Page 29 of Marked By Moonlight
“I…uh…I came to Paris a little spontaneously.” The understatement of the year, though not an outright lie. “But if he’s too busy for a visit…” I trailed off, half hoping Gordon would be too busy to see me.
But, yikes. Busy plotting criminal activities, maybe?
Luckily — or unluckily — Gordon was home and had time to see me. I rode the elevator up nervously.
“Sweetheart! What a surprise! So good to see you!” Gordon met me with his usual hearty hug.
He was only about my height, but his warlock aura was so powerful, the space around him tingled with magic. Otherwise, he looked like any other well-to-do Parisian businessman — medium build, high-end leather shoes, self-satisfied expression. My grandmother had always claimed he reminded her of 1960s heartthrob Alain Delon, but I’d never seen the resemblance.
“How is everything?” he asked. “I want to hear all about the château.”
I wanted to hear all about why he’d asked my sister for a favor rather than me, but I forced myself to play casual and update him on everything from removing wallpaper to clearing the north stable block. I was tempted to mention the police regional championships too, but I decided to leave that out for the moment.
It struck me that that might also be how Gordon operated — not lying outright so much as selectively sharing information.
“I heard from Dora recently. It sounds like her studies are progressing nicely,” he said.
I made a noncommittal sound. Not nicely enough for my cousin to finally come help me with the estate we’d inherited together with my sister.
“So I hear,” I said diplomatically, then moved on to my sister. “Gen sends her greetings.”
Okay, that was an embellishment, but she would have sent her greetings if I had reminded her to, right?
“Wonderful, wonderful. When does her flight arrive?”
“Unfortunately, she’s been delayed.”
He practically went bug-eyed. “Again?”
I sighed. “Again.”
A shocked,Now what will I do?expression flashed over his face. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reaction, but I had made damn sure not to blink.
A knock sounded at the door, and Gordon called out, “Come in.”
The door opened slowly. A split second before the visitor came into sight, the scent of perfume hit me. Carolina Herrera “Good Girl,” if I remembered correctly.
Catnip for men,my friend Delphine had called it disparagingly.
Strong words, especially coming from a prostitute.
“Ah, Celeste,” Gordon greeted the woman.
I stared at the curvy, dark-haired beauty. Shit. Wasn’t she supposed to have been long gone by now?
“Oh,pardon. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she purred, though her eyes said the opposite.
“My goddaughter just dropped in,” Gordon explained. “Celeste, this is my goddaughter, Mina. Mina, Celeste is my private secretary. I don’t think you’ve met.”
Ah, but we had, and in the worst possible circumstances — circumstances that demanded we both keep that secret from Gordon.
“Ah, the lovely Mina,” Celeste clucked through big, pouty lips. “I’ve heard so much about you. The one with the château, correct?” Her voice had a long-suffering note in it.
I gritted my teeth. Yes, I’d inherited a huge building and property. Yes, I felt lucky and grateful. I just wished peopleunderstood how much work, stress, and responsibility that came with. The roof leaked, and the outbuildings were crumbling. I’d already sunk my modest life savings into the place, yet it was still closer to bankrupting me than generating any income.
“Nice to meet you,” I lied. It wasn’t nice, and this wasn’t our first meeting.
“I just wanted to check on the arrangements for Brussels,” Celeste told Gordon.
