Maxence quickened his pace.
Simone kept up with him, nearly prancing with her stiletto heels on her long, curvaceous legs that Max would definitely admire later. He placed his hand on her back near her waist in case she slipped on the slick tile. She was clutching his jacket around her shoulders and the scarf over her hair and looking straight ahead as they ducked between people, which wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.Good.She was doing the right things so they wouldn’t catch people’s eyes.
He dodged into a side hallway with yet more Christmas trees, guiding her with him, where a security guard raised a hand. He stopped with his arm half-raised as his eyes widened, and then he let his hand fall as he stared back into the casino.
The security guard and the man in the casino had both recognized Maxence.
They had to run.
Her warmth under his fingers and palm, even through his tuxedo jacket, distracted Maxence for an instant.
He pointed at the corner ahead of them. “Left.”
They pivoted around the corner, dashed down another hallway, and pushed through swinging doors into the lounge of the Buddha Bar.
Like the Buddha Bar in Paris and others around the world, an enormous ebony statue of a seated Buddha towered over the deep red and obsidian lounge. Curving staircases led to the upper floors with restaurant food service. Rock music pulsed from the block of speakers in the middle of the lounge.
The crowd in there was more intent on each other than gambling, so Maxence slowed.
Again, they shouldn’t stand out.
Maxence and Simone wound between the tables and the knots of people, scooting sideways when necessary, and emerged from the bar’s doors into the chilly December night.
Stars glowed in the sky. The moon painted bright stripes on the waves of the Mediterranean Sea.
Maxence said to her, “Let’s go this way, toward the sea. We can go down the terrace and into the garden.”
“And then what?” she asked, her voice tight.
Maxence grinned, a little high from the adrenalin coursing through his body. “I haven’t the foggiest.”
Chapter Eight
Hotel de Paris
Roxanne
The room service staff delivered an enormous breakfast, easily enough for four people or more, to Roxanne and Casimir’s room at seven o’clock the next morning, even though they hadn’t ordered anything.
A steel commercial-sized barrel of coffee with two carafes for the table was wheeled in directly after the food.
Roxanne flopped back into the sheets. “We’ve only slept for two hours.”
Casimir blinked sleepily, dropping a pillow over his head as he grumbled, “Dammit.”
Casimir had briefed Rox on how Arthur had hacked the casino’s security system the night before, which seemed like an odd skill for the Earl of Severn to have but whatever.
She said, “That’s food for four. Arthur and Gen will be here any minute. I need to brush my teeth.”
By the time Roxanne had made herself halfway presentable, found a fluffy robe on the back of the bathroom door, and stumbled back to the living room, Arthur and Gen had arrived and joined Casimir at the small table near the window that overlooked the casino’s courtyard and fountain.
Roxanne sat in the last empty chair at the small table. Casimir hadn’t bothered to find a robe and instead wrapped one of the hotel’s crisp white sheets around his waist and thrown the excess over his shoulder, toga-style. The black flames from his tribal fire tattoo covered his lightly tanned back and arm and disappeared under the crisp, snowy cotton. He was drinking from a coffee mug, one gulp after another, like a frat boy chugs beer.
As he tipped the mug back, drinking greedily, the tattoo on the underside of his right forearm came into view: three shields, all different patterns, around a Celtic knot.
On Casimir’s arm, the orange shield with a white lion pointed down to his wrist.
Across the table from Casimir, Arthur was wearing a short-sleeved tee-shirt. He had the same tattoo on his forearm, but the design was rotated so that the shield pointing down to his hand was dark blue with three yellow crowns on it.
