Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The urge to just turn and run, to save myself and my heart, was so damn fierce in that moment my steps actually faltered.
What was it about this man that scared me so much?
He was attractive—damnably so—but I’d spent most of my life in the company of attractive or powerful men, thanks to my father’s contacts.
Was it the fact that he was obviously capable of powerful magic, even if there wasn’t the smallest tell on his person?
Or was it more his soul silence? My inability to sense the shine of the man and thereby judge whether he was of the light rather than the dark?
Surely not, given I’d spent most of my adult life wishing for such an island of peace.
He silently raised an eyebrow, as if in challenge. As if he was aware of the inner turmoil. And maybe he was, given I had no idea exactly what my expression might give away at this particular moment.
I forced my feet on. He rose as I approached, a warm, sexy smile tugging his full lips.
He was wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up casually and just enough buttons undone at the top to reveal a sprinkling of chest hair, and dark jeans that fit him like a glove. He looked, well, divine.
I really am in trouble here...
“Here you are, madam,” the waiter said, stopping next to the booth. “I shall bring the menus over in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” I said, and slipped onto the seat. “Evening, René. So good of you to come.”
Please, do come. Inside me, preferably.... I shoved the thought away. Good grief, what was happening to me? Granted, it had been a damnably long time since I’d had sex, but still... were my hormones really this sex starved?
I rather suspected the answer to that question was a mighty Hell, yes!
He sat back down, his smile widening and devilment dancing through the glorious sapphire depths of his eyes.
Almost as if, once again, he knew exactly what I was thinking.
But that wasn’t possible, even if he were telepathic.
I wore a shield against mental intrusions as a matter of course, and it had given no indication he was attempting to read me.
He could be empathic, of course, or simply good at reading people.
“I made the reservation,” he said, his tone taking on a gravelly edge and the devilment getting stronger. “I was always intending to come.”
Dear God…. I softly cleared my throat. “Well, I am here to interview you. That would put some men off.”
“I am not one of them. Plus, I hold on to the hope that you might linger over coffee with me.”
Over coffee, between the sheets... I pursed my lips and tried to get a grip. “Depends on the coffee. I have a reputation for being something of a coffee snob.”
“A problem we both share, then. How do you stand on dessert?”
Depends on whether we’re talking food or flesh.... “It is the first section of the menu I study, and I work back from there.”
Amusement danced through the silvery stars in his eyes. The damn man definitely knew where my thoughts seemed to be swirling. “It is the only sensible thing to do.”
Thankfully, the waiter reappeared with a drinks menu for us both, giving me time to leash rogue thoughts. René glanced at his, then said, “Have you a preference?”
I handed the menu back. “I’m on strong painkillers right now, so I’m afraid it’s just sparkling water for me.”
“Make that for two.” René returned the menu, then met my gaze again. “Is there a specific reason for the painkillers? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I had an encounter with a man mountain and came off second best.”
“Did he get away?”
“No.”
“Excellent.” He placed his hands on the table and entwined them. “Shall we get the odious task of your questions out of the way so we can concentrate on enjoying the evening?”
His hands, I couldn’t help but notice, were large, his fingers long. Big hands, big dick came the unbidden and definitely crude thought. Or was that feet? I was briefly tempted to look under the table but resisted.
I really, really needed to get my mind out of the gutter and start concentrating. This wasn’t a date. It was business.
And if I told myself that enough, I might actually believe it.
“Are you actually going to answer the questions, though?”
Another sexy smile appeared. “Depends on the questions.”
Of course it did. I retrieved my phone from my handbag and brought up the section of the security tape that showed him calling on Tane, the door opening, then him leaving, and showed him. “Care to explain this?”
He watched the tape through, then met my gaze. “You don’t believe in dipping a toe into the water first, do you?”
“Always best to go for the jugular. Saves time and effort.”
“Indeed.” He studied me for a moment, his expression giving little away. “If I do explain what I am doing and why I was there, you cannot tell anyone else or indeed mention it in your report.”
I frowned. “That is not how this works. Right now, thanks to this tape, you’re a suspect.”
“I understand how it looks, but you are so far off track it is almost laughable.”
