“Mom, I know you like to forget that you are royalty, but you’d be surprised how eager people are to sit with royals. And I could tell he liked you. I’ll ask him. I’ve met him now, after all.”
“Do as you please.” She pulled out an even more hideous dress with a bold pattern of paint strokes. She couldn’t risk protesting too much and giving the game away. She’d just have to leave it up to fate. Surely Amadou would be sensible enough to refuse, even if he didn’t have a more important table to sit at. “How about this one?”
Back at her hotel, Lina was exhausted after spending the afternoon shopping and trying not to think about—or talk about—Amadou. Callista had extracted his phone number from her and promised to call him. Now she attempted to watch the French evening news while wondering how he would respond to the invitation.
She didn’t have to wait long. She was just about to get in the shower when her phone rang. It was him.
“Hello.” She tried to sound bright and casual.
“Hello, beautiful.” The way he said it, deep and slow, it didn’t sound cheesy. He made her feel beautiful, and not in the “has a skilled dermatologist” way. “Callista called me.”
“I know. It was all her idea.”
“I had a feeling it was. Don’t worry, I made my regrets politely.”
Now she felt bad. He was so sure she wouldn’t want him to sit with her at a public event. “It would have been fine if you said yes.”
“Really?” He sounded so surprised.
“Really. Not that we could kiss or anything, but I don’t suppose we have to pretend to be strangers.”
His silence spoke volumes. Then he spoke. “That’s reassuring to know. But I do have another table I need to sit at. Longtime colleagues. It would be rude if I moved.”
Something in his voice suggested that he wasn’t telling the full truth.
Would he be there with a woman?
If he was she’d just have to bear it bravely. She had no claim to him. In fact, until just now she’d pretty much let him know they couldn’t even be seen together.
“I hear you’re one of the speakers.”
“Yes.” More silence. “I might not even have a chance to say hello, but I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t want to.”
“No worries. I’ll have Callista and Liesel to occupy me.”
There were three more nights, including tonight, and two days before the party. She had plenty of time to see him again before then.
If he wanted to.
“I’ll be very busy over the next couple of days, too. I just wanted you to know I appreciated the invitation, even if it wasn’t your idea. Have a good night’s sleep.”
“You too.”
And then he was gone. No attempt to make plans. Not even a hint that he wanted to.
Lina sighed and put her phone down. She’d left the shower running and the bathroom was all steamed up.
So was she.
And now that she was growing rash enough to want to continue their dalliance, he’d gone cold on her.
She probably deserved it.
Chapter 13
Not a word from Amadou for two days. Nothing on the day of the party, either. Why had he gone so silent?
She decided to take him at his word that he was busy. He was up for a Grammy, after all. He was probably planning his next tour or hashing out the details of a record deal.
She dressed in the sleek, slightly roman-style dress she’d been talked into. It was a weird bronzy-brown color that she would never have chosen for herself, but Callista insisted that it looked fabulous on her. It had little pieces of chain at the shoulders.
Hopefully she didn’t look too foolish.
Liesel’s driver dropped them off at the venue, a gorgeous château somehow buried in the middle of Paris, and they walked together into the vast ballroom created beneath the glass of a conservatory.
Liesel beamed, taking in the extravagant centerpieces and the formally attired waiters sweeping around with silver trays of champagne glasses. Lina sometimes forgot that she rarely had the opportunity to attend these kinds of events. No wonder her sister was crabby and judgmental. She spent most of her time alone in the remote rural manse they’d grown up in, with only her horses and a small staff for company.
She resolved to make sure that Liesel had a great time and would have plenty to brag about to her friends. If she had any, which was doubtful.
“Let’s find our table, then we can mill about and see who’s here.” She managed to sound excited. As if she hadn’t burned out on these extravagant affairs years ago.
Callista looked radiant in a blue gown that contrasted beautifully with her chestnut hair. Maybe they really could find her a nice partner? She spent too much time alone with her work.
But as they milled around, chitchatting with people they knew, Lina found her mind endlessly returning to the subject of Amadou and his whereabouts. Where was he? If she could pinpoint him and his table she could make sure to avoid it and not accidentally glance in that direction and see him with some gorgeous supermodel.
But she didn’t see him anywhere. Not in the atrium with the koi pond and the hibachi hors d’oeuvres. Nor in the main ballroom, with its sparkling fountain and endless reserves of champagne, either. Maybe he was in some hidden VIP area for presenters.
When they were summoned to their tables for dinner, she busied herself with meeting Callista’s invited guests, sweet young scientists and an older professor of hers. She even realized, with a touch of chagrin, that Callista might have invited the professor as a sort of date for her. He was a handsome man with a gray beard. The kind of guy who probably wore a tweed jacket and a bow tie and made them look chic.
But compared with Amadou? No chance.
She introduced him to Liesel and tried to encourage them into conversation. Maybe her sister would soften up and transform in the hands of the right man.
