DAGGER
Maelle came back from speaking with her mother, and I knew before she got the door shut that something was off.
An hour ago, she’d all but told me to go to hell.
I’d waited in her room intentionally, hoping we could resolve things between us.
Now, she stood pressed against the wall, with her chin raised.
She looked out the window, then at the floor—anywhere but at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“My Maman said my father often traveled to Switzerland, which gave me the opportunity to ask why.” She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me. “She said it was for business, the biggest customer Domaine Valais has ever had.”
“Interesting.”
She nodded. “She said that our sales had quadrupled because of it.”
My eyes widened. “Quadrupled?”
“I asked if she knew who the customer was, and she said it was Maison Fontenay.”
“This is big. We actually have something to go on.” I walked over to my laptop bag and pulled it out.
She half smiled, but caught herself, obviously still mad at me. However, rather than trying to force a conversation now, it would be better if I focused on the work.
I sat down next to her and opened my computer. “If sales increased that much, it certainly explains why he traveled to Geneva so often.”
“In part,” she said, almost too quietly for me to hear. Still, I knew she was referring to the photos where her father was with women other than her mother.
I ran the name Maison Fontenay through a search while she watched.
It was a Swiss company, based in Geneva, and one of the largest wine and spirits distributors in the world.
They bought from producers and sold to shops, hotels, restaurants, and importers across Europe, the States, Asia, and the Gulf.
It had been founded decades ago, and their sales ran up to two billion Swiss francs a year, give or take.
“That’s your father’s biggest customer,” I said after reading her the statistics.
She leaned in to read it herself. “My mother said the deal made us. A buyer this size, every year—yes. That would do it.”
“The Swiss registry gives me the board, the officers, and the Geneva address they file from. It won’t tell me who owns them. Swiss law doesn’t make a company list its shareholders.”
“So we have the men who run it. Not the one who owns it.”
“Not yet. Which reminds me we’ve been here four days. We should check in.”
“You’re right. We should go to the cottage. I’ll let Maman and Marthe know we’ll be doing some sightseeing and have dinner in the village.”
I sent a message to the K19 team while I waited near the car, letting them know we’d be available for a briefing in an hour. That would give us time to make the drive and get set up for a video call.
“Ready?” Maelle asked.
I opened the passenger door, and as she got in, she brushed my cheek with her lips. “In case anyone’s watching,” she said.
As I walked around to the driver’s side of the Peugeot, I surveyed the area around us.
I doubted very much that anyone would’ve seen us; however, it wasn’t only the kiss that was different.
Maelle’s whole demeanor had changed once I mentioned the cottage.
Did the majority of her discomfort come merely from being at Valais?
She’d said she realized what she didn’t miss was how she felt when she was here.
It was dusk by the time we made the thirty-minute drive from the chateau to the cottage.
We made our way inside, turning on lights as we went. Maelle located the thermostat, while I lit a fire in the hearth.
By the time we were settled at the table, with our laptops open and connections made, it was time for the videoconference to begin.
“How is France?” Beacon asked when she and Blackjack appeared in one window. In another were Hornet and Delfino.
“Cold and gray,” Maelle answered. “I’d say it’s my least favorite time to be here, but then you might ask when my most favorite time is.”
Beacon smiled. “I hear you, Givre.”
Her response made me wonder if Maelle had confided her familial estrangement, at least with her father.
“Any progress?” Blackjack asked.
“Not until today.” Maelle explained that her mother had mentioned her father used to travel to Switzerland with some frequency and, when she’d asked why, she said it was for a business deal.
“She named the company. It’s Maison Fontenay, and from what she understood, the domaine’s business quadrupled after the deal was made. ”
“According to a peripheral search, Fontenay is one of the largest wine and spirits distributors in the world,” I added. “So far, no records I found directly link Géraud to it, but I’ve only started digging.”
“Copy that,” said Blackjack.
“The name gives me more to search for in Valais’ financials as well,” said Maelle.
“Can you get at the records?” Beacon asked.
“Negative.”
“How are the books kept?” Hornet asked.
“I’ve no idea. My cousin, Rémy, handles the financials.”
“Doesn’t matter. A place that size won’t keep its own books alone—there’ll be an outside accountant somewhere in it.” I could already hear him working. “Give me a night. If I can get in the same way the accountant does, no one at Valais will suspect a thing.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I can. When I get you in, Givre—look, don’t touch. Read what’s there and come back out clean.”
