Night of the Lions (Lions of Manhattan 1)
Page 6
Cat took the card and gave it a thorough read. She then slipped it into her bra. Gabe watched in silence. He wished he was the card.
“Goodbye, Mr Larousse. Thank you for your generosity.”
“Until we meet again, kitty.”
“Uhm…sure.”
Sure? Gabe narrowed his eyes as he watched her retrieve her purse and walk towards the exit. His lion growled at him for letting her go. It wouldn’t be for long. He wanted her. Very badly. And he would get her. The hunt was on.
And who was this Judith Rossi who had accused him of murdering her brother?
Something fishy was going on.
No shit. Gabe scanned the club for Alex. His brother sat near the bar, nursing a glass of beer. Alex caught his eyes. Gabe motioned to him. They had a few urgent matters to discuss.
Chapter Two
Cat was on her second cup of coffee when she heard the apartment doorbell ring. She glanced at the clock. It was six forty-five a.m. She couldn’t guess who would be knocking on her door this early. Her landlord wasn’t a morning person. Neither was the building handyman. Most of her neighbours worked the graveyard shift; they were either asleep already or had just come home.
She fixed her bathrobe and padded to the front door. She looked at the peephole. A young man, dressed impeccably in a neat, black, Armani suit, stood on the other side of her door. He was the younger version of Gabriel Larousse, and she’d met him yesterday. Alexandre Larousse.
Cat opened the door.
Alex gave her a polite nod. “Good morning, Miss Kovac. May I come in?”
“How did you find out where I live? You know what? Never mind.” Cat stepped aside to let him in.
Alex brushed past Cat. He was two heads taller than her and oozed power and dominance. He studied her living room with interest. “Nice home you have.”
“Thanks. I was having breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“Okey dokey.”
He followed her into the kitchen.
Cat grabbed a clean mug and poured some coffee. “How do you take it?”
“Black. No sugar. No cream.”
How manly. Cat pushed the mug in his direction. Alex took a sip and
murmured his thanks. She sat on the stool, waiting for what he had to say.
Alex went straight to the heart of the matter. “My brother wishes to see you again. This time, he’d prefer a rather intimate setting. A dinner at Le Bernardin, tomorrow night at eight.”
“Dinner at eight? Man, I’d be starving by then.”
He cocked his head, looking a little surprised. “I could arrange an earlier time. Let’s say, six or seven?”
“Who said I want to go? Haute cuisine is so pretentious. Big plates. Little food. Totally a rip-off.”
“Perhaps you can suggest your favourite restaurant?”
“And have dinner with your brother? Yeah, rich. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“So, you’re declining his invitation?”