Did she love him?
She must have, surely. At least enough to conceive and raise all those children with him. And Lina was the type who’d love her husband—really love him—simply out of duty. She was the kind of person arranged marriages were made for.
He rose slowly from the sofa, reluctant to tear himself from their beautiful evening. He couldn’t be sure of the next time they’d be together. Or even if there would be a next time.
And that half killed him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“So you have concrete proof.” Amadou walked along the Champs-Elysées with his longtime friend and ally, Jean-Paul. They avoided using the phone and never used email to discuss anything sensitive. You never knew who was watching—as their target would soon find out.
“We have three incriminating phone conversations recorded and one video from a security camera.”
“So none of it’s legal.”
“Nope, and that’s why we need the court of public opinion on our side.”
Amadou blew out a breath. “Risky. He could sue us.”
“Not if two thousand of the most influential people in France can suddenly see him for the kind of fiend he really is. Then the authorities will be forced to crack down on him properly and it will be out of our hands. We’ve been after him for years; he’s slippery as Teflon. I honestly think this is our best shot.”
“If I make this announcement at the Gaia event, my cover will be blown for good.”
Jean-Paul shrugged. “Your high profile and integrity are essential to making the evidence compelling and newsworthy.”
“I suppose you’re right. And there will be a lot of reporters there.” Amadou still didn’t like it much. It was messy and relied too much on other people. He lowered his voice as they moved past a stationary crowd of tourists taking pictures of each other. “I wish I could refuse, but the stakes are too high. I’ll do it.”
“Great. I’ve spoken to the event organizers about your doing a brief talk about your musical inspiration and showing a video of one of your early performances. Only you and I know you have entirely different subject matter in mind. Christine is editing the taped phone conversations and will include a brief testimony from Francie, who we rescued last year.”
He nodded. “I don’t suppose I’ll get to see it beforehand.”
“No. Too risky. No one will see it, but I will make sure that there is a different tape—from an old concert of yours—for the rehearsals and that this one is switched at the right moment.”
Jean-Paul had recently finagled his way onto the board of the Gaia organization, a high-profile big-wig think tank that hosted spectacular events to raise money for charity. In recent years their parties were so high profile that it was considered essential to attend if you had any business or political ambitions. Usually Amadou hated this kind of black-tie affair, but Jean-Paul was right. With so many opinion makers in attendance it would be the perfect opportunity to catch their prey, a prominent Parisian with a penchant for importing unsuspecting girls for the sex trade.
Probably neither of them would ever be invited to another formal affair in Paris, but that was just fine with him.
Lina walked out of Louis Vuitton, where she’d just been cajoled into buying a new shoulder bag for Liesel. She wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, but did it really matter? Now Liesel was onto a new urgent want—the big Gaia event Lina rather hoped to avoid.
“You have a ticket already? Why didn’t you say so?” Liesel’s voice rose to a delighted squeal. “I thought we were going to have to call in a favor. Getting another one for me shouldn’t be hard if you’re already on the list.”
“You can have mine. I was planning to go back to Altaleone that day, anyway.” She had no concrete plans yet, but this should throw Liesel off the scent of thinking she had a reason to stay in Paris.
“Nonsense. You can’t miss it. Everyone who’s anyone will be there.”
“I find those events daunting without Emil.”
“You’ll have me!” Liesel wrapped a skinny arm around her back. “How exciting. We must find something to wear. Is Callista going, too?”
“Yes. Her company bought a table.”
“Excellent. She needs to go out and about in order to find a suitable husband. All the crowned heads of Europe will be there.”
Lina suppressed a laugh. That was very unlikely. She knew Darias and Emma weren’t coming, for a start. “She’s been begging me to go with her.”
“We must find her something magnificent to wear.”
So by four that afternoon the three of them were shopping for dresses together and Lina found herself in a paroxysm of terror that Callista might somehow mention Amadou and let that cat out of the bag.
Not that Callista knew about anything except that first dinner, of course.
“Amadou Khadem is one of the speakers,” proclaimed Callista at last while fondling a cobalt chiffon dress.
Lina froze. “Oh.” She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Oh, God. He’s that rock star that’s staying at my hotel. What a bore. Cameras everywhere.”
“He’s not a rock star, Aunt Liesel. His music is fusion. They call it desert soul.”
“I don’t care what it is. I like some peace and quiet in my hotel lobby.”
“Did you know that Mom had dinner with him last week?”
Lina tried to pretend she was fully absorbed in the diamante choker neckline of a slinky green gown.
But she could feel Liesel’s fierce gaze boring into her. “What?”
Lina shrugged without looking up. “We’re old acquaintances.” She hoped her face wasn’t heating. She felt like Judas betraying Jesus. “We simply caught up with each other over a bite.”
“You are a dark horse, aren’t you.” Liesel moved in close. “Dinner with a man young enough to be your son. You do know he has girls ogling him everywhere he goes.”
“He’s actually one year older than Mom,” said Callista helpfully. “And I’m one of the girls ogling him. He’s gorgeous.”
