The Rome Affair. Addison FoxЧитать онлайн книгу.
her power suit, Kensington swept out a hand. “You coming, Mr. Andrews?”
And damn if he could hold back the grin that tugged the corners of his mouth at her prim tone. “Of course.”
Curious, he pressed her. “You really keep security out in the hallway all day?”
“Brandon has better things to do than spend all day hanging out in my hallway. He’s obviously decided to make an exception for you.”
Jack filed away the interesting fact that the House of Steele felt it needed some degree of hired muscle in-house as he followed her down the long hallway. She led him into a large dining room opposite a swinging door to what had to be the kitchen. “Your home is impressive.”
“It’s my business now.”
“Can’t it be both?”
A small nod had that lush hair drifting around her shoulders. “I suppose so. It’s also why we still keep a few bedrooms ready on the top floor. One of us often crashes here.”
He stripped off his coat and didn’t miss the scrutiny of her gaze before she moved quickly toward the sideboard and busied herself with a waiting coffee service.
Hmm...interesting.
They’d only been in each other’s company a few times, but each time had captivated him more than the last. He’d thought her unaffected, but perhaps he’d been hasty—too stunned by his own attraction—to recognize a fair bit of it in return.
“Please help yourself to coffee to warm up. The wind’s brutal out there.”
He used the few extra minutes to take in the room. The brownstone was a classic and even as it screamed subtle opulence, it whispered something else far more powerful.
Home.
He stalled over his cream and sugar, curious to get more personal details out of her before she firmly shifted things to business. “This is your family home, yes?”
“My mother’s family, actually. She grew up here and her mother and grandmother before her.”
He knew of Kensington Steele’s lineage—it was hardly a secret among New York’s elite. Her parents, Charles and Katherine, had delighted society when a woman with some of New York’s bluest blood married into one of Britain’s most elite families.
Katherine Kensington Steele’s lineage had given her first-born daughter her name.
And it was an accident on Charles and Katherine’s twentieth anniversary trip that had left the home he now sat in—and a world of hurt and grief—to their four children.
“The Kensington family home.”
“Yes.”
“It’s beautiful. Now it’s functional, too.”
“I’d like to think so.” Kensington took a seat at the head of the table, the subtle power play intriguing him like nothing else could have. “What can I do for you, Mr. Andrews?”
That cultured tone did something to his insides, he admitted to himself. The tones weren’t quite British, yet they were sharp with the same elocution the Brits had made their own. Her voice made him think of how he wanted to poke underneath the surface.
“First, let’s get this out of the way. I have no reason to gloat and that’s not why I’m here. You’re a worthy opponent and I respect your business.”
Her raised eyebrows let him know exactly what she thought of his statement, but she kept her voice level. “I thought the note that arrived with your flowers suggested otherwise.”
“I don’t know. I’ve always found a little spirited poking is healthy for business.” He leaned forward, pleased when her crystal-blue gaze stayed level on his. “Nothing like a sense of competition to keep a person engaged.”
“I have no interest in being poked.”
“Oh, really?” He couldn’t hold back the smile.
“Really.” The light flush that was visible at the V of her blouse suggested she wasn’t unaffected and he couldn’t resist one more attempt at ruffling her. “Because partnership does have its benefits, Kensington.”
“I’ve got enough partners, Jack.” The fingers of her right hand trembled ever so slightly before she wrapped them around her coffee cup. “What I want is the opportunity to work with new business prospects.”
“What if I can offer you that?”
“Excuse me?”
He’d spent the past few days thinking about the solution he was about to offer her and could only curse himself he hadn’t come up with it sooner. “Business partners. It makes sense.”
“I don’t need a business partner. My brothers and sister and I run the House of Steele as a family. We’re not selling.”
“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, especially since I’ve no interest in selling or merging Andrews Holdings.”
The sharp set of her lips faded and the same shrewd sense—the one that had allowed Kensington to lead their family enterprise into a wildly successful business in a handful of years—took over. “What did you have in mind?”
“You and I went up against each other on the Rome job.”
“As well as Memphis, San Francisco and Hong Kong.”
He ignored the litany of their recent skirmishes, instead focusing on the reason he’d come. “I’m talking about Rome. I met with the Italian embassy on Monday and was smugly told I nearly didn’t get the assignment.”
“Why not?”
“I maintain a small firm, by choice. Seems the Italians were looking for something a bit more expansive. There was a fair amount of infighting among the selection committee before I gained the nod.”
“I still don’t see how this involves me.”
How did he explain it to her? He prided himself on reading his adversaries—and he typically put clients in that category until proven otherwise—but the meeting with the embassy’s staff had caught him unawares. “They’ve changed the scope of the assignment.”
“How so? It’s a pretty straightforward protection detail with a bit of snooping on the side. Eyes and ears on the ambassador and his surroundings on his upcoming diplomatic mission.”
“The Italians have begun to suspect Hubert Pryce of some unsavory practices.”
Confusion stamped itself immediately on her face, but underneath he saw the flicker of interest. It was subtle, he’d give her that, but it was there all the same. She leaned forward a bit more eagerly and a small spark lit that vivid gaze. “I’m not following. A host country has to accept an ambassador from another country and can, at any point, dissolve the relationship, declaring the diplomat persona non grata. It’s a basic tenant of the Vienna Convention.”
“The Italians think it would be worth their while to follow Ambassador Pryce for a bit longer.”
“Why? He comes from a small country in central Africa. If they’re concerned, and I can’t imagine why they are, they need to remove him from his post. They’re within their rights to do so and no explanations are needed.”
Jack briefly toyed with filtering the limited information he had but realized it was, at best, unfair and, at worst, dangerous to keep her in the dark. “Tierra Kimber may be small, but the country has seen incredible growth in the past decade as a major center for both diamonds and fashion.”
Kensington took a sip of her coffee, her expression thoughtful as that interest honed to a sharp point. “They’re not even a top-ten player in Italy’s economy. I realize Pryce’s family background is European and he’s spent considerable time cultivating a reputation across the region, but the