Which makes it the perfect venue to introduce myself to her new friend.
My mind races back to Sloane in that white dress. I do owe her another, and this party would be the perfect opportunity to show her off in it.
It’s been a few days since that night in her suite. I’ve been preoccupied with my upcoming trip to South Africa to take care of a certain someone, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about it.
In fact, the main reason why I haven’t given myself an excuse to call her or see her is that she’s such a distraction. It isn’t just looking at her, remembering what it felt like to be inside of her, feel her skin against mine, even breathe the air around her. It’s that she’s a new tickle in any of my future plans.
She was right. We can’t keep operating like we have.
I’ve always been forward-thinking, but that momentum has always had an end-goal in mind, with no concern for what came after. It’s like a train traveling across the continent in search of the ocean on the other side just for the sake of finding it. I never thought about the boat I’d need to continue the journey onward.
And who knew it would come in the form of a woman working for my final nemesis?
As much as I’d like to imagine a life with Sloane by my side, it’s something I have to put off thinking about. Letting my emotions for her interfere, especially when murder is on the table, would be disastrous.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t utilize her while I still have her here in Monte Carlo.
I pick up the phone and call her.
“Magnus,” she answers. Despite myself, I try and read into that one word and how she’s said it for any clues. Is she happy to hear from me? Upset that it’s taken several days to finally call her? Hopeful that I’ll want something more than work from her?
Damn this woman!
I shake those thoughts free from my head.
“I hope I’m not disturbing anything important,” I say in a slightly bemused tone. I haven’t given her any work to do, and if she is working on something for Douglas & Foster, she knows anything I ask of her will become an immediate priority.
“Of course not,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Did you need some service from me?”
That one, I also try to read for clues, this time without feeling annoyed by it. I am still a man, after all.
“Actually, yes. I owe you another white dress. Be in my office at six tonight.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I smile to myself. She’s probably seething at the demand.
“There’s no ulterior motive here, Sloane. I’m not going to try and fuck you if that’s your concern.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I doubt I could bill that to my firm.”
Is that a hint of resentment I sense? Something about it pleases a part of me that is driven by something more primal than just my ego.
“I’d be curious to see how you’d classify that. Perhaps discovery?”
“What exactly is there to discover?”
“You tell me.”
She just sighs on the other end. “And tonight? Will we have moved past the discovery phase and straight toward a settlement agreement? One with answers hopefully?”
“I hate to break it to you, Sloane, but I’m afraid this one is going to trial, the full forty days. Consider tonight your first day in court. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”
“Well then, I suppose I should start prepping. At least I’ll have something to report back to my superiors.”
“Have they been keeping tabs on you?” I ask, feeling irked at the idea.
“Of course, I’m still an associate, after all.”
“For now.”
I can almost feel the rush of triumph that must be running through her veins at the thought of partnership being so close within her reach.
Hell, she’s earned it.
“I’ll see you at six, Sloane.”
“Yes, you will…boss.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Sloane
I see the white dress and shoes hanging up near Magnus’s desk as soon as I enter his office. Considering the hour, not to mention the city, I should have known tonight would be another social event. I wonder what it is this time.
It had been a few days since he called me earlier this morning. I’m ashamed to admit to myself how resentful it made me. My mind raced with the ideas of some Lara or Lisette filling his days—or nights—despite his assurances that he “doesn’t pay for sex.”
It wasn’t just the jealousy that ate at me. I actually missed him. Imagine that!
But I have to admit, I enjoy our verbal sparring and the way he challenges both my intellect, ambitions, and yes, even my morality. Being with him, here in this city makes me feel like Dorothy after she landed in The Land of Oz. Life is colorful, filled with all the vivid hues of the rainbow, from the danger and excitement of red to the passion and desire of purple. Honestly, it’s been so dull without him—one can only visit the spa so much—that I started working on other cases for Douglas & Foster, much to Jamie Reaves’s delight.
I get why Magnus can’t directly use me for whatever plans he has. The New York Bar Committee on Professional Ethics would have a field day with my ass. Still, a part of me isn’t just curious about what he’s up to, but itching to take part in it.
Maybe I’m more bloodthirsty than I thought?
“I assume those are for me?” I say, pointing at the ensemble.
Magnus smiles from behind his desk. “You don’t have to wear them.” His eyes scan me up and down. “I know what my preference would be. Though, I doubt it would fit within the dress code.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “Do I at least get to know what I’m getting dressed for?”
He considers me for a moment. “It’s just a party. Have you heard of the Buddha Bar? The White Party?”
I shake my head, no.
“Well, it’ll be an apt introduction to Monte Carlo nightlife.”
He says it in a slightly distasteful way, as though he has no interest in going himself.
Which means there’s some scheme afoot.
My blood begins to rush as my heart beats a bit faster at the idea. What wild plan has he worked up? Is it another person on this list he seems to have? Maybe Gabriel Fouché himself?
