Chapter Twenty-One
MINA
Ultimately, we agreed on four potential suspects in the murder of Raisa Kepke.
Jensen’s motive, we decided, would be to eliminate his competition in the sale.
Gordon’s, to secure the highest bidder and earn the highest possible commission.
Or it could have been Szabo, working on behalf of Gordon.
Alternatively, it could have been Celeste, working on behalf of Gordon or on her own behalf, to somehow profit from the ensuing situation.
“My money’s on Gordon or someone working for Gordon,” Bene decided.
“My money’s on Celeste,” Marius grumbled.
I agreed. It was always a safe bet to assume the worst about that bitch. Er, that woman.
Szabo, we all agreed, was unlikely, mainly because he wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to drink Raisa’s blood. But we couldn’t be sure, given the vagueness of the police report.
“No matter who it was, we have to protect ourselves,” I insisted. “So, from now on, we all share everything we know. No secrets, no matter what Gordon swears any of us to.”
Marius glared at each of the others, reinforcing my point. None of them were team players at heart, but we’d never needed transparency as much as now, when Gordon would happily sacrifice any of them to make his deal work.
And Marius, I knew, would be first on his hit list.
A problem I grappled with all morning and into the afternoon. We were all confined to the suite in a situation that reeked very much of house arrest.
Roux paced and paced until I was ready to scream.
Henrik sat at the table like a chess master, hands at his temples, thinking.
Marius went between pacing with Roux and close by my side, swearing hell and damnation to anyone who dared threaten me.
I doodled horses overlooking a mountainous landscapes framed by ominous clouds and dollar signs.
Bene was the only relaxed one, ordering liberally from room service and lounging on the couch, watching TV.
“It’s on Gordon’s tab, right?” He grinned.
Ah, to be able to switch off all worries about the future, just like that.
I went to my room, gazed out the window, and thought. Hard.
The problem, I concluded, was that I hadn’t been thinking deviously enough. Gordon — and unknown enemies — had been plotting and conniving, and all I’d done was react.
Well, I was about to get proactive. To put myself in Gordon’s — and Celeste’s, Jensen’s, Szabo’s, and Anastasia’s shoes — and think ruthlessly. Greedily. What were they likely to do, and how could I protect myself and Marius — plus Bene, Roux, and Henrik?
Yes, even Henrik. A little less out of loyalty than in hopes of having something to hold over him the next time an unexpected thirst struck.
At three o’clock, Gordon allowed me to visit Anastasia, sending Henrik and Roux with me as protection rather than Marius.
I nearly rolled my eyes. Did he think we would strip and screw in Anastasia’s stairwell at a time like this?
The idea made my pulse skip, I had to admit.
I dragged myself out of the hotel, fearful that Gordon might try to bump Marius off. But Bene promised to look after him, so away I went, plotting the whole time.
No more Mr. Nice Guy — or Nice Girl, in my case. No more principles or ideals. No more hoping. Something much more precious than that painting was at stake, and it was up to me to save it.
In short, it was time to release my devious inner bitch.
So, when a fretful Anastasia asked my advice, I talked up Jensen over the bitter taste in my mouth. Oh, and Gordon too.
“It’s essential to work through Gordon, and only through Gordon,” I said. “Anyone trying to circumvent him is trying to circumvent you too.”
A white lie, but hey. Jensen wanted exclusive rights to one of the most beautiful paintings on earth? Let him fork out another seventeen million for the privilege.
“But he’s…he’s…”
“Unfeeling? Unworthy?” I supplied. “Yes. But he’s also rich. And he’s willing to close the deal before your deadline.”
Anastasia looked sullenly out the window, contemplating her Achilles’ heel.
I looked too, contemplating mine — my ideals and my love for Marius.
Then I patted her dry, wizened hand and forced a smile. “You know what I suggest?”
She tilted her head expectantly.
“We take our tea upstairs and enjoy the painting for a little while.”
I’d meant to say you take your tea, but my tongue slipped.
Anastasia flashed a bittersweet smile and led me upstairs, where we sat, quietly drinking in Franz Marc’s masterpiece.
