Though his tone didn’t actually change, Camille got the impression of some great heaviness in his last sentence. That was reinforced when Margot’s expression abruptly lost its annoyance. Tenderness took its place.
“Well, I guess that’s fine,” she murmured, reaching for her tea like she needed a distraction.
Olivier leaned back into his chair and turned his cold gaze on Camille, blatantly assessing her. That wasn’t anything new. It was standard practice to take in an elf at a glance, picking out the clues of rank and ability, dominance and power, unabashedly.
She supposed there was also an element of sexual attraction in that assessment as well, but Camille saw nothing of the sort in Olivier’s pretty topaz eyes. They were as cold and hard as the stones they resembled.
Thank the gods.
She had no desire to tangle with someone with so many sharp edges. Camille wanted passion,fire,not ice.
Unbidden, memories of Viktor’s hands on her body, his rough voice in her ear, made her skin prickle with harsh, violent want. Beneath the table, she squeezed one hand into a fist and tried to breathe through the wave of frenzied longing that rushed her.
Oblivious, Olivier took another long drink from his pilfered coffee before he bluntly announced, “I’ve heard you’re looking to contract a union.”
“Olivier!”
He glanced at his sister, one white brow arched. “What?”
“You can’t just roll into a personal subject like that when you haven’t even saidhelloto Cammie yet.” When he just stared at Margot blankly, she explained, with palpable annoyance, “It’srude.”
“It’sbusiness,pearl.” He turned his stare on Camille again, fixing her with a look of cool curiosity. For all the passion in Olivier’s gaze, he might as well have been looking at a brick. “Who are your top contenders?”
Camille tilted her head, her eyes narrowing on the lean but powerful elf sitting by her elbow. It didn’t surprise her that word had already gotten out. She doubted her own family had leaked the news — Theodore’s transgression aside — but any family she sent feelers out to might have. “Why should I tell you? It’s not like you’re on it.”
One corner of Olivier’s mouth kicked up in a fleeting smile. “How disappointing. I would have liked to reject Theodore’s overture to his face.”
She might have told him that hehadbeen on her mother’s first few lists, just out of spite, but Camille didn’t want to give the arrogant man more reasons to think he was better than everyone else.
“My apologies,” she replied, perfectly flat, “I do hate to disappoint.”
“Hm.” Olivier glanced down at the spread on the table. Reaching out with one black gloved hand, he plucked a paper-thin slice of prosciutto off of a dish with the tips of his gold-plated claws. After popping it in his mouth, he used his knuckle to nudge the plate toward Margot. “Eat, pearl.”
She looked as revolted by his offering as Camille was by her scone. “No, thanks.”
Olivier rolled his eyes but let the subject drop without a fuss, as if they’d had the same conversation a thousand times. “If I’m not on your list, then at least tell me who the favorites are.”
Camille snagged a piece of prosciutto for herself, if only to take some away from him. “Why?”
“Because I’m good at business,” he bluntly replied. It was a vast understatement. Olivier had built a reputation as one of the most ruthless businessmen in the world. “And I don’t care about you, so you can trust I won’t sugarcoat my criticism.”
“Olivier.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not rude. Trust me, it’s the polite thing to do. I’m an objective observer. Her family is not.”
That was true. Better than that was the fact that Olivier might have had much more personal interactions with some of the men on her list than she did.
Taking a chance, she straightened her spine and bluntly told him, “Cyrus Noor and Epifanio Luz are the current favorites.”
Olivier sat back in his chair, his gloved hands folded over his trim middle in a thoughtful pose. “Hm. Why Cyrus Noor? His family’s rank is below yours. Their developed territory is laughably small. You stand to gain virtually nothing from the union, while they rake in credibility and your cut of the Dia holdings. It’s an uneven bargain.”
Camille shrugged. “They have a strong sense of loyalty to their family. That’s its own benefit. Besides, the Noor family owns half the produce distributors in the EVP. If they decided to throw their power around, they could starve millions of people within a week. Even you can’t deny that not all power lies in who owns the most skyscrapers, Mr. du Soleil.”
All that was true, but neither point moved her. There was no way she’d explain to Olivier that she held a certain affection for the soft spoken elf who ran the Noor agricultural empire beside his mother.
Sure, the Noor family didn’t have a grand city to their name like the other Families, but they were whip-smart and loyal to their bones. And she liked living in the country. Most elves weren’t big on nature, but she’d spent her life in the verdant countryside of Napa. Their sprawling property in Sacramento Valley would suit her just fine.
That, and I already know I can tolerate Cyrus.
