Fragile Crystal: Rubies and Rivalries (The Crystal Fragments Trilogy) (11 page)

Raising a hand, she lifted up a strand of her long, black hair. She had always admired the silky texture of her hair, even if by and large she tended to neglect it. But the photograph she had seen of Karen also showed a woman with exactly the same locks, wavy in the same way. For a second, Kris considered a pair of scissors on a shelf. That would be one way to break the link with Daniel’s past—a past that cropped up more than she wished. One snip. Well, several snips she thought with a smirk and then let her hand fall. No, this was crazy thinking.

Nonetheless, as she ate her breakfast her mind returned not to Daniel, nor to Karen, the woman she would never meet. Instead she could not get Maria Gosselin out of her thoughts. Who was she? A lawyer from Paris? But was that all? If so, why on earth would Daniel insist on her being in Lisbon?

These and other questions were circulating around her head as she dressed in jeans and T-shirt and went into her studio. On a table, among the paint and jars, was the card where she had left it the day before. Picking it up, she stared at the pale ivory slip with its dark grey lettering. Elegant, just like her. There had been so many questions she had wanted to ask her, but when it came down to it she had been unable to say what was really on her mind.

But for the moment, this was still crazy thinking. Returning the card to the table, Kris placed a fresh canvas on the easel and picked up a palette that was relatively less clotted than some of the others around her. Maria Gosselin wouldn’t tolerate such chaos, she was sure, but then Maria Gosselin wouldn’t know how to fuck so messily either.

A moment’s frozen anger as a vision flashed into her imagination: Daniel, naked with a slender woman, blonde haired. In a fit, she stabbed at the canvas with her brush. Smears of blue and argent white smeared and blushed on the cream surface beneath. Damn! she thought for a second. She had never meant to do that.

No, it was a message from her unconscious. No figures, no dreams. Something raw, something real. She placed her fingers in the paint and pushed it against the bending skin of canvas, almost to the point where her nails were penetrating the reluctant flesh. Digging and smearing reds, greys and greens, she took a knife and scraped them back, bubbles of oily goo left in splotches where the raw base was peeled away.

Her hands moved in hacking motions, then smoothing, soothing circles. Patterns and textures began to emerge, unbidden. As she painted, her body her brush as much as any conventional extension, her fingers would move to her hair, brushing it away, traces and marks of paint left on her skin, in the strands that fell behind her ear. Often she would take up the crumbling, pastel crayons and slash the canvas, or even grind the chalky substance into pooling daubs.

After three hours of this, the mid-morning sun was bright in the sky, and at last Kris felt she had exhausted herself. Her leg was aching a little from having stood so long, but overall she was immensely satisfied. Her second orgasm of the day, she thought with a smile. That would be the title, she told herself.
Orgasm Number II
. An abstract emission of her own juices, solidified and coagulated in oils and pastels.

When she looked down, she saw the card given her by Maria Gosselin. The pristine ivory was now splattered, a gory, sticky mess. Fuck you, she thought, lifting it between her fingers and staring at the numbers. “This is what he sees in me,” she said to the empty air, gesturing with the card towards the canvas. “That’s what I give him, you fucking bitch.” It was time, she thought, to ask some straight questions and receive some direct answers.

Chapter Nine

Despite her bravado, however, it was another two days before Kris had gained the courage to call Maria Gosselin. The French lawyer sounded faintly amused but also pleased to hear Kris’s voice, and made it quite clear that she had expected such a phone call—but then, Kris had always known herself that she could not ignore that number, there was simply too much that she wanted to know.

They had arranged to meet in a Fado restaurant in Bairra Alto, not so very far from the Avenue de Liberdade where Maria had taken up her temporary (though, for Kris, not temporary enough) residence. Maria had expressed an interest in visiting such a place, but although Kris knew that the better sort were in Alfama she did not want the woman anywhere near her home.

Maria had suggested sending out Jorge to collect Kris, but she had declined the offer, not wishing Daniel’s driver to know too much about her activities. His open nature, which had so appealed to her when first she had met him, was now beginning to seem somewhat intrusive, and she had greater respect for Filipe’s reserve. In any case, she caught a taxi to the restaurant, a small, unobtrusive front on one of the narrow streets that lined the hills of the Bairra Alto district.

