Fragile Crystal: Rubies and Rivalries (The Crystal Fragments Trilogy) (9 page)

“You shouldn’t judge the entire city by this place. It’s mainly for the tourists in this part of town.” As she spoke, Kris wished that she had a pair of sunglasses on as well. Then she would have been able to scrutinise the woman opposite her more thoroughly. Maria was wearing a white blouse, a simple cotton material but of a cut that she could see immediately was expensive. It was open towards her chest, and the faintest shadow of her breasts was visible, somewhat smaller than Kris’s own though you would never have known that from the rather shapeless fleece that Kris was wearing. Although it was nearly November, the weather was still too warm to go charging around in such clothes. At least the throbbing in the back of her leg was beginning to die down now.

The blouse and trim figure of Maria Gosselin was not what most transfixed Kris, however, nor was it her sunglasses and shining hair. Instead, as Maria moved her hands across the menu, Kris was staring at the ring on her finger.

The gold band was wide on her third finger, large enough to accommodate the ruby that was the single largest gemstone of its type that Kris had ever seen—not that her experience of such things was extensive. Like everything else that Maria wore, from the Chanel sunglasses on her face to the Louis Vuitton shoes on her impossibly dainty feet, it was obviously expensive. Maria lifted her head and for a second Kris thought she caught sight of that same flash of green she had seen in Daniel’s villa. She saw the direction of Kris’s gaze and smiled.

“Do you like it?” she asked, lowering the menu at stretching the fingers of her hand. As her hand moved towards the window, sunlight caught the ruby and made it glitter.

“It’s beautiful,” Kris replied, dully.

If Maria had noticed her tone, she did not respond. “Yes, a gift from a friend. He was very generous.”

Kris was summoning up the courage to ask who that friend was when a waiter came to their table. Maria looked sideways and flashed a smile at him, as dazzling as it was fake. “Just a salad for me,” she replied. “And a sparkling water.”

Catching her accent, the waiter began to speak to her in French, doubtlessly extolling the virtues of his menu, but she waved away his attentions with a self-confident, “Non, c’est tout”.

“The same for me,” Kris told the waiter in Portuguese.

As she looked back to Maria, the other woman was smiling again, this time directing her white teeth towards Kris. “Such a difficult language to master,” she said, and Kris was able to see one eyebrow rising behind the sunglasses. “It looks so similar to Spanish, but... when you try and roll it around the tongue it is almost barbaric, don’t you think?”

Kris reddened at this. “Not at all,” she began to protest. “It’s an old...”

Maria interrupted her by leaning forward and placing one hand on hers as it lay on the table. “It’s fine,” she remarked. “I was just teasing you.” The touch of her fingers, cool and somewhat bonier than Kris had expected, sent a spark like electricity through Kris’s skin. In this position, her sunglasses came forward, and Kris could now clearly see her eyes, green and half-bathed in shadow.

“It must be difficult for you, working in Lisbon without a thorough understanding of the language,” Kris observed slyly as Maria sat back.

Waving her hand dismissively, Maria replied: “Not at all. As with almost anywhere else in the world, anything important is conducted in English. Now
that
is a barbaric language. No style, no style at all.”

“So you’re not a fan of England, or... the English?”

This made Maria smile more genuinely. “Dark, dreary country, don’t you think? Mind you, it has some advantages...” She paused then said: “You were involved with the Chiado account, weren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question, but one which threw Kris for a moment.

“Yes,” she replied, uncertainly.

At this, Maria’s smile became ironic. “Well, that explains a number of things,” she remarked enigmatically.

“Why, is there anything wrong? Did Daniel say something?”

“No, no...” Maria looked out of the window, watching the passersby in the street. “All is going as I would expect. Senhor Escada sends his greetings, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m very glad to hear it,” she mumbled as the waiter finally brought over their drinks and two salads. Lifting her fork, Maria began to slowly feed herself, but Kris realised that she was not particularly hungry and was wondering how to address her own questions.

