Hot Ice

little shell she wore swung lightly on its chain as she reached for her glass. She was playing to win. “I’m sure you understand.”
    “Indeed.” Dimitri ate slowly and with delicacy. “Mr. Lord’s been a bother to me for some time.”
    “Stealing the papers from under your nose.” She saw the white, manicured fingers tighten on the soupspoon. A nerve, she thought. He wouldn’t take kindly to being made a fool of. She resisted the urge to swallow and smiled instead. “Douglas was clever, in his own fashion,” she said easily. “A pity he was so crude.”
    “I suppose one must concede his cleverness to a point,” Dimitri agreed. “Unless I blame my own staff for ineptitude.”
    “Perhaps both are true.”
    He acknowledged this with the slightest of nods. “Then again, he had you, Whitney. I may call you Whitney?”
    “Of course. I admit I did help him. I believe in watching how the cards fall.”
    “Very wise.”
    “There were several times when…” She trailed off, going back to her soup. “I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, Mr. Dimitri, but Douglas was often rash and illogical. However, he was easily led.”
    He watched her eat, admiring the fine-boned hands, the glow of healthy young skin against the green dress. It would be a pity to mar it. Perhaps he could find certain uses for her. He thought of her installed in his house in Connecticut, dignified and elegant over meals, submissive and obedient in bed. “And young and roughly attractive, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “Oh yes.” She managed another smile. “He was an intriguing diversion for a few weeks. On the long run, I prefer a man with style rather than physicality. Some caviar, Mr. Dimitri?”
    “Yes.” As he accepted the dish from her, he let his skin rub hers and felt her stiffen at the brush of his deformed hand. The small show of weakness excited him. He remembered the pleasure it brought him to watch a praying mantis capture a moth—the way the lean, intelligent insect drew the frantic prey closer, waiting patiently while the struggles slowed, weakened, until at last it devoured the bright, fragile wings. Sooner or later, the young, the weak, and the delicate always submitted. Like the mantis, Dimitri had patience and style and cruelty.
    “I must say I find it difficult to believe a woman of your sensitivity could shoot a man. The vegetables in this salad are quite fresh. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” As he spoke he began to toss the lettuce in a large serving bowl.
    “Perfect for a sultry afternoon,” she agreed. “Sensitivity,” Whitney continued, studying the liquid in her glass, “becomes secondary to necessity, don’t you think, Mr. Dimitri? After all, I am a businesswoman. And as I said, Douglas was becoming a bit of a bother. I believe in opportunities.” She lifted her glass, smiling over the rim. “I saw the opportunity to be rid of a nuisance and to have the papers. I merely took them. He was, after all, only a thief.”
    “Precisely.” He was beginning to admire her. Though he wasn’t completely convinced her cool demeanor was fact, there was no denying breeding. Born the illegitimate son of a religious fanatic and an itinerant musician, Dimitri had a deep-rooted respect and envy of breeding. Over the years, he’d had to make do with the closest thing to it. Power.
    “So you took the papers and found the treasure yourself?”
    “It was simple enough. The papers made it clear. Have you seen them?”
    “No.” Again she saw his fingers tighten. “Only a sample of them.”
    “Oh well, they’ve done the job now in any case.” Whitney dipped into her salad.
    “I still haven’t seen all of them,” he said mildly, his eyes on hers.
    She thought fleetingly that they were tucked away again in the jeep with Doug. “I’m afraid you never will,” she told him, letting the satisfaction of the truth ease her nerves. “I destroyed them after I’d finished. I don’t care for loose ends.”
    “Wise. And what did you plan to do with the treasure?”
    “Do?” Whitney glanced up in surprise. “Why enjoy it, of course.”
    “Exactly,” he agreed, pleased. “And now I have it. And you.”
    She waited a beat, meeting his eyes directly. The salad nearly stuck in her throat. “When one plays, one must accept the prospect of losing, no matter how distasteful.”
    “Well said.”
    “Now I’m dependent on your hospitality.”
    “You see things very clearly, Whitney. That pleases me. It also