Another minute later, I scrapped that plan, too. My feet would not hold up to a tour in these heels.
It was my fourth day on the job, and I was starting to think the shoes were more likely to kill me than the poison was.
We entered a room that featured a large, galley-style kitchen, a beautiful natural-edged timber slab dining table, and a tasteful assortment of modern armchairs. Albert was lounging on one of the armchairs reading a book, in a pose strikingly similar to his image on the cover of Food for the Soul. He held his position until the butler announced me then raised his head, his thin, angular features arranged in feigned surprise. “Izzy, I’m so glad you came.”
In most people I would find the posturing arrogant and annoying, but Albert’s awkward attempt was so transparent that I found myself feeling sorry for him again. He was like an eager-to-please puppy begging to be told he was a good boy.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
I made myself look him over with admiration, not that the moody, tragic-artist style he’d adopted appealed to me. I’d gone through that phase in high school and no longer mistook a man’s obsession with his own greatness for actual greatness.
When my eyes returned to Albert’s face, I wasn’t sure if my little show had been for nothing because his eyes were fixed on my boobs. To be fair, I had pulled my top down with the intent of distracting him from my acting skills.
It was working.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, his gaze dropping to my crotch.
Okay, I hadn’t done anything to draw his attention there. I tried to turn my gag reflex into a look of sexy anticipation. “I’m starving.”
He gave me the goofy grin I remembered. “Good.” He unfolded his lanky frame from the chair, pulled on an apron and headed to the kitchen, fumbling with the apron tie. The cabinets, countertops, and backsplash were all glossy black, while the appliances and weird molecular gastronomy equipment were gleaming stainless steel. It reminded me of a futuristic science lab. It suited him.
“Take a seat, enjoy the show. Your first course will be right up.”
I sat down at the dining table, which was set for one. “Aren’t you eating?”
“No, I’m saving my appetite.” He eyed me meaningfully.
I gulped and hoped he’d interpret it as eagerness. He was very forward for a man whose bearing screamed low self-esteem. I couldn’t figure him out. Maybe being in the kitchen gave him more confidence. Now that he was focused on the food instead of me, his bearing had lost the self-consciousness I’d noticed earlier.
I watched as he set up some kind of apparatus I didn’t recognize with quick, precise movements. His hands were pale and slender, with long fingers a pianist would envy. Somehow, on Albert they were creepy.
I picked up the menu, wondering if he’d printed it just for me, or if he had them printed in bulk for all his lady fans. Then I started reading it and forgot my unease. I also forgot I was there for anything other than the food. It was a nine-course degustation menu:
Wild Mushroom & Truffled Herb Granita
Oyster with Sea Gel & Aromas
Seared Scallops with Lemon Air & Bell Pepper & Chili Coulis
Pork Confit with Cotton Candy
Smoked Duck Breast Transparent Ravioli
Salt Grass Lamb with Chard Steam & Greens
Cinnamon Ice Cream with Yacaratia Wood, Brie & Peanut Tuile
Tobacco Infused Chocolate Mousse
Pomegranate & Elderflower Parfait
Albert placed the first course, which looked like a small pile of snow, in front of me and contrived to brush his hand against my chest. The pawing reminded me why I was here, but anticipation still outweighed my discomfort.
“Truffle oil, my dear?”
I nodded, and he drizzled oil over the snow, which I recalled from the menu was granita, an Italian style of crushed ice, so my first impression of snow hadn’t been far off.
Albert watched as I scooped up the first spoonful. Just as well tasting for dangerous ingredients looks so similar to savoring a mouthful.
I didn’t have to fake my appreciation as the flavors of mushrooms, chervil, basil, and chives, delicately accentuated with truffle oil, spread across my tongue.
“Wow. This is amazing.”
He smiled. “It is, isn’t it?” He poured me a small glass of wine without consulting me and watched me take the next bite. The intensity of his gaze made me feel like a rat in a lab.
I sipped the wine, which was light and crisp, and chosen to complement the granita. I was worried he’d watch me eat the whole thing, but he returned to the kitchen to prepare the second course, leaving me to enjoy it alone. I had just finished when he set the next plate down in front of me.
A single oyster sat in its shell, dressed with what Albert informed me was sea gel, salicornia and tremella. Next to it sat tempura anemone and algae garnished with several oyster leaves. He poured liquid into a bowl filled with more algae, and thick white fog billowed up, bringing with it the aroma of the briny ocean. I figured that the algae must have hidden dry ice, but I was still impressed by the overall effect. The scent of the ocean brought back memories of the beach and made the food seem fresher. I took my first bite. The oyster provided a smooth background to the light crunch of the tempura. No hint of poison. Once again, I didn’t have to feign my delight.
“This is incredible. I can’t believe you didn’t win California Culinary Champion this year instead of Josh Summers.”
Albert’s face, which had broken into a broad smile at my first statement, seized up like my battered stick mixer trying to beat dough. “Tell me about it.” His jaw stayed clenched, and it was hard to believe this expression belonged to the same guy with the grin.
I pretended I hadn’t noticed his reaction and went on. “I mean, can’t those judges recognize genius when they taste it? It’s so unfair!”