“I must be honest, you don’t really look his type. I guess you must work especially well as a bottom.” Kris realised she had been staring at her plate and suddenly looked up to see those green eyes watching her above the glasses.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, not entirely understanding the comment. Then she realised the first part of Maria’s statement and blushed, this time a little angrily. “You’re not the first who’s said that to me.”

“What, a good bottom?”

Kris frowned. “No, the other bit. Not his type. Taller and thinner usually, apparently.”

“So they are, so they are.” Maria smirked to herself, and Kris felt her skin prickling along her arms and shoulders, her anger rising but with nowhere to go. She frowned and then asked: “Anyway, what about my bottom?”

This time Maria’s laughter was more genuine and she snaked an elegant hand across the table, stroking Kris’s wrist for a second before retracting it back to her side of the table. “Oh, you are just too sweet. A real innocent.”

“What do you know about Daniel’s type?” Kris asked, ignoring the patronising edge to Maria’s tone.

“I’ve seen them come and go. I’ve known him for a long time.”

“How long?”

Maria paused and dabbed at her lipsticked mouth with the edge of napkin. From behind the glasses Kris could see her eyes rolling sideways, as though she were reflecting or counting to herself.

“Nine years now.”

“And how did you come to know him?”

“My!” Maria responded, placing her fingertips together beneath her chin and staring intently at Kris. “You do ask a lot of questions. And I’m meant to be the one who’s a lawyer! I should dread to find you across from me in court, Miss Avelar.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Daniel told me of course. Now,” as Kris began to speak again, Maria raised her hand, the manicured nails of one hand catching a beam of sunlight, the ruby on her finger glittering for a second. “I propose the following. Rather than sit here and be subject to your interrogation, I would suggest that taking it in turn to ask some questions would be the politer way to proceed, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Kris let her eyes fall slightly, embarrassed at herself.

“
Charmante
,” she heard Maria say very quietly. When she lifted her head again, the other woman’s smile appeared more genuine once more. Maria pushed away the plate and took another sip of water. “I’m inclined to agree with you,” she remarked. “The food here isn’t really very good at all.”

Kris frowned, uncertain as to what they were discussing now, but before she could recover her poise Maria asked: “So, how long have
you
known Daniel?”

Kris was a little unwilling to respond at first, but grudgingly replied: “Just over five months.”

Once more an eyebrow was raised at this, and Maria asked almost immediately: “And how did you
meet him?”

This was harder to answer. Kris thought of Comrie, of the man called Daniel Logan and his insistence on his privacy. It was clear that Maria Gosselin knew a great deal about Daniel, probably much more than herself, but it was not so certain that he had ever shared this part of himself with anyone else.

“I was on holiday,” she partially lied. “We met.”

“How sweet,” Maria told her. “A holiday romance. Here, in Lisbon?”

Something about her tone infuriated Kris. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was somewhere else. Anyway, how did you meet him?”

“I was a young lawyer, just starting out in Paris. Stone Enterprises required someone to work for them in the city and I was recommended to Daniel. We got on—how do you say in Britain?—famously? Yes, that’s it. We got on famously.”

“Do you mean...” Kris fumbled for the right words.

“I mean professionally, Miss Avelar. How about you, what do you do?”

Kris paused. It had been some time since someone had asked her that. Kris had never been a person to define herself by a job or profession, but even a few months previously it would have been much simpler to give a reply. At last she simply said: “I’m an artist.”

Another eyebrow raised, but this time there was a nuanced difference to the motion. “Interesting. I’ve never heard of Daniel taking an interest in an artist before, though he’s long shown an interest in art—largely superficial if you ask me.”

“I’m not sure that I did.” Kris could feel her temperature rising, but Maria laughed at the comment.

“No, that you did not. And do you live in Lisbon, Kris?”

“Yes, I do,
Ms
Gosselin. And you, do you live in Paris?”

Maria smiled again. “Madame, please,” she said quietly, then flicked her eyes to the side, watching the people walking by the restaurant. “Yes, I do,” she finally replied, returning her eyes to Kris when she had mastered whatever thoughts were inside her head. “I understand that you and Daniel were in Paris recently, but you didn’t pay a visit. I was most disappointed.”

