Page 38 of Prelude To You

“What do you know about her?”

“She speaks French, she has unconventional taste in books and she’s one hell of a kisser.”

“So she could be anyone, and you would be none the wiser.”

“What are you implying, Steven?”

“Corporate espionage is a reality. You can’t be careless and engage with strangers.”

“You seriously think I’m about to spill our secrets to someone I had a chance meeting with in a bookshop at seven 0’ clock on a Sunday night.”

“I’m more concerned about your personal safety, Roman. We went over this years ago.”

“Consider me chastised.”

Steven regarded me as if pondering what punishment might best fit this crime. I was on the defense. “Listen,” I said. “I lead a ridiculously boring life. It was a rare moment of unbridled joy with a woman I’ll probably never see again in my life.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t know who she is,” I said, wishing I knew who she was. “So that narrows the chances of my seeing her again, wouldn’t you say?”

“If you’re looking for female companionship, all you have to do is say the word,” Steven reminded me. “You haven’t had one of those in ten months and two weeks.”

“Jesus, you know more about my sex life than I do. How is this even my life?” My effort to lighten the mood fell on deaf ears.

“Should I set something up?” Steven asked.

“I appreciate the suggestion, but you’re my handler, not my pimp. I’m quite sure that if I wanted to get laid, I could manage to organize that myself.”

“Is that why you asked for the Range Rover to be ready at five-thirty tonight? Going out two days in a row? You haven’t done that in years. And why so early?”

His tone was patronizing and curious at the same time. Steven knew I’d never been much for social interaction. Boredom was my Achilles heel. Most people were simply not interesting enough for me to waste my time on them.

And seducing a woman required far more enthusiasm and pretense than I was willing to take on these days.

My fascination with The Dancer was curious at best, and I felt sure Steven was as weirded out by all of this as I was. So I tolerated the questioning. Steven was simply doing his job. Corralling the heir to the empire back into his golden cage.

I sighed. “Cyrill Peyton’s estate is being auctioned off tonight at the hotel, and it starts at six. He was a man of superb taste and a collector of the finest things. It would be a pity to miss it. Besides, it’s for a great cause.”

But Steven never backed away from a gentleman’s interrogation. And I never backed away from a bit of sparring.

“And this sudden decision has nothing to do with the fact that the auction is near the bookshop where the lady in question was last night,” he said, staring me down.

“Oh that’s right,” I said. “Didn’t even realize it.” I felt like a schoolboy lying to the headmaster. But the last thing I needed was Steven on my case.

“Were you perhaps hoping she would be a frequent visitor at the bookshop,” he pressed. “So that you might be able to see her again?”

Steven’s undistorted perception was always a bit creepy. Or perhaps he glimpsed something significant in this situation that I didn’t. As far as I was concerned, it was a fleeting thing. Something that would pass.

Eventually.

I hoped.

“In which case,” Steven continued, “I’m wondering what exactly you plan on doing if that happens.”

“The whole thing meant nothing,” I said. “You’re making too much of it. Relax.”

“Then I’m curious as to why you need a copy of the footage. If it means nothing to you.”

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