Arch Enemy

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Authors: Leo J. Maloney
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quartered, if you prefer.”
    This time, she looked at him and let a weak smile break through the sad façade.
    â€œJust say the word,” he said with a sly grin. His voice was deep, like a lion’s purr.
    â€œAssassination won’t be necessary,” she said. “But perhaps a drink?”
    â€œQueen’s English?” he remarked, catching her accent.
    â€œDrilled into me in public school at the point of a whip.”
    He offered her his elbow, and they walked together into the main ballroom. “Champagne?” He signaled a waiter.
    â€œ Merci ,” she said as the waiter handed her a flute. Baxter took one for himself. She ended up with her back to a window as he stood closer than decorum would allow.
    â€œNow what could have put you in such a state? No man could have dared upset you like this.”
    â€œNot worth talking about,” she said with a bashful smile. “In fact, it’s becoming less and less clear why it even bothered me so much in the first place.”
    â€œOh?”
    She put her hand on his arm, feeling his muscles underneath. “In fact, I find that I can’t recall why I was crying at all.”
    Recognition glimmered on his face. “I could have sworn I’ve seen you at the Palatine Casino in Monte Carlo.”
    â€œI’m certain I would have remembered you. Are you a gambling man, Mr.—”
    â€œRoger Baxter.”
    â€œLily Harper.”
    â€œ Enchanté .” He kissed her hand and held out his champagne flute. “To us.”
    â€œOh, there’s an ‘us’ already?” She clinked her flute against his and then tipped it against her mouth so that the sparkling fluid only tickled her smiling lips without flowing in.
    â€œDoes the idea intrigue you?”
    An older man and his wife approached Baxter, who raised a finger to excuse himself and then turned away to greet them. Lily took the opportunity to switch her full champagne flute for one that was half-full, resting on an empty table.
    Baxter dispatched the couple. “I apologize for the interruption. It’s a bore, but half my job is keeping these fatuous bags of wind happy.”
    She extended her hand and touched the tips of her fingers to his face, feeling the prickles of his emerging stubble. He closed his eyes and inhaled with desire. His hand shot out and grabbed hers. The strength of his grip made her gasp.
    â€œNot here.” He rolled his eyes right and left, checking that no one was watching.
    â€œThen where?”
    He produced a keycard and put it into her palm. She tucked it into her clutch. “Diplomatic Suite. I’m going to say my good-byes. Watch for my exit. Stay for another five minutes and then follow. I’ll be waiting.”
    She watched as he walked away to make his rounds before leaving, then retreated to the corner bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she made out a male figure approaching—a round face, a shock of blond hair. He sidled up to her at the bar. Here we go.
    â€œFeeling better, I see,” said the now-familiar boyish voice of the guy who had come up to her by the men’s room.
    She turned and shot him a look of practiced indifference. “That,” she said, “is none of your concern.”
    â€œNo, I suppose not.” He flicked his hair away from his eyes. “Just like it isn’t my concern that you were poised to lure a very particular man coming out of the bathroom. And it isn’t my concern that you watered a ficus with Cristal.”
    The little twerp had been watching her. “A woman has her ways of having fun. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
    â€œI know about fun.”
    â€œI meant women.”
    â€œTouché.” He called over the bartender and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. “But you’re not here for fun.”
    â€œOh really?”
    He stood with his back against the bar and grinned. “In that dress? No,

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