At least, that’s what I did for the first minute. Then I gazed off into the distance, thinking. Scheming. Calculating.
* * *
Roux and I departed, leaving Henrik with Anastasia. I was sure she would refuse a bodyguard, but Henrik had read aloud from a quote framed on one of the walls, launching a lively discussion about poetry — in Polish, from what I could tell.
Adam Mickiewicz, the vampire murmured appreciatively.
One of those world-famous-in-his-home-country figures, I gathered.
Anastasia lit right up. Henrik had Bogdan’s old world manners, minus the charm, but that didn’t bother her. Especially since neither Roux, nor I, nor most of London was capable of discussing that poetry at the same (or any) level.
We left them and made our way back to the hotel. On the way, I took my frustrations out on Roux.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this stupid mark,” I grumbled, tugging at my scarf. “I thought it was a hickey.”
He snorted. “No way. You’re as bad as a dragon when you get angry.”
I decided to take that as a compliment.
“And I can’t believe Marius did this in the first place,” I ranted.
Roux chewed on that for a moment, then surprised the hell out of me by whispering. “I would have done the same if love meant more to me than the mission.”
I stared.
He flashed a thin smile. “Not that it does.”
I had no illusions about Roux dedicating himself to anything but a job. But, wow. His words shed a whole new light on what Marius had done.
I chewed that over through the first half of the trip back to the hotel. Then I informed Roux we would exit the Tube one station early and walk the rest of the way. Slowly, because I was still deviously plotting.
I finalized my plan just as we turned the final corner to the hotel, where I took a deep breath. Roux held the door open for me, but instead of thanking him, I marched in without a word.
No more Mr. Nice Guy, I reminded myself.
I peeked into our suite to make sure Gordon hadn’t killed Marius, or Marius killed Bene, or Bene Marius.
But, whew. Both shifters were hale and hearty, and not at each other’s throats.
Actually, Bene was in lion form and sporting a hell of a mane.
When I walked in, he was stretching as only a feline could, but upon seeing me, he strutted around and tossed his golden mane in a gesture that said, See what you could have had, baby?
Marius growled under his breath.
Roux rolled his eyes. “Lions.”
I didn’t stop to belabor the point. I just popped back in to the hallway, steeled myself, and raised a hand to knock on the door of the neighboring suite.
“Wait!” Roux motioned urgently at my scarf.
I tightened it quickly, then cleared my throat and knocked sharply.
Celeste answered, but I marched past her and announced, “I’d like a word, please, Gordon.”
My godfather rewarded me with a brilliant smile, looking hopeful that I would dump Marius, beg for his forgiveness, and run home to my chateau, where I would go back to being the sweet, manipulatable young woman he knew.
Well, that wasn’t happening.
He sent Celeste out, and she complied, though not without a huff.
“So, I’ve done some thinking,” I began. “A lot of thinking, and I’ve reached a conclusion.”
“Yes?” Gordon smiled eagerly.
I took a deep breath, then started, “This art deal stinks.”
Why mince words, I figured.
Gordon frowned.
“Everything about it stinks, from the secrecy to the manipulation and the total lack of morals,” I continued.
Gordon’s mouth fell open, but I plowed on before he could speak.
“You asked me to help evaluate a rare artwork. To ensure it found its way into good hands. And here we are, dealing with a murder, a police investigation, and a dwindling list of buyers — most of whom are highly questionable. Plus, that list was rigged from the start.”
“Now, wait a second,” Gordon protested.
I shook my head, because I’d already waited far too long.
“Now I find myself trying to salvage a sketchy backroom deal for you, and honestly, I’ve had enough.”
And boy, was I putting it mildly.
Gordon’s brows knitted together. “I never intended—”
I nearly cackled. “Oh, I think you did. I think you planned this all carefully. Not the murder, perhaps, but keeping Jensen at the top of the list and a number of other things. You planned to use me to get the deal done to your liking.”
Gordon looked sour. “Are you asking for a cut?”
I stomped the floor. “No! I don’t want a cut!
