To his absolute shock, before he could say her name she’d leaped forward at astonishing speed and clamped her hand across his mouth. Although she’d done so with some force, it was more out of surprise that Hayden shut up—that and the fierce look in her glittering, green eyes.
“I think you need to go to the bathroom, Sebastian,” she said.
Confused, Hayden stared at her but said nothing as she glared at him. He tried to speak, but only a mumbled sound came through her hand. Still watching him, she slowly pulled it away.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Of course you can use my bathroom,” she repeated slowly, as though talking to a child with learning disabilities. Lifting her other hand, she dangled a small piece of plastic and metal with a tiny grille.
“Ah, yes,” Hayden said at last. “How foolish of me.”
As he made his way towards the elaborate bathroom with its huge, cast iron bath, Karla paused a few moments to replace the bug and follow him.
“Are you sure this room is clean?” he asked as she closed the door behind her.
She shrugged. By way of answer, she leaned across him and turned on a tap so that a loud—and noisy—cascade of water began to fill the white-painted tub.
“What the hell do you think you were doing, going to call me by my real name?” she hissed quietly.
Hayden groaned. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I forgot.”
“Well don’t!” Her eyes were angry as she sat beside him on the edge of the bath. “We’ve got a job to do, so don’t forget it again.”
“A job to do?” he asked incredulously. “Is that what you call it? You could barely keep your hands off Valmont earlier.”
She eyed him sourly. “Oh, because of course you were handling yourself so well. Hello Marquis, we’d like to come and rip you off for as much money as we can, but in the meantime we’re going to act like such a grumpy pair of bastards that you’ll kick us out at the first opportunity!”
This threw Hayden off his mental balance. “So, that was all an act?”
Turning her head to face him fully now, for a few seconds she stared at him in silence. “What do you think?” she whispered.
Great, now this was all his fault. “I don’t know. What was I meant to think? You’re not telling me anything!” He tried to keep his voice low, though once or twice it rose in volume as he became more emotional. Realising this, Karla maintained a calm tone.
“I can’t get a reception here on my phone,” she said. “What about yours?”
“Same here. Bloody French telecoms. Bloody useless.”
She nodded, thoughtfully. “It’s going to be difficult to get messages in and out to Uncle.”
Hayden shrugged. “We’ll call from his phones, or just go online.”
Karla shook her head. “Everything’s monitored, I’m sure of it. Did you see the cameras?”
Becoming cooler as they spoke, Hayden flashed through a mental plan of what he’d seen so far: unfortunately, he’d been so angry that his recollection was fuzzy. “Security cameras as we came in, but nothing else.”
She stared at him with an ambiguous look. “That’s not like the man I knew. You’d have spotted everything when I first met you. Each room has a pretty obvious camera when you know where to look, and I spotted at least two in the Galerie.”
Her words stung—not least because they were true. A year with Karla and he’d begun to turn soft, unprofessional. “Well, what did you expect,” he hissed defensively. “I was too distracted by you waltzing with the Marquis.”
That made her eyes flash with anger again. “You’re pissed off at that?” She was struggling now not to shout, her voice occasionally bursting beyond a whisper. “I’m the one who came in and found you with your cock out with that… whore!”
“I didn’t have my cock out!” Sticking to the literal facts enabled him, momentarily, to tell the truth.
“Oh, but you were putting it away after you’d fucked her!” The bitterness in Karla’s voice was a slap as sharp as her hand had ever been and she no longer kept up her French accent.
“I didn’t fuck her!” he protested.
Folding her arms, she stared at him with cold contempt. “Oh, I get it. The Bill Clinton defence. A blow job doesn’t count. When you’ve got a dick that big, then it’s no problem getting it out for any whore who comes along.”
“Will you please stop calling her that?”
“Why?” Her eyes narrowed threateningly. “That’s what she is, isn’t she? A woman who fucks men for money?”
“I… Don’t… That isn’t what I mean! Anyway, haven’t you done the same?”
