I looked over sharply. Was that a threat?
You bet your ass it is,Gordon’s smug look said.
“I’ll do anything for at least one of my goddaughters not to be corrupted by the likes of your colleagues—”
I clicked my jaw. We might not be angels, but even Henrik’s soul was purer than Gordon’s.
“—and to keep any harm from befalling her,” he finished.
I nearly snorted. If Gordon didn’t see fit to use Gen for his own mysterious ends, she wouldn’t be in danger at all.
He clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. “Keep Geneviève out of harm’s way, Monsieur Anand, and that bonus will be yours.”
Which pretty much set me up for disaster, because Gen would not approve.
On the other hand, €25,000 would go a long way in setting me up in something other than mercenary work. And much as I dreamed of more with Gen, that was just a fantasy. Gen was classy. I was…well, me. Ultimately, I was destined to be nothing more than her latest mistake.
My hands curled into fists, and my nails dug into my palms.
“Not a word to her about our arrangement, of course.” Gordon flashed a wicked smile.
This was beyond wrong. It was insulting. I didn’t need a bribe to protect Gen. I would protect her just because.
I was about to point out that we had no arrangement, because I hadn’t actually agreed yet. But Gordon’s phone rang, and he gestured me toward the door. “We’ll continue this later.”
No, we wouldn’t.
But over the past ten years, two words had been programmed into my soul, and they slipped out instinctively.
“Yes, sir,” I said, making a beeline for the door.
Chapter Fourteen
ROUX
Gen was right about a large enough place for everyone to stay together, to better plan and investigate. But finding that on short notice in Paris was impossible, especially during the week of a huge concert — the reunion of Iron Eclipse, a hard-rock eighties band.
“Iron Eclipse?” Bene laughed. “My parents are huge fans. They have the goofiest pictures of themselves attending concerts about fifty years ago.”
“Fifty?” I snorted.
“Okay, maybe thirty.”
That was more like it, as I knew. My mother was a fan too.
At the moment, I hated the band, because it was very much in my interest for all of us to stay in one place.
“Maybe we should split up,” Marius sighed.
“Not a good idea,” I barked, doing my best to keep my eyes off Gen.
“Terrible idea,” she agreed.
“There has to be something somewhere,” Mina persisted.
An hour later, we’d found exactly two options — the Super Express Motel way out in Saint-Denis or Henrik’s apartment. Not that he volunteered it, of course. Mina suggested it, and after much cajoling, he relented. It was in the sixteenth arrondissement, near the Bois de Boulogne.
“Oh. The perfect place to set up an easel and paint,” Gen observed as we walked along the edge of the park.
