Roulette by Mulry Megan

Author:Mulry, Megan [Mulry, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2014-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

She flies into a fit of coughing, nearly breaking her wineglass when she sets it down next to her with a crash. Then she’s thumping her own chest to alleviate the choking. There is a quick knock at the door, and Étienne pokes his head in with a smile, then frowns when he sees Margot struggling. He rushes into the room and lifts her up, patting her back. “Are you okay, sweetheart? What happened?” She’s waving her hand in front of her face.

“Nothing! Nothing!” she wheezes, catching her breath. “Totally fine!” She’s talking way too brightly.

I am frozen in the chair. “You know him?” I whisper.

Margot is still watery-eyed and trying to collect herself.

“Know whom?” Étienne asks kindly.

“Jérôme de Villiers . . .” I say, hoping the name will ring no bells after all.

“Rome? Of course,” Étienne says with innocent joviality. “He’s my cousin! Our mothers were sisters. We’re actually sort of related to Trevor, too, by marriage. Trevor’s older half-brother, Luke, is also our cousin . . .” He realizes he is rambling a bit and stops talking into the silence.

I take a slow sip of my wine and nod, which Étienne sees as some cue to elaborate. “Really?” I add. I figure if he talks, I won’t have to.

“Yes, there were three Rothschild sisters. Estranged, of course. What else?”

I smile and pretend I didn’t know any of this. “Interesting . . . I think I may have seen something about that,” I say lightly, as if it has nothing much to do with me. “He and I negotiated a deal in Russia, after I inherited my father’s company in March.”

“Oh, great. Right, so you’ve met him?”

“Mm-hmm,” I answer as I take a sip of wine and try to avoid Margot’s best-friend laser eyes.

Étienne senses something more is going on, but he’s a good guy, so he natters on. “Right. Yeah, so Rome’s mother was the oldest—brilliant, apparently—but she ended up being a crazy socialite in Paris, gallivanting everywhere, but really sharp, you know? I think she was probably the brains of that operation—her husband, Rome’s father, was a total lush, nearly destroyed the whole company—but Rome doesn’t really talk about it. His parents died about ten years ago. That’s when he took over Clairebeau. But you probably knew that already.” He is starting to seem like a caged animal, looking from Margot to me.

I nod and act as if I don’t know anything about it, as if I never held poor Rome in my arms as we exchanged every sordid detail about our parents, very late at night in a Russian hotel room. “What a coincidence,” I say.

Margot is sitting back down again, rubbing the pad of her index finger against her thumbnail like she always used to do before finals at MIT.

“So you met him in person, then?” Étienne asks politely.

“Only briefly.”

Margot widens her eyes, and I shake my head at her.

“Oh.” Étienne purses his lips. “Oh, I see.” Then he smiles. “A passing fancy, then.”

Margot

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