“He’s Oliver’s boyfriend, so I know him a little.”
“Oh.”Oooh.
“Well, one of many boyfriends, really.”
“At the masquerade ball, when the fight broke out, I thought someone said it was because Oliver got involved with the waiter’s sister.”
“He did. Women, men—Oliver doesn’t discriminate.” Peter gives a boyish grin.
“Do you do business with him? Oliver? I—I heard you mention something about Customs. I have some experience with that. Through my antiques store.” She’s prattling now, but she is desperate to pull more information about Xavier.
But he doesn’t take the bait. “Ah, that makes sense. Where do you mostly import from?”
Suddenly, Vivian recalls the last time she saw her missing notebook of business contacts. It was the day Xavier came to visit her in her shop.
That notebook also contained her contacts for Customs agents.
A wealthy client of mine who recently became widowed is intent on acquiring an elephant ivory necklace,Xavier had said.Perhaps you could connect me to your Customs contact?
“I import from all over, really,” she manages to respond. Is this all a coincidence, or did Xavier steal her notebook?
Oliver, still sitting by himself at a window table, suddenly leans back, eyes closed, as if he’s taking a short nap. He’s a hot mess, that one.
Fear suddenly clutches Vivian’s heart. Has Xavier relapsed? Is that what’s going on?
Their appetizers arrive: a half dozen oysters and an off-menu caviar that Vivian didn’t hear Peter order. She is quiet while they polish off the oysters, whose taste she’s not even registering. Instead, she’s thinking of how Xavier’s pupils looked suspiciously small.
“What else are you thinking in that beautiful head of yours?” Peter prods.
What isn’t she thinking? would be the better question. But she says nothing, only shaking her head.
“Ask me anything,” Peter says, staring intently at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Ask me anything right now, anything in the world, and I’ll answer you truthfully.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
What is going on with Xavier and Oliver? Would you still care for me if you knew my true intentions? What are my true intentions? Why didn’t you pick up that cocktail napkin that Jerry dropped?
Who is the blue-haired woman?
Who areyou?
The problem is that she can’t ask any of the questions she really wants to. So she picks one that will test his trust in her. “Downstairs,” she says carefully, “you said that members’ allegiance to the Knox is inscribed on the scroll in the basement called the ‘Bowels’?”
Peter nods. “Yes?”
“So, what does that mean?”
“Ah,” he says, folding his arms. “Smart question. You want to know how they ensnared me.” He says this so matter-of-factly that she almost wants to deny it. But why? It’s true.
“Yes,” she admits.
“I had to confess my deepest, darkest secret.”