I raised an eyebrow and put my phone down. “Do I look as if I’m laughing right now?”
The waiter arrived with our drinks and the food menus, stopping any immediate reply.
I accepted the menu with a nod and turned it over, but there was obviously a separate dessert menu, because none were listed on this one.
But, working on the theory that an upmarket restaurant such as this would at least have a decent tiramisu, I went with the bacon and chicken risotto while René ordered the tagliata, and an antipasti plate for us to share first.
Once the waiter had departed, René crossed his fingers on the table again. “What if I were to contact someone who would vouch for me?”
I smiled. “It would have to be someone I know, and it is doubtful you and I share very many similar contacts.”
“You would be surprised,” he murmured, then motioned to my phone. “May I?”
“You can’t make the call on yours?”
“I could, but by doing so on yours, you can trace the call later and confirm it does indeed belong to the person I’m about to call.” He paused briefly. “Though it is a private line few know, so I would also advise you not to share it.”
“I think I’ve heard that refrain before.”
“With good reason, I assure you.”
I hesitated, then unlocked my phone and placed it in front of him.
He made a quick motion with his hand, and energy stirred the air, forming a soft bubble around our booth.
He’d raised a conversation shield—one that stopped others overhearing us but didn’t block out the din riding the rest of the room.
The spell itself wasn’t a hard one—even I could do it—but the fact he’d raised it almost without thought hinted at the depth of his power.
He pressed the phone icon, typed in the number, and hit the call button. It rang for several seconds before a warm, slightly raspy voice said, “I take it there is a problem? You were not due to call until later this evening.”
Shock ran through me. I knew that voice. Knew the woman. It was Sophie Ashworth, the Society’s linchpin.
“A problem has arisen and, as I predicted, she is asking questions,” René said. “I think it best to come clean.”
“And she’s there with you?”
“Indeed. And listening.”
“Ah, well, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, Hanna, this is Sophie Ashworth.
René will explain what we are about, and from now on, you will share everything you have uncovered, or will uncover, with him.
However, anything he tells you must not be placed in a report nor shared with anyone.
Not even Ginny—until he clears it. That is a direct order. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, unable to keep the shock from my voice. “But... what of the security tape from Tane’s building?”
“Don’t submit it into evidence. I will deal with any questions that might arise about its location. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeated.
“Good. We shall talk later, then, René.”
And with that, she hung up. I sat back in my seat and stared at him for a second. “Of all the things I was imagining, it was not you being a Society operative.”
“That is just as well, because I am not.”
I studied him for a second. “Did you really call me a problem?”
“Yes, but a delightful one, to be sure.”
I snorted. “If not an operative, who and what are you?”
A waitress appeared and placed the antipasti plate containing a selection of salami, prosciutto, cheese, and cured vegetables between us.
He motioned me to go first and, once I’d placed a selection onto my side plate, he did the same.
“My name is René Jones, and I’m a company director and a philanthropist.”
Meaning, in other words, he was very rich. I mean, technically I wasn’t exactly poor myself, but he just didn’t give off that vibe. “Is it your company?”
“My father’s. The board is utterly capable of running the day-to-day business aspects of it, hence the philanthropy.”
“Does the company have a name? What sort of business is it?”
“It is called Diablerie, and we are in the business of magical accoutrements. We source, produce, and sell.”
My eyebrows rose. “Isn’t Diablerie a rather strange name for such a business, considering the word means black magic or devilry?”
“My father was nothing if not a strange man.”
His expression had closed over fractionally, suggesting further questions about his parent would not be appreciated. I decided to oblige... for the moment. “I’ve not heard of the company myself.”
“I’m surprised, given most of the royal lines have open accounts with us.”
Huh. I’d have to ask my dad about it. Maybe he could fill me in on either the father or the son. “How do you know Sophie?”
“Ah, well, that is a bit of a story—”
“And I am in no rush.”
“Which is pleasing to hear.” He took a moment to eat some food. “Sophie was a friend of my father’s. Not lovers, just good friends, so I grew up with her in my life. She was, in many respects, his luminaire and my honorary aunt.”