Chapter 3
At suppertime Laila knocks at his door, calling his name. Florian doesn't answer. Laila already thinks he's a useless, pampered pet. He will not let her see him like this.
There are no lights on in his room and the sun has already set. Knowing he spent the day hiding doesn't make Florian feel any better. He wonders if he should just stay awake all night rather than risk another dream. He's still deciding when Ray walks in without knocking.
"What's the matter with you?" he demands, reaching out to check Florian's temperature and frowning when Florian flinches away. "Are you that sick?"
Florian shakes his head and stills himself so Ray can feel that the fever is gone.
"Did you have any dinner?" Florian shakes his head. "Planning to eat supper?" Florian shakes his head again, slower, and doesn't look at Ray.
"Wrong. Get up and put your robe on. The cook made soup for you and she's got some of that soft bread you like." Ray leans down to help Florian up and after a moment's resistance, Florian gives in. He stands unsteadily, clinging to Ray, his face pressed against Ray's chest. He feels Ray tighten his hold, sheltering Florian and making him feel safe. He lingers there, with Ray's faced tilted down, his chin almost resting on Florianfs head.
There is an almost kiss brushed across his head before Ray pulls gently away. Silently he runs his fingers across Florian's face. "I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes," he says at last and pulls away completely. He pauses in the doorway without turning back, then closes the door behind him.
XXXXX
The dining room is empty when Florian arrives. He frowns in confusion and takes his seat, starting in on the small basket of bread immediately. He's suddenly starving.
The bread and soup are gone and Florian is lingering over his tea when he finally reaches for the newspaper that lays abandoned at Ray's place. He stares at the headline, confused. Since when has Ray become an art thief?
"Get in here," Ray barks when Florian knocks tentatively on the door to the study. Florian nods to Laila and Luc as he takes the chair Ray indicates.
"You've seen it?" Ray demands, barely waiting for Florian to nod before continuing. "Fine. then maybe you can explain it to me. I obtain an antique diamond necklace worth millions from the visiting Spanish Ambassador and what appears on the front page of today's paper?" He waves the offending article for emphasis. "Some ridiculous story about a painting stolen on the same night, from the same Spanish Ambassador. The necklace isn't even mentioned."
Florian coughs to cover a laugh. The expression on Ray's face...
"I heard that," Ray snaps.
"Sorry," Florian replies, not exactly contrite. "Do they have any clues as to who took the painting?"
"Yes. Apparently the thief left a calling card -lavender scented no less - with the name 'Mirage' written on it. What kind of name is that for a thief?"
Florian shakes his head and stands up. "Does it really matter? You've got the necklace and all the attention will be focused elsewhere for a change. It might even keep Solomon Sugar busy."
Ray dismisses that with a wave of his hand. "Don't bet on it. I expect he'll try to pin this on me before the week is out. The idiot."
Florian calmly reaches over and claims his pile of paperwork, carrying it to his desk and preparing to work.
"Leave that," Ray commands. "Go play with Noel or something. You can take care of that tomorrow. I want some time to think."
Florian reluctantly abandons the half-sorted pile, nodding to Ray before following the others out of the room. Behind him, Ray is muttering to himself.
XXXXX
Ray isn't at breakfast the next morning, nor does he appear in time for lunch. Florian completes his daily paperwork and spends his afternoon with Noel and Monsieur Renault discussing Ancient Egyptian art. They end early and Florian takes Noel to the nearby park to play.
They are late returning for supper and are greeted at the door by a rather annoyed Ray.
"Get lost again?" He snaps as he brushes a bit of leaf out of Florian's hair.
"We were at the park," Noel offers helpfully. "Florian knows how to get there. We fed the ducks."
Florian ignores Ray and kneels down to help Noel out of his coat and hat. "Go wash up before supper. Laila will help you with your bath and then I'll be up to read to you before bedtime."
Noel hugs Florian and runs off to do as instructed. Florian stands, watching him go, smiling softly. When Noel is out of sight he turns his attention back to Ray.
"You were gone all day. I didn't think you'd mind if Noel and I went to the park."
"It's fine," Ray mutters. "But hurry and clean up too; supper will be cold."
"You didn't have to wait," Florian counters, then adds, "but thank you."
"Just hurry up, will you. I missed my lunch."
Florian nods and goes off to wash while Ray stomps off to the dining room to wait. Two minutes later Florian is in his usual seat, offering Ray a smile. "Did you learn anything more about Mirage?"
"Nothing other than the fact that he - or she - has very good taste in art. There were dozens of paintings and statues in that suite, including jewelry other than the diamond necklace and Mirage took only the three most valuable pieces." Florian looks confused so Ray elaborates. "He's knowledgeable about art - but the fact that he chose paintings rather than jewels -which are much easier to transport - might also indicate someone who's seeking recognition. Doing it for the notoriety not just the art. Especially since - well - it will be hard to sell such well-known paintings. Harder than jewels, anyway, because they can always be re-cut or put in new settings. But there are people out there who would pay a great deal of money to own certain paintings even if they could never display them."
Florian shakes his head, he just can't understand such a mindset. He understands the advantages of money, of course, but to steal for amusement, or to buy something that was stolen... he just doesn't get it.
"Don't worry about it," Ray finally says, pushing the bread basket towards him. Luc has been sent off on an errand and they are eating unattended. Florian prefers it, and Ray doesn't care much either way. It's nice to be able to talk without interruption.
"Thank you," Florian responds, selecting a slice of bread and reaching for the butter. "Did you see the letter from Madame Harrison?"
"Yes. Saves me from spending the money on tickets for some dreary romantic comedy."
Florian ducks his head and concentrates on his bread.
"Don't tell me you wanted to go to that play tomorrow night?" Ray thunks his fork down onto the plate and leans forward to look closely at his companion. "You did! I don't believe you."
Florian looks up, blushing. "I happen to like attending the theater. At least I used to; I haven't been in quite a while. It's a new play and Miranda reserved a box so we wouldn't have to listen to all the gossip." He looks away and adds. "It doesn't matter anyway. She'll be busy with the new security officer at the museum and won't be able to attend."
"Weren't the tickets in the letter? I believe she wants you to take someone else so they won't go to waste."
"The play's tomorrow night. Where would I find someone to ask this late? And who would want to be seen with me anyway; the Rochefort heir turned concubine." Florian pushes his half-finished meal away and sits rigidly straight in his chair.
"I thought you knew better than to listen to such nonsense. If those old ladies are so desperate for something to talk about, we could arrange something much more interesting than two-year-old rumors." Ray pushes Florian's plate into place. "Finish your meal and we'll go see what you've got in that wardrobe that would be suitable for an evening at the theatre. I won't have you make me look bad."
Florian blinks at him. "I thought you hated romantic comedies."
"Despise them. But annoying some old busybodies ought to provide enough amusement to save the evening." Ray grins and reaches for a cigar, lighting it with absentminded ease while he watches Florian finish his dinner. Those amethyst eyes shine with joy, glittering in the candlelight and Ray curses himself three times over for being such a pushover.