The Monte Carlo Affair: Across A Crowded Room (IATO Series Book 2) (8 page)

Time for a change of subject. There was no convincing him about what hadn’t happened with Mosel. Hell, she hadn’t convinced herself she would have stopped him if the yacht hadn’t exploded. Guess she’d never know now if she would’ve done whatever was necessary to find her father’s killer, even if it meant sleeping with an accomplice to his murder.

Jason helped her out the door and down the back steps.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“I’ll drive you to work.”

“That’s not—”

“Uh, yes it is. Doc said no driving for a week. Call me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll be watching the front, Harrison will be out back.” He stopped and turned to her in the stairwell. “Emily, if anything, and I mean anything at all, seems suspicious, back off. Don’t fuck with it. We have time. You can abort and reset the mission. Don’t risk blowing the whole thing to get it done early. Okay?”

His eyes were dark with concern, and she knew this was all business.

“I know how important getting that technology out of there is. I won’t risk world annihilation. Don’t worry, I’m really good at this part of my job.”

He looked like he was trying to hold back his smile and lost the battle. “Oh, dammit, Em, I know you are!” The smile turned to a frown. “I’m not worried about that. I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m worried about you, too. We’ll be okay. Just you wait and see.”

And she believed it, for now. She had to, she was about to steal a nanochip from one of the most notorious men in the world and keep the world safe from terrorists, for the time being, anyway.

Chapter Seven

Although she was feeling better, Jason said he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight, not until after she’d switched out the chips. Mosel had returned to work, but he’d told her to stay home and relax, just as Jason suspected.

She’d finished forging the new chip. The copy was almost an exact replica of the original. Almost. Mosel called this morning and asked her to stop by to verify the authenticity of the chip for his buyer. It was the only chance she’d get to exchange the forgery for the original without anyone noticing. She couldn’t wait for Jason.

He hadn’t called this morning, but she’d see him tonight at the Charity Ball where she’d pass him the authentic chip. She’d checked in with Harrison, and since Jason had gone out to confirm the drop site tonight, she’d have to do this switch alone with just the team watching her back. Jason was going to be furious when he found out she was going in early.

* * * *

When she entered Mosel’s office, a Middle Eastern man stood up to great her. Ah, El Marat had been the man in the taxi by the docks that day. Mosel introduced Emily, and she smiled as if she were clueless.

The butterflies in her stomach were doing aerial acrobatics as she led the men into the laboratory. She’d practiced the sleight of hand trick for years as a kid, and then again here, recently, until the dealers in the casino were oblivious to her tactic. She could switch out a man’s jockey shorts while he was still wearing them she was so good at this. This was so going to work. She unlocked the vault, and started the show.

Emily smiled and charmed the men as she worked.
Ah, Daddy, this one’s for you.

Twenty minutes, a few pats on the back, several handshakes, and a hug from Mosel brought the meeting to a close. Her butterflies had settled and the nanochip was concealed on her body where it would stay until she turned it over to Jason tonight.

“Do you need a ride home?” Mosel had been distant since the accident.

“No, I have a car picking me up.”

“DesJardin, again?”

Emily shook her head. “He saved us, don’t say his name like that.” She turned her smile on Mosel and said, “No, it’s just a driver, waiting.”

“Emily, thank you for staying out there with me, for keeping me afloat until help came.”

She walked over to him and hugged him. “What else was I to do? Let you drown? Never.” She smiled up at him and studied his face.
No, if I find out you were involved with my father’s death, I want you staring into my eyes when I take you out.

She cupped his cheek, shaking her head. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tell DesJardin he has my gratitude, but I will still expect a dance with you.” He winked. “I’m not giving up so easily,
chérie
.”

* * * *

Back at her apartment, Emily had time to think about her assignment here while she prepared for the Ball. After weeks of being pursued by the two hottest men she’d ever encountered, she couldn’t believe she was more sexually frustrated than ever and as equally confused about what she wanted. Years of hanging out with nerds had negatively affected her daily routine and her self-image. Until recently, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like a sexy woman. Now she couldn’t seem to keep men from fawning all over her. What was with those deep, sexy looks old El Marat kept giving her today, anyway?
Yeck!

She’d always kept her ponytail tight to control her unruly hair. Mainly, just keeping it out of her face was a constant challenge. Makeup? Who needed it in the college computer facility? The focus in the computer lab was nanotechnology. The guys only checked out digitized equipment. Stylish clothing was optional. Emily figured her fellow geeks wouldn’t notice if she showed up to work stark naked.

Immersed completely in the technology, until recently she’d walked the road to geekdom along with her fellow coworkers. For three years, she’d buried herself in it. Work never hurt her. Losing people did.

