"Oh, Pet. So self-righteous in your certainty that you're doing the Queen's work and I'm the Devil. How many people have you killed, hmmm?" Maura looked away angrily, so he shook her, snapping her head upright and staring at his reflection again. "How many?"
"Two," she said evenly, "to save my partner during a mission."
"And your dear Da'," he added unkindly, "such an intimate one, that. A knife through the neck. A blade you actually keep as a trophy between your mattress and box spring. There's definitely some Daddy issues there, Pet."
"And how many innocent people have you killed, Sir?” she snarled, tired of his taunting.
"Innocent?" he repeated, "Innocent is a loaded adjective. Your moral superiority is amusing. You think all the missions your agency assigned you were for good vs evil? And the men you killed? They had families. People who mourn them. Those who suffer from their loss. Death is death." James pushed back from her, straightening his cuffs. "Come, we must go. As my new, blushing bride, I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. You are here as an ornament. To impress others with my superb taste. You will be polite. Do you understand?"
Maura's fists were clenched so hard she could feel her nails sinking through the skin of her palm. Naturally, James evaded the question about the blood onhishands, how many people met their end at his bidding. As if his sophistication allowed only him to see some sort of bigger picture that absolved him.
With an irritated growl, James took her chin in his strong fingers and held up his phone. Today's photos of the twins were clearly taken in their classroom - how close were his men? Her longing eyes took them in until the slideshow moved to Meghan, in a therapy room at the care center with a kitten on her lap. Maura's eyes filled with tears. Meghan always wanted a pet, but after their Da killed their dog in a drunken rage, no one ever brought an animal home again.
The tears dried rapidly as the next picture showed her mother's shabby stone marker in the indigent section of the graveyard near their old home. She shrugged away from him. "Why show me that?" she spat. How could James possibly think that was an image that would move her? He may love his mother, but her feelings about her’s was an ugly tangle she didn’t want to examine.
James was looking her over in that visual circuit of his, examining every inch of her. "I thought you'd like to see her grave again," he answered with a wicked purr. "Perhaps taking comfort in her final rest?"
Maura recoiled from him, visibly disgusted. "If you're quite finished," she managed, "should we go? I'd hate to make you late for anything important."
His shrewd eyes didn't stop their examination, but James smiled falsely and kissed her hand. "Off we go, then darling."
As James escorted her across the massive marble hotel lobby and into the restaurant overlooking the waters of the Mediterranean, Maura knew that he was intentionally making an entrance. Defensive with so many eyes on them, she straightened her spine and walked with a pronounced sensual sway. Did he want an ornament? Fine. By the time they reached the table crowded with Kington, Fassell, and their Algerian guests, everyone was staring.
After seating Maura, James sat beside her, running his long fingers slowly down her spine to draw attention to her exposed back. Maura was aware that Fassell was across the table, staring at them with gritted teeth. As he angrily finished his drink and called for another, Kingston sighed and leaned over to her second in command. "James, stop provoking Simon. I can't afford to have you two try to kill each other in the middle of the Algerian desert."
He chuckled. "Of course, Morgan."
Maura was grateful to finally be alert again, listening intently to the conversations. She sensed hidden undercurrents to some of the comments, and while trying to decipher one, she was touched gently on the arm. "Miss, could I trouble you to pass that bottle?"
"Oh! Of course, forgive me for drifting off." She smiled politely and handed the object to the gentleman sitting next to her. He was older, wrinkles burned in around his eyes from years of squinting in the Algerian sun. His eyes were kind behind his glasses, the first of his group that didn't look at her with lust or contempt.
"I am Akili Maaziz, you are Mr. Pine's new bride?"
His tone was respectful, but she still cringed at the word ‘bride.’ "A pleasure, Mr. Maaziz, I'm Maura MacLaren… uh… MacLaren-Pine."
Maaziz nodded kindly, "Are you working on this venture?"
"I have been a computer code and software developer for other Corporation... interests," Maura phrased carefully. "And you, sir?"
His tone was rueful. "My role is to be the voice of reason, which will be ignored."
She chuckled, "I know experience is revered in Algerian culture. Surely, your concerns will be heard?"
James caught the tail end of their conversation and leaned in swiftly. "Mr. Maaziz, I've been interested in your thoughts on the developments in the capital; on whether President Mahrez is handing power to his second in command?" He subtly inserted himself between Maura and her seatmate. She still listened intently while pretending to be interested in her dessert.
Looking across the table at the sound of glass breaking, Maura watched Fassell curse as his dropped glass shattered on the marble floor. He angrily threw his napkin on the table, swearing at the waiter attempting to clean up his mess. Third in Command looked her way, baring his teeth at her.
Staring levelly back, Maura raised one eyebrow and mouthed,How's your throat?while gently patting her own.
"You fucking cunt-" he spurted, then controlled himself at Kingston's glare. Fortunately, the group left the restaurant before any more trouble was caused, and wandered into the casino next. James put a possessive hand on the small of Maura's back as Fassell followed closely behind them.
"You did remember Kingston's instructions to not taunt Fassell, didn't you Pet?" James leaned in to whisper the admonition to Maura, watching the little ripple of goosebumps on her neck that it caused in his wake.
"I believe the chastisement was directed at you, Mr. Pine," she smiled innocently, batting her lashes as he laughed. Catching herself the very next second, Maura was furious with her behavior. She'd just flirted with the man who watched her fellow agents be murdered, the monster holding her family as hostages for her behavior.
While she was consumed with self-loathing, James brought her to a blackjack table, presenting her with a pile of chips. Maura shook her head, pushing them back to him. "I'm a terrible card player," she admitted, "you might as well throw your money in the street. I'll just watch." To her surprise, he didn't challenge her. Shrugging and ordering a drink for them both, he set about winning round after round.
Kingston watched the play intently, "I'm pleased to see you're winning, James. You have ten million pounds to recover for the Corporation."