“Yes. It is. But it won’t happen again.” There was no doubt in Albert, only rage. His pale eyes looked predatory again, the angles on his face sharp.
“That’s wonderful,” I gushed, “but how can you be sure?”
His features transformed themselves back into his friendly grin, only now his teeth seemed a touch too perfect. He patted my arm with his long fingers, high enough up to brush against my boob, of course. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, sweet cheeks. Just relax and enjoy this experience.”
Geez. Where did this guy get his lines and how could he deliver them in earnest? I smiled up at him, unsure how to continue. “Okay. Sounds good.”
He patted my arm again. “Eat it while it’s fresh. I’ll start on your next course.”
My wine had been replaced with another glass, and I realized that if I drank the paired wine for each course, I was going to get drunk. I shouldn’t have had the champagne in the limo. I sipped at the delicious vintage and resolved not to finish it.
The scallops in the next course were also divine, but when I tasted the bell pepper and chili coulis, I recognized the slightly salty taste of GHB-X. It was a potent derivative of the date rape drug, GHB.
While GHB is readily available, GHB-X is hard to source, and most people don’t even know it exists. It revs up your libido while wiping out your inhibitions, making you very suggestible.
Albert was studying my every move, as he had at the beginning of each course so far, so I swallowed and made another exclamation of amazement to cover for my wide eyes.
My mind raced. There was no way his average fan would notice the taste. The fact he was drugging me made him jump even higher up the suspect list, and if he was our best suspect, I couldn’t blow this opportunity. My genetics were supposed to make me more resistant to drugs, so I’d have to hope I was resistant enough.
At this point, I couldn’t imagine finding Albert attractive, yet alone irresistible. I decided to keep playing.
I cleared my plate, as I had every other time.
While Albert was prepari
ng the fourth course, I whispered into my watch that I’d ingested some GHB-X but didn’t need to be rescued. I knew Connor had someone stationed nearby listening to the audio and relaying any important points to him. It was time to get as much information as I could before the drug kicked in.
“So, Albert, have you gone on any glamorous trips lately?”
He answered from the kitchen without looking up from his next creation. “Nah, I’ve been lying low since I came back from a tour last month.”
“You haven’t left LA since?”
“Nope.”
“Wow, then I could have run into you a whole month ago.”
I saw him smile again, but he didn’t look up from his work as he answered. “I suppose you could have.”
It was nice I wasn’t the only thing he focused a little too intensely on.
“I’m so excited to be here. I can’t believe my luck.”
He looked up long enough to wink at me this time. “Good to know.”
“And this food is so ah-mazing! You’re definitely my California Culinary Champion.” He stiffened but stayed silent. “I’m furious about the Josh thing. What do you think of him?”
“A talentless hack. But the media loves him because of his charity work.”
I nodded so fervently I got a crick in my neck. “Totally.” I waited a minute, but he didn’t elaborate. “Do you ever think about doing charity work?”
“I’ve considered it,” he said, concentrating on his next creation, “but charity is stupid. This is America, and if you work hard, you succeed.”
He looked up at me then, his face passionate. “No one gave me any handouts, and I’m not about to waste money on people who don’t deserve it. Plus, I refuse to sell myself out for media coverage. I’m an artist. If I’m in the news, it’ll be because I’m great at what I do.”
I kept nodding through the pain, both physical and intellectual, until he turned back to his masterpiece. Then I rubbed my poor neck and reviewed what I’d learned.
Albert hadn’t left LA recently, so if he’d hired a hit, chances were good it was local. He had little to no empathy, openly despised Josh, had no qualms about using GHB-X, and was expecting sex. Unfortunately, I was stumped about how to ask if he had any lethal drugs lying around or if he’d ever murdered anyone. The arrival of the fifth course diverted my attention.
Three courses later, with alcohol and GHB-X eroding my defenses, I noticed I was starting to like it when Albert found excuses to brush against me.
“I need to go to the bathroom!” I shouted. Albert swung around and stared at me. “Sorry. I get loud when I’m drunk.”
He relaxed. “No problem, the bathroom’s just through that door.”
I staggered my way to it, more impaired than I’d thought. After using the toilet, I washed my hands and splashed water on my face in an attempt to clear the cobwebs from my brain. Then I remembered my makeup. Patting it dry as delicately as I could, I spoke into the watch. “I’m in trouble. Albert is starting to look really attractive to me. And, I don’t remember my safe word, but I think I might need an erection. I mean, an extraction. Um, so yeah. Thanks.”
I wobbled my way back to my seat and felt my phone vibrate. The vibration seemed very erotic to me right then. It was a message from Connor.
Give him the ketoconazole. I’m still twenty-five minutes away.
I tried to facepalm but missed. I’d forgotten about that. And how was I supposed to dose Albert when he wasn’t eating anything? Hazily recalling seeing him with his own wine glass, I retrieved the vial from my bag and sidled my way over to the kitchen. “How’s it going, honey?” I said, leaning on the counter to give him a good view down my top.
