Chapter One
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: The Bet
1787 Lafite G.W.
You have seven days.
Zeus
Braxton Hughes stepped out of the limo and
tugged his bow tie into place. Roger Savade's enormous French
chateau sat at the end of the cobblestone walk, looking regal and
impenetrable. He held out his hand to the woman in the backseat,
and she slipped her satin-gloved fingers into his.
For a woman pushing fifty, Claire Renaldae
looked great in her lavender dress with her hair perfectly coiffed.
He tucked her arm through his and started up the path with the
other guests, anticipation sizzling through his veins.
“Thanks for bringing me tonight,” Claire
said, her voice soft. Her silver gray eyes, rimmed with dark liner,
sparkled up at him. There was an air of smoky sophistication about
her, showing him that she belonged at parties like this one.
Rubbing shoulders with the filthy rich, dancing until dawn.
Recently divorced, she was here to show up
her ex-husband with a hot new stud on her arm.
Braxton was here for the wine.
He'd known as soon as he'd pushed himself out
of the pool at Chateau Le Cannet four days ago that Claire was
perfect for him. Perfect for the job. She'd been lying on a lounge
chair, a black one piece showing off a trim, sun-kissed figure. The
big, fluffy hat hadn't been able to shadow the look of desire in
her eyes when she'd glanced at his body glistening from his
afternoon swim.
It had taken little effort to strike up a
conversation and find out about her ex-husband and her invitation
to the Savade party. Nor had it taken much effort to casually offer
to escort her to said party.
“You're welcome.” He glanced around at the
other guests, nodding at the few who made eye contact. “Think he'll
be here?”
“Of course. He wouldn't miss a party like
this, or a chance to show her off.” The her Claire
was referring to was her ex-husband's new mistress, Scandinavian
supermodel Mia Rassmusen. She'd mentioned the other woman several
times, and he found himself wondering why a woman like Claire would
waste her time and energy on a man like her ex-husband. She may not
have been a hot, young supermodel, but she was smart and witty
enough. And not at all bad on the eyes. Years of spa treatments
had, no doubt, seen to that.
“Well, I seriously doubt she'll look anywhere
near as beautiful as you,” he said, playing his part.
Claire preened under his gaze, her spine
straightening. “You're so sweet.” She squeezed his arm.
The receiving line slowed to a halt.
Brax looked around the manor, noting the
number of windows and doors and their locations. His gaze traveled
over the shrubs and stone walls of the landscape. The large front
doors were wide open, and golden yellow light poured out. He could
hear music. Probably some lesser known French composer.
“Roger Savade is such a pompous ass. He hosts
these parties to show off his money. His things,” Claire whispered.
He glanced down at the necklace dripping with diamonds around her
neck. Speaking of showing off one's wealth.... “Just like my
ex-husband.”
Brax stayed silent and watched as the hosts
greeted the guests. It wasn't that he didn't agree with her. Roger
was known to flaunt his money and his possessions. Brax wondered if
he'd have the 1787 Lafite on display in the dining room. That would
sure make his job easy.
The line moved forward, and he saw their host
nodding to a short, graying gentleman. By habit, Brax surveyed his
surroundings for security, both electronic and hard, hired
muscle.
Did Roger Savade even know the significance
of the 1787 Lafite, or had he bought it just because someone had
told him it was rare?
“Claire! How are you?” The feminine voice
with the French accent pulled him from his thoughts. Claire tugged
on his arm until they were standing in front of the blonde woman
just inside the door.
“Rona. I'm well, and
Similar Books
