men in North Carolina did as well, and friendly touches were a matter of course.
But she didn’t like the feel of Hakim’s hand on her arm. Not one bit.
“Of course,” Bastien said immediately, glancing at her stubborn face with palpable amusement. “What would you like us to do?”
“I have an errand for Miss Underwood, and I’d appreciate it if you’d drive her. I need some books.”
“Books?” Chloe echoed.
“For my guests. They won’t be working all the time, and they must have something to occupy them in their off-time. You would know what’s needed, I’m sure, given your experience in the publishing business. Just get a handful in the most common languages. French, English, Italian and German. Something light and escapist—use your judgment.”
“But what about the limousine?” she stammered. “It seems a shame that Monsieur Toussaint has to waste his time on an errand like this instead of continuing with the work.”
“Monsieur Toussaint is more than happy to have a chance to escape for a bit, aren’t you, Bastien? Particularly in the company of such a lovely young lady. And the limousine is being serviced—it’s unavailable.”
Now why on earth would he lie to her? He wouldn’t—there was no reason for him to trump up an excuse to get rid of her. He could simply fire her ass and have done with it.
“And the work this afternoon?” Bastien sounded completely unconcerned. “We wouldn’t want to miss anything.”
“Don’t worry, Bastien. I’ll be looking out for your best interests, you know that. We all rise and fall together. And we’re far from coming to any kind of conclusion as to who will take over as head, not with Mr. Christopolous still absent. This afternoon will be simply jockeying for position. You can safely take the afternoon off and enjoy yourself. Take Mademoiselle Underwood for a nice long lunch in St. André. There’s no hurry.”
Chloe racked her brain for a good excuse, even a lousy one, to get out of it, but for the moment she could think of nothing. “If you’re certain, Monsieur Hakim.”
Gilles Hakim’s smile was benevolent, and it was only her imagination that the shadows in the brightly lit room made it look faintly sinister. “I am certain, mademoiselle. Tomorrow morning will be time to get back to work. In the meantime, enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll see that she does,” Bastien said. Taking the arm that Hakim had clamped down on, his pressure was only slight, but she moved with him anyway.
Not that the touch of his hand on her skin was less unsettling, she thought, letting him steer her out of the room. The feel of his skin next to hers was a different kind of threat, one that was dangerously enticing.
It was easy enough to pull free once they left the room. “If you’d lend me your car I’m sure I can find the bookstore myself,” she said evenly.
“But then I wouldn’t have the chance to spend some time with you,” he said. “And no one drives my car but me. I’m particular that way. Why don’t you go up and change into some more comfortable shoes? I’m certain you have some.”
She would have given ten years off her life to have more comfortable shoes, but Sylvia hadn’t thought it was necessary, any more than she’d considered the difference in their sizes to be important. It was all Chloe could do not to hobble, but she summoned her best smile.
“These are perfectly comfortable,” she said. “I’m ready if you are. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back.”
“True enough,” he murmured. “Though I find I don’t believe you’ve been quite as honest about the shoes.” There was a faint emphasis, as if he thought she hadn’t been honest about other things. Or maybe her crazy imagination was going at it again.
He drove a Porsche. Of course he did, Chloe thought, sliding into the front seat. He’d waited long enough for her to get her purse, and she’d tried on every pair of shoes Sylvia had sent, but the
But she didn’t like the feel of Hakim’s hand on her arm. Not one bit.
“Of course,” Bastien said immediately, glancing at her stubborn face with palpable amusement. “What would you like us to do?”
“I have an errand for Miss Underwood, and I’d appreciate it if you’d drive her. I need some books.”
“Books?” Chloe echoed.
“For my guests. They won’t be working all the time, and they must have something to occupy them in their off-time. You would know what’s needed, I’m sure, given your experience in the publishing business. Just get a handful in the most common languages. French, English, Italian and German. Something light and escapist—use your judgment.”
“But what about the limousine?” she stammered. “It seems a shame that Monsieur Toussaint has to waste his time on an errand like this instead of continuing with the work.”
“Monsieur Toussaint is more than happy to have a chance to escape for a bit, aren’t you, Bastien? Particularly in the company of such a lovely young lady. And the limousine is being serviced—it’s unavailable.”
Now why on earth would he lie to her? He wouldn’t—there was no reason for him to trump up an excuse to get rid of her. He could simply fire her ass and have done with it.
“And the work this afternoon?” Bastien sounded completely unconcerned. “We wouldn’t want to miss anything.”
“Don’t worry, Bastien. I’ll be looking out for your best interests, you know that. We all rise and fall together. And we’re far from coming to any kind of conclusion as to who will take over as head, not with Mr. Christopolous still absent. This afternoon will be simply jockeying for position. You can safely take the afternoon off and enjoy yourself. Take Mademoiselle Underwood for a nice long lunch in St. André. There’s no hurry.”
Chloe racked her brain for a good excuse, even a lousy one, to get out of it, but for the moment she could think of nothing. “If you’re certain, Monsieur Hakim.”
Gilles Hakim’s smile was benevolent, and it was only her imagination that the shadows in the brightly lit room made it look faintly sinister. “I am certain, mademoiselle. Tomorrow morning will be time to get back to work. In the meantime, enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll see that she does,” Bastien said. Taking the arm that Hakim had clamped down on, his pressure was only slight, but she moved with him anyway.
Not that the touch of his hand on her skin was less unsettling, she thought, letting him steer her out of the room. The feel of his skin next to hers was a different kind of threat, one that was dangerously enticing.
It was easy enough to pull free once they left the room. “If you’d lend me your car I’m sure I can find the bookstore myself,” she said evenly.
“But then I wouldn’t have the chance to spend some time with you,” he said. “And no one drives my car but me. I’m particular that way. Why don’t you go up and change into some more comfortable shoes? I’m certain you have some.”
She would have given ten years off her life to have more comfortable shoes, but Sylvia hadn’t thought it was necessary, any more than she’d considered the difference in their sizes to be important. It was all Chloe could do not to hobble, but she summoned her best smile.
“These are perfectly comfortable,” she said. “I’m ready if you are. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back.”
“True enough,” he murmured. “Though I find I don’t believe you’ve been quite as honest about the shoes.” There was a faint emphasis, as if he thought she hadn’t been honest about other things. Or maybe her crazy imagination was going at it again.
He drove a Porsche. Of course he did, Chloe thought, sliding into the front seat. He’d waited long enough for her to get her purse, and she’d tried on every pair of shoes Sylvia had sent, but the
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