“Does the Brit suspect you?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “Or does he love you too much to realize the coldness of your heart?”
Live the cover.
“He suspects nothing. I make sure of that.”
“But only when I allow it.” He chuckled too loudly and patted his pocket. “He has paid me for the privilege of your company, has he not?”
“I think you’ll be pleased.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “You know something?”
“I read bits and pieces. General Patton has been given a new command.”
He stopped suddenly, and she nearly tripped. “You are certain?” he said, his voice low and guttural. Before she could answer, he led her to a private nook behind a wide pillar. “Tell me what you saw.”
“There was an Order of Battle for the F, F . . .” she hesitated, as if trying to come up with the right initials. “The F U S A G. The First United States Army Group.”
“Patton leads this group?”
“Once the film is developed, you can see for yourself.”
“Sí, I will.” He stuck his hand in his pocket as if to reassure himself the camera was still there. “Your captain. Did he say anything about this?”
“Of course not. He was peacefully sleeping when I took the photographs.”
The music ended, and the party began breaking up. Hector retrieved Marie’s wrap and summoned his driver. “I thought to take you home with me tonight. To relieve you of your Brit once and for all. But he may still be useful. You will keep seeing him, no? Favor him with your affection?”
“Is it such a hardship?”
“As long as I’m with him . . .” She deliberately paused. “I told you from the first. I only have one man at a time.”
“A provincial rule, it seems to me.”
“But a rule it is,” she said firmly. “Just so we understand each other.”
“Oh, yes, I understand.” Amusement bubbled through the words. “But does the captain?”
She gave a careless shrug.
“Your heart is cold, querida, but soon enough I will take the Brit’s place. And you will know the passion of my amor.”
“I still expect payment for the information I bring you.” She leaned into his embrace. “And should I, eventually, become your mistress, I’ll expect presents. I like jewels.”
Hector’s laughter shook his chest. “The news you brought me tonight is valuable. I promise you that as I rise in favor, so will you.” His car pulled up in front of the building, and they descended the embassy steps.
The chauffeur opened the back passenger door, and she endured Hector’s goodbye kiss before sliding into the car. He leaned in the door and handed her a velvet box.
“A warning, querida,” he said, the predatory smile returning. “Rules are made to be broken.”
Christian Fiction Friday is a weekly blog hop where authors post snippets from their current works in progress. It is hosted by Alana Terry and Hallee Bridgeman. Click here for a full list of rules and suggestions.