Chapter 29 #2
“So I have.” Now, she smiles. “People are most honest when they feel beautiful and desired.” Her voice strokes the word desired like silk over skin, and for a second I understand how she built a business out of closeted confession.
“Your facilities create an environment where people feel beautiful, desired, and safe. But, your locations are one of many sources I possess.”
“Yes. That’s what I came to talk to you about.”
“I monetize information.” She pauses, studying us both. “Though I suspect you already know that.”
“We know Eddie’s been selling to you,” I say carefully.
“Eddie sells to many people.” Her tone is neutral, giving nothing away. “What exactly brings you to Paris?”
Adrien leans forward. “Senator Crawford is being blackmailed with footage from my club.”
“Senators receive threats regularly. Why should this concern me?”
“Because,” I interject, “the footage came from your operation.”
Moira’s expression doesn’t change. “You seem certain of that.”
“We found the server room,” Adrien says.
“Servers exist in many buildings.” She picks up a crystal paperweight from the side table, turning it in the light. “Tell me, what do you want from this meeting?”
“We want the buyer on Crawford,” I say.
“Rivers have tributaries,” she answers, setting the crystal down. The crystal flashes light across her face, a halo or a warning depending on how you read it.
Adrien’s jaw ticks. “So Eddie has other buyers.”
“Water finds its own level.” A dry smile. “Your employee is entrepreneurial.”
“Then you won’t object to my replacing him,” Adrien says.
“That depends on what you replace.” A glance at him, then at me. “Access is a currency. So is discretion.”
“My clientele values privacy,” he answers.
“Privacy is a luxury.” She stands and crosses to the window. Sunlight webs through the lace curtains, sketching gold across her hair like a saint painted by a cynic. “Information is a necessity. Do you know the difference?”
Adrien’s silence says he does, but he won’t grant her the satisfaction of admitting it.
Through the window, sunlight plays across leaves. In this salon, one could be mistaken for believing we’re in the countryside rather than the middle of Paris.
“If I understand you correctly, you wish to work with me directly, eliminating Eddie from your operation.” Her gaze cuts to me. “And you want more information about the Crawford business.”
Her hands clasp daintily below her waist. “I can accept your deal, Adrien, as Eddie violated his agreement with me when he began selling information to others. He has no loyalty to me; therefore, I have none to him. But Ms. Anderson, I’m afraid I can’t provide you with the information you need.”
“Moira,” Adrien says, “That’s a condition of our agreement. A condition of my loyalty.”
“I said can’t, not won’t.”
“Then who can?” Adrien demands.
Moira turns from the window, her expression calculating. “There are...complications with your senator’s situation.”
“What kind of complications?” I ask.
“The kind that involves former associates who’ve forgotten the value of discretion.”
“Give us a name,” Adrien says.
“Names have consequences.” She returns to her chair, settling back with the air of someone who holds all the cards. “Particularly when those names belong to people in sensitive positions.”
“How sensitive?” I probe.
“The kind that requires security clearances.” Her smile is thin. “The kind that sits in very important meetings.”
Adrien and I exchange glances. She’s talking about someone in government.
“White House?” I ask directly.
“Such a specific guess.” Moira’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What makes you think that?”
“The target is a senator. The leverage is sexual blackmail. It screams political operation.”
“Or it screams someone who understands political pressure points.” Moira’s still not giving us a direct answer. “Someone trained in...psychological operations, perhaps.”
I feel the pieces clicking. “Former CIA.”
“Former many things.” Finally, a hint of confirmation.
“Elena always was ambitious.” The name lands like a dropped blade.
A faint hum in my ears—recognition or dread, I can’t tell which.
“She’s a former CIA psychological operations expert, although I don’t believe you crossed paths with her.
Elena Vasquez.” She pointedly looks at me, and I don’t respond, because the name is familiar.
Wait. In a flash, it comes to me. “She’s the White House Deputy Chief of Staff.”
“She was mine before she was theirs,” Moira says. Possession, not nostalgia, coats the words. “When she stepped inside the White House, she decided she preferred independence. Some buyers still think they’re dealing with me. I’m not fond of the confusion—or her carelessness.”
“Are you saying the President of the United States is behind the blackmailing of the senator?” Adrien asks, sounding like he doesn’t believe one word.
“No, not at all. I would be shocked to learn he’s aware.
When Elena struck out on her own, she wasn’t searching for yet another boss.
I also expect that none of her clients know she’s the source.
She’s operating in the dark.” And somewhere in that dark, I can feel the edges of my old life reaching for me.
“I’ve heard some say they thought they were still buying from Magpie.
And that’s one reason I’m willing to help you Adrien.
Eddie contacted me, let me know what’s going on—because he works with both Elena and I, and he was concerned you were onto him, and it could fall back on me.
When your father called, I was curious what your take would be.
I’m glad you’re looking for a partnership.
And I have no reason to protect Elena. She’s untrustworthy.
She takes risks. She’s cocky. That’s not in the interest of my clients. ”
“How do you want us to proceed?” I ask. She didn’t agree to meet us without an angle.
“To uncover your extortionist, you’ll need to ask Elena.
She doesn’t take blind pitches,” Moira says.
“She’ll answer me. I’ll tell her there’s a change of guard and she should hear you out.
” We’ve just been drafted into someone else’s chess game, and Moira’s the only one who can see the whole board.
“She’s arrogant enough to believe I’ve forgiven her.
She may not move until she needs you—press too hard and she spooks. ”
She tilts her head, considering. “If I suggest you hold proof that brushes her operation, she’ll prioritize you.
My work centers on corporate secrets and the occasional messy estate.
She’s breaking U.S. laws. I’ll imply a deal with you prevents exposure from a larger investigation.
She’ll want to protect herself. At the very least, she’ll want to assess you. ”
Adrien responds, “I appreciate your assistance.”
“Now, once you meet with her, what information she gives you, or how you draw it out of her, that’s on you. It’s quite possible she may fear the client more than exposure. It just depends on the client.”
“It’s an interesting business you’ve built,” Adrien says.
“It’s the fountain of youth, better than any lotion or oil.
” She smiles. “Love what you do. But I suspect you already share that notion.” Adrien’s smile is small, controlled, but the muscle in his jaw betrays him—the d’Avricourt mask slipping for half a breath.
“After all, you walked away from your birthright. I approve more than your father does.”
“I didn’t walk away,” he says evenly. “The Sanctuary serves d’Avricourt. Understanding the client is the point.”
“You sound like him,” she says, checking her watch. “Do we have a deal?”
“Are there more Eddie Thorne’s?” His tone is cool, but I can feel the quiet fury under it—protective, possessive, dangerously human.
Moira’s lips curve on the ends, her only reaction to his question. “He only has access to two locations.” Her smile sharpens, thin as piano wire. Deals like this always draw blood; the question is whose.
“I’ll need names,” he says. “I’ll verify. If you tell me the truth, if I don’t uncover an unnamed entity, then we have a deal.”