Midnight in Monaco: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  Midnight in Monaco

  By Raina Wilde

  © Copyright 2015 by Raina Wilde—All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Midnight in Monaco

  Lydia Berkshire evaluated her reflection in the mirror. The satin gown pooled around her ankles in emerald waves as she stepped into the stiletto heels that rested on the plush white carpet of the hotel suite. The additional height lifted the fabric to skim just above the floor and allowed the risqué slit to peek open to the knee, though when she walked it would expose skin as far reaching as mid-thigh.

  She adjusted the wide, square neckline over her breasts. The design of the gown lifted and cupped her body in a way that left no need for a bra. In fact, with her back exposed to the base of her rib cage, there was no opportunity for the undergarment had she wanted one. She smoothed her hands over her trim waist and turned to ensure that the seamless lines of her underwear left no traces of their existence.

  She added an extremely thin silver chained necklace with a many-faceted diamond and a bold cuff bracelet before deciding that her outfit was the picture of perfection. She needed to be perfect tonight, she reminded herself. Her livelihood depended on it.

  Lydia tucked a stray auburn curl behind her ear, grabbed her emerald studded clutch, and headed down to the lobby where her driver would be waiting. She had worked very hard to get where she was today. As a world traveling investment consultant she rubbed elbows with some of the most elite names in international business. She was on the prowl for investors for her most recent project, and Monaco was the place to find investors. The Monte Carlo Casino was where she would start, meeting and greeting some of the highest stakes gamblers; the type of men who would not blink an eye at throwing millions of dollars at her clients, the type of men who might have need of her skills for their own endeavors and investments.

  She loved being able to work from any place in the world. Her dream had always been to travel and traditional employment had always left her miserable and unfulfilled. That was when she first became a suitcase entrepreneur. Lydia had started small, focusing mostly in the United States before expanding her services one continent at a time. Here she was now, on the French Riviera, one of the best in the business with the freedom to accept or decline any job that caught her interest.

  She’d always wondered what it would be like to live in Monaco. Her brief visits here had shown her an extravagant lifestyle that she could only dream to attain one day. The percentage of unnaturally wealthy residents in this tiny region included some of the most influential business investors in the world. She had been surprised at the sheer quantity of people who resided in the area that spanned just over 2 km. She wondered how people with the finances to travel without concern for cost, could isolate themselves to such a small region. She guessed that they worked and played together in ways that only increased their joint wealth; the mere proximity of their allies and competitors allowing for convenient deals and updates with those who were as powerful and prominent as themselves.

  Lydia rode to the casino in silence. She sipped from the flute of champagne that had been offered before entering the vehicle. She could afford these extravagances because she incurred very little overhead costs for her work. No office, no equipment that did not fit in her suitcase, and no regular staff.

  When they pulled up in front of the massive, ornate building Lydia’s mouth dropped open in awe. The entire façade was lit against the darkness of the night, like some regal castle or estate. She had a hard time accepting that, for the casino, this was a night like any other.

  Lydia smiled when her eyes caught sight of the enormous fountain that sat with regal presence in the center of the circular drive. The palm trees swayed in the gentle night breeze. She shivered with anticipation as she climbed out of the limousine and ascended the staircase into the casino. This, instinct told her, would be a night to remember.

  Two hours later, Lydia sauntered into the elite high-stakes poker room. She was a successful enough gambler to warrant an invitation to the selective group, though she took no pleasure in the activity. Truthfully, she had only learned enough to ensure her position in the room, and therefore have a chance at initiating a conversation with potential investors.

  The silence of these isolated rooms was always deafening to her ears after the chaos of the central casino. Lydia strode to the nearby bar and requested a tall glass of pale champagne. She paid for a tray of poker chips and moved to the only remaining seat at the table. The antechamber was designed as a smaller replica of the main table room. Gilded ceilings with ornate, circular trays and a crystal chandelier that hung directly over the center of the ten-man table made the room sparkle like a palace.

  She nodded politely to the only other woman at the table: a short-haired blonde in a red velvet dress. Lydia made an educated guess that she was no true player, but a guest of one of the men beside her. She mentally removed the woman from the list of potential investors. Of the remaining eight players, all male, she noted that six had acknowledged her addition to the table. A man to the left of the blonde glanced briefly at Lydia before placing his arm around the female and drawing her close to whisper in her ear. Lydia had never been one to encroach on another woman’s territory, so she eliminated him from her list as well. One man smiled nervously at her before continuing to shuffle his few remaining poker chips with only his right hand. His eye kept shifting across the felt as if re-playing old hands in his head and trying to determine how to beat them. She guessed he had lost more than enough for one night and struck him from her list. The four others that had acknowledged her did so with appreciative gazes and lusty smiles. Lydia was not looking to form any relationships other than the professional kind, and she would not risk offending a business partner by denying his advances. It was always better, she had learned, to keep lusts and passions out of her enterprise.