Unlikely, but you never knew.
The first speaker extolled the virtues of personal sacrifice while they ate an appetizer of Arctic crab. The second speaker—while they picked apart an elaborate roulade—enumerated some of the many wonderful things the Gaia organization had already accomplished that year, including supplying medicines to three different war-torn areas and manufacturing and providing a new design of high-tech tents for refugees.
It was uncomfortably ironic to sit at the table, sipping expensive wine and watching video footage of refugees in their tents. Callista and her young friends were even beginning to get a bit upset or embarrassed about it. Lina knew from decades of experience that this was how they guilt-tripped their captive audience into impressive donations on top of the extortionate ticket price. Brilliant, really.
“Mom, do stop looking so pleased with yourself. This is beyond awkward.”
“Looking relaxed is all part of being royal, darling. Did I fail to mention that to you?” Maybe the champagne and wine were going to her head. She wanted a pleasant buzz going before she had to keep a straight face when Amadou took the stage.
And at long last, just as they spooned up the last of their dessert of sugar-crusted berries and fresh whipped cream, he appeared.
The applause was discreet and muted compared with the kind of enthusiasm she’d witnessed at his concert, but this room of oligarchs and trophy wives was hardly his target audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” His speech started out like all the others. He wasn’t wearing the usual black-tie attire, though. He had on a high-collared black jacket with no ornamentation whatsoever. He looked more severe than usual, with the spotlight picking out his high cheekbones.
Funny that he hadn’t wanted to see her again this week. Maybe he’d already had his fill. He was talking about human trafficking. It really was a litany of the worst of humanity tonight. She’d be sure to give a big donation to his cause, though. Without telling him, of course.
“And tonight we’re here to draw attention to the work of one of our esteem
ed and well-respected guests, seated at table sixteen.”
Lina couldn’t resist craning her neck to look for table sixteen, and many others did, too. It was hard to tell one table from another, so she gave up and turned back to the stage, where another video had started. This one was different, though. Instead of video images, the screen was black, with chilling statistics about human trafficking in France and in Europe picked out in bold white. This must be a personal cause for him, given his mother’s experience.
The audio was odd. Not a narrative. It sounded like a phone conversation. She glanced at Callista, who looked equally confused. Then—steeling herself—she looked at Amadou, whose attention was focused on someone in their seated audience. Possibly the man at table sixteen. She followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything as the lights were dimmed.
As the phone conversation continued she realized it was some kind of negotiation over cargo. One of the voices became raised, shouting in French about the previously agreed price and how it wasn’t cheap to pay off the police.
On the screen lingered a grim statistic about forced prostitution in Paris.
“I’m telling you, they’re all young. Some of them aren’t half bad looking. It’s just as you ordered.”
Heads turned as some kind of scuffle erupted in the direction that Amadou was staring. Suddenly the lights came back on, and Amadou leaned into the microphone. “As you may have discerned the voice you heard was that of Gascoine Monceau, our esteemed Prefect of Police, negotiating the paid-for arrival of a truckload of young girls from the Balkans. Girls intended to serve as prostitutes in a ring of brothels he’s been running here in Paris and across northern Europe. Also implicated in the ring—which we have been gathering evidence on for two years—are…” He proceeded to name a prominent politician, a right-wing journalist and the CEO of a large electronics firm.
A hushed whisper had spread through the audience and risen to a roar. At what must be table sixteen, two men in black tie were now firmly holding another formally dressed guest in a kind of armlock. Others rose from their tables, and a sense of chaos erupted throughout the room.
“What’s going on?” She turned to Callista, feeling stupid. “I don’t understand.”
“Me either.”
The man being held bellowed about suing and insisting that the recording was fake. People were starting to grab their purses and head for the exits.
“What on earth is going on? We haven’t had coffee yet.” Liesel looked as confused as they did. “It’s that awful man from my hotel. I can’t believe you know him. He’s just accused several prominent members of society of horrible crimes that they couldn’t possibly have committed. He must be mad.”
Amadou wasn’t on the stage any longer. Lina couldn’t see where he’d gone. “Perhaps we’d better go, too.”
“There’s rather a crush at the exits. Let’s wait,” said a nice young scientist that Callista had brought. “I’m sure the police will be here to arrest them.”
“He is the police.” Lina tried to see what was going on, but too many people now stood between her and the infamous table sixteen. “I suppose that’s why he had to be accused in a public place with a lot of witnesses.”
But why was Amadou the accuser? He must have been in on some plot.
It explained why he hadn’t come near her all night. Maybe even why he’d avoided her for the past two days, if he was busy putting this together.
She looked around for him but a sudden crush of uniformed police obscured her view, and there was a lot of yelling that, despite her pretty good French, she couldn’t understand. The overhead lights suddenly switched on high, giving the decorated ballroom a gaudy and exposed air.
“The evening is ruined. We need to leave,” said Liesel, standing. “Now.”
