Isabeau heard the small bite in his voice, implying the innocence of Isabeau’s dress would never suit someone who wore the bloodred gown revealing half of Imelda’s body. She held her breath, afraid Elijah was antagonizing the woman, but Imelda took it as a compliment. She ran her hand down her hip, smoothing the material and jutting out her breasts, turning her back on Isabeau as if she was of little consequence. Isabeau realized that was Elijah’s intent, to make certain Imelda didn’t see her as a threat in any way.
She tried not to let the byplay undermine her confidence in herself. She’d never considered herself beautiful. She was curvy, carrying a little more weight than was fashionable, but she had great hair and good skin. She didn’t think she looked drab, but next to Imelda she probably did. Imelda’s tinkling laugh irritated her, and the way she moved into the center of the circle of men as if she belonged there irritated her even more.
A hush fell over the crowd again and heads began to turn toward the door. Isabeau found herself following the gazes of the others. A guard, obviously one of Imelda’s, pushed a wheelchair into the room. The occupant looked to be in his eighties, a thin, rather handsome man with thick silver hair. He wore his suit as if it had been made for him—which it probably had been. His smile was kind, even benevolent, and he waved to several people and greeted them by name as he was pushed through the crowd.
People reached out to touch him. Each time someone greeted him, he stopped and talked for a few moments before moving on. Couples smiled at him. He seemed to know everyone’s name and asked about children or parents. Imelda sighed and tapped her foot impatiently.
“My grandfather,” she announced. “He’s very beloved.”
It seemed to annoy her that her grandfather was so popular with the people. Isabeau guessed it took the attention that she craved away from her. The man suddenly looked up and she could see his eyes through the thick glasses. Old and faded, they were more a gray than a black, but he seemed genuinely interested in those around him. She couldn’t imagine that a creature as immoral and malevolent as Imelda could possibly be related to this man.
“For heaven’s sake, Grandfather,” Imelda snapped and broke away from the group. “We have important guests,” she hissed in his ear, shoving between his chair and the guard. She took control of the chair herself and pushed him through the remaining throng to their small corner of the room. “Come meet Marcos Santos and Elijah Lospostos. This is my grandfather, Alberto Cortez. He’s a little hard of hearing,” she apologized.
Marcos and Elijah both shook his hand and greeted him with respect and a deference they hadn’t shown Imelda. Alberto smiled at Isabeau. “And who is this?”
“Elijah’s cousin, grandfather,” Imelda said, her tone waspish.
“Isabeau Chandler, my cousin,” Elijah presented her with a small, courteous bow.
He took Isabeau’s hand in both of his. Her cat hissed, her skin still too sensitive for contact. “Lovely dear, you outshine every woman here.”
Imelda rolled her eyes. “Please forgive the old man, he’s always been a charmer.”
“You are very charming,” Isabeau addressed him directly, not looking at Imelda, feeling a little sorry for him. Imelda treated him like a doddering fool, when it was obvious his brain was sharp and fully functioning. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
He winked at her, also ignoring his granddaughter. “Are they talking business again?”
“I think they were about to.”
“The music is a bit wild, but the food is good and the women are gorgeous. What is wrong with men today that business is everything? They don’t realize that time speeds by and they should take time to enjoy the little things.” He looked up at the faces around him. “Soon you will be old with little time left.”
Two red flags of color swept into Imelda’s face. “Excuse him, please. He talks a lot of nonsense.”
“No, no, dear,” Marcos patted her arm. “He speaks the truth. I intend to enjoy myself immensely while I’m here. I agree, entertainment and enjoyment are very important.” His gaze swept the room and lit on Teresa, who was carrying an empty serving tray back toward the kitchen. “Just a small amount of business and then we’ll have fun with friends, right, Elijah?”
“Of course, Marcos.”
Alberto frowned. “Forgive an old man, Elijah, but I knew your uncle. I heard he died in an accident in Borneo. Accept my condolences.”
Elijah inclined his head. “I had no idea you two knew each other.”
“Briefly. Only briefly. You and your sister were very young when I met him. Where is your sister? I had heard that she disappeared as well. Such a tragedy, your family.”
“Rachel is alive and well. There was bad business.” Elijah shrugged casually. His eyes were flat and cold. “An enemy stupid enough to try to use the threat of my sister against us.”
“She is alive then? Good. Good. A beautiful girl. I hadn’t heard what had become of her. I should have known you would take care of any problems.”
Elijah sent him a cold smile. “I always take care of my own. And my enemies.”
“May I borrow your beautiful cousin while you talk business? Just for a little while. We can walk in the gardens. My man will be with us to watch over her. And perhaps one of your men can accompany us as well, if you prefer.”
Imelda scowled. “That’s just silly, Grandfather. Philip has security everywhere. What could possibly happen to either of you?”
Elijah thought it over. The garden was fully visible from Jeremiah’s position. There shouldn’t be any problem. He brought Isabeau’s hand to his chest. “I think that would be nice for you, Isabeau, much better than listening to boring business.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her head. “I’ll send Felipe with you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Isabeau said. “I’d much rather he look after you.”
Alberto gestured to his guard. “This is Harry. He’s been with me for ten years.” He emphasized the pronoun, making a point.