Liesel ignored her. “You should be careful,” she said pointedly to Lina. “People will talk.”
“No one other than you,” said Lina coldly. “What do you think of this one?” She pulled a hideous purple dress with a big ruffle off the rack, hoping it would be enough of a distraction.
“Frightful.” Liesel feigned a shudder. “I’m sure Mr. Khadem would love it.”
Callista laughed. “Hey, crazy thought, if he’s going to the Gaia event and we’re going to the Gaia event, why don’t we ask him to sit at our table? My boss would be thrilled.”
“I don’t think so,” said Lina, imagining what an utter disaster that would be. She’d have a hard enough time keeping a straight face just watching him up onstage, let alone sitting right across from him. Or worse, next to him. “I’m sure he has someone more important to sit with.”
“Mom, I know you like to forget that you are royalty, but you’d be surprised how eager people are to sit with royals. And I could tell he liked you. I’ll ask him. I’ve met him now, after all.”
“Do as you please.” She pulled out an even more hideous dress with a bold pattern of paint strokes. She couldn’t risk protesting too much and giving the game away. She’d just have to leave it up to fate. Surely Amadou would be sensible enough to refuse, even if he didn’t have a more important table to sit at. “How about this one?”
Back at her hotel, Lina was exhausted after spending the afternoon shopping and trying not to think about—or talk about—Amadou. Callista had extracted his phone number from her and promised to call him. Now she attempted to watch the French evening news while wondering how he would respond to the invitation.
She didn’t have to wait long. She was just about to get in the shower when her phone rang. It was him.
“Hello.” She tried to sound bright and casual.
“Hello, beautiful.” The way he said it, deep and slow, it didn’t sound
cheesy. He made her feel beautiful, and not in the “has a skilled dermatologist” way. “Callista called me.”
“I know. It was all her idea.”
“I had a feeling it was. Don’t worry, I made my regrets politely.”
Now she felt bad. He was so sure she wouldn’t want him to sit with her at a public event. “It would have been fine if you said yes.”
“Really?” He sounded so surprised.
“Really. Not that we could kiss or anything, but I don’t suppose we have to pretend to be strangers.”
His silence spoke volumes. Then he spoke. “That’s reassuring to know. But I do have another table I need to sit at. Longtime colleagues. It would be rude if I moved.”
Something in his voice suggested that he wasn’t telling the full truth.
Would he be there with a woman?
If he was she’d just have to bear it bravely. She had no claim to him. In fact, until just now she’d pretty much let him know they couldn’t even be seen together.
“I hear you’re one of the speakers.”
“Yes.” More silence. “I might not even have a chance to say hello, but I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t want to.”
“No worries. I’ll have Callista and Liesel to occupy me.”
There were three more nights, including tonight, and two days before the party. She had plenty of time to see him again before then.
If he wanted to.
“I’ll be very busy over the next couple of days, too. I just wanted you to know I appreciated the invitation, even if it wasn’t your idea. Have a good night’s sleep.”
“You too.”
And then he was gone. No attempt to make plans. Not even a hint that he wanted to.
Lina sighed and put her phone down. She’d left the shower running and the bathroom was all steamed up.
So was she.
And now that she was growing rash enough to want to continue their dalliance, he’d gone cold on her.
She probably deserved it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Not a word from Amadou for two days. Nothing on the day of the party, either. Why had he gone so silent?
She decided to take him at his word that he was busy. He was up for a Grammy, after all. He was probably planning his next tour or hashing out the details of a record deal.
She dressed in the sleek, slightly roman-style dress she’d been talked into. It was a weird bronzy-brown color that she would never have chosen for herself, but Callista insisted that it looked fabulous on her. It had little pieces of chain at the shoulders.
Hopefully she didn’t look too foolish.
Liesel’s driver dropped them off at the venue, a gorgeous château somehow buried in the middle of Paris, and they walked together into the vast ballroom created beneath the glass of a conservatory.
Liesel beamed, taking in the extravagant centerpieces and the formally attired waiters sweeping around with silver trays of champagne glasses. Lina sometimes forgot that she rarely had the opportunity to attend these kinds of events. No wonder her sister was crabby and judgmental. She spent most of her time alone in the remote rural manse they’d grown up in, with only her horses and a small staff for company.
She resolved to make sure that Liesel had a great time and would have plenty to brag about to her friends. If she had any, which was doubtful.
“Let’s find our table, then we can mill about and see who’s here.” She managed to sound excited. As if she hadn’t burned out on these extravagant affairs years ago.
Callista looked radiant in a blue gown that contrasted beautifully with her chestnut hair. Maybe they really could find her a nice partner? She spent too much time alone with her work.
But as they milled around, chitchatting with people they knew, Lina found her mind endlessly returning to the subject of Amadou and his whereabouts. Where was he? If she could pinpoint him and his table she could make sure to avoid it and not accidentally glance in that direction and see him with some gorgeous supermodel.
But she didn’t see him anywhere. Not in the atrium with the koi pond and the hibachi hors d’oeuvres. Nor in the main ballroom, with its sparkling fountain and endless reserves of champagne, either. Maybe he was in some hidden VIP area for presenters.
