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ducked down and started kissing down his stomach.
    He tensed. ‘No, Simone, no . It’s nice, too nice… but I really don’t have time now.’       
    She paid no attention, kept kissing down, and a light shudder ran up from his calves and through his body as he felt her take him into her mouth.
    He surrendered to it for a moment before starting to protest again. ‘Pleasssse, Simone, not now… I just don’t–’
    The ringing phone startled them both. She broke off, looking at it accusingly. Georges squinted at the call-monitor display.
    ‘It’s your father!’ He pulled away from her and lunged for the phone. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Georges… Jean-Paul. Sorry to disturb you. But I forgot to ask when we last spoke – did everything go okay with the revised plans from the architect?’
    ‘Yes, they did, and I’ve got them with me.’ The main reason for their urgent meeting now. Georges had been away five days in Puerto Vallarta to oversee Jean-Paul’s new investments there: twenty-seven hole golf course with integral development of two hotels, a casino, and 214 ‘greenside’ bungalows and villas. The rounding-off of Jean-Paul’s Mexican portfolio, which already included three hotels, a marina development, another casino and four clubs between Cancun and Puerto Vallarta. But delays had threatened on this latest project when one of the hotels hit a survey problem.
    ‘No problems now?’ Jean-Paul confirmed.
    ‘No. Everything’s fine now. I… eerrr.’ Georges bit his lip. Simone had reached out and was stroking him again. He shook his head and frowned heavily at her. She smiled back challengingly and continued stroking, moving her mouth so teasingly close that he could feel her hot breath on him. Her tongue snaked out, and he shook his head wilder, silently mouthing, ‘No!’ He hastily cleared his throat. ‘Err… I made sure I was there this time for the survey. There’s nothing now to stop it being passed.’
    ‘That’s good.’ A second’s silence from Jean-Paul as he absorbed this, or perhaps he was distracted with something else his end. Then: ‘Are you okay?’
    ‘Yes, fine… fine. ’ Beads of sweat popped on his forehead. He watched in horror Simone’s mouth move closer, lips pouting. ‘Touch of bad throat, that’s all.’ Brief wry smile. He spoke in quick bursts, still fearful of what was coming. ‘Probably the sudden change in temperature.’
    She held him in limbo a second longer, mouth poised – but finally, at just an inch away, she blew a kiss, smiled lasciviously, and pulled back again.
    Simone was enjoying this, he thought. Pretty much a continuation of the rest of their relationship: her fighting for his attention over and above her father. At times she was impossible; but perhaps, at 23, six years his junior, she was still allowed to be. Being born into one of Montreal’s wealthiest families hadn’t helped, especially with a father so keen to indulge her; not only to compensate for her losing her mother Clair when she was only eight, but also no doubt for the many unseen horrors being played out behind the scenes while she was growing-up. Jean-Paul Lacaille had made sure that his only daughter’s childhood was sugar-coated.
    ‘I’d better go,’ Georges said as he watched Simone straddle him, panicking what she might do next while her father was still on the phone. ‘Get everything ready for our meeting.’
      ‘Yeah, okay,’ Jean-Paul mumbled distractedly. Then his voice came back sharply, sudden afterthought. ‘Oh, one more thing. Have you seen this morning’s news yet?’
      ‘No, not yet.’ I’ve been too busy in bed with your daughter. He could feel Simone’s heat pressing hard against him. She reached for him, started stroking again. He could tell from her sly smile what she was about to do. He prayed that Jean-Paul signed off quickly.
      ‘There was an item on about Tony Savard.’ Jean-Paul sighed heavily. ‘He was killed last night. His body was