The Man in the Black Suit

by Sylvain Reynard

  She touched his arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only trying to help.”

  Nicholas threw back his head and roared at the ceiling. He lifted Acacia into his arms and twirled her around, laughing. “I knew you’d bring me luck. I knew it.”

  She gasped and clutched his shoulders. “What have I done?”

  He stopped spinning and held her against his chest, her feet dangling above the floor. “I’ve been investigating the theft from various angles—the crew, the buyer, the artwork. I know the crew was Bosnian, but I don’t know who the buyer was. Because the goods are tied to a murder, all my leads were quickly exhausted.”

  He placed Acacia on her feet, but kept his arms around her. “A few years ago, I heard rumors about a Russian collector with indiscriminate taste who’s been buying up artifacts. I haven’t been able to uncover his identity.”

  “You know about him?”

  “I don’t know if the collector I’ve been hearing about is Yasmin’s Russian. There’s a lot of money in Russia, much of it from the black market. The man I heard about is one of the top figures and very powerful. I had hoped my meeting in Paris would bring me closer to finding him. Then Marcel was attacked.”

  “The Russian had Marcel attacked?”

  “Not the Russian, the dealer I was supposed to meet. He does business in Russia. But Yasmin’s description and her connection may lead me to the man I’m looking for.”

  He twirled Acacia around again, grinning widely.

  When he stopped, she was almost breathless. She remained wrapped tightly in his arms, lifted off her feet.

  His eyes searched hers. He leaned closer, just an inch. “Acacia,” he whispered.

  She could feel his breath on her face.

  He loosened his hold a fraction, and she slid down his chest. Yet when her feet found the floor, he didn’t release her.

  Her hands rested on his chest, the gap between the two sides of his unbuttoned shirt revealing a sculpted physique dusted with dark hair. She could smell his cologne and beneath it, the clean aroma of soap.

  His left hand slid down the exposed skin of her back to span the hollow just above where the skirt of her dress began. He flexed his hand, and she felt the warmth of their contact ripple up her spine.

  His other hand pushed the curls away from her cheek. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how beautiful you looked this evening.”

  Embarrassed, she wanted to look away, but found she couldn’t.

  His dark brows drew together. “You’re so much more than a beautiful face. But can’t I praise your beauty?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He cupped her cheek. “You charmed Constantine and Yasmin. Your charm is why she took you into her confidence.”

  “Sometimes you long to be able to speak your first language with someone who understands.”

  He smiled. “I think it’s more than just your facility with Arabic. It’s you.”

  She leaned against his palm.

  “Acacia, there’s so much corruption in my world. Lies, betrayal, viciousness. You don’t know how lovely it is to be in the presence of someone truthful and honorable.”

  She laughed softly. She couldn’t help herself. It had been a long time since she’d received such compliments. She was out of practice.

  “I like to hear you laugh.” Nicholas tightened his hold and brought her chest against his. “Look at those eyes. A man could get lost in eyes like those.”

  He lowered his mouth to within a hair’s breadth of hers. Acacia closed her eyes.

  There was a pause, which seemed to last forever. Then something warm pressed against her cheek.

  Nicholas repeated the embrace on her other cheek and released her.

  Confused, she opened her eyes.

  He stood a foot away, out of reach.

  “Good night, Acacia,” he said gruffly. “Rest well.”

  She stood and gazed up at him, baffled by what had just happened.

  Nicholas’s eyes were carefully guarded.

  A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she fled, her indigo dress fanning out as she ran like a deer to her room.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THIS SHALL NOT STAND.

  It was a silly thing, really. On occasion a word or phrase would take residence in her mind, like the refrain of an annoying song.

  What had happened with Nicholas the night before could not stand, which was why Acacia was typing up her resignation letter.

  The door and windows to her cave-like rooms were open, and the bright sunshine poured in. An hour earlier, one of the household staff had brought a breakfast tray. It sat on its stand by the door, nearly empty. It had been a feast: coffee, fresh yogurt with honey, fruit, and bread and cheese. She’d awoken ravenous and slaked her hunger next to the pool.

  She’d seen Rick and Kurt that morning, but Nicholas’s bedroom door remained closed. She surmised he was still asleep.

  She re-read her resignation letter and attached it to an email she’d drafted to Madame Bishop, blind-copying Nicholas. She didn’t press send. Not yet.

  She was attracted to Nicholas; there was no reason to deny it. He was handsome, intelligent, and charming, but much more. His devotion to his sister and her memory revealed a nobility of soul that Acacia admired. She also liked his parents and appreciated their kind hospitality.

  She’d wanted Nicholas to kiss her and was sorely disappointed when he’d opted for her cheek instead. But he was her employer. It was highly unprofessional to become romantically involved with a supervisor, which was why she felt compelled to resign. She’d return to Paris and hopefully Madame Bishop could help her find another position as an executive assistant. Her hope of finding work as a concierge would have to be set aside, as least in the short term.