When they were summoned to their tables for dinner, she busied herself with meeting Callista’s invited guests, sweet young scientists and an older professor of hers. She even realized, with a touch of chagrin, that Callista might have invited the professor as a sort of date for her. He was a handsome man with a gray beard. The kind of guy who probably wore a tweed jacket and a bow tie and made them look chic.
But compared with Amadou? No chance.
She introduced him to Liesel and tried to encourage them into conversation. Maybe her sister would soften up and transform in the hands of the right man.
Unlikely, but you never knew.
The first speaker extolled the virtues of personal sacrifice while they ate an appetizer of Arctic crab. The second speaker—while they picked apart an elaborate roulade—enumerated some of the many wonderful things the Gaia organization had already accomplished that year, including supplying medicines to three different war-torn areas and manufacturing and providing a new design of high-tech tents for refugees.
It was uncomfortably ironic to sit at the table, sipping expensive wine and watching video footage of refugees in their tents. Callista and her young friends were even beginning to get a bit upset or embarrassed about it. Lina knew from decades of experience that this was how they guilt-tripped their captive audience into impressive donations on top of the extortionate ticket price. Brilliant, really.
“Mom, do stop looking so pleased with yourself. This is beyond awkward.”
“Looking relaxed is all part of being royal, darling. Did I fail to mention that to you?” Maybe the champagne and wine were going to her head. She wanted a pleasant buzz going before she had to keep a straight face when Amadou took the stage.
And at long last, just as they spooned up the last of their dessert of sugar-crusted berries and fresh whipped cream, he appeared.
The applause was discreet and muted compared with the kind of enthusiasm she’d witnessed at his concert, but this room of oligarchs and trophy wives was hardly his target audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” His speech started out like all the others. He wasn’t wearing the usual black-tie attire, though. He had on a high-collared black jacket with no ornamentation whatsoever. He looked more severe than usual, with the spotlight picking out his high cheekbones.
Funny that he hadn’t wanted to see her again this week. Maybe he’d already had his fill. He was talking about human trafficking. It really was a litany of the worst of humanity tonight. She’d be sure to give a big donation to his cause, though. Without telling him, of course.
“And tonight we’re here to draw attention to the work of one of our esteemed and well-respected guests, seated at table sixteen.”
Lina couldn’t resist craning her neck to look for table sixteen, and many others did, too. It was hard to tell one table from another, so she gave up and turned back to the stage, where another video had started. This one was different, though. Instead of video images, the screen was black, with chilling statistics about human trafficking in France and in Europe picked out in bold white. This must be a personal cause for him, given his mother’s experience.
The audio was odd. Not a narrative. It sounded like a phone conversation. She glanced at Callista, who looked equally confused. Then—steeling herself—she looked at Amadou, whose attention was focused on someone in their seated audience. Possibly the man at table sixteen. She followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything as the lights were dimmed.
As the phone conversation continued she realized it was some kind of negotiation over cargo. One of the voices became raised, shouting in French about the previously agreed price and how it wasn’t cheap to pay off the police.
On the screen lingered a
grim statistic about forced prostitution in Paris.
“I’m telling you, they’re all young. Some of them aren’t half bad looking. It’s just as you ordered.”
Heads turned as some kind of scuffle erupted in the direction that Amadou was staring. Suddenly the lights came back on, and Amadou leaned into the microphone. “As you may have discerned the voice you heard was that of Gascoine Monceau, our esteemed Prefect of Police, negotiating the paid-for arrival of a truckload of young girls from the Balkans. Girls intended to serve as prostitutes in a ring of brothels he’s been running here in Paris and across northern Europe. Also implicated in the ring—which we have been gathering evidence on for two years—are…” He proceeded to name a prominent politician, a right-wing journalist and the CEO of a large electronics firm.
A hushed whisper had spread through the audience and risen to a roar. At what must be table sixteen, two men in black tie were now firmly holding another formally dressed guest in a kind of armlock. Others rose from their tables, and a sense of chaos erupted throughout the room.
“What’s going on?” She turned to Callista, feeling stupid. “I don’t understand.”
“Me either.”
The man being held bellowed about suing and insisting that the recording was fake. People were starting to grab their purses and head for the exits.
“What on earth is going on? We haven’t had coffee yet.” Liesel looked as confused as they did. “It’s that awful man from my hotel. I can’t believe you know him. He’s just accused several prominent members of society of horrible crimes that they couldn’t possibly have committed. He must be mad.”
Amadou wasn’t on the stage any longer. Lina couldn’t see where he’d gone. “Perhaps we’d better go, too.”
“There’s rather a crush at the exits. Let’s wait,” said a nice young scientist that Callista had brought. “I’m sure the police will be here to arrest them.”
“He is the police.” Lina tried to see what was going on, but too many people now stood between her and the infamous table sixteen. “I suppose that’s why he had to be accused in a public place with a lot of witnesses.”
The Princess and the Player (Royal House of Leone Book 5) Page 8