Page 45

But hey, I might as well stay in character as a man who wants to cage her.

“Do you mind, doll,” Diamond says. “It would be fun to play with her a little. Warm up for you.”

Fuches stares at the two of them like he’s going to come on the spot. Then he eyes me awkwardly. This is not how he wanted the night to go.

But what the hell could he expect? This is a swinger’s party, not his own personal harem.

I rise and pat him on the back, as if I’m an experienced man, taking him under my wing. “Come, let’s get drinks. We can talk business.”

He looks at me funny. “Should I know your business?”

“I hope not,” I say as I lead him to the hallway. “First time?”

“What gave it away?”

“The wide eyes.” I move through the foyer. “I was the same way.”

“I’m not sure it’s for me,” he says, rubbing his ring finger absent-mindedly. He’s not wearing his wedding band, but he’s no less married than he was a few hours ago. My research suggests he does this plenty. But maybe he hems and haws every time.

“She says she’s a gift from a grateful customer,” he says. “But I worry she’s a bribe. People ask me to break security all the time.”

“Are you in intelligence?”

“Swiss banking.”

“Even stricter,” I say.

He nods. “There are a lot of fake friends out there.”

I could ask him here. It’s what I wanted to do. Offer money.

But that would make the next part harder. “I understand the pain. Ever since I took over my father’s business, it’s been nothing but favors.”

“What do you do?”

“Nothing I can discuss here,” I say.

He nods, in agreement, settling now that I’ve outed myself as someone with an equal need for discretion.

“Your companion?” he asks.

“She’s mine,” I say more intensely than I intend.

Of course he agrees. “But is she…” A professional?

Not in the way he means, but yes. I nod. “Of course. That’s the only way to ensure news doesn’t make it home.”

“To your wife?” he asks.

“That’s what she wants, but…” I trail off. I let the thought fill my head—Jamie in some chic ivory dress sparkling in the sun, lush tropical plants around her, genuine delight in her eyes, knife strapped to her thigh. To kill me in the honeymoon suite or to protect us from an enemy. Or both.

“Marriage is good for a man. Ties him to something real,” he says.

“And nights like this?” I ask.

Confusion fills his eyes. He has no idea what I’m talking about.

Which is fair.