Entering, she thought of some of the places that Daniel had taken her to. His own tastes tended towards the exclusive, but in those types of establishment she had felt ill at ease. If, as she suspected, Maria shared his luxurious tastes she would probably be put out by the slightly down-at-heel atmosphere of the restaurant, but that suited Kris’s purposes very well.

As she entered the restaurant, with not much more than half a dozen tables, she saw that Maria was already there, seated and drinking a glass of wine as she glanced through her mobile phone. For the first time since they had met she was not wearing sunglasses, and Kris felt slightly uncomfortable seeing her face so clearly in close-up for the first time. She was, indeed, very beautiful, with fine, sculpted cheeks that framed her eyes perfectly, those green eyes rising and flashing an ironic glance, her red lips smiling as she saw Kris coming across to her. As before, her hair was tied up, a golden crown upon her head, while her slender arms and bare shoulders were visible in the blue dress she wore, her skin pale and delicate. Her free hand rested on the table, and again Kris noticed the gold ring with its single, large ruby. Tonight, however, she was also wearing a pair of more delicate earrings, gold with smaller stones set into the metal.

Kris had also dressed more elegantly for the evening, not too formally but wearing a simple black dress that came to just above her knees, the front cut low to display those charms, at least, with which she knew Maria Gosselin could not compete. Her high heels felt a little strange, and she had to walk carefully, wincing once or twice as she placed her foot on the floor.

Seeing the expression on her face, Maria rose and for a few seconds made a show of concern, lifting her arms and touching Kris’s arms before sliding down to hold her hands. “Your ankle, how foolish of me. I had forgotten that you had hurt it. You should have let me send Jorge for you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Kris replied, extricating her hands and dipping her head while she sat down, breaking the slightly hypnotic gaze of those green eyes. “Soon I won’t even know that I damaged it.”

“Yes, Daniel had told me you injured yourself.” Kris froze slightly at the mention of her lover’s name, but Maria either did not notice or affected not to. Instead, she looked around at the cream painted walls, illuminated by soft lighting and decorated with tear-shaped Portuguese guitars as used by Fado musicians. “This seems a lovely place,
très bon
! I can only hope the food is as good as the atmosphere.”

A couple entered, taking a seat a few tables away and Kris gestured to the waiter, asking him to bring red wine for her. Now that she was close to Maria again, her confidence had wilted slightly and she needed some stimulus to build it up again.

“It’s good. Not the best, perhaps, but this isn’t one of the usual tourist traps you find here.”

“I shall take your word for it.” Maria’s smile, Kris realised, made her a little wolfish as she rested her chin on her hands, leaning forward and looking for all the world as though she was a long-time confidante, eager to share some juicy gossip. “I hear the best restaurants are in Alfama, but perhaps that is too close to where you live.”

“Did Daniel tell you that as well?”

“No, Jorge. He is a gold mine of information—a most charming guide to the city, don’t you think?”

Kris agreed somewhat reluctantly, less because she doubted Jorge’s information, rusty as it must have been from his time away, but more because she resented slightly the fact that Maria was able to call on him more freely than herself. When the waiter brought her wine, she took a large swig, the rich taste a little fiery in her throat. That was better.

When the waiter returned, Maria ordered Chorizo to start, followed by grilled sea bass, while Kris decided upon codfish cakes and a wine-fried steak. “And more wine, please,” Maria told the waiter. “It will help the conversation flow, don’t you think. Just bring the bottle and leave it on the table. A Douro if you have it.” She looked to Kris who simply nodded her head in agreement.

A few other people started to enter and take their places, Maria watching them across Kris’s shoulder with a half-smile upon her lips. “So when the performance starts, that will serenade us during our meal, correct?”

Kris frowned but nodded. “I... guess so,” she replied warily.

“How romantic. I must say, I’m enjoying it here in Lisbon very much—much more than I’d expected. I’d been once before, but just a day or two—a conference, if I remember correctly. There didn’t seem much reason to return, but now I realise how much I’ve been missing.”