Now her eyes went wide, very wide, and for an instant Hayden thought tears were going to flood from them. This time, there wasn’t a proverbial verbal slap but a very hard, physical one that made him see stars. I deserved that, he thought to himself.
“Don’t you ever say that again. I have never had sex for money.”
“Shit… I know. I was… I was referring to that time you married the multi-millionaire.”
“I married for money, but I sure as hell didn’t fuck him! That was the whole point. Generally, I tend not to be attracted to octogenarians, even when they are as rich as Croesus. Don’t you forget that, Hayden Carter!”
“Sebastian,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Sebastian Rider. We’ve got to stick to our roles.” That brought him another slap.
Standing in front of him, Karla pointed a finger directly into his face. “I have never fucked another man for money, and don’t you ever accuse me of that again. You seemed to have forgotten it when you promised Valmont a night with me for ten million, but I promise you this, Sebastian: if you don’t behave just so, I will fuck him, and neither I—nor you—will get a single penny.”
With that ultimatum, she turned off the water and left the bathroom. Eventually, sighing at just how badly he’d handled that, Hayden followed after her.
When they descended together down the main staircase, they saw Latour standing in the hallway waiting for them.
“Doesn’t it creep you out?” Hayden whispered in Karla’s ear. “The way he just stands there saying nothing?”
“He’s dumb,” she mumbled in reply.
“Well, anyone can see that. I mean, I doubt there are two brain cells in that thick skull of his that could hit each other in all that empty space.”
“I mean he’s a mute, you idiot!” Karla’s eyes regarded him contemptuously again and then she smiled sweetly at Latour as he led them through reception rooms towards the Galerie des Glas.
The table that had been placed there was enough to dwarf any normal size room, but here it looked peculiar, overwhelmed by the massive chamber. Hayden was becoming thoroughly sick of the entire Chateau. Everything in it was designed to make him feel small and unworthy. Hell! He was being beaten by the Marquis before he’d even played a card.
At least Valmont had other servants, he was pleased to note as two maids were laying cutlery on the table—very elaborate arrays of knives, forks, spoons and crystal glasses, all of which he could tell at a glance cost a fortune and were no doubt very old. Perhaps he could take some pleasure in breaking a few pieces before the evening was through.
Latour indicated two seats on one side of the table and then moved to stand against the wall. Karla seemed to have completely regained her composure and was commenting to one of the maids in French, making some remarks about the loveliness of the service in a way that caused the young woman to blush. For his part, Hayden was wondering where Valmont had got to.
When the Marquis finally did arrive, his presence caused Hayden’s face to sour—while his companion made Karla freeze.
It wasn’t the same, thought Hayden. Yes, Eloise Bissette was astonishingly beautiful in some ways, but even at this distance it was too easy to see how constructed it all was. She must have had some kind of plastic surgery, he thought, and not just in the most obvious way
s. Her nose was a little too pinched in that way the French seemed to admire, and part of the mask-like effect was due to the fact she wore too much makeup. While her body was undoubtedly voluptuous it was all just too false to appeal to Hayden any more. Okay, okay, he was fooling himself slightly. She had great tits, but when he remembered the feel of them in the cold light of sobriety, they hadn’t been right—too hard and plastic. She was a doll, and there was no need for Karla—a real woman—to be jealous of her. That was why Valmont wanted Karla.
And yet when he turned to view Karla, jealousy was plainly what he saw: she radiated it. She oozed it, a fierce, cold venom trickling from her burning eyes. He knew that what she saw was an astonishing, tall blonde with an hourglass figure on the arm of a dark-haired, dashing man in evening attire. She saw a sex goddess, and her eyes were filled with a vision of what most men wanted. Most men, Hayden reminded himself, and whatever Karla said a blow job didn’t count. Not really. Okay, perhaps a little bit, but, he insisted to himself, he hadn’t fucked that woman.
