Goodbye, Janette

Author:Robbins, Harold [Robbins, Harold]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780795341090
Publisher: RosettaBooks
Published: 2014-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

Book Four

Madame

When he came out of the bathroom she was seated, naked, on the edge of the bed, holding a small mirror in one hand while with the other she carefully restored her eye makeup.

He stopped, staring down at her, the towel tied around his waist still damp against his skin. “What are you doing?” he asked, his harsh Greek accent overriding his French.

“Putting on my makeup,” she answered, without taking her eyes from the mirror.

“What for?” he asked. “I thought you were staying for the night.”

“I changed my mind,” she said, still not looking up.

“We had business to talk about,” he said. “You don’t expect me to decide on a ten-million-dollar deal with one quick fuck.”

“That’s right,” she agreed. She stood up and looked down at him. She was a full head taller than he. “You’ve already got what you wanted. Now you don’t have to waste your time on all the bullshit. And neither do I.”

She walked past him into the bathroom and squatted across the bidet. Quickly she turned on the taps and the water began to swirl into the bowl.

He followed her and watched while she took the washcloth and began to soap herself. “Is that the only reason you went to bed with me? The money?”

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze without blinking. “Can you think of a better reason? I don’t care if you’re ten times richer than Onassis ever was. You’re even uglier and not half as attractive.”

“You’re nothing but a whore,” he said insultingly.

She didn’t answer.

“Even if your cunt was lined with gold and diamonds, what makes you think it would be worth ten million dollars?”

“I don’t think anything,” she said evenly, letting the soapy water out and turning the taps on again. “You’re the one that just ate it and fucked it. You tell me.” She looked down and turned off the water, then up at him. “Besides, I came here to talk business with you. Not to fuck with you. That was your idea.”

“Bitch!” he snapped and stalked angrily from the bathroom.

When she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he was in a dressing robe, seated in an armchair, sipping at a snifter of cognac. Silently he watched her pick up the camisole top and slip it on, covering her magnificent breasts, then snap the narrow garter belt around her waist and sit down on the edge of the bed facing him as she carefully put on her stockings. In spite of his anger he felt the heat rising again in him. The bitch knew all the tricks. No bikini pants ever covered her. Never wore them, she had said. She stood up and fastened her wraparound skirt and then buttoned the simple white silk shirt over it. She stepped into her high-heeled shoes.

“Janette,” he said.

She looked down at him without speaking.

“I did want to talk business with you.”

She spoke without rancor. “There’s really nothing to discuss. You’ve had the papers for more than two weeks now.

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