Nikolett nodded as Barbe undid the clasps on the cast and removed it, then spread out a sterile drape on the ottoman as Nikolett held her leg up. She was grateful for the removal of the thick bandages and stretchy wrap Elena had insisted on. Everything had started to itch, so if the doctor hadn’t done it, Nikolett probably would have removed everything herself when she was finally alone.
“She has to go out and be seen,” Raphael said.
To her surprise, Grigoris didn’t immediately say no.
“She can meet someone for dinner,” Annette suggested.
Grigoris looked at Nikolett, one brow raised, the question clear. She shook her head once. Gus was an innocent bystander. She wouldn’t compound the danger he was in by deliberately making him part of her bait plot.
“Someone from France,” Raphael added.
“Henri Fortin.” Annette sat forward. “He’s a good man.”
“The billionaire?” Nikolett’s lip curled. “No. There is no ethical way to be a billionaire.”
Everyone turned to look at her. She met each gaze, daring them to tell her she was wrong. One by one, they looked away.
Raphael picked up his phone, tapping the screen, and a moment later said, “My admiral would like to meet with you. She says she wants to thank you for helping her son.”
Grigoris looked over at her, and Nikolett nodded. “Very well. When?”
After some discussion of security and schedules, a dinner meeting was set for tomorrow night.
Le Relais Plazawas the less formal, but by no means casual, restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel. The Michelin-star restaurant that served a traditional seven-course meal was on the second floor, and therefore no good.
The choice of venue had less to do with formality or menu, and everything to do with the fact thatLe Relais’sdining room had large windows that looked out on Avenue Montaigne. There was outdoor seating on a terrace, but even if it hadn’t been raining and that had been an option, the terrace was too much exposure. Grigoris’ eye would never stop twitching.
Instead, Nikolett was headed for a table at the window where she could sit while presenting a perfect profile to anyone watching through the glass.
Idir had arrived at her suite ten minutes ago to escort her down to the restaurant, and now that she’d spent time with him, she could confirm he was as charming as his smile.
“I’ve always wondered,” he said as they followed themaitre d’to the table where Victoire already waited, “what the lobsters in the tank feel like just before they’re eaten.”
Nikolett, leaning heavily on his arm to offset the fact that she’d skipped both cast and walking boot, hummed in inquiry.
“You’ll have to tell me.” He grinned. “Since we’re presenting you like a lobster waiting to be eaten.” Idir tipped his chin to the large window beside her table.
Nikolett let out an inelegant and surprised snort of amusement. “Will you let your admiral be boiled?”
“Absolutely not. Her?” He clicked his tongue. “I will protect with my life.”
“And me?”
“You’ll make a beautiful corpse. I will pray and weep over your body.”
This time, she managed a laugh rather than a snort. “Thank you. I’m sure that will be a great solace when I’m dead.”
“It will be. I’m an excellent mourner.” They reached the table, and Idir inclined his head to Victoire. “Madame.”
“Idir, have you been teasing Nikolett?”
“Of course.”
Victoire let out a sigh, but her eyes crinkled with a smile as she rose from her seat.
Nikolett leaned in for a cheek kiss, keeping ahold of Idir with one arm as she did. It wasn’t until he’d helped Nikolett into her seat that Victoire looked at him with an indulgent smile.
“Idir, go tease someone else.”
