Chapter 16

"Michael, darling, what a delightful surprise," the statuesque blonde oozed, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Out of a habit long formed during their days of 'you're free, I'm free, why not?' he responded to her kiss. But the height of her shoulders, the size of the hand in his hair, the texture of the lips against his, the perfume surrounding him, the taste of her mouth were all wrong. He pulled away, and rubbed a hand against his mouth, removing evidence of the kiss.

"Felicia," he greeted. "I wasn't aware Daniel was expecting company," he imparted, as he turned and walked towards the great room. Felicia slipped her arm through his, a bit too possessively for his taste, and walked alongside of him. His brows furrowed briefly, as a queer thought struck him. Although he and Felicia had, on occasion, tangled the sheets together, he couldn't recall an occasion when he, Felicia and Daniel had been in the same part of the world at the same time. "Tell me, how did you and Daniel meet?"

"Kismet," Daniel answered, as he appeared out of his bedroom, draped in a dressing gown. He coughed several times as he approached the pair "Lovely lady, don't you agree?" he asked Remington, as he bent over Felicia's hand and bussed her knuckles. Remington's eyes flickered from Daniel to Felicia, then away.

"She's had her moments," he agreed, as he stepped to the wet bar. Felicia and Daniel? He mulled the turn of events. The look in Daniel's was one that only appeared in a man's eyes once they'd sampled a woman's wares, so to speak. With a single shake of his head, noting his disbelief, he set the matter aside. Felicia and Daniel were consenting adults, both free to do as they wished. "Should I ask what the two of you are conspiring on?" He flipped three glasses right side up, then splashed a finger of scotch in each from the awaiting decanter.

"A couple of projects, actually," Daniel answered. His response was interrupted by another round of coughing, drawing a look of concern from Remington. "One of them possibly the robbery of the century, isn't that right, my dear?" he sought Felicia to confirm. An idea struck. "We could use your assistance, if you're interested, my boy."

"The magic is gone, Daniel," he answered quickly, with more of a bite than he'd intended. He held up a hand of apology towards his mentor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Daniel waved him off. Nearly two decades of knowing the lad meant his occasional moodiness came as no surprise.

"Not to worry, Harry," he dismissed. "Given your time with Linda seems to have come to an end, I suppose I'd hoped we'd soon be traveling the continent together, relieving the wealthy of their ill-gotten gains."

"''Fraid not, mate," Remington quickly answered. "In truth, I've been thinking once I've settled in somewhere, I might try my hand in the market by day. I've had a fair bit of success during my time in the States." It was just the opening Felicia had been looking for. She turned to him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, then loosely linked her arms around his neck.

"And by night?" she purred the question. As Daniel engaged in another coughing fit which drew Remington's concerned eye, he shrugged off Felicia's obvious inference.

"Another pursuit of a more personal nature, that can be only carried off alone," he told her, before returning his attention to Daniel. "Under the weather, Daniel?"

"I believe I'm coming down with a touch of something, now that you mention it," he confirmed after he caught his breath. "I wonder if I might impose upon you for a small favor." Remington eyed him warily.

"You know there's very little I'd refuse you," he answered, cautiously.

"I'd promised Felicia a night on the town, before we get down to business, so to speak," Daniel explained. "An early dinner at the Carlton, followed by an evening at the Croisette." He held up a hand again as he endured another round of coughing. "Of course, if you'd rather not—" Reluctantly, Remington conceded.

"No, no. Of course, I don't mind," he agreed, then added as an afterthought, "A night at the tables could be just what the doctor ordered. What time is your reservation?"

"Seven-thirty," Daniel quickly provided, before his protégé could change his mind. Remington checked his watch. Six-thirty. Plenty of time to make the reservation so long as they left shortly.

"Give me fifteen minutes to get ready." He eyeballed Felicia's attire and decided a suit would more than suffice. Turning on his heel, he left the room under Daniel's watchful eye.

"Tell me, Felicia, how is the guest list is coming along for the Earl's reception?" Daniel inquired. Felicia's eyes lit up with a gleam of greed.

As Felicia began a recitation of some of the confirmed guests, and what baubles might be expected, Daniel turned his thoughts to Harry and the soon-to-arrive guest.

He could only hope his efforts worked as intended. He'd given himself wholly to three things in the entirety of his life: The con, the woman he'd lost and the boy he'd found fighting to survive on the streets. Of the two things still remaining? Only for one would he lay down his life.

And it wasn't the game.

As it already stood, he was wagering Harry would forgive his interference should things not go as planned.

"If you're ready, Felicia," Remington announced when he walked back into the room, dressed for the evening. He wondered what had gotten into Daniel, given the way the man had started at the sound of his voice.

"Of course, darling," Felicia readily agreed, handing him the wrap she'd shed earlier. Always the gentleman, he stepped behind her and laid the wrap over her shoulders, then stepped to her and offered her an arm.

"I'll check on you when I get in," Remington told Daniel. "I shouldn't be late."

"I'm counting on it, my boy," Daniel answered, mysteriously, drawing yet another narrowed gaze.

The couple departed with Remington's suspicions aroused.

What in the devil are you up to, old man? he wondered.

He'd have been shocked to learn he'd left the house in exactly the state Daniel had hoped he would.

Twenty minutes after Remington and Felicia left, Daniel emerged from his room wearing a white button down - hem left untucked - over a pair of tan, pleated pants. The look was deceptively casual for he'd planned the evening with all the precision he would a good sting.

With a glance at his watch, he pulled on an apron as he stepped into the kitchen. In short order, four slices of bacon sizzled in a pan while eggs boiled on a nearby burner; frisée and radicchio were washed, torn, and added to two bowls. The dishes of salad were placed back in the refrigerator to chill, and he turned his attention to rubbing down the filets. On tap this evening: Frisée with bacon and soft eggs, followed by pan-seared steak au poivre and roasted asparagus served with a crisp Spanish wine.

He and Harry had spent a number of years in the kitchen together preparing a meal, although the protégé had far surpassed the master in this regard. One had to wonder, he mused, how much more those skills had been honed since Harry had been in the States, given the many nights he'd been left to his own devices thanks to the elusive Miss Holt.

The peal of the doorbell tore Daniel from his thoughts with a smile. Sitting the pan of eggs under cool running water, he dried off his hands, and left the kitchen to answer the door.

Let the games begin.