“Want to shut it up?”
“Iwantyou to get in the taxi so we can get moving.” I glanced around us, checking all sides before returning my attention to Benoit. “We’ve been stationary too long.”
He gave a nod and moved to take the hand of the taxi driver waiting to help him on. Minutes later we were off, after being informed it would take a half-hour or so to get to our hotel—something that would’ve been enjoyable if I could see more than a couple of feet on either side of me. As it was I was struggling to see the driver, so the quicker this trip up the canals was over, the better.
For the first time since I’d met him, Benoit sat quietly beside me, my mood clearly projecting the seriousness of the situation I found myself in. It was times like this that I often wondered what it might be like to have a normal job, like…a teacher.
“Five minutes out, boss.” Omar’s voice cut through my concentration as the taxi turned and started to slow, making its way under a bridge and finally pulling up at the dock of the St. Regis Hotel.
My men jumped out first and started to help unload the baggage, as my guards walked up the dock and made sure everything was secure. The second I got the signal, I turned to Benoit, who remained unusually quiet.
“Time to go,” I said, and gestured to the steps that led off the taxi.
Benoit got to his feet, but put a hand on my arm, his eyes locking on mine. “Do you ever just sit back and…relax?”
“No.”
His lips twisted. “Because?”
I looked over my shoulder, my paranoia kicking into high gear as we stood there. “Because people like me can’t afford to.”
“People like you?”
Not about to stand here a minute longer, I led Benoit over to the waiting driver to exit the boat. “Bad people.”
Benoit’s feet faltered, and then he stopped and turned to look up at me.
God. Why won’t he just get off the damn boat?
“You think you’re bad?”
“You don’t?” Jesus, I must be going fucking soft if that was the case. “Are you forgetting why you’re here?”
“Non.I’m here because I want to be.”
“You’re here because I paid you to be.” My response was more curt than I would’ve liked, but I was tense, and flirting with Benoit wasn’t at the top of my agenda right now.
Benoit gave a sugary-sweet smile as he patted my arm. “Believe what you like,mon monstre.But I don’t do anything unless I want to.”
He let go of me and turned to the driver, then took the man’s hand and went to climb out of the boat. But as he lifted his foot, the toe of his boot got caught on the edge and he stumbled into the man’s arms instead.
The two fell back several steps, until the driver finally caught his feet, and when Benoit righted himself on the dock, a litany of apologies flowed from his lips—in Italian.
“Mi dispiace tanto, signore. Le mie scuse. Il mio piede è rimasto incastrato e ho perso l’equilibrio. Non sono mai così sbadato. Sono così imbarazzato.”
Just how many languages did Benoit know?
“Non c’è problema, signore. Stai bene?”
“Yes, yes. I’m all right. Just slightly mortified.”Benoit swallowed, and forced a small smile as he looked at me. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Yet I clearly did. How is it you can manage to walk in five-inch heels but trip off a dock in flats?”
“Umm, it’s foggy. I didn’t see?—”
“The boat?”
“Okay.” Benoit put his hands on his hips. “Do you think you could maybe take a little less joy in making fun of me, and maybe be a gentleman and help me the rest of the way up the dock?”