I don’t want anything to do with this, but it’s too late, isn’t it?
” I gulped for breath, then hammered on.
“All I want now is to get this over with and get back to my life. A life where I’m free to make informed choices about my involvement in anything. ”
Gordon reached for that damn file again and pushed it in front of me. “There. Inform yourself. He’s held back plenty of information.”
In my mind’s eye, I saw myself shoving it back, sending papers flying everywhere. But I refrained.
“Keeping private matters private is different from hiding information pertinent to me, as you have done again and again.”
“Now, let me make one thing clear,” Gordon thundered.
“No, let me make something clear,” I cut in. “If I choose Marius, that’s my choice, and you must respect it.”
“Your father would never approve,” he spat.
“Maybe, maybe not. But my father would let me run my own life. My father wouldn’t manipulate me into helping him with questionable deals. He wouldn’t engage in questionable deals in the first place.”
I sucked in a breath before my voice rose to a shout. I was that close.
Gordon’s eyes flashed with anger, but he calmed himself with a deep breath.
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” He shook his head. “I see what a mistake it was, allowing you to mix with men of their ilk.” He gestured toward the neighboring suite.
And just like that, magic struck, revealing his thoughts to me. Thoughts of killing Marius. Punishing the others. Convincing my sister and cousin to believe I had lost my marbles and could not be trusted to lead my own life.
“Don’t even think about it, Gordon. I’m warning you,” I growled.
He stared. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning. Leave me alone. Leave all of them alone. You depend on me more than you think.”
He snorted like I was a child and in way, way over my head.
Which I absolutely was, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.
“I can turn Anastasia against Jensen — who, by the way, will probably try to cut you out of the deal.”
“Nonsense.”
“Don’t believe me? Check your own files,” I snipped. “You’ll find reference after reference to him delighting in cutting the middleman. But that’s a moot point if Anastasia decides to look for another buyer. That de Mézières woman, for example.”
“The influencer?” His face went all stormy. “You wouldn’t.”
“No, I won’t, as long as you assure me of the following.
” I stood and stretched to my full height while he remained seated.
“You declare the conditions of your contracts with Marius, Roux, Benedict, and Henrik met, to be replaced with normal — dare I say, voluntary — contracts that run to the end of their original term with you. So, nothing changes, except their pardons are guaranteed, effective immediately.”
I’d had the past few hours to think it all over, and that’s what I’d come up with. And yes, I’d been sorely tempted to leave Henrik off the list, but I’d decided not to stoop that low.
Lord knew I’d come close, though.
Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of their contracts with me?”
“More than I ever wanted.” He was about to protest, so I hurried on. “If you want this deal to go through, you will agree to my terms.”
He stared in shock. “Your terms?”
Ungrateful brat went through his mind, but I had prepared myself for that.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Gordon. For all of us, for all these years.”
“And yet here you are, making demands of me,” he said bitterly, like I was the one who’d used him.
“Not making demands. I’m defending myself and defending men whose lives you have no problem risking, again and again.”
He shrugged. “They work in a risky business.”
I banged my hand on the table. “That business is your business! Something you’ve hidden from us all these years.”
He shook his head. “Again, you’ve been misled.”
I had no desire to go down that rabbit hole of an argument, so I finished quickly.
“All these years, I’ve loved and appreciated you, Gordon. I’ve been able to do so much thanks to your support. But manipulation and deceit are not part of a healthy relationship.”
“Which you hope to achieve with the likes of that dragon shifter?”
That rabble, his tone implied.
“None of your business, in the same way your personal choices are none of mine.”
My teacher side tapped on my shoulder, telling me to end this while I was ahead. I’d said what I had to say. Going on would simply open the door to argument.
“What happened to you wanting the best for the painting?” Gordon snipped viciously.
I’d already turned to the door, but at that, I turned back. “A question I’ve asked myself a thousand times. But I think the answer lies with you, not me.”
My heart raced, and every nerve in my body tensed as I marched out the door. But march out the door I did, leaving a dangerously disgruntled Gordon in my wake.