  She wondered if her friendship with Nicholas would survive her resignation. Acacia felt a slight twinge, but it was a twinge she had no business feeling. Perhaps Nicholas was attracted to her. Perhaps not. He’d been emotional about the possibility of locating the stolen Degas. That emotion had likely translated into a momentary lapse in judgment. He would continue the quest for his family’s artwork, and she would go home.

  She checked her bank account balances and was gratified to see that the Victoire was still paying her, as they’d promised. She transferred the regular monthly amount to her mother’s account in Brazil and tapped out a short email to confirm the transaction.

  Her mother had to know she was avoiding her. Acacia hadn’t returned any of her calls and had let her mother think she was still in Paris. She’d explain everything later, when she had more privacy.

  She was in the middle of a text to Kate when a knock sounded. She turned to find Nicholas standing outside her open door.

  “Good morning.” His tone was warm, but his eyes were wary. “Did you rest well?”

  She closed her laptop. “Yes, and you?”

  “Tolerably, I suppose.” He brushed his hair from his forehead. He glanced at the empty tray. “You’ve already had breakfast.”

  She nodded, still clutching her phone.

  His attention focused on her phone for a moment. “Spend the day with me.”

  She looked at him with surprise. “Sorry?”

  He entered her room. “We don’t leave until tomorrow. Let’s go to the beach.”

  “Why?”

  He reared back and looked remarkably as if she’d wounded him.

  She flushed. “I beg your pardon. That was rude. Nicholas, I’ve decided to resign my position with you.”

  His expression tightened. “If that’s what you want…”

  “I think it’s best.”

  He paused. “Since you’re resigning, I’m free to enjoy your company.”

  “As a friend?” Acacia asked in earnest.

 
“Is that what you want?” His tone was a challenge.

  “It seems you can’t decide what you want me to be.”

  He took a step closer. “Oh, I’ve decided.”

  Acacia placed her phone on her desk and changed the subject. “Were you able to find out more from Marcel’s journal?”

  “Not from the journal,” Nicholas hedged.

  “From some other source?”

  “I was able to discover the name of the man I was supposed to meet in Paris. My team tracked one of your attackers, and he led us to a Parisian art dealer, who does a hell of a lot of work in Russia. Unfortunately, I can’t confirm the dealer’s identity with Marcel. So I can’t be sure the dealer who sent men after you is the same person behind the attack on Marcel.”

  “Marcel is still unconscious?”

  “No. He’s dead.”

  Acacia made a horrified noise.

  Nicholas took a step closer. “I’m sorry to tell you this. He died yesterday of his injuries.”

  She grabbed at her hair. “They killed him. They beat him so badly he died.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” Nicholas placed his hand on her shoulder. “Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

  “No. Can you give the dealer’s name to the BRB?”

  Nicholas squeezed her shoulder and moved away. “Given the fact that BRB surveillance failed you, I’m not in a hurry to trust them. I’ll pass the name to the Minister of the Interior, but I’m going to warn him that some of his BRB agents may be compromised.”

  Acacia looked up at Nicholas. “The dealer shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this.”

  “He won’t,” Nicholas replied firmly. “My team is already investigating the dealer’s Russian contacts. We’re going to cross-reference those names with Yasmin’s description and see if there’s any overlap. At the same time, I’m going to approach Constantine to see if he can put me in touch with someone who has done business with Yasmin’s ex-boyfriend.”

  “I thought your meeting with Constantine didn’t go well.”

  Nicholas frowned. “What makes you say that?”

  “You looked unhappy last evening. You didn’t say anything in the car on the way back.”

  “My mind was heavy with…other thoughts.”

  She regarded him skeptically.

  He cleared his throat. “In addition, the contact Constantine provided me with last night will not bring me closer to my goal.”

  “Yasmin is afraid of the Russian, and Constantine hates him, presumably. Why not ask them for his name?”

  “Remember that Constantine knows me as Pierre Breckman. I can’t tell him I’m looking for the Cassirer pieces. Also, names are rarely exchanged.”

  “What if the Russian is the one you’re looking for?”

  “Then I have to find another way of discovering his identity. Although Constantine may decide to put me in touch with someone who’s done business with Yasmin’s ex. That way, he remains at arm’s length.”

  Nicholas gave Acacia a searching look. “We don’t have to go to the beach. There’s an art gallery I’d like to show you. Or we could visit the beach in the morning and the gallery after lunch.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Of course I enjoy your company, Nicholas. But what will your other staff think?”

  His brow furrowed. “I’m not inviting you to do anything outrageous. Please don’t blame me for being attracted to you. Is that so great a fault?”

  His voice and the look in his eyes were endearing. Acacia had to tamp down the thrill she felt at his admission. Perhaps he’d wanted to kiss her last night after all.

  She wondered what had held him back. Perhaps he, like her, was conscious of the risk involved when one crossed a line.

  “I need a few minutes to change and pack a bag.”

  “Good. We’ll drive down to Red Beach, near Akrotiri. We’ll stay as long as you like and then have lunch and visit the art gallery.” Nicholas bowed. “Bring a change of clothes for later tonight. I’ll take you to dinner at a restaurant on the cliffs.”