Yes, I’m definitely a shark.
* * *
The dress is stunning, of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Magnus.
It’s a white, strapless Alex Perry number with a ruched bodice that zips in back from the bottom to the top. The shoes are stilettos that have two tiny straps that practically leave my entire foot bare.
Magnus looks surprisingly suave in all white. Dressed in nothing more than white pants and a white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, he still looks like he could dominate a boardroom meeting or million-dollar deal.
I hear the excitement of the White Party long before the car we’re in rolls up to the front of the…restaurant? Club? Bar? I have no idea what this place is, but it definitely seems to be the spot for tonight.
The winding stairs and small terraces leading up to the actual building, which seems to be about four stories up, are lined with people all in white, eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves.
The outside of the place is lit up with white and pale blue lighting. Our driver parks and opens the door for us. Magnus exits and reaches out a hand to help me out. I stare up at the winding staircase and the bar above with wonder.
I was never one for clubbing, even in college—especially in college. Why go to some overhyped scene with overpriced drinks and overly loud music, when there were papers to be completed and books to study? Now, I’m kind of feeling the vibe of the place. As I look at the people having a good time, I think maybe I missed out a little.
Mingling in the crowd are women with face paint and glitter wearing white wigs and white costumes made of feathers and sparkling material that shimmers in the night.
Magnus and I ar
e, of course, escorted up specially. He leans in to say something to the man who has led us in. The man nods and then guides us further up toward the building.
I wonder who he’s leading us to?
Inside, the music from a DJ vibrates through my body, causing me to dance a little even as we walk. The interior is large and open, with a floor populated by dancers and an upstairs location where even more people socialize.
There’s a huge Buddha at the center of it all, with white fabric draped over him. The pink, red, and yellow lights bounce off the white clothes surrounding us, making the place come alive.
We’re led up the stairs and eventually to a large table where about eight people are already enjoying themselves. They laugh and drink with all the ease of the young, wealthy, and attractive, like trust fund kids who are already too worldly for their own good.
But what does Magnus want with them?
He stands there, staring at one couple in particular, and I feel the awkwardness begin to creep in.
Then the female of the couple he’s staring at seems to finally notice him. She’s pretty with an oval face, high cheekbones, and full lips. She has long, black hair and light eyes I can see even in the multicolored lighting around us. Those eyes flash in shock, and she nearly drops the flute of champagne in her hand.
Even over the loud music, I can hear her words of surprise.
“Magnus! What are you doing here?”
Chapter Forty-Five
Magnus
I stare at Estelle with satisfaction, knowing I’ve caught her off guard.
What I didn’t expect was for the man whose hand she’s holding to look so pleased to see me. He smiles up at me as though he was actually hoping I’d show up.
Interesting.
“I thought I would join you tonight. I felt like partying.”
Estelle’s nostrils flare with incensed irritation, and I see those green eyes, about two shades lighter than mine, flash in anger.
I look around the table. “But it seems there’s no room for me and my date.”
Giorgio rattles off something in Italian to the couple sitting next to him, and they nod in response. The man of the couple turns to me with a smile.
“We go to dance, sì?” He says in broken English.
I give him an appreciative smile, even as Estelle leans in to whisper something with angry urgency to Giorgio. He says something back to her in a calm manner, tenderly placing a hand on her cheek, which seems to settle her. It’s almost enough to make me go soft and gooey inside.
Almost.
“Grazie,” I say to the exiting couple, matching their Italian with the little that I know.
I guide Sloane to the chair closest to Giorgio, which gives me a better vantage point to see both him and Estelle.
“Hello, I’m Sloane Alexander,” she says, holding out a hand for Giorgio. Even over the music, I can hear the chipper tone trying to cut through the obvious tension on this side of the table.
“Giorgio Conti,” the man next to her says, taking her hand and turning it to kiss the back, rather than shake.
The girlish giggle she gives evaporates whatever goodwill I might have built up toward him since I first arrived.
“I’m Estelle Reinhardt, the sister of the man you’re sitting next to,” my sister says to her, before turning to glare at me.
“Nice to meet you,” Sloane says, turning to give me a slightly accusatory look. I can’t blame her. I probably should have warned her who we’d be meeting tonight, but I didn’t want a lot of questions or discussion about why.
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you know I’m here tonight,” Estelle says loudly enough for me to hear.
“Mona mentioned you would be coming into town and that you were hoping to meet with me. So, here I am.”
Estelle coughs out a sarcastic laugh and takes a sip of her champagne, eyeing me over the glass.
“I was actually the one to insist on meeting with you,” Giorgio says, still with that ingratiating smile on his face.
Now that I’m closer to him, I can see why a young woman would fall for him. Thick, wavy hair, perfectly styled. Dark eyes and a white smile. With his olive skin tone and perfectly Romanesque features, he might as well have Italian Stallion stamped on his forehead.
“I thought it was proper to meet the older brother of the woman I’m in love with.”
