In the Age of Love and Chocolate (Birthright #3)(9)

I interrupted him. “I’m glad you bring that up, Mr. Delacroix. I wanted to remind you that you were not hired for heroics.”

“Heroics?” he asked. “Hired?”

“Hired,” I said. “You are my employee.”

“Your partner. I assume I understand the contracts I vetted.”

“My share in this business is far greater than yours and I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

He looked at me with an even expression. “Fine, Anya. What does madame require?”

“Legal counsel,” I said. “Nothing more.”

“So I understand my responsibilities … If I see you at night—let’s say it’s dark and stormy—and you are being attacked by a man I recognize as the mafiya cousin who may or may not have tried to murder you and your family, protocol dictates that I should”—he shrugged—“look the other way and let you die?”

“Yes, but—”

Now he interrupted me. “Good. I’m glad that’s cleared up.”

“I wouldn’t have died. I haven’t died yet. I even survived being poisoned, if you can believe that.”

“Be that as it may, as your legal adviser and only in that capacity—I wouldn’t want to overstep here—I think it would be useful for you to have security.”

“You’re taking this the wrong way. I’m saying we need boundaries. Our roles need to be defined. I appreciate your need to know everything, but didn’t we both agree that it was better for the club and for you if there were some matters, and particularly ones involving the Family, that I kept from you?”

He considered my question for a moment. “As you wish. What happened to that giant woman who used to follow you around?”

“I let Daisy go.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Since I’m trying to do everything legally, I didn’t think it made the best impression to have a bodyguard with me. And I still believe this. I won’t walk around the city with a bodyguard like a two-bit gangster. You know perfectly well that appearances matter.”

“You seem to have made up your mind,” he said. “I don’t agree, but I understand the rationale.”

“Good night, Mr. Delacroix.”

I went into my office. Mickey and Jones were crammed together on my love seat. I dried my hair with the towel Mr. Delacroix had given me, and then I handed the towel to Mickey so that he could use it, too.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Mickey nodded toward the hallway.

“Boyfriend? Are you kidding me? That’s Charles Delacroix. You must remember him from when he ran for district attorney back in ’83.”

“Right, him.”

“He lost and now he’s legal counsel for my club.”

“Fancy,” Mickey said.

“Boyfriend!” I was unnerved by the notion that anyone could think Charles Delacroix was my boyfriend. “That’s disgusting, Mickey. He’s probably twice my age, maybe more. He’s old enough to be my father. He’s Win’s father. Remember my ex-boyfriend Win?”

“Hey, I don’t judge how people live their lives.” His eyes were glazed and unfocused. I felt like he was on the verge of passing out, and I needed to get information before he did.

“Did you know about the plot to kill Natty, Leo, and me?” I asked.

“No, I was in the dark as much as you. By the time I found out Sophia was involved, it had already happened. She convinced me that we had to run or the Family would kill me. She said that you were the most famous and the most beloved Balanchine and that the Family would surely take your side and happily tie up the loose end that I represented. She insisted that everyone would think I had orchestrated the plot because I had the most to gain from getting rid of Leonyd Balanchine’s children. So I went with her. Maybe it was dumb, but I didn’t have time to think and she is still my wife. But less than a month later, an old friend told me that you had let Fats Medovukha take over the Family, and then I knew that Sophia must have lied.”

“Who else was involved?”

“Yuji Ono, obviously.” Mickey coughed so hard I worried he might choke. I thought I saw drops of blood on the towel I had given him. “They were in love, you know.”

There had been rumors, but all I knew for certain was that Yuji and Sophia had been schoolmates. “Anyone else?”

“No. Not that I know of. No one important.”

“Simon Green?”

“The lawyer?”

My father’s bastard, I wanted to say.

“So many lawyers,” Mickey said. “Simon’s not the worst.” He coughed yet again and it sounded like his lungs were filled with marbles.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“I think I caught something when I was overseas.”

“Something contagious?” Jones asked. My head of security rarely felt the need to add commentary.

“I don’t know,” Mickey said.

Jones scooted as far away from Mickey as the love seat would allow.

“Why are you looking for Sophia? If someone kidnapped her, you should leave well enough alone. Let her be gone,” I said.

“I have unfinished business with her. I need to see her.”