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fingers wrapped tightly around the fragile stem. ‘You must realise, Mr Tannous—’
    ‘Khalis.’
    She laughed softly, no more than a breath of sound. She did not seem like a woman used to laughing. ‘I keep forgetting.’
    ‘I think you want to forget.’
    She didn’t deny it. ‘I told you before, I prefer to keep things professional.’
    ‘It’s the twenty-first century, Grace. Calling someone by a first name is hardly inviting untoward intimacies.’ Even if such a prospect attracted him all too much.
    She lifted her gaze to his, her dark eyes wide and clear with a sudden sobriety. ‘In most circles,’ she allowed, intriguing him further. ‘In any case, what I meant to tell you was that I’m sure you realise most of the art in that vault downstairs has been stolen from various museums around the world.’
    ‘I do realise,’ he answered, ‘which is why I wished to have it assessed, and assured there are no forgeries.’
    ‘And then?’
    He took a sip of wine, giving her a deliberately amused look over the rim of his glass. ‘Then I intend to sell it on the black market, of course. And quietly get rid of you.’
    Her eyes narrowed, lips compressed. ‘If that is a joke, it is a poor one.’
    ‘If?’ He stared at her, saw her slender body nearly vibrating with tension. ‘My God, do you actually think there is any possibility of such a thing? What kind of man do you think I am?’
    A faint blush touched her pale cheeks with pink. ‘I don’t know you, Mr Tannous. All I know is what I’ve heard of your father—’
    ‘I am nothing like my father.’ He hated the implication she was making, the accusation. He’d been trying to prove he was different his whole life, had made every choice deliberately as a way to prove he was not like his father in the smallest degree. The price he’d paid was high, maybe even too high, but he’d paid it and he wouldn’t look back. And he wouldn’t defend himself to this slip of a woman either. He forced himself to smile. ‘Trust me, such a thing is not in the remotest realm of possibility.’
    ‘I didn’t think it was,’ she answered sharply. ‘But it is something, perhaps, your father might have done.’
    Something snapped to life inside him, but Khalis could not say what it was. Anger? Regret? Guilt? ‘My father was not a murderer,’ he said levelly, ‘as far as I am aware.’
    ‘But he was a thief,’ Grace said quietly. ‘A thief many times over.’
    ‘And he is dead. He cannot pay for his crimes, alas, but I can set things to rights.’
    ‘Is that what you are doing with Tannous Enterprises?’
    Tension tautened through his body. ‘Attempting. It is, I fear, a Herculean task.’
    ‘Why did he leave it to you?’
    ‘It is a question I have asked myself many times already,’ he said lightly, ‘and one for which I have yet to find an answer. My older brother should have inherited, but he died in the crash.’
    ‘And what about the other shareholders?’
    ‘There are very few, and they hold a relatively small percentage of the shares. They’re not best pleased, though, that my father left control of the company to me.’
    ‘What do you think they’ll do?’
    He shrugged. ‘What can they do? They’re waiting now, to see which way I turn.’
    ‘Whether you’ll be like your father.’ This time she did not speak with accusation, but something that sounded surprisingly like sympathy.
    ‘I won’t.’
    ‘A fortune such as the one contained in that vault has tempted a lesser man, Mr … Khalis.’ She spoke softly, almost as if she had some kind of personal experience of such temptation. His name on her lips sent a sudden thrill through him. Perhaps using first names did invite an intimacy … or at least create one.
    ‘I have my own fortune, Grace. But I thank you for the compliment.’
    ‘It wasn’t meant to be one,’ she said quietly. ‘Just an observation, really.’ She turned away and he watched her cross to the edge of the private