While Hayden was pursuing a series of rather self-serving moral justifications, Valmont and Eloise moved to the other side of the table, the Marquis holding a chair for the blonde before taking a seat beside her. As Valmont sat down, Hayden noticed a large, emerald ring on his finger—something else to attract Karla, he though despondently.
“I hope that you found everything to your satisfaction,” he said, directing his attention mainly to Karla and only glancing briefly in Hayden’s direction.
“Absolutely satisfying, Donatien,” Karla replied, trilling her voice in such a way that no-one else in the room other than Hayden would have believed she wanted to knife someone in the throat. “I didn’t realise that we would be joined this evening.”
Valmont smiled, a warm expression though his eyes twinkled with a perverse delight as he waved his hand. “Oh, I am such a fool when it comes to these little niceties,” he said. Turning towards Eloise, he paused for a second. “I was going to introduce you, but I forgot. The two of you have met already, haven’t you?”
Hayden’s mouth nearly dropped at this. What the hell was Valmont up to? He felt the temperature drop a few degrees on his left hand side where Karla was seated, but he was nearly as surprised by Eloise’s reaction. That impassive, doll-like face twitched for a second, and Hayden almost believed that he saw her blush, though it was hard to be sure beneath all the makeup. For the minutest moment, her blue eyes shifted towards Hayden but just as quickly moved away before settling on Karla once more. At that sight, she seemed to recompose herself.
“Madame Duval and I haven’t had the chance to know each other fully yet.”
“Oh, is that so?” Karla asked. “I feel as though I’ve known you much more intimately than I would have expected after such a brief acquaintance.”
Fighting the urge to squirm, Hayden kept his eyes away from the locked gaze of the two women: from their expressions it was quite clear that each of them would like nothing more than to reach across the table and throttle the other. For his part, Valmont was watching them with clear amusement as he motioned for one of the maids to bring the first course.
As a soup, a delicious game broth flavoured with truffle oil, was laid before them, the two women fumed in silence as Valmont affected to make small talk. “And have you ever been to this part of France before, Monsieur Rider?”
Hayden decided to rise to the challenge. Both of them knew that the real contest was about to begin elsewhere, so he would dally in the meantime. There was no way that the Marquis and his bloody chateau was going to get the better of him.
“A few times,” he remarked casually. “Usually I’m passing through, though. I’ve always thought Northern Italy is more agreeable at this time of year.”
That caused Valmont to frown slightly. “Italy has its attractions,” he agreed, “but the south of France is where true culture resides. After all, it was the troubadours of Provence and Aquitaine who first sang of courtly love, and after seeing the landscape of the hills that surround us, who can blame them?”
“Who indeed?” Karla agreed, shifting her attention pointedly away from Eloise and towards the Marquis. “The most sophisticated courts of Europe were to be found here, and they would set up their tournaments of love among the poets and ladies of the court.”
“Obviously,” intervened Eloise. “The women of southern France were the most beautiful in Europe.”
Karla paused a moment before replying. “Of course, there were courtesans as well as courtiers, and even in the highest, most noble places the lowest types would ply their trade. Every apple has its canker, after all.”
A spasm of anger passed across Eloise’s face before she mastered it almost immediately, reaching for a glass of wine. Everyone noticed it. Karla allowed herself a brief moment of triumph while Hayden felt embarrassed for Eloise. Valmont merely laughed and ordered the servants to clear away the first course.
Hayden tried not to look at him directly as the second dish was brought, a bouillabaisse stew filled with snapper, mullet and oyster and spiced with garlic rouille. Hayden realised just how hungry he was and, almost despite himself, began to eat mouthfuls of the tempting dish. In between a spoonful, he realised that Valmont was watching him, stroking the edge of a cut-crystal glass with his finger, the emerald ring glinting in the candlelight.
“Do try the wine,” Valmont told him, smiling archly. “A Baux-de-Provence rosé complements perfectly the spices and garlic of the bouillabaisse. To be honest, it’s peasant food, but with a late century vintage it becomes something sweet as well as hot.”