  Finally she turned her attention to the two that had not reacted to her. An elderly man, who likely had trouble seeing anything past the edge of his reach, and one who appeared to be in his mid-thirties who had a heaping pile of chips that he was stacking into neat towers at his side.

  Either he had bought in to the game with a hefty purchase that belied his ability to toy with extreme amounts of money, or he had won enough from the other players that his profits had increased exponentially. Either way, brains, pocketbook, or both, this man appeared to be the most likely candidate to receive Lydia’s proposal.

  The dealer entered the room and ten pairs of eyes turned to him with complete focus. They played for nearly an hour before taking a break and having the chance to mingle about the room. Lydia found that her chip count had stayed much the same. After losing a few hands at the beginning she had begun the steady climb toward her breakeven point.

  She had found that her initial evaluation of the men of the table had been generally correct. The old man was less blind and more senile that her original observation. The man with the tower of chips was by far the most interesting character at the table. He rarely
spoke, moved with only the slightest motion necessary, and kept his face blank of all expression. Lydia would have said he was boring, except for the energy that burned with intensity in his eyes. He played the game with passion, neither risky nor benign. He was clearly the man to beat at the table, yet somehow, his low profile kept him out of the sights of his competitors. The easy prey had been dealt with first. The woman in the red dress outlasted three men before her, mainly due to the financial backing of the man beside her. But Lydia had to admit that she had been a formidable opponent across the table.

  With four players withdrawn from the game, a six-seated format would continue after the brief hiatus. Lydia welcomed the refill to her glass of champagne. She moved down the bar until she reached the hazel-eyed man. He was standing in front of a massive tray of complimentary hors d’oeuvres, which provided an excellent excuse for Lydia to join him.

  “You’re awfully quiet.” She spoke without looking at him. Rather, she was collecting a small plate of the samples from the tray.

  He grunted his agreement and picked up a small finger sandwich and placed it directly in his mouth. Lydia held her plate in front of her, leaned against the bar top, and watched him from the corner of her eye as he continued to eat from the tray. She noticed that many of the men did the same.

  “You play well.” She tried again, this time in French.

  “You’re not so bad.” He replied with a bursting exhale that she assumed was meant to be a laugh. He’d answered in English, which meant that he had certainly understood her first statement. She was surprised to find that he had a very strong Irish accent. To be honest, she had not known what to expect; the clientele of this establishment came from all over the world. Dealers could often speak multiple languages to accommodate the gamblers and it was not unusual to sit at a table where players were completely unable to communicate with each other.

  He seemed gruff, but Lydia knew he was the perfect investor for her new company. She’d watched his towers of chips grow steadily for the past hour. He was shrewd and analytical, but a man of decisive action.

  “I’m not a professional gambler.” She smiled, revealing straight white teeth that, despite her overall beauty, were her favorite feature.

  “Nor am I.” he clinked his tumbler of amber liquid against her champagne flute. “To luck.”

  She repeated the toast and they each drank deeply.

  “I’ve never seen you here before.” She liked the sound of the words rolling off his tongue. Beautiful accents always made her wish for something other than her harsh American tone.

  “I’ve been to Monaco once before, but this is my first time in the Monte Carlo.” The bartender refilled her glass and Lydia chose more crackers for her plate. “Do you come here often?”

  “Often enough. I’ve only recently become a regular.”

  At that moment they were joined by one of the other players.

  “Travis,” The newcomer addressed the man that she had been speaking with. “Introduce me to your new friend.”

  “Lydia.” She held out her hand to shake.

  The man grasped it but did not let go. He had a sleek French accent. His brown hair was gathered in a ponytail at the base of his neck and he towered over every other man in the room.

  “I’ve been dying to meet you, Lydia.” The man stared at her in a way that made her skin crawl and she pulled her hand free of his grasp. He was staring at her with an intensity that implied that he was trying to communicate something, though Lydia could not imagine what. The man had an unsettling energy that left Lydia with raised guards.

  “And who are you?” she asked, raising her chin and standing tall. She refused to allow him to intimidate her.

  His gaze raked over her body. She would have sworn that she could feel it brush against her. The look in his eye told her that they were playing a game, a dangerous game. She could not comprehend why this man appeared to be subtly toying with her.

  “My name is Renaldo Jaquiennes. We don’t get many Americans here. What are you doing?”

  “I’m playing poker.” She countered.

  “What are you doing in Monaco?”

  “Business.”

  “What kind of business would an American woman have here?”

