautiful circular lobby with its polished white columns and made her way to the banquet hall that had been decorated with shiny chandeliers and lovely flower arrangements and topiaries.
Natalya Zotin stood near Sergei Baranovsky and Hans Sutter. Thankfully, Alex wasn’t required to provide translation services for the German during meals, unless he specifically requested her to do so. He hadn’t. Alex suspected he found it a sign of weakness to rely on someone else to communicate his thoughts to others.
Wanting to avoid Natalya, Alex turned and made her way to the table with the Italian and French delegates. She knew just enough Italian to make light conversation and enough French to introduce herself. The evening meal went off without a hitch, the delegates having calmed down during the afternoon discussions. With Petrov indisposed, Baranovsky took control of answering any questions with regard to the pipeline.
During the course of the meal, Lorenzo Ricci, the Italian energy representative, and the French delegate, Gerald Bonhomme, got into a lively discussion of the day’s topics, to include alternative energy sources, current energy sources, transit routes and joint ventures between the EU and Russia.
At one point, Ricci leaned over to Bonhomme and whispered in Italian, “I have heard that the Russians are shorting the EU millions of cubic feet of natural gas each year.”
Alex didn’t catch all the words, but she understood the context. Her ears perked, and she strained to hear the rest of the conversation while pretending to eat the boeuf Bourguignon on the plate in front of her. The meal was excellent, but she didn’t have much of an appetite.
For the first time in two years, people around her knew who she was. She felt vulnerable, like she had a target pinned to her front and back. She stared around the room, searching for anyone staring back. The only gaze she met was Daniel’s. Now that he knew who she was and what she’d done, she was even more determined to learn more about him.
At the moment, the conversation next to her was interesting enough to capture her attention, and she focused on what they were saying while trying not to be too obvious.
“Oui,” Bonhomme nodded. “I have heard the same. The Russians want us to pay for more gas than we are receiving.
The Italian nodded. “We need to address this in tomorrow’s session. I will not agree to the new pipeline if we are being robbed with the old one.”
Nothing had been said during that day’s summit session on this topic. The men agreed to bring it up in the next day’s meeting and changed the conversation to favorite vacation spots.
Alex tuned out for the remainder of the meal. When she could leave without being rude, she excused herself and left the banquet hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daniel push to his feet and take his leave of the people rising from his dinner table.
She was nervous about being alone with him in the room. Now that he knew everything, she had nothing to hide. All the Krav Maga training in the world didn’t make her feel any less vulnerable because Daniel was different. He wasn’t after her to kill her. He hadn’t tried to take her flash drive, even when she’d left it in front of him while she’d gotten ready for dinner.
He’d been there when she’d needed help, letting her stay in his room when someone had broken into hers.
And he hadn’t tried to take advantage of her sexually, like so many men had since she’d grown into her womanly shape.
She glanced around the banquet hall one more time, searching for those who might be watching her every move.
Baranovsky stood and held Natalya’s chair as she rose from the table. He said something in her ear and stepped back. She glanced across the room, her gaze meeting Alex’s. She raised a hand and waved.
Alex dipped her chin in acknowledgement.
Baranovsky looked up, his eyes narrowing to slits. He turned to Natalya and spoke, his expression intense, his lip curling back in a snarl.
Natalya responded, her lips tight. She hooked her hand through Baranovsky’s arm and led him toward the exit. Alex waited until they disappeared through the door before she made her way out. Even then, she paused at the exit and scanned the corridor. When she didn’t see Natalya or the Russian, she headed for the lobby and the bank of elevators.
She made it there without being waylaid by anyone. Once in a car with other guests, she got off on the third floor, looked around, then headed for the opposite stairwell from the one she’d used earlier. Two flights later, she hurried down the fifth-floor corridor to Daniel’s door and raised her hand to knock.
He opened the door before she could tap it with her knuckles and stepped back to allow her to enter. “Any tails?”
She shook her head. “No. I had to wait for Natalya and Baranovsky to leave the banquet hall and give them time to get to the elevators before I could head that way.”
“Well, you’re here now. I’m going to jump in the shower,” Daniel said.
“Could I use your computer?” she asked.
He nodded. “Of course.” Daniel opened the laptop. The image of her as a child with her parents was still on the screen.
Alex froze, her gaze fixed on the monitor.
“You were a cute kid,” Daniel said softly. “You look like your mother. She was a beautiful woman.”
She reached out to touch the screen, her heart squeezing so hard it hurt. “I miss them.” Alex looked to Daniel. “Where did you get the photo? I don’t have anything from our lives together. It all burned to the ground with the house.”
