Fear No Evil

Chapter 26

Bree tried to act as if she hadn’t noticed the billionaire looking at her, but her heart was pounding as she pivoted back to her meal and scolded herself for being so blatant.

Had Abelmar recognized her? Or did he merely think he’d been recognized?

He’s something of a celebrity, right? Bree thought as she forced herself to pick up her utensils. He must get people gawking at him. And we did talk last night. Sort of.

Bree kept her attention on her plate and focused on enjoying the rest of her entrée, the taste of which seemed to evolve as it cooled, giving the sauce a more caramelized consistency that made the way it lingered on the tongue even more remarkable. In her peripheral vision she saw Judge Marchant leaving.

Bree looked over. Judge Alsace and Judge Les Freres were following their colleague and acting as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

“How’s the duck?” Carole asked.

Bree turned back to the bartender. “I won’t tell my ninety-year-old grandmother-in-law, who is an incredible cook, but this may be the best meal of my entire life.”

“The veal is excellent too.”

“Tomorrow night,” Bree promised.

“Same dessert? Crème brûlée?”

“Please, and with a decaf espresso?”

The bartender nodded and walked off.

The big bald guy signed his check and left.

Bree took another bite of the duck, savoring it, before sensing something in her periphery. She pivoted slightly in her seat.

Philippe Abelmar was standing beside her and studying her with some amusement. “The duck again?”

“I could not resist,” she said, trying not to act taken aback by his sudden presence.

“I warned you that the duck can be an addiction,” the billionaire said.

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

His eyes danced and flickered over her face and chest as he said, “Do you know how an African lion keeps his dominance over a pride of lionesses?”

She thought about that. “Constantly fights other lions?”

“Not if he’s smart,” Abelmar said. “Not if he wants to live a long life. If he wants that, then he is actually sedentary much of the time, lying about in the shade with a bellyful of meat his lionesses have killed for him. But even then, in that sated state, the lion is still alert to anything new or out of place. The merest whiff of a threat and he acts, goes to the source of danger immediately and confronts it.”

“He protects his perimeter.”

Abelmar smiled and nodded. “That’s right. And if he needs to fight, he attacks right then, without hesitation. But more often than not, just the power, speed, and aggressiveness of the dominant lion is enough to send all inferior threats running without so much as a bite or a scratch.”

“Is that why you came up to talk to me?” she asked, frowning. “You considered me an inferior threat?”

“You?” he said and he laughed in a rather nice way. “No. I came because I wanted to see if you liked the duck and because you are a very beautiful woman.”

Bree smiled and said, “I appreciate that.” She held out her hand.

He hesitated and then smiled and took it. “Philippe.”

“Bree,” she said.

“Your accent is... interesting,” he said, letting go of her hand.

“Saint Martin,” she said.

“Are you here on vacation or business?”

“A little of both.”

“Your business?”

Bree paused before saying, “I work for a law firm in Saint Martin. We set up shell companies for people interested in moving their business or their money offshore.”

Abelmar cocked his head, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Saint Martin. Who knew?”

“It’s overlooked,” she said. “But I still love it.”

“You are doing this — building shell companies — for someone here in Paris?”

“I’m talking with prospective clients.”

He thought about that, reached into his jacket pocket, and retrieved his business card. “I may be interested. Call my office. Come see me and we’ll talk, Madame...”

“St. Lucie,” she said, taking his card with feigned curiosity. “Bree St. Lucie.”