Retelling the story brought a hard lump of misery to her chest.
Picking up her glass, she took another sip. ‘Most of them never recovered.’
When she chanced a glance at him, he compelled her to go on with a curt nod.
‘My great-grandfather was not only one of those left with nothing—he was one of the people who convinced the other families to deal with the businessmen.’
‘So how are you helping the families, exactly?’
‘By recovering what was stolen from them and returning it to them.’
‘A one-woman crusader—Robin Hood and a cat burglar rolled into one.’ There was a lot less derision in his tone this time.
‘Nothing so glamorous. I’m just very good at what I do.’
‘Pascale Duvall—he’s on your hit list.’ It wasn’t a question but a statement.
She couldn’t see the harm in coming clean. ‘Not any more. We’ve reached an agreement.’
Damion’s gaze hardened. ‘Aren’t you afraid of repercussions?’
‘Not as much as he’s afraid of exposure.’
‘You exploited his weak points?’
‘I had a three-minute conversation with the man. If that displeases you, sue me.’
He fell silent, and the weight of his gaze on her set off an alarm that made her very aware that it was the middle of the night. Damion Fortier was in her room. There was a fit-for-hot-sex bed close by. And her attraction to him was off the scale.
The force of that thought released her other senses to go on a feeding frenzy. Sensations rushed at her. His scent hit her nostrils. Her ears picked up his steady breathing even as her eyes devoured him.
Only the sense of touch went unanswered. And even then her fingers tingled with the need to touch, to reacquaint herself with everything she’d trained herself to forget.
On cue, his gaze fell to her lips, his mouth parting slightly so she caught a tiny glimpse of his teeth and tongue.
She stopped breathing. Her pulse hammered through her ears, the rush of blood making her dizzy and thankful she was sitting.
‘Damion—’
‘Ask me anything you want.’
‘What?’
‘We agreed at the gallery we’d exchange information. Now it’s your turn to ask me anything you want.’
She wanted to tell him to get lost. And she wanted to ask him a million questions. Reiko wasn’t sure which she wanted more.
Heart suddenly racing, she licked her lips and saw his eyes darken in response.
‘Did you love her?’ The unplanned question broke the silence and slammed around the room like a living thing before coming to rest between them—a ticking grenade, ready to explode in her face.
‘Did I love Isadora? That’s what you want to know?’ His voice held a thin sliver of ice that made her chest tighten. But he’d given her permission.
Jerkily, she nodded.
His lips firmed. ‘No. I didn’t love her.’ The answer was delivered with a chilling finality that made her blood ice in her veins.
‘Did she know that?’