“With wealth comes power.” He turns his head, his eyes locking with mine. “People want that wealth for themselves, and they will often sell their soul for you to give them a piece. All the while in doing so, they give you their secrets.”
“What’s your secret, Jay? Does anyone know it?”
“Love, my secret is already spreading like wildfire even as we speak.”
“What is that?” I lean in closer to him, wanting to know.
“You, Milana. They’ll know about you.” I’m not sure if that is supposed to be sweet, but for some reason it seems a bit ominous.
“Why would they think that would benefit them in any way? Surely you’ve taken other women out places.”
“No, I don’t play those kinds of games.”
“Except the Game of Life,” I try to tease.
“Yes, and when it comes to you, Milana, I take that very fucking seriously.”
I think the three security guards make that more than clear. What I’m not so sure of is Jay. He’s a businessman, but clearly, he’s something so much more, and I think that more might be darker than my mind can grasp.
sixteen
JAY
We arrive at the rented compound an hour later. Milana gazes in rapt attention at the pastoral countryside and doesn’t appear to care that we have left the city for an estate along the Marne. Placed on its own small peninsula, the home has only one land road access. The rest have to come by water, and it is much harder for anyone to gain access without being spotted.
Security is unhappy that it’s rented, but since this trip was very last-minute, the team deemed it safer than a hotel where there’s all kinds of staff with access.
“Water for Milana, please.” I toss my jacket to the waiting butler. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” she admits.
“No fish. Milana is not a fan,” I instruct.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” she protests.
“No fish,” I repeat firmly. “We’ll dine on the terrace.” I take her hand and tuck it inside the crook of my elbow. “Do you want to rest before eating or walk or…” I give her a leisurely once-over. “Something else.”
“What is this place? Like some fancy Airbnb or—wait, don’t tell me you own this, too.”
“I do not own this. It’s a rental.” We walk out onto the stone terrace that runs the length of the house. Mature trees hang over the riverbank with wildflowers growing in profusion. Birds and other creatures nest in the woods and sing their love songs to each other. The sound of the river lapping against the stone embankment sets a tranquil air around the property. Milana either doesn’t notice or pretends not to notice a handful of black-suited men standing near the balustrade with their eyes trained on the land and river. She definitely does not see the guards on the roof. I’d like to keep it that way.
“This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”
“It is now.” I stare at her loveliness.
She ducks her head in shyness. “The nice thing about this being made out of stone is that I can’t break it.” She thumps a small fist against the railing.
“Even if you did, we’d just replace it. There is no ‘oops’ that I can’t fix, so don’t worry about it.” I lift my hand to cup her cheek and then remember all the security around us. I shouldn’t start something out here I can’t finish.
Thankfully, the first course of lightly grilled vegetables is being brought to the table, but the meal doesn’t satisfy Milana. She has questions, and she wants answers. She danced around the topic during lunch, or I suppose I was the evasive one, but after the dessert plates are removed and we are left with only herbal tea, Mila decides a frontal assault is the best attack.
“What is your job, Jay, and don’t just say investing because investing doesn’t require guns on rooftops.”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin to hide my surprise. “You spotted those, did you?”
“It’s hard not to. They’re the only thing black up there. You should really make them wear desert camouflage.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I lock gazes with the head of my security, whose ears turn red. He gives me a terse nod and disappears inside.
“I’m a banker, love. I lend money, I hold money in escrow for people who don’t trust each other, and sometimes I stand as the guarantor for others who need money. But…these people aren’t the type who can go to regular institutions because of…circumstances.”
“You mean criminals.”
She doesn’t sound too judgmental. I tentatively continue. “I mean those individuals whose records may not be viewed favorably by those who are in power. Hell, some of them are in power.”
“Criminals,” she repeats.
I throw up my hands. “Okay, criminals.”
She slides back in her chair. “There. Now you don’t have to lie to me anymore.”