Black Ice (Ice 1)

Because she was seated at the top corner of the table she had to turn to look at the speakers, and the man next to her was always just in her line of vision. Despite her hyperawareness, he seemed to have lost all interest in her, barely registering her existence. Since he spoke both French and English she wasn’t required to translate for him, and she could lean back in her chair and pretend to ignore him as well while she doodled on one of the pads of paper they’d set in front of them.

There was only one moment of trouble during the long, tedious morning. There was a word she didn’t know—no great surprise, though she was very fluent.

“What is ‘legolas’?” she asked, “apart from a character in The Lord of the Rings?”

Dead silence in the room, only the sound of a cup rattling in a saucer. They were all staring at her as if s

he’d asked them about their sex life or, even worse, their yearly income, and then, for the first time that day, Bastien addressed her.

“‘Legolas’ is a breed of sheep,” he said. “Of no particular concern to you.”

Someone in the room snickered, whether at his cool dismissal or something else.

“Don’t ask questions, Miss Underwood, simply translate,” Hakim said. “If you’re incapable we can find someone else. We don’t want our progress impeded by incompetence.”

Chloe had never responded well to public reprimands, and she’d already decided she didn’t like Hakim very much. At that point she would have liked nothing better than to be driven back to Paris in that luxurious limousine and never see any of these people again.

Wouldn’t she? She kept her glance away from the man beside her, but she knew perfectly well she wasn’t going to leave before she had to.

“I beg your pardon, monsieur,” she said in French. “If I don’t need to know the meaning of a word I certainly won’t ask. I just thought it might help if I had a better understanding of the subject.”

“Better watch it, Gilles,” Monique said with a throaty laugh. “Bastien wouldn’t like it if you bullied his little pet.”

Bastien lifted his eyes from the table. “Jealous, my sweet?”

“Stop it!” Hakim snapped. “We don’t have time for these petty little squabbles.”

Bastien turned to Hakim, and in doing so, had no choice but to look at Chloe. His smile was beatific, and he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Forgive me, Gilles. You know I’ve always been easily distracted when a beautiful woman is around.”

“I know you’re only distracted when you want to be, and so do the others. There’s too much at stake to waste time with this kind of thing. This is too important.”

Ducks and pigs and chickens were too important? Fortunately Chloe simply blinked. It was only natural that an importer would think that whatever he imported would affect the fate of the world. The people at the table seemed totally devoid of any sense of humor, but then, financial matters had a tendency to make people deadly serious. She would have to control her own random frivolity.

Hakim rose. “We’ll break for lunch. There’s nothing more we can do at this point.”

“Good,” Bastien said. “I overslept, and I’m hungry.”

“You’re not going to be eating.” The other people were filing out of the room, and Chloe was doing her best to go with them, but she was essentially trapped between the two men. “I need you to do me a favor,” Hakim said.

Too close. “Excuse me,” Chloe interrupted, trying to sidle past him.

“You’re part of the favor, Miss Underwood,” Hakim said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her.

Men in France liked to touch women. For that matter, men in North Carolina did as well, and friendly touches were a matter of course.

But she didn’t like the feel of Hakim’s hand on her arm. Not one bit.

“Of course,” Bastien said immediately, glancing at her stubborn face with palpable amusement. “What would you like us to do?”

“I have an errand for Miss Underwood, and I’d appreciate it if you’d drive her. I need some books.”

“Books?” Chloe echoed.

“For my guests. They won’t be working all the time, and they must have something to occupy them in their off-time. You would know what’s needed, I’m sure, given your experience in the publishing business. Just get a handful in the most common languages. French, English, Italian and German. Something light and escapist—use your judgment.”

“But what about the limousine?” she stammered. “It seems a shame that Monsieur Toussaint has to waste his time on an errand like this instead of continuing with the work.”

“Monsieur Toussaint is more than happy to have a chance to escape for a bit, aren’t you, Bastien? Particularly in the company of such a lovely young lady. And the limousine is being serviced—it’s unavailable.”