“Of course Mrs. Prescott. Please follow me.”
We were shown the same table I’d had lunch at, the one overlooking the lovely lights shining on the water. I hesitated for a moment when I saw that height before I carefully lowered myself into a seat, feeling queasy like I’d been poisoned, but that’s how I always felt when I was with Philippe.
His hands brushed my shoulders before he stepped away, and that’s when I realized that my cousin was the one who had held my chair.
Once we had given our orders to the waiter, we were left with his trade.
“I have your precious Straw in my apartment. Come with me after dinner to take it home.”
My head jerked up, and I grabbed the nearest knife. Even though it was a butter knife, it would do damage. “You don’t have my cello.”
“You left it so carelessly in your friend’s basement. I couldn’t leave it where it might get damaged. Your friend put up a fight for it, but she gave in to reason in the end.”
My grip on my knife tightened while my heart beat faster. “What did you do to her?”
His eyes flickered with jealousy. “We had a very peaceful conversation, that’s all. Do you think I would hurt an old friend who gave you so many hours of happiness? I’ll give you all of them, the cello, your old friend, even the Swedish twins, if you make me your closest admirer.”
I was going to throw up. He had the Swedish twins? How absolutely terrifying. Instead of showing fear, I went with amusement. I raised a brow and looked him up and down. “You’ve been having them wax you? Philippe, we’re family. That’s much closer than any friend I’ll ever have.” I touched his cheek and then picked up my fork, somehow not flinching from that touch of his cool cheek.
“Even Toni?” Before I could do more than blink, he continued with a rabid snarl before it faded behind his docile expression. “I know that you’d do anything for her.”
“Pity. Those are your cards? You have my cello, and my hired face and body conditioners? I didn’t know that you had friends, odd that you’d want me to make you one of mine.”
He put his hand over mine where it still held the knife. It was so hard not to jerk away from his touch. “I love it when you stab me. I always have. No one else appreciates you like I do, your viciousness, your coldness that melts into rage, your meticulous attention to detail when working over a client, and of course the way you play. I want you to play with me, Daniela. For me. Forever.”
“Get down!” The men from the table behind me screamed and the distant crack of a gunshot sounded.
I turned to see and then felt a burn across my arm and then Philippe rocked back before someone hit me, knocking me and my chair over onto the polished wood floor that smelled pleasantly of lemons and rosemary beneath my now bruised cheek.
“Stay down!” the older man roared who had tackled me to the ground, covering my body like a hero. The other patrons screamed and there was a mass exodus of people leaving their seats and heading for the doors.
I struggled to get untangled from the man and the chair, army crawling towards Philippe.
“Stay down, miss,” the older gentleman begged, following me and still trying to cover me, like his arms would stop a bullet, as well as the angle on the floor being entirely wrong for an assassination.
“Philippe!” I grabbed his suit lapels and dragged him up where he lay, still and quiet. “Philippe, wake up! Why did you have to be such a miserable person that so many people want to kill?” I shook him hard.
The hero shook his head. “It wasn’t him that was the target. I saw the red light on your back, miss. You need to get out of here. There’s nothing you can do for your friend.” The respectable gentleman tugged on my injured arm, but I pulled away and leaned over Philippe, putting more of my body on him than I’d ever done before.
“Did you try to have me killed? Wake up!” I yanked on him again, and this time when his head thumped to the floor, his eyes fluttered.
“Daniela.” For a moment, he seemed like a different person with a level of unguardedness that made him seem practicallynot psychotic, but then the awareness came back as a cruel light returned to his eyes.
I tugged on his shirt again. “You aren’t dead? Good, then I can kill you! Did you try to have me killed or was it one of your enemies, someone who would think that killing me would be a just punishment for what you did to his sister?”
He frowned as he touched my arm where a freshly bleeding wound was soaking into my excellent suit. “You’re bleeding. Your blood is so beautiful. I want to drink it.” Well, that was unexpectedly creepy.
Maybe thinking he was a vampire was one of the super serum’s side-effects.
I thumped him again. “You killed his sister, and now he’s going to kill me. Why do you have to be so obvious?”
He licked his fingers and smiled at me. “It’s nothing. I’ll have him killed, and you don’t have to worry about your husband ever again.”
Was that enough?
“Your husband did this?” the old man said, still hovering and listening to this entire conversation, old eyes intent as he tried to understand this ridiculous situation.
“I certainly did not,” Dirk said, and then the table was upended, giving us some cover from the assassin through the window as it was propped on its side.
