Page 7 of Risk It All
He is a skilled dancer, and his hands . . . more than once my body wondered if they were just as skilled. Even now, the memory of being held by him heats my body. I swear under my breath, pushing the sensuous feelings aside. My body might like Max Delecoeur, but my mind is steadfast that he's just like all other arrogant, rich businessmen.
Shaking off the brief lapse in my disdain for Max, I refocus my attention to the content on my computer screen. I'm nearly midway through an article about the murder of nearly twenty people in a marketplace in Damboa, Nigeria over the sale of monkey meat, when there's a knock at my door. Setting my laptop aside, I go to peek through the peephole.
“I wasn't expecting you,” I say to my aunt when I open the door. “Got lost going home from your event?”
“I just wanted to check in with you. Am I interrupting?” Eleanor sweeps in looking elegant and sophisticated as always with her short silver page-boy hair and dark black dress.
“No. I'm doing some research.”
Eleanor's face pinches into disapproval. “Sometimes I think you could use a little of your sister's fun genes. Perhaps if she spared a few, she wouldn't end up on the cover of the tabloids so much and you might have company on a Friday night instead of working.”
“Are you saying you want me to embarrass the family?”
“No. I'm saying you need to not work so much.” Eleanor settles on the couch, while I pour a small glass of her favorite port.
“I like to work.”
“You used to like to do other things too.”
I sigh. I know where this discussion is going and I don't want to talk about Chase Elliott and how he single-handedly ruined my ability to trust people.
“Did you enjoy the benefit?” I hand Eleanor the glass of port.
“After a while, they all seem the same. We made a lot of money though, and I did enjoy watching you and Max Delecoeur. I would have liked to have heard your conversation. You looked a little rattled.”
“I can handle Max Delecoeur.”
“If only you would,” Eleanor murmurs, as she takes a sip of her drink.
“Don't get your hopes up. I told him what I thought about his business practices.” I sit in the overstuffed chair across from my aunt.
Eleanor sighs. “Yes. Of course, you would. What did he say?”
“He demanded my research and told me not to print anything until he could look into it.” The gall of him.
“You say that like it's a bad thing, but isn't that what you wanted? For him to do something about it?”
I tuck my feet under me and settle into the chair. I always enjoy visiting with my aunt. Since I travel so much with my writing, I don't see her, or my family for that matter, as much as I used to.
“I doubt he'll do anything. He just doesn't want me to make him or his company look bad.”
“Madeleine, I've been around a long time. Long enough to know that businessmen and politicians will almost always disappoint you.”
“Right.”
“But not all and not always.”
I study her, curious as to her point.
Eleanor gives me a pointed look. “What if he does really want to look into your claims and what if he really does want to change things? Max has power and influence that could help you advance the cause. Did you consider that?”
I feel like a pouting child. “No.”
“Maybe you should.”
Eleanor is right. There was something different about Max. His reaction when I told him children and animals were dying seemed genuine, but I can't be sure. Chase Elliott taught me that my instincts can't always be trusted.
But my aunt has very good judgment and she clearly likes Max. I don't like the idea of having to see Max again, but I know I'd never be able to live with myself if it turned out that he could make a difference and I didn't help him.
