Page 81 of Marked By Moonlight
“Thank you,” Anastasia said warmly, patting Bene’s arm.
Clearly, the lion shifter had turned up the charm for her. He wasn’t a succubus, but stunning good looks and polite manners could have a similar effect.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
“We’ll be outside if you need anything,” Roux said, stepping outside with Bene.
She kissed my cheeks in greeting, leaving lipstick prints Marius gestured for me to wipe away. Then she and I reviewed the schedule for the morning while Marius stood nearby, quiet as a mouse but menacing as a dragon. The ultimate bodyguard, as my girl parts couldn’t help noticing.
I slid a hand over my neck, then whipped it away before my body heated.
Another knock sounded, and Roux showed in our first candidate.
“Ms. Kepke,” he announced. Then he stepped outside, leaving just me, Marius, Anastasia, and her visitor.
“Nice to meet you.” Anastasia didn’t bother rising from her chair, but she did lift a hand to grip her guest’s in a brief, feminine greeting. Then she waved, introducing me. “This is Wilhemina. I’ve asked her to sit in on my appointments today.”
Subtext:You’re one of several potential buyers, and I can choose whomever I want, so you’d better impress me.
“Pleasure to meet you,” our prim, middle-aged guest replied smoothly. “And please, call me Raisa.”
She and I sat on the couch facing the covered painting, while Anastasia sat in an armchair kitty-corner to us.
“Now then, tell me about yourself,” she ordered.
I was impressed. Raisa was cool, calm, and professional. She laid out a stellar résumé, speaking passionately about art and knowledgeably about business. And no wonder — this wasa woman accustomed to addressing national and international assemblies.
Then again, she had also been ejected from the European Parliament on corruption charges. A detail we’d mentioned to Anastasia in our briefing.
She’d barely waved a hand, muttering, “Now, there’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I’ve established a private investment group with the aim of protecting European cultural heritage…” Raisa explained, going on in more detail.
She made it all sound legit, but my research said the opposite.
I watched our guest closely.Raven shifter, Gordon’s file had said. It fit. Her dark eyes never stopped roving, quietly assessing everything from the flowers to the antique Chinese vase in a corner of the suite.
She appraised Marius too, sniffing discreetly. I knew the moment she identified the dragon in him, because her eyes widened, and she glanced over under the guise of fixing her raven-black hair. If I hadn’t been watching closely for any tell, though, I would have missed it.
She also appraised me, but my supernatural heritage was so mixed and my powers so weak, I came off as human. Also, I’d practically bathed in perfume. Roux had insisted, for reasons I tried not to take personally.
Raisa talked about an investment group, but most of her statements were in the first person.
“My goal is to create a mobile cultural museum…”
Yes, my research had indicated as much. Reports showed the idea going back a decade, but she still had nothing tangible to show, despite dozens of investors tossing in ten million euro apiece for their part of the action.
I’d hoped Raisa would convince me — of herself, her motives, and her investment group. But my hopes faded quickly. Too many catchy phrases, too few practical details.
“My museum will serve as the heartbeat of pan-European modernism…” she continued.
Anastasia wasn’t impressed, I sensed — to the point that I wondered if she would even permit Raisa a look at the painting. But Raisa must have sensed it, because she quickly baited a bigger hook and flashed it before Anastasia.
“Your painting would be exhibited in its own wing,” she promised. “A wing named in your honor. After all, we owe the painting’s existence to you and your family.”
I did my best not to cough at that airbrushed version of history.
Anastasia practically glowed, though. “My father nearly lost his life protecting that painting.”