He gawked appreciatively. “Last course, sweet thing. Then it’s my turn.”
My stomach did a little flip of excitement. He smiled at me, and I watched, mesmerized, as his long fingers wrapped around the curve of the wine glass and lifted it to his lips. It made me imagine those fingers wrapped around my curves.
He put the glass down and turned back to the other counter where he was working. There was something important about the wine that I had to remember. I shifted my stance to see what he was doing better and almost dropped the vial. That’s right, the vial. With extreme caution, I untwisted the cap and emptied the contents into his glass.
Albert turned back, and I jumped, startled, but couldn’t figure out why. “Almost done,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “Why don’t you go sit at the table.”
I followed his suggestion.
Albert brought the final course over and pulled up a chair to watch me eat. I had to force myself to focus on the food because his intense stare turned my insides to mush.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“You’re amazing.”
He grinned, and my stomach did another flip. How had I ever thought of his smile as goofy? “You’re not bad yourself,” he said.
I beamed back at him. “Really?”
He came over to me, pulled me to my feet, and kissed me hard on the mouth. “Really.” His erection pressed against my abdomen. “Why don’t you come over to the couch where it’s more comfortable?”
I tottered after him. He lay down on a plush sofa, and I went to join him but he stopped me. “How about you undress for me?”
I regained my feet and started fumbling with my top, trying to get it off. It got stuck halfway over my head, and in the close confines of the fabric, I could hear myself breathing hard with excitement. When I finally wrestled free of the stretchy material, I saw Albert was undressing too.
He’d unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the expanse of his thin, pale chest, lightly dusted with brown hair around his nipples and beneath his belly button. It made me think of a bony, badly plucked chicken breast.
I wanted to marinate him and eat it all up.
My eyes traveled down the trail of hair to his straining erection.
With poultry on the brain, it looked like a fat chicken neck.
“That’s good,” he said, his eyes glued to my chest. “Now the skirt.”
There were a button and a zipper I had to fight this time. After a few minutes, I succeeded in getting it off and turned back to Albert with a triumphant smile. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his wilting manhood.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling bereft.
His eyes dilated as he took in my heels and mismatched lingerie. His little friend, however, gave no response. He got off the couch and grabbed me, hands roving over my breasts and tongue ravaging my mouth. I wanted him so badly I gasped, but he pushed me away, his face red.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Sir?” The voice was muffled, but I vaguely recognized it as belonging to the butler. “I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but a gentleman is at the gate claiming your guest is his girlfriend and is threatening to call the police.”
Albert’s face went even redder. “He can’t do anything if she’s here of her own free will. You want to be here, don’t you, Izzy?”
I felt lost and confused and sad. “I do?”
Albert looked down at his still flaccid penis and let out a few choice cuss words. “Get dressed and go.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks, but I started fumbling once more with my clothes.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. George, come in and assist her will you?”
The butler entered the room and showed no interest in my mismatched lingerie. He helped me back into my outfit. “This way, Ms. Avery.”
I followed him for an impossibly long time, until at last we made it to the front door. A security man took me from the door to the property gate and shut it behind me.
Connor and a man I didn’t recognize were waiting there. Both of them were so astoundingly sexy that I would have taken my clothes off again if it wasn’t so hard to do.
Connor hugged me to him. “You’re okay now, Isobel. You’re safe.” I noted his lack of erection with disappointment. “Levi wi
ll get the drugs out of your system.”
He handed me over to most-attractive-man-on-the-earth number two.
“You’re safe, hon,” said most-attractive-man-on-the-earth number two. “I’ll have you feeling better in no time.” He held a cup to my mouth. “Now, just drink this for me, that’s right. Good.”
The world spun, and I had the sensation of being carried in someone’s arms before everything went black.
12
I woke up to the face of an angel. A Hispanic angel with warm brown eyes and eyelashes long enough to make a girl green with envy and hot with lust. Then I realized it was the same angel who had promised to get the drugs out of my system. “It’s not working.”
“What?”
“The detox. You’re still ridiculously good-looking.”
His lips quirked upward. “In that case, maybe we should go out some time because you’re drug free.”
Oh boy. “Are you sure?”
His answering grin was so beautiful it hurt my eyes. “Do you want to have outrageous sex right here and now?”
My cheeks flamed. “No.” Never mind that part of me was imagining running my fingers through his tousled black hair as his soft lips and stubbled jaw lit a burning trail down my neck and kept on going.
His smile didn’t falter. “Then I’m sure. I’ve got to go, but think about that date, beautiful.”
He tucked a business card into my hand and let himself out. He walked with a limp. I listened to the sound of his uneven but energetic footsteps fade away and tried to ignore the lingering feel of his touch on my skin. Both real and imagined. I was in enough trouble without getting involved with a man who had a smile that good. I looked at the card. Nope, I was not going to call Dr. Levi Eduardo Reyes. Or his dimples.
I hauled myself into a sitting position and realized I was in Connor’s bed again. Thinking of the devil summoned him into the room.
His expression was hard. Even compared to normal. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to leave you alone with that bastard.”
Eat, Pray, Die Mystery Box Set Page 11