She’d put those thoughts aside. Tonight was going to be the last step before the final act in their plan, the one they’d all been working toward. Her sister, Kate, and Jorge, her best friend, were enjoying a European vacation before joining her here in Monte Carlo. It would be good to spend time with the two of them tonight—be with them again after so long. Emily recruited them into visiting while she worked on her project here, so Kate would have an opportunity to take some small part with the outcome of her mission.

Kate and Jorge maintained a relationship that looked a lot like a blooming romance. What must have caused years of sexual tension had suddenly blossomed into more—she was all too familiar with that story herself. Facebook kept them in touch, but it had been at least a year since she’d seen them.

Jason would also be showing up sometime tonight so she could complete their assignment.

She walked through the apartment. There were traces of her everywhere already, in the plants she had added and the pictures she scattered on desks, bookcases and shelves. She would miss all of this after tomorrow. Her suitcase and backpack were packed by the front door as if for a short excursion. The story was that she would be traveling with her friends from America for a week, when in fact, she wouldn’t be returning here at all.

The night breeze rustled through the apartment from the double doors. It called to her. Emily stepped out on the balcony, contemplating who she was supposed to be tonight. For the last three years, she’d avoided relationships. They could hurt you if you let them. Lately, she’d forgotten to listen to her internal warnings, but then she’d already discovered you could live with a broken heart. What would another shattered piece matter?

The warm summer breeze blew in off the Mediterranean Sea, keeping the air from becoming stifling. The plants were a mix of tropical palms, cactus, citrus, and temperate foliage. The sea air smelled wonderful. Little wisps of wind whipped the lightweight curtains around the French doors.

Her stomach clenched with unexpected eagerness. The nanochip that she’d stolen from Mosel’s facility earlier in the day was taped securely to her body. The chip Emily left behind in its place would be virtually undetectable as a fake until the terrorists tried to use it. She had a job to do. She would meet with Jason one more time tonight, and then she hoped Mosel followed her back to DC.

Funny thing about tonight, three of her closest family and friends were going to be in the same room together, and to preserve Jason’s cover, the truth of their relationship would be kept secret. He’d never formally acknowledge family in public.

Emily turned to pick up her bag just as the buzzer rang. She ran to the open balcony door and shouted to Jorge, “I’ll be right down!”

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the hallway, the night, and the intrigue.

This is it!

She’d been eager to handle a field job on her own. So far, she’d done her part, and now all she had to do was pass the chip to Jason. Then he would make the drop, and finally, she was scheduled to get out of town. He’d tell her about the arrangements later.

She couldn’t turn back if she wanted to. This mission was too important for two reasons. First, the safety of the world depended on her getting the chip into Jason’s hands tonight. He needed to get it out of the country and safely back into the secure vault where it would be kept indefinitely. Secondly, they planned to discover those involved with her father’s murder once she convinced Mosel to see her in Washington.

A tingle of satisfaction ran up her spine. She was her father’s daughter, after all. She’d never thought about shirking her duty. Anyway, now wasn’t the time for second thoughts. She’d gotten into this with her eyes wide open. She’d act her part and have fun doing it. Who knew when they’d let her out of the facility in Boston again?

Tonight Cinderella was going to the ball. Tomorrow, she’d worry about Act II of this charade.

Chapter Eight

The bronze sun set low over the western Mediterranean. Light reflected a shimmering gold, casting flames onto the Casino’s façade as the limousine pulled under the portico overhanging the circular drive.

The front of the building resembled a castle more than a modern day casino. The numerous tri-globed lamps lining the boulevards began to glow in the dimming evening light. Date palms lined the streets, interspersed with citrus trees of all varieties.

A double marble staircase complete with ornate balustrades led to a luxurious landing. The enormous carved wooden doors made the building look like a regal palace. There were even a few crenellated towers for effect. Numerous flags, representing the royal house, stood at attention along the walled parapets. The silk materials whipped in the warm summer breeze. The vision looked like something out of a fairy tale.

“This casino isn’t anything like Vegas,” Emily mentioned to Kate under her breath. She shifted self-consciously while they waited for the valet to help them out of the car and escort them to the stairs.

“So, Mosel Reinhardt sponsors this event?” Kate asked Emily.

“Yes, my grandfather had something to do with this charity years ago. Now, the Charity Ball is held here at the Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino. Wait until you meet him. He’s a platinum blond, German-born god of a man. The playboy of the Riviera also owns Delta Star, the company I’m working for here in Monte Carlo.”

Emily whispered to Kate, “More importantly, he’s a known illegal arms dealer with contacts to the terrorists I believe killed Dad.”

Emily had managed an invitation from Mosel for Kate and Jorge. Her invitation had been more of a command, since he was still in relentless pursuit of her. While she tried to hold him at bay, Jason had kept Mosel’s interest up by dating her on off days, keeping the competition between the men hot and heavy. She hoped she survived the onslaught of attention. This wasn’t the first time they made her feel like a ping-pong ball in play.