  As she watched his retreating back, Acacia tried to take stock of her feelings. They were entirely too conflicted.

  “Why aren’t we taking the Range Rover?” Acacia stood next to a Jeep, open at the top as well as the sides.

  Nicholas wore sunglasses, a linen shirt, and khaki pants.

  “I thought it would be fun to take the Jeep.” He looked over his shoulder. “Rick and Kurt will follow us.”

  She turned to follow his gaze. The silver vehicle was parked behind them, ready to move. She scowled.

  “I’m sorry.” He eyed her reaction. “I can’t travel without them.”

  “After what happened with Marcel, I don’t blame you. I feel awkward around them, though.”

  “You’ll get used to them. I pay them a tremendous amount of money to protect what I value.” He gave her a look, heavy with meaning, before he helped her climb into the Jeep.

  He crossed to the driver’s side and took the wheel, then piloted the vehicle through the gates and onto the road.

  Acacia rummaged in her bag for a scarf and tied it over her hair.

  The sound of Nicholas’s laughter rang out.

  She gave him a sidelong glance.

  “It should be a crime to look so fetching in a head scarf,” he said. He bumped her elbow with his as he moved the gearshift.

  “You don’t have to worry about your hair.” She eyed him behind her sunglasses. “Mine would be a mess if I let the wind get at it.”

  “You don’t like my hair?” He pushed it back from his forehead.

  She grinned. “Vanity, thy name is Nicholas.”

  “I’m far from vain.” His tone grew serious. “How could I be?”

  Something about the way he said the words warranted a response. Acacia looked at his profile while she spoke. “As your friend, I would tell you not to worry about such things. The people that count, the good people, will remember your words and your actions, and how you treated them. Over time, that’s what forms our impression of beauty or handsomeness, not just the outward appearance.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes.” She turned in her seat so she could face him, even though he kept his eyes on the road. Mostly. “A lot of attractive and powerful guests came through the Victoire. I can’t tell you how quickly my evaluation of attractiveness plummeted when someone was rude or condescending.”

  “What if the person apologized and was sorry for it?”

  She turned to face the road again. It was extremely bumpy, and Acacia had to hold tight so she wouldn’t bounce around too much.

  “If the apology was sincere, I’d be inclined to forget it, provided the bad behavior wasn’t repeated.”

  Nicholas remained silent.

  Acacia felt compelled to break the silence at least once more. “I’ve done things I regret. I hope they won’t be held against me forever. Keeping that in mind, I try to give a little latitude to others when they make mistakes.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that,” Nicholas said.

  He bumped her elbow once again, and Acacia couldn’t be sure if it was intentional or not.

  She picked at the hem of her short, bright pink sundress. “I’m wary of people who put too much value in someone’s appearance. In a few years I’ll be forty. I know I won’t look like this forever. The people who are important to me value who I truly am, not just what I look like.”

  Nicholas released the gearshift and took hold of her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I’m almost forty. It’s just a number.”

  She changed the subject. “I wanted to thank you again for coming to my defense with the woman from Lyon.”

  Nicholas let go of her hand so he could downshift. “She was hateful to you.”<
br />
  “Not everyone likes Brazilians,” Acacia observed.

  “Obviously some people lack good taste.”

  She smiled. “It meant something that you defended me. The better I get to know you, the more it means.”

  “I’m glad.” Nicholas gripped the wheel tightly. “You were very patient with that woman and also with me. You’re much better at controlling your anger than I am.”

  “Years of practice.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” His tone was sincere. “I’m sorry I contributed to that practice in Paris. I regret my behavior very much.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  “Thank you.” His eyes met hers before he refocused on the road. “Why did you only buy a few things in Geneva? Juliet said you were frugal.”

  Acacia pretended to be fascinated by the straps of her sundress. “I didn’t want to waste your money.”

  “Anything bought for your pleasure or comfort could hardly be a waste. You look lovely in that pink dress, by the way. Bright colors suit you.”

  “Thanks.” Acacia folded her hands in her lap.

  “What do you think of Yasmin and Constantine?”

  “I don’t judge.”

  “I’m not asking for a moral evaluation.”

  Acacia gazed down at her hands. “Yasmin is an engineer. But she has to stay with Constantine because she needs his protection.”

  “He cares for her.”

  “Maybe she cares for him. But she didn’t seem content or in love.” Acacia shrugged. “It’s none of my business, but that is not the kind of life I want.”

  Nicholas remained silent for the rest of the drive.

  They parked the Jeep at the top of the hill before hiking down to the beach, which was located in a small cove. High red cliffs stood over the dark volcanic sand that stretched toward the water.

  Rick and Kurt accompanied them as they picked their way around the various sunbathers to an empty set of lounges next to a closed umbrella.

  Nicholas turned and marked the location of the sun. “Is this all right?”

  “It’s good.” Acacia placed her bag and beach towel on one of the lounges.