“Understood.”
Beacon typed something on her laptop. “This is really good progress.”
“What about on your end?” I asked.
“The image search we did on Bertrand Valais confirmed that he was a frequent traveler to Geneva, beginning nine years ago,” Delfino reported.
“The trips were more frequent early on, but have gradually tapered off. What we’ve seen correlates with the images we already found of him with Aristide Géraud. ”
“There’s a pattern to the trips. He’s in town three or four days at most, stays in the same hotel, and eats at the same restaurants. We haven’t come upon anything that shows him venturing outside of Geneva,” Hornet added.
“Linking Géraud to Fontenay is the next step,” said Beacon. “We can work it from our end too.”
“Anything else we need to know?” Blackjack asked.
“Not yet, but we’ll keep you updated,” I responded. “What about Liechtenstein? Have Preacher and Cassidy found anything?”
“Negative. The holidays have all but shut everything down,” answered Hornet.
“Which sometimes makes it the easiest time to get inside,” I countered.
Hornet chuckled. “Agreed.”
“Will you and Dagger have réveillon with your family?” Beacon asked.
“They’d never forgive me if we didn’t. The lot of them are quite enamored with my fiancé.”
Maelle glanced over at me and smiled.
“What can I say? I’m charming.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t say.”
I turned my attention back to the screen. “We’ll check in again on the twenty-third, unless something of significance turns up before then.”
“And vice versa,” said Blackjack before signing off.
I closed my computer and leaned against the chair. “I suppose we should return to Valais now.”
When Maelle bit her bottom lip, it was all I could do not to wrap my hand around her nape, lean in, and bite it myself.
“Are you hungry, by chance?” she asked.
I rested my elbows on the table and leveled my gaze at her. “Always.”
Based on the way her cheeks pinkened, she caught my innuendo.
“My favorite restaurant in all of France is within walking distance.”
My eyes widened. “From here?”
“Oui. Would you care to join me?”
“I’d never turn down the chance to have dinner with the prettiest woman in all of France at her favorite restaurant.”
She lowered her gaze. “You’re flirting.”
“Should I stop?”
Maelle pushed away from the table and held her hand out. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Chez Nolette was a short walk from the cottage. It was a small place, with its name painted above the door. Inside, the room was warm and crowded with people eating.
When we walked in, the woman behind the counter glanced up, immediately recognized Maelle, and rushed over. I didn’t need to speak French to pick up on how happy she was to see her. She took Maelle by both arms and looked her over. Maelle laughed, answered, and hugged her back.
“This is Madame Nolette,” she said. “Madame, je vous présente mon fiancé, Killian Rourke.”
When she held out her hand, I brought it to my lips. “Enchanté, Madame.”
The woman studied me the way a grandmother sizes up a man who has turned up with the girl she helped raise. Whatever she said next made Maelle laugh again.
A table of women near the window had watched us since we walked in.
One of them said something behind her hand, and the rest laughed.
Their attention didn’t interest me. Maelle’s reaction to it did.
She straightened, put her arm in mine, and rested her head on my shoulder.
Other women had staked their claim on me before.
It hadn’t bothered me, because it meant nothing.
I was no more theirs when they did it than I would be the next morning.
With Maelle, it was different. I wanted to be hers, not only while we were in France, but forever. It mattered to me. To her, it was an act, and knowing that, hurt in a way nothing ever had. I should remind myself that this was temporary. That it wasn’t real and never would be.
Except I wasn’t a man like her father anymore. And I had no intention of becoming him again. And that meant I might have a chance.
Madame Nolette seated us at a booth against the far wall, where the bench curved so we could sit beside each other.
“Since I’m your fiancé,” I said, “I assume this is meant to be a romantic dinner.”
“You may assume whatever you like.” She didn’t move away when I put my arm around her.
I kissed her neck, then her cheek. When she reached for her water, I took her hand instead, turned it over, and used my tongue on her palm.
“People are watching,” she murmured.
“Good.” I put my finger on her chin, turned her head to face me, and kissed her lips.
“Dagger…”
“Yes, my love?”
“You’re overdoing it.”
I smirked. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Maelle.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Is that a challenge?”