“Are you okay, Mom?” Callista put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m a bit worried.” Where was Amadou in all this crush? As the accuser, in what was presumably a surprise onslaught against an important police figure, he might be in real danger in this crush of uniformed men. “I think we should find him.”
“Find who?” Liesel grabbed an extra goody bag from a deserted table and shoved the bottle of expensive scent from it into her purse. “How are we going to get out of here?” The atmosphere in the room now had an undercurrent of panic, with nearly every table abandoned.
“He’ll be fine, Mom. I think we’d better go.” Callista looked worried, and the young men at their table were hovering protectively. “I’m sure we’ll find out what happened in the papers tomorrow. It was obviously planned.”
Lina allowed herself to be hustled toward the exit, feeling totally lost. Why hadn’t he told her about this? He might have warned her. Obviously he didn’t consider her trustworthy enough to be a confidant—and why would he? She’d done her best to keep him at arm’s length, and now he’d returned the favor.
It was just what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?
Chapter 14
Lina texted Amadou as soon as she got back to the hotel. Then again two hours later after no response. After a few hours of restless attempts at sleep, she texted him again—nothing—and checked the headlines.
“Police Chief Accused” was the main headline, followed by a confusing mix of information about the event and information that no formal charges had been made. Amadou wasn’t even mentioned, which was odd, considering his fame and his prominent role in the accusation.
His absence from the story gave her the creeps. Her silent phone mocked her.
From what she gathered the accused man was part of a large ring with mob connections in the Balkans. Scary and dangerous people. Could someone as well-known as Amadou be made to simply disappear?
Panic had her marching around her room, feeling helpless and useless, when she heard a knock on the door. She was still in her robe and not ready for the maid. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.” Amadou’s unmistakable, deep voice.
She flew to the door and tugged it open. Words deserted her as she hugged him tight.
“Sorry to surprise you like this. I had no way to get in touch.” He kissed her forehead gently.
“Where have you been? I’ve been texting you.”
“The police have my phone. I’m not sure who’s in more trouble, me or the scumbags I accused last night. I think it’s me.” Humor crinkled the skin around his eyes. “I’ve been told there’s a mob hit out for me.”
“What?” The door was still open, and she scanned the hallway. Then tugged him inside and locked it.
“And I don’t exactly feel like law enforcement is on my side. I’m planning to head out of the country for a while until things settle down. A friend is getting his yacht ready in Montpelier, and we’re going to head to the Greek Isles for a while. I didn’t want to leave you without saying goodbye.”
Goodbye.
The word sent a chill through her. She was fiercely proud of him for the risk he’d taken, but she didn’t want to lose him.
“How long will you be in hiding?”
He laughed. “I won’t be hiding. I just won’t be lining myself up in anyone’s crosshairs, either. I have a series of concerts in Japan next month, anyway. Then after that, some gigs in Canada.”
“So you’ll be on the road.” Traveling from city to city. Meeting new women.
“As always.” He shrugged, but there was something in his eyes. A glint of fresh emotion. Maybe he was afraid. He’d taken a big risk, and her heart ached for him.
“Will they prosecute the people behind the ring of human traffickers?”
“They’ll have to do something. Too many witnesses. Even if the evidence gets thrown out in court for being illegal phone tapping, a lot of important people now know the truth. They could go after them on other grounds. Criminal activities usually involve tax evasion, for example. I’m pretty sure the reason they had me present the information is because they think I am too high profile to just disappear. I didn’t want to do it, as I do s
ome work undercover for the same organization, sometimes even pretending to be a trafficker, and now I won’t be able to.”
“People didn’t recognize you before?”
“Out of context, never. Kind of humbling, really.”
“It sounds dangerous.”
“Living is dangerous.”
“Not like that.” Then she remembered how her own mild-mannered husband, who never stuck his neck out anywhere, had been murdered in cold blood. “Then again, maybe you’re right. I guess we all take a big risk just getting out of bed every day.”
“Could get hit by a car.” His face creased with the hint of grin.
Her chest ached. She wanted to hold him. Here they were talking about how you could die at any minute, and yet she was holding herself back with all her willpower.
Because he’d come to say goodbye. It might be years before she saw him again, if ever.
The thought made a sob rise inside her, and she choked it back.
His smile had faded, and his features hardened. His eyes grew dark as onyx. “Come with me.”
“To Greece?”
“Everywhere.”
A nervous laugh escaped. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Her chest tightened. “My duty to Altaleone. I have responsibilities. My son needs me.”
He took her hands. “I need you.”
“You’ve survived without me all this time.” He must be taunting her. Wanting her to confess how much she cared, so he could walk coolly away as she’d done all those years ago.
“I never married anyone else. Never wanted to.” He raised her hands to his lips and pressed them softly. “Marry me, Lina. It’s not too late. We could still share the rest of our lives.”
Emotion flooded her, and she rocked on her heels. He must be mad.
Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection Page 38
