Free White Tiger by Kylie Chan Page B

front of me. ‘Please. Emma. Call me Emma. Miss Donahoe is so formal.’
    He smiled and his eyes wrinkled up. ‘Very well…Emma.’
    ‘Don’t even think about it, girlie, you don’t have a chance,’ Leo growled as we walked together down the hallway.
    ‘Don’t worry, Leo, he’s far too old for me,’ I said, still thinking about those eyes.
    ‘You’re not wrong there.’
    ‘How old is he anyway? He looks mid-forties, but sometimes he seems older, sometimes younger—he’s hard to pick.’
    ‘You’re in your late twenties, right?’
    I nodded.
    ‘Well then, let’s just say that he’s a hell of a lot older than you and you really don’t have a chance. So just forget it.’
    ‘Jealous?’
    Leo stopped. ‘Mr Chen’s wife was a truly wonderful human being. I knew her for a long time before she met him, and I loved her like a sister. His heart is still broken, Emma. He’ll never love anybody again the way that he loved her.’
    ‘What happened to her?’
    ‘She died.’
    ‘I know she died, Leo,’ I said gently. ‘What happened?’
    ‘None of your goddamn business.’ He stomped into his room and slammed the door.
    We travelled to Macau in a fifteen-metre Chinese-style junk. It had an air-conditioned central lounge with a large-screen TV. Simone and I sat in deckchairs on the open-air back of the boat and watched the scenery go past.
    It was fascinating to see the sudden change as we left Hong Kong Harbour. We moved from the densely packed highrises on Hong Kong Island and Kowloon to the sparsely populated Outlying Islands. We went in close past Lantau Island, its rocky crags extending right to the edge of the water. Most of Lantau was deserted, its steep hillside covered in scrub and wild azaleas. The new airport was on the other side of the island.
    ‘Why do we have to go to Macau?’ I shouted to Mr Chen, who sat in the lounge reading a Chinese book.
    ‘Private jets aren’t allowed in Chek Lap Kok, it’s too busy.’
    I was thrilled. I quickly rose and went into the cabin to speak to him. ‘We’re going in a private jet ?’
    He nodded and returned to his book.
    I sat down. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
    He shrugged without looking up from his book.
    ‘Hey,’ I said sharply, and he glanced up at me. ‘You need to tell me what’s going on, Mr Chen.’
    Leo snorted with amusement from the other side of the cabin and I rounded on him. ‘You too. Tell me what’s going on!’
    Mr Chen opened his mouth to say something, then obviously changed his mind and smiled. ‘Very well. We will take my jet from Macau airport to Paris. We will stay in Paris for five days, then fly to London. London for three days, where I have a house in Kensington. Then we’ll take the jet back here. Is that acceptable, Miss Donahoe?’
    I bobbed my head and spoke with mock appreciation. ‘Thank you for explaining, Mr Chen.’
    He smiled over the top of his book. ‘You are most welcome.’
    ‘Do you own this boat?’
    ‘Yes. I need to buy a bigger one. It’s very slow; it takes nearly two hours to travel to Macau.’ ‘Hey, it’s fun to go slow. There’s a lot to see.’ ‘It’s not safe,’ Leo said. ‘We’ll be fine,’ Mr Chen said.
    ‘We shouldn’t leave Simone in the back by herself like that! It’s not safe!’
    Mr Chen sighed with exasperation. ‘Leo, we’re on the water .’
    ‘Oh,’ Leo said. ‘Sorry.’ He went to the back of the boat and sat with Simone anyway.
    Mr Chen smiled over the top of his book, as if to say: he worries too much.
    I smiled back: yes, he does.
    The jet was ready for us when we arrived at Macau.
    Simone behaved perfectly through all of the customs and immigration procedures. She seemed experienced in the rush-and-wait of the airport paperwork. Fortunately Macau airport wasn’t terribly busy and we reached the customs checkpoint reasonably quickly.
    Leo nodded to Mr Chen as he lifted the large carry-on bag onto the conveyor belt for the safety inspection. As the bag