I want to laugh. He’s definitely laying it on thick.
Even Estelle seems to buy it, lifting her chin to give me a defiant look as though daring me to find fault with this one.
I’m tempted to end this now, quickly and efficiently, but I think it might be more enjoyable, and frankly, less messy, to let him hang himself with his own rope.
Giorgio pours two glasses of champagne for us. Sloane sips hers as she sits back, her gaze darting between Giorgio and me.
“How did you two meet?” I ask him.
His smile broadens, and he turns to Estelle, who is still throwing daggers at me with her eyes.
“It was at a fashion exhibition…in Paris,” she says, spitting the last word out.
“Is that when you decided the school, which I was paying for, by the way, was no longer of interest to you?”
“I didn’t quit! I just—”
Giorgio brings one arm up around her shoulders to calm her before she gets too outraged.
“I’m afraid this is my fault.”
“Is that so?” I ask, raising one eyebrow menacingly. He’s making this too easy.
“Sì, when I first met Estelle, I was…” He turns to smile at her. The smile she gives back obliterates any hint of animosity she had toward me. He turns back to me with stars in his eyes. “It was love at first sight.”
I cough out a sharp laugh and take a sip of my champagne.
“That’s so sweet,” Sloane says next to me, earning her two dazzling smiles from the smitten couple.
“But when I saw her drawings, I knew she had an eye for fashion.”
“That’s funny, I thought jewelry and art history was your passion,” I say, giving Estelle a confused look. “At least it was when you begged me to go to Paris in the first place.”
Sloane turns to me wide-eyed, completely appalled.
“I knew you wouldn’t—!”
Once again, Giorgio calms my sister by placing a hand on hers. This silences her, but the hostility is still there in her eyes.
“Her jewelry designs and love of art carry over perfectly to fashion. Your sister is quite talented. My family agrees with me.”
I can only wonder if it’s his eye for fashion or some other part of his anatomy that is so impressed with my sister’s talents. I feel my anger begin to surge as I think of what kind of warped ideas he’s put into her head about her own abilities, if only to get her into bed…and then into an interview with me. Perhaps in the hopes I might back a failing fashion house?
Prior to this meeting, I called up a contact in Italy, Lorenzo Damiani. His bank backs the Conti Fashion house, and he assured me that they were completely solvent. However, I have yet to find a company that wouldn’t welcome an additional injection of cash.
Whatever fantasies this Giorgio has filled my sister’s head with, it’s best I burst that bubble sooner rather than later. She’s already half in love by the looks of it.
“You do realize that she has no money of her own, correct? Everything she has is because I’ve paid for it. So whatever it is you hope to get from her or me financially, you can forget about it.”
“Magnus!” Sloane gasps.
“I told you!” Estelle practically screams at Giorgio, standing straight up. She turns her rage to me. “I knew you would react this way. Throwing it right back in my face. The one time I’m in love, and you spit all over it. Tossing it in the trash like it’s nothing. Embarrassing me in front of everyone, my friends, the man I love—just because you’re incapable of love doesn’t mean the rest of us have to put up with your shit! I should have never come back here. I ha
te you, Magnus! I always will!”
“Estelle, per favore,” Giorgio says in a pleading voice, trying to take her hand.
She swipes it away. “No! I’m done! I told you this was a horrible idea. Now you know why.”
Estelle, awkwardly makes her way around the other two couples who have been watching us with growing discomfort. In her heels and tiny white dress, she looks ridiculous trying to traverse the tight area.
I simply sit back and watch, used to this explosive reaction from my sister. In a few days, when Giorgio makes up some excuse as to why they can no longer be together, she’ll get over it. If I were a true gambler, I’d even put money on it.
Giorgio turns to me, his eyes now blazing. “That was unnecessary and cruel.”
With that, he makes his way out from the area we are stuck in, far more gracefully than Estelle did. Before leaving to follow her, he turns back to me one more time.
“Your sister and I are in love. One day, you will have to accept that.”
A nice touch, I’ll give him that. I’m almost fooled.
Almost.
When they are gone, the other couples find excuses to leave the table as well, now that the show is over. I can understand why they wouldn’t want to remain in the presence of the party pooper.
I sip my champagne, satisfied that I’ve done my deed for the night until I feel Sloane’s gaze on me. I turn to her, mostly to explain why I did what I did.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she says, raising one hand as she glares at me. “You, Magnus Reinhardt, are a fucking bastard.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Sloane
I stand up to walk out, feeling used and disgusted.
Why in the world would he make me a party to such a despicable display of being a complete asshole? As thrilled and excited as I was making the trek through the Buddha Bar and the steps and terraces outside, where people are only getting more and more hyped, now my heart accelerates for an entirely different reason. I find Estelle and Giorgio tucked into a corner of one terrace. She is animatedly ranting at him while he tries to bring her into an embrace to comfort her.
The Monte Carlo Shark: An International Legacies Romance Page 22