  Lydia swallowed. She did not understand his hostility. She had met many investors in casinos all over the world and never once had she been subjected to this level of aggressive interrogation.

  “I’m a traveling entrepreneur. I find investors that provide financial support for companies all over the world. Monaco is overflowing with potential investors.”

  “This is true.” He pursed his lips. “I don’t like Americans. You always bring trouble.”

  “I promise,” Lydia smiled. “I’m the furthest thing from trouble.”

  His eyes narrowed. Lydia watched the hazel eyes beside her flit back and forth between her own and Renaldo’s.

  “We shall see.” He moved to step away but turned back. “Travis, you keep an eye on this one.”

  Lydia stood in shock as the great beast of a man walked away.

  She turned to Travis.

  “What did I do to piss him off?” she asked.

  He was laughing. “You showed up.”

  If there was anything positive about the encounter it was that it had initiated a conversation with Travis Larkin about his potential contributions to not one, but two, of her current clients. They had agreed to meet the following day at a nearby restaurant to discuss further details.

  Lydia had gone to bed so excited about the prospect of multiple investments that she had thoroughly put Renaldo Jaquiennes from her mind.

  The following afternoon, Lydia entered the quaint bistro and joined Travis Larkin at the intimate table at which he waited.

  He was more attractive than she had realized the night before. He was clean cut but had rugged features. His eyes looked greener in the daylight but the inner line around the pupil remained flecked with blues and greys. He was tall, muscular, and of course there was the sexy drawl of an accent.

  She pulled a leather binder from her purse and set it on the table between them. She had gone over the figures and was ready to present this man with an offer that he could not refuse. The profit margin was the best that he could hope for in the current market. It was practically a sure thing, very little risk, very high return on investment.

  When she began to open the binder Travis laid his hand on top of it, stopping her.

  “You need to leave Monaco.” He informed her in hushed tones.

  “Excuse me?” she laughed. Was he joking with her?

  “I’m serious.” Travis leaned forward and whispered so softly that she could not even be sure she had heard him correctly. “There are people that want you dead. They think you are someone else, a threat, and they will not allow you to stay here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I be a threat?” She asked. “Let me speak with them and it can all be cleared up. If anything, I might be able to help them make more money.”

  “They aren’t going to talk to you, they are going to kill you. Do you think this is a joke?” He was clearly agitated.

  She sighed. “Let’s for a moment, pretend that what you say is true.” She crossed her hands over the binder. “What would make these people want to kill me, or, whoever they think I am?”

  “They think you’re a spy, an American agent sent to ruin them.”

  “First off, what would I be spying on them for? Secondly, if I were an agent, why would I be acting as myself?” This was all rather funny to Lydia. Clearly this man had lost touch with reality. She realized that this entire meeting was a waste of time. He was not taking her seriously and there would be no investment.

  “The what-if’s aren’t important. What matters is what they believe. Renaldo Jaquiennes decided last night that you were trouble. That is enough to put a price on your head.” He placed a hand over her own. “Please, leave Monaco.”

  “This is absolutel
y ridiculous.” She pulled her hand out from under his and shoved her binder in her purse. She threw the strap over her shoulder and stood to leave when Travis sprung at her and tackled her to the ground.

  The large window front, beside which they had been seated, exploded as gunfire from the street peppered the bistro. Patrons ran screaming from the store, some clutching at their wounded bodies.

  Travis was sprawled on top of her, his body covering her own. He lifted his head an inch to look into her eyes.

  “Do you believe me now?”

  Lydia nodded. Her entire body was shaking. She could feel the sting of the glass shards as they cut into her arms.

  “We have to get out of here, are you ready?”

  “Who are you?” she cut off his questions with her own. She was not going anywhere with this man until she knew who he was.

  “I’m a gambler, who wins money for Renaldo. But, right now, I’m just a man trying not to get killed.” Lydia searched his face but could find no sign of artifice. “We need to go.”

  “Alright.” He rolled off of her and stood in the center of the demolished bistro. He offered her a hand to pull herself up with. “Are you crazy? What are you doing? Get down here!”

  “The shooter is gone.” He informed. “That was only meant to scare you.”

  Lydia heard sirens in the distance.

  He offered his hand once again.

  “We need to leave before the police arrive.”

  With the hope that she was making the right decision, Lydia placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her from the wreckage.

  “I need to go get my luggage.” Lydia broke the silence that filled the black sedan which Travis was maneuvering with careful precision through the crowded streets.

  “You can get new luggage.” He replied as if it were only that simple.

  “You don’t understand.” Lydia crossed her arms. “My entire life is in those bags. Every worldly possession that I own fits into four suitcases. I need them.”