Page 8 of France Face-Off
She studied his face. He didn’t look like a Daniel. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, only the jury’s still out.”
His lips twitched. “Trust me, the pleasure would be all yours.”
She moved to go around him.
He dropped his hand on her elbow and stepped into her path.
“I’m unarmed,” she said in clipped tones. “I’m not a threat to anyone.”
He chuckled. “I’m not so certain about that, not after seeing how you threw Petrov over your shoulder like he didn’t weigh two hundred pounds.”
“I’ve had lessons in self-defense. A woman can’t always hide a knife in her clothing.”
“You managed to quite nicely, which is surprising as tightly as that dress fits your body.”
Her cheeks heated. She chose to ignore the fact he’d noticed how her dress hugged her figure. With one eyebrow cocked, she asked, “And what is your connection to this reception?”
His lips spread into a smile. “I’m an escort.”
She laughed. “I should’ve known.”
His brow wrinkled. “And why should you have known?”
“I mean, look at you.” Alex waved a hand at him. “You aren’t old enough to be one of the politicians or delegates. You’re too good-looking to be one of the scientists, and your moves are too skilled.” Her eyebrows dropped and her eyes narrowed. “You’re too skilled to be just an escort. I’d venture to guess you’re more of a bodyguard or additional security hired by the chateau or some of the attending diplomats.”
His grin broadened. “So, you think I’m good-looking, huh?”
“That’s all you got out of what I just said?” She rolled her eyes.
“It’s nice to know the suit is working.”
Alex tilted her head to one side and studied him anew. “If you were part of the chateau’s security team, you would’ve already turned me in as a potential threat; therefore, I’ll mark that off my list.”
“And your self-defense techniques are too well-honed for you to be simply a translator,” the man in front of her said. “So, what else are you? A spy? A call girl?” His gaze narrowed even more as he pinned her with his gaze. “Or an assassin?”
Her tight lips eased into a sultry smile. “I’m a translator,” she said, “and you’re keeping me from my duties. Now, either you move, or I scream.”
He held out his arm. “Allow me to escort you back to the reception hall.”
“I can get back there on my own,” she reminded him.
“I know that, but I don’t trust you to follow me in. You might be hiding another knife under that silver dress. I’d venture to guess you probably wouldn’t trust me to follow you in, considering I still have the knife with which you tried to kill Petrov.”
She frowned. “I was not trying to kill the man. He just needed him to understand that no means no.”
Daniel’s lips widened into a grin. “Or nyet means nyet.”
“If you were close enough to hear me say that, you were close enough to know what was going on.”
Still, he held out his arm, refusing to move until she took it.
“Fine.” Alex hooked her hand through his elbow, and they started toward the reception hall, moving down the long corridor.
The arm under the tuxedo sleeve was thickly muscled. The man’s chest was broad and probably as muscular as his arm, making her feel small next to him. As she’d noted, he’d easily disarmed her when she’d been holding the knife over Petrov’s chest.
She’d been angry with Petrov for grabbing her and refusing to let go. She had not intended to kill him, yet. Her intent had been to reinforce the idea that not all women wanted to make love with him.
Alex had briefly toyed with the idea of holding him at knifepoint to get the answers she wanted about who had given the kill order for her parents. It was probably just as well that Daniel had stopped her before she had gotten to that point. Her anger might have been her downfall and exposed her as the phantom assassin responsible for the deaths of a number of Russians, including the team that had been sent to kill her parents, and the middlemen who’d passed along the order.
