“Going out?”
He shrugs and offers me a small white box with a bow.
I risk a glance at Michail, who stands off to the side, his jaw wired shut, but his eyes shooting pointy objects at Emmanuelle’s back.
Two more men, both in black-on-black suits, enter the house behind Emmanuelle and shut the door.
“Friends of yours?” I ask.
Emmanuelle glances over his shoulder and offers a winsome smile. “Sure, or bodyguards, if you prefer. I see yours is still around. We scared off your shooters out there but didn’t see anything that might help you identify them.”
I lead Emmanuelle into my sitting room, carefully placing his gift on the coffee table, and try not to look uncomfortable when he takes the love seat next to me, so close our thighs almost touch.
Michail takes the armchair across from us, and the two strangers stay by the front door.
Isn’t this cozy?
I sigh and pin a smile in place. “So, what can I do for you?”
Emmanuelle tilts his head, regarding me with a mix of curiosity and exasperation. Like I did something cute he hasn’t quite come to terms with yet. “You’ve returned home, so I assume we should get on with our plans. I wanted to come sooner, but I had business overseas. Now, as for what else I’m doing here, I brought you an invitation. One you might be particularly interested in since you usually host it.”
It takes me way too long to figure out what he means. “They are holding the charity ball this year?” I haven’t gotten an invite, and even with several attempts on my life, being excluded hurts so much more. I can’t believe they didn’t invite me.
Emmanuelle reaches out and presses my chin up so he can look into my eyes. I resist jerking my face from his touch. I need him to play a specific part in the plan, slowly spinning in my mind.
It’ll take some convincing first, though. I smile, wide, showing my teeth. Whenever I smile with my teeth, I think I look a little deranged, but he seems to enjoy it. “This is the opening I’ve been waiting for, and you brought it right to me. Thank you so much.”
Michail shifts in the armchair, the leather creaking under his fidgeting. I barely spare him a glance. He’s no doubt imaging all the ways he can murder Emmanuelle before he leaves my home. Something I can’t afford for him to do right now.
Emmanuelle glows under my praise, and I file that little nugget away for analyzing later. “Do you know who else is invited this year?”
“Your friends, Adrian and his Five.” He rolls his neck to look at Michail. “I guess four this year if Michail caught indefinite guard duty.” He focuses on me again. “You should see if you can get another person to guard you from time to time. I’m sure this one needs regular breaks.”
Bickering aside, I close my eyes and focus on the dregs of a plan forming in my mind. It takes seconds since it’s not a rather complicated plan. “Thank you again, Emmanuelle, for bringing this invitation.”
Michail snorts, and I shoot him a side-eye glare as Emmanuelle takes my hands in his own. “I think this deserves a token of appreciation.”
My stomach rolls. The thought of touching this man, even for a second, revolts me. He’s sexy. Very sexy in a Harvey Specter sort of way. His clothes are perfect, as is his hair. I just can’t bring myself to enjoy him with the same intensity others probably do. Margery would probably like him if she could pin him down long enough to shoot her shot.
I paste on another smile, wait for Michail to turn his face and retreat inside himself wherever he goes to think.
Emmanuelle doesn’t like him, though, and is determined to drive a wedge between Michail and me. An all too easy feat with both of us dealing with our own issues currently. “Maybe you can send your little errand boy upstairs to deal with something else? I promise you’re safe with me.”
It’s a naïve sentiment, something I doubt Emmanuelle suffers from. So why is he pushing Michail away and attempting to draw me in? We’ve barely seen each other over our engagement.
After his last request, he clamps his lips shut and gives me an expectant smile. Oh, he’s dead serious.
I glance toward Michail and mime, “Sorry,” with my lips. If he sees the word, he doesn’t acknowledge it. I resist the urge to reach out and touch his hand as he passes by us on the way to the kitchen.
Emmanuelle faces me again, his legs folded over one another. “Now we can get down to business. I know you’re looking for an in to that party. I agree to provide you with anything you need to get you there, but you have to do something for me. Get rid of Adrian’s spy for good, and I’ll help you in any way I’m able.”