Before she ascended the steps, Emily rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and got into character. Those days in high school plays handling the props had never prepared her for this!

* * * *

Mosel Reinhardt walked into the ballroom like a CEO walking into a meeting of the board. He glanced around, appraising everything, and with a slight smile, approved. He checked the buffet tables and the activity at the bars spread around the room. He noted the smiling faces of his guests, the efficiency of the staff. The music played, upbeat and modern, not his personal favorite. Steely rock would be out of place here, more appropriate at the clubs he frequented almost nightly.

Lights twinkled from the enormous authentic Austrian crystal chandeliers, interspersed impressively from the ballroom ceiling, as well as from sconces, reflecting along the mirrored walls. “Good, everything is going as planned. Is the girl coming tonight?” he asked, questioning his companions, two muscular men always present to do his bidding.

“She said she would be delighted if she could bring her friends. She’s taking an extended weekend trip with them tomorrow, but we included them in the invitation. We encouraged their presence, believing she might not come without them.”

“Good thinking. The more opportunities I have with her personally on a social level, the more opportunities I’ll have with her.” He added almost absently, “She is different than the others. Tell me as soon as she arrives.”

Mosel walked off to recheck the card room setup.

The Charity Ball, an event his family’s wine distribution business sponsored for years, covered his arms dealing. He continued the ruse to maintain contacts with all the right people despite his periodic reputation at unacceptability. He unwittingly exposed his darker side from time to time. He sneered as he thought how he was presently notorious among the genteel aristocratic society he ran with, for making some politically incorrect statement to a woman he hit on during a fundraiser. After her quick rebuke, he discovered she was “press.” The woman rapidly exposed his callous nature to anyone and everyone in his acquaintance, and then some. So Mosel sporadically worked at improving his image with his political and social acquaintances through his charities.

Currently, his most recent female conquest was trying to put herself to right for the evening in his private room upstairs. While he impatiently waited for another woman to arrive, one in whom he had a specific interest, his perusal of the rooms confirmed her absence.

He had been unproductively pursuing Emily for six weeks. She showed a slight sexual interest in him beyond attraction. Sometimes her polite friendliness bordered on friendship. Mosel wasn’t used to a woman taking him so carelessly for granted, sexually, especially after he’d come so close. He’d never had to put an effort into attaining a woman. In all of his experience, there was something special about this one in particular.

She was, of course, beautiful, bright, and genuine, with a hint of innocence. His behavior in her company was, by his standards, impeccable. He tried to always be the perfect gentleman, sensitive and attentive without appearing too interested. Just thinking about her brought a tightening to his gut. His recent release with the woman upstairs hadn’t been enough. Nothing but the inaccessible woman with the rounded tight body and cherubic face would be enough to assuage the craving he felt when he thought of her.

“Mosel, the arrangements are perfect. I think this will be more successful than ever. The Children’s World Organization can never thank you enough for your kindness.” The tall, straight, matronly woman of sixty plus, silver streaking through her stiffly coiffed hair, fawned over him. Mosel charmingly took her hand and acknowledged her importance with a click of his heels—one that would have done the Nazi SS proud. He bowed his head. “Oh, Madame, each year I realize how instrumental you are in this charity’s success. They should give you an award.”

She smiled, pleased with his recognition. “You overestimate my import, Monsieur Reinhardt.”

“No, Madame Rousseau, your contacts in Europe are instrumental in the success of this event every year,” Mosel said.

Her husband, Mosel’s banker in Switzerland, stood alongside. He interjected, “The charity is lucky to have your interest, Mosel.”

“Please don’t mention it. This is my pleasure and passion,” Mosel replied, bowing respectfully to the gentleman. He genuinely had a soft spot for kids, one that wasn’t completely self-serving. Mosel always felt like a king in their presence, and their expectations weren’t much. Poor children were easily pleased.

“Children are our future,” he continued. And he meant it. “The earlier you begin molding those small minds to your causes, the more indoctrinated they become. More art critics.” Mosel established followers to his ideals with his client’s money. He smiled the smile of one who knows a secret as he made his apologies, excused himself, and moved through the crowds.

While scrutinizing the room for the woman he anxiously awaited, he noticed Jason DesJardin. He continued shaking hands and moving through the potential donors with casual familiarity. The lovely blonde woman he recently enjoyed himself with upstairs had managed to refresh herself and join a group of his guests. Mosel noticed Jason DesJardin in the mix. As he’d instructed her earlier, Jacqueline oozed her charms all over Jason, one of the world’s most successful international real estate CEOs. She pressed her abundant breasts up against him, running her long fingernails over his chest. Occasionally she teased down the man’s abdomen, to where his cummerbund met his pants, a promise of more in her manner.

