Page 68 of Icebound

“Who’s Le Fauçon?” She pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“My boss.”

“The man who sent you to kill LaDonna?”

“The same. Behave yourself or you’ll end up back in that room downstairs.”

“No, I won’t. You’d rescue me.”

“Don’t count on it.” He came over to the bed. “You’ll have to wear what you’re wearing—we have no clothes for you. You wouldn’t fit in Maddelena’s, and she wouldn’t offer them.”

“No, I imagine not. Why does she hate me so much?”

“Don’t be naïve. You know perfectly well why.”

“Because you like me?”

“Because I’m fucking you,” he said bluntly. “Get up—we’re late.”

After such tender words, she was tempted to take all the time she could, but she didn’t quite dare. Her hair was a tousled mess, the sweats were too big on her, but she’d have to make do. She wanted to meet the man who brokered murders of innocent women, who’d sent her to that horrible little room. She hadn’t dealt with someone of such unregenerate evil in more than fifteen years, and whether she was ready or not, she was willing to face the monster behind all that had happened to her.

The man looked like a teddy bear. “There you are, my boy,” he greeted Bastien in his plummy English accent. He looked like an elderly British politician, all benevolent smiles in his white suit, and Chloe was reminded of Sidney Greenstreet in “Casablanca.” “And who’s this little waif you’ve brought with you?”

“Chloe Toussaint,” he said. “This is Sir Horace Appleby.”

“Le Fauçon,” she said, and held out her hand. “I’m the one you had imprisoned in the basement.”

She was rewarded with a hearty laugh. “I see why you like her, Jean-Marc. She’s very outspoken. My dear, I’m sorry for the necessity but I wasn’t here to ascertain how dangerous you were, and it seemed prudent.”

“Don’t apologize to her!” Maddelena snapped from the white cushions she was lounging on. “I don’t trust her.”

“You don’t like her because she’s got your man,” the old man said with a cheery disregard for her feelings. “I thought I brought you up to be a gracious loser.”

“I haven’t lost!” she shot back. “He’ll tire of her, sooner or later, as he’s tired of all the others. He’s mine, and nothing will change that.”

Chloe couldn’t resist the temptation—she turned to face Maddelena and smiled a maddening smile. “I don’t think so,” she said sweetly.

“You bitch!” Maddelena spat, but the man known as Le Fauçon simply tutted like an elderly schoolmarm.

“Jean-Marc, control your women,” he said easily. “I wouldn’t like to step in.”

“That’s exactly what you should do!” Maddelena screeched. “You can’t let him parade her around in front of me, his wife! Do something about it!”

“Calm down. No one will be parading anyone around. Jean-Marc will not be sharing her room. He’s going to move his things to another bedroom.”

She didn’t look mollified. “Which one?”

“A bedroom that will be off-limits to you as well. I can’t have these soap operas interfering with my organization.” He turned to Chloe. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. She’s been far too indulged, and he is, after all, her husband.”

She was so tempted to say, “no, he’s not, he’s mine,” but she resisted the impulse. This was no cuddly teddy bear of a man, despite what he seemed, this was a monster. She smiled politely, her expression hardening as Luc walked into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had some loose ends to tie up.”

She could just imagine what kind of loose ends he dealt with. Her sense of betrayal was huge, and she looked at him stonily.

But Luc wasn’t easily cowed. “I’m sorry I had to do that to you, Chloe,” he said earnestly. “I wasn’t happy about it. I spent the whole trip trying to figure out a way around it.”

It was reasonable, explaining away his sullen attitude during the endless drive, and he looked like the man she had almost trusted. She didn’t trust him now.