“It’s not long until you return to Paris, is it?” Kris’s words came out a little more tartly than she had intended, but Maria’s smile simply broadened. She paused for a moment, as though weighing up her own response, then said:

“Next week. Long enough to see Daniel.”

Once more Kris froze. This was going to be harder than she anticipated, and she drank another mouthful of red wine, barely noticing it but for the fiery aftertaste on her tongue. Maria’s one eyebrow rose again, and in that moment Kris wanted to reach across and punch her supercilious eye, no matter how green and beautiful it was—anything to stop the arch motions of her brow.

Having judged her pause sufficient, Maria continued: “I’ll fill him in on the details of the Chiado takeover, which is more or less complete now. What was once on the periphery of Stone Enterprises is now brought into the fold. Whether it is a wise move or not is for my betters to determine.”

“Why, what’s wrong with it? What I saw of the accounts looked healthy enough.”

“And you are an expert on the finances of shipping companies, Miss Avelar?” Maria’s smirk now was almost unbearable, but before Kris could respond the waiter had brought their first courses to the table.

Maria turned her attention to the chorizo sausage before her, slicing it and placing delicate pieces into her mouth before screwing up her lips in a somewhat exaggerated expression of pleasure. “
Une délicatesse
,” she breathed, dabbing at the corner of her lips before taking another piece. “You rarely get such good chorizo in Paris.” She smiled at Kris, whose own food tasted like ashes in her mouth. Instead of taking another mouthful, she let her fork fall to the plate and drank more wine.

This revived her determination. She still was looking for the right entry point to the questions that were really on her mind. “You said you’ve known Daniel for nine years, yes?”

Maria nodded, her eyes now fixed on Kris’s face. “That’s correct.”

“What I still can’t understand is why he wants you here, in Lisbon.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That he trusts you.”

“There you are.” Maria chewed on another tiny piece of chorizo. It was easy to see how she maintained her slender and graceful figure: she ate like a bird and only sipped at her wine, though that did not prevent her from pouring more red into Kris’s glass. “The mystery is resolved.”

“But... but I’m sure there are plenty of other lawyers he can trust to get the job done.”

“Not as much as me, not for this. I can assure you that.” Maria’s flashed her teeth when she smiled, bright and sharp.

“There must be others who understand the legalities here better than you do.”

The insult was barely veiled, but instead of responding angrily Maria placed her knife and fork on the table fastidiously and clasped her fingers together. Her face was mask-like for a moment, but there was a glitter of... was it humour or anger in her eyes as she looked at Kris?

“So, now you’re as much a legal expert as you are on the finances of shipping companies. But we’re not here to discuss law or finance, are we, Miss Avelar. You think you’re the first, don’t you? They always do.”

“No.” Kris blushed and took another swig of wine to fortify herself more. “Daniel’s told me about... the others.”

“Has he, has he indeed?” Maria looked frankly sceptical. “And he told you about me?”

Kris was ashamed of this, that her barefaced lie had been discovered so quickly. She knew there had been others before her, but in truth Daniel had told her very little about his sexual past. What she knew she had deduced more from his behaviour to her than anything else, but even then she had a feeling deep down inside her that there was something different.

“Not much,” she confessed at last. “And you, has he told you about me?”

It was Maria’s turn to pause. She leaned back in her seat and looked at Kris, her hair shining softly in the light, her expression thoughtful. “Not as much as I would have hoped, but then he rarely does.”

“So how do you know about... the others?”

“It is my job to discover things about people,” Maria replied with a shrug. She returned to her chorizo and Kris sipped her drink a little more slowly. Her head was starting to feel ever so slightly tipsy.

The silence was too much for her to bear, and instead she observed: “Those rubies, on your ear, the ring on your finger. They’re from him, aren’t they.”

Maria smiled at this and the look in her eye was more conspiratorial now as she flashed her eyes towards Kris. “A gift. Yes. Daniel is always very generous with his gifts. And what was yours?”

For a few seconds Kris didn’t want to respond. To have a truth confirmed that she had refused to consider made her feel a little sick in her stomach. “Sapphires. A necklace.”