Mosel knew the impact her feminine wiles could have on a man. His groin tightened just watching her work DesJardin. He picked up two glasses of champagne from the tray carried past by a waiter. Handing one to Jason, he said, “Monsieur DesJardin, a pleasure to see you again. I don’t believe I thanked you properly for coming to my rescue last week.”

“No problem. I was heading into the cove myself when I saw your yacht take the hit. I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to get to you both sooner. Miss Holmes struggled with you for quite awhile before we arrived. You’re lucky she was there.”

“Yes, I am. I’m told her heroics saved my life.”

Jason shrugged. “How is she doing? Her injuries are healing?”

“I’ve heard she is well enough to attend tonight, I’m relieved to inform you.”

Jason continued his interrogation. “Have the police determined what happened?”

“No, not that they’ve informed me of. My staff is handling the insurance and all that nonsense. I’m going to be shopping for a new boat, it seems. Anyway, I’m so glad you could join us this evening so we can pick your pockets.”

Jason laughed at the honesty of the remark. “That’s okay. I never mind my pockets getting picked for a good cause.”

“Perhaps later we will have the opportunity to get to know one another better and talk. We always seem too busy with,” Mosel glanced at Jacqueline and blatantly perused her body, “other distractions. We haven’t taken time to become well acquainted ourselves. Such a shame. We seem to have so many similar interests. And tastes.”

“As much as I would like that,” he replied with a friendly grin, “I’m afraid these affairs don’t lend well to intimate conversation. Perhaps lunch sometime soon?”

They socialized simultaneously at the same functions all over the world, but for a reason Mosel didn’t understand, they never ended up in the same circles. Now, it looked like he owed Jason his life.

“After all, business ventures aren’t always to be developed at every meeting.” Mosel thought slyly,
But this time I will feel him out.

Mosel thought DesJardin could potentially be useful to his Middle Eastern contacts, after his group worked out the appropriate changes to the third world governments. That is, if Jason’s political attitude truly leaned in the direction mutual acquaintances speculated. Mosel wanted to get a measure of the man. Many believed Jason to be a speculator with an attitude that was all about the money. According to Mosel’s sources, he didn’t give a damn about the politics, just about the clink—exactly the sort of man he could work with.

In the coming months, he would have need of real estate in multiple locations and would be needing to move some money. Working with him may be exactly what he needed.

“Lunch, ah, what an excellent idea, DesJardin. I have a prospectus for another castle and estate I may want you to broker for me. What do you think?”

Jason disengaged himself from Jacqueline’s embrace. He gazed over Mosel’s shoulder, apparently distracted by something behind him.

“Uhhh, that would be great, call me.” Jason’s height almost matched Mosel’s. Reaching into a pocket, Jason pulled out a business card with an ease that years of practice provided. He handed the card to Mosel without so much as a backwards glance, and excused himself politely without waiting for anyone’s response.

Mosel bristled as Jason dismissed him. He wondered if maybe the reports about Jason being such a ladies’ man were exaggerated as he pulled away from Jacqueline and moved to the stairs. Then Mosel followed Jason’s direction and saw what, or rather who, had snatched his attention.

His stomach clenched in a burning ache.
Well, this is interesting.
A blaze of anger rose up through him.

Mosel watched the dance of interest between Jason and the one woman Mosel craved with a passion he’d never before experienced.

This turn of events was a little disappointing. He tried to bring his anger back under control.

Ever since they’d met at the nightclub, Mosel had to admit he was afraid he’d lose this one to Jason. In addition, he knew DesJardin wouldn’t be a gentleman with her. For some reason, thinking about Emily being used disturbed Mosel.

What should he do? He wondered. As host, he could only let this game play out. He owed Jason after last week. If Jason wanted her, it would be in bad taste for Mosel to interfere and risk losing a potential alliance with DesJardin’s company.

He would put his personal feelings aside for the moment, and hope she would be able to handle Jason. Unfortunately for Mosel, he’d felt her passion. He hardly believed she would prefer Jason’s dark roguish good looks to his own refined elegance, until he saw the expression on her face when she looked at Jason.

Mosel ran both hands over his hair, smoothing it back from his face. He was a practical man and a realist. Regrettably, that made him completely aware Emily’s expression didn’t bode well for him.
Ah, but one never totally understands the feminine heart.

He would bide his time. Jason had a reputation for one-night stands. Mosel watched with interest as Emily and Jason made eye contact. A little pain burned beneath his heart. He shrugged internally.
There could be many moves in the game of chess or love, could there not,
he thought wisely,
before checkmate?

“Ah, Jacqueline, it appears you are not enough to hold our intended’s interest tonight.” She rounded on him, ready to pounce, her expression vicious.

“No, no,
ma chérie
,” he grabbed both her hands, protecting himself and coaxing at once. He dragged her to the dance floor, laughing, and whispered into her neck. “Perhaps he smelled my scent on you? Like a wild cat, I have marked you. Come, you are with me tonight. Are you not?”