“Did Daniel tell you that? That we were in Paris?”

“He did.”

“When?”

“Again, so many questions,” Maria observed. She waved her hand dismissively. “I can’t really remember. We speak so often.”

“He hasn’t mentioned you, not before you were at Cascais.”

One of the long, slender hands moved back to join its fingertips to the other beneath Maria’s face again. “I’m sure he wouldn’t bother you with the details of
all
his associates. There are rather a lot that Daniel has to deal with—a great many in fact.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s the case.” Kris suddenly felt a little ashamed of her spiteful tone. This conversation was shifting and sliding beneath the words, as though all of it would break and shatter at any moment. When first she had seen Maria, her head had been full of a number of questions that had seemed so simple then. Now, however, they were becoming more complex each time the other woman spoke and she could not find a direct way to ask them.

Instead, she asked: “And where are you staying now?”

Maria smiled. “A hotel on the Avenue de Liberdade. It’s extremely pleasant—I was on my way back there before... this.” She gestured around the restaurant somewhat mockingly.

“Oh, there are much better places than this,” Kris responded somewhat grumpily.

“I know. My client is very generous.”

“Your client—you mean Daniel.” It was a stupid comment, and once more there was a raised eyebrow. Kris wanted to reach across and claw the glasses from the supercilious face of the other woman.

“I don’t have any other clients in Lisbon,
Miss
Avelar. And Daniel Stone is certainly a man who enjoys the fine things in life, and will not stint in the case of his employees—though I’m sure you know that already.” Kris bridled slightly at this. “But don’t worry, a couple more weeks here and my work will be finished. There won’t be much else to hold me here.”

“How many times have you seen Daniel?” The question was blurted out. Now Kris was moving towards what she really wanted to know. In its own way, it was as foolish as her previous remark, but Kris’s temper was starting to rise and her veneer of politeness was starting to fall away.

Instead of replying, Maria sat back in her chair, tapping her fingers together. For a strange moment, Kris thought of Mark, her old boss—and her old lover. This was precisely the sort of gesture he had affected because he thought it made him look more authoritative, more knowing. Then it had always been a somewhat idiotic affectation, but now that Maria was clearly scrutinising her for a few seconds Kris had the sense of being played with, as a cat measuring up her prey.

“Not as much as I would have liked,” the other woman replied at last. “He has been remarkably... preoccupied since I got here.”

“Why did he ask you to come to Lisbon then?”

Maria raised her hands and gave a shrug. “You’ll have to ask Daniel that.” Before Kris could speak again, Maria lowered one hand and touched her arm again. Instinctively, Kris flinched, but those thin fingers held onto her tightly.

“When I first saw you, I must be honest, I wondered what Daniel saw in you.” Maria’s face was leaning forward slightly, and her green eyes were clearly visible now, her lips a hard but beautiful curve on her face as she spoke.

Unconsciously, Kris glanced down at her clothes, so dowdy next to those of the elegant French woman across from her. “I don’t always dress like this...”

“Indeed, and today is not the first time I’m referring to.” Kris remembered herself naked, by the pool. “You intrigue me, Kris.” She ignored Kris’s rising objection to her name and continued. “I thought for a little while that this may be a case of being topped by the bottom, and I wondered what games Daniel was playing with you—with himself, even.

“But I can see more clearly now, now that I have a chance to observe you more closely. You look like her. I hadn’t quite realised how much at first, but the resemblance is uncanny.”

Kris felt as though a bolt of electricity had been sent through her body, which stiffened in the chair. She was barely aware now of the other woman’s hand on her arm. All she could do was stare into those green eyes, half visible above the sunglasses.

“You... you met her?” she asked in a very quiet voice at last.

Maria finally released her arm and sat backwards in her seat. Now she released Kris from her gaze and once more looked out towards the street. She shook her head and her reply was almost sad.

“No. I didn’t know Daniel before... before the accident. But I saw pictures of her. The memory of them must have been buried. But now I see the resemblance very clearly.” The sunglasses rotated, eyes fixed once more on Kris’s face, shadows beneath the dark surface of her glasses.

“He... he showed you?”