“The wine is indeed perfect, Donatien,” Karla said smiling softly. Hayden noticed that, like Eloise, she had barely touched the food in front of her.
“I’m glad you think so, Jeanne,” he responded warmly. “Unfortunately, the one area of Eloise’s education that I’ve never been able to complete is that related to her palate.” He shrugged, and Hayden realised that Valmont’s companion was struggling to keep her own emotions under control.
Coming to the conclusion that he was the only one even remotely enjoying the actual food in front of him, Hayden refused additional courses that were offered. Valmont tsked at this.
“Come, come, Monsieur Rider. A strapping man like you must keep his strength up, otherwise you’ll offend me at my own table.”
Ignoring his mockery, Hayden dabbed at his lips with a napkin and sipped another glass of the aromatic wine. “I’m sure that I’ll be able to sample plenty of other delights,” he quipped. This made Valmont grin, his handsome face becoming almost wolf-like.
“Indeed,” he said, slapping his hand on the table. “And perhaps you wouldn’t mind indulging me for a while.”
“Of course,” Hayden said casually, leaning back in his chair. He’d noticed that a gaming table had been laid out in one corner of the room while they were eating, and wondered if now was the time that Valmont intended to carry through his wager.
Rising from his seat, the Marquis placed two elegant hands on the table and stared directly at Hayden for a while before moving, with a slight smile, to stand behind Eloise. While the maids cleared away the remaining dishes—most of them virtually untouched—Latour remained in the corner, watching everything silently.
Drawing out Eloise’s chair so that she was forced to stand up, Valmont held her hand and smiled more broadly at Hayden. Something wasn’t right, Hayden thought before realising what had struck him. While Eloise was still attempting to hide her baleful glances towards Karla, Valmont hadn’t looked in her direction at all for the past ten minutes.
“I think you didn’t have a proper chance to explore my home before,” the Marquis explained. “I’m sure that you won’t mind if Eloise shows you around.”
It took a second for the importance of what had just been said to sink in. “Wait a minute,” Hayden began to say slowly. “You want Eloise to show me around?”
Valmont nodded, his eyes shining as he watched Hayden.
<
br /> “What about Jeanne?” As he said this, Hayden noted that Karla was watching both men sharply now.
Now the smile broadened once more. “Madame Duval and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one thing I’d prefer to ascertain for myself whether Jeanne is a willing participant in our wager. I’m sure she won’t mind if Eloise accompanies you for a while, will you—Jeanne?”
Karla said nothing before simply shaking her head stiffly.
“Very good,” Valmont said, leading Eloise meekly around the table so that the two of them stood behind Hayden and Karla. Hayden turned to look up at them: Eloise’s blue eyes were watching him, a strange light in them, but now Valmont was staring at Karla, his lusts plain to see.
“If you don’t mind,” Hayden began to say, “I think I’ll stay—”
“Oh, but I do mind, Monsieur Rider!” Valmont’s voice was hard and now he turned his own dark eyes contemptuously towards Hayden who, with a sigh, stood up slowly.
“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he asked Karla quietly.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light and cheerful.
As he began to move forward, he realised that something was in his way. Looking down, he saw that Eloise’s hand, released from the Marquis’s grip, now reached out towards him. With a grimace of annoyance he pushed it away and began to walk from the Galerie, barely looking to see whether she followed him or not.
It was only as he entered the corridor outside, fuming and wondering whether he should turn around and drag Karla away from the lascivious Marquis, that he realised that the former porn star was standing in his way. His annoyance was about to give way to disgust, but that feeling disappeared when he looked at her properly.
Eloise was standing now, her hands placed together in front of her and her head bowed slightly as though in shame, for all the world looking like a young, foolish girl in the body of a woman who had grown too quickly. Remembering the mild but cutting insults that Valmont had thrown her way, Hayden realised that he had no desire to add to such petty humiliations and began to walk off rapidly.
Knaves Page 8