Free The House on Black Lake by Anastasia Blackwell, Maggie Deslaurier, Adam Marsh, David Wilson

you may invite him or her to visit you at Le Beau Monde. They will understand what you have requested.”
    I accept the business card she offers me.
    “I will ring up your purchases.”
    As we reenter the salon, the phone rings. She walks to her desk to take the call and I wait at the counter, examining a leather hand with pointy fingers and no nails.
    “That was Mme. Sandeley. She is sending a driver to pick you up and take you to Oscar’s. He will be here in a few minutes.”
    Oriana wraps my gifts in silver paper tied with metallic ribbon. It is the same wrapping used on Ramey’s gift to Ruth.
    “I heard you stayed at the house on the island.”
    “Who told you?”
    “Luna mentioned it when I saw her last night.”
    “Luna is a client?”
    “Her sister lives in my neighborhood.”
    “What do you know about the house?”
    She pauses for a moment and a mysterious smile crosses her face.
    “I was there once in a thunderstorm and found some very interesting treasures.”
    “Do you know who lived there?”
    “Some of the professional girls who frequent the shop shared stories about an old man with some peculiar fetishes.”
    Oriana looks out the window at the sound of a car horn. “Your driver has arrived to take you to Oscar’s. I will finish wrapping your purchases and take them to Mimi’s for you to pick up at end of the day. Remember, I am at your service. You may call any time of the day or night during your stay.
    “Now, let me introduce you to Daniel.”

C HAPTER T HIRTEEN

L’A UBERGE DE L’O SCAR ET DE R OBERT

    A YOUNG MAN WITH FACIAL FEATURES CHISELED TO PERFECTION AND sun-kissed hair cascading from under a chauffeur’s cap opens the door for me to enter a shiny black town car. His eyes are hidden behind reflective aviator glasses, but his smile is captivating. I accept a hand from Daniel and he leads me inside the luxurious vehicle.
    “There is a cooler on the floor next to your feet with ice cold champagne. I have also a bottle of raspberry liqueur if you wish to make a Royale. Please let me know if there is anything you desire. I am at your pleasure.” He speaks in a voice with a heavy French influence.
    “Thank you, Daniel, but I’ve have had enough to drink this morning, or is it the afternoon?” I ask, and let out a silly giggle. Daniel grins back at me from the rear-view mirror, keeping the answer to my question to himself.
    I suspect Mimi drugged me and Joan of Arc’s champagne is likely a witch’s brew, but I don’t mind, because I feel delightful and everything around me is cast in a spell of loveliness.
    As we drive down the main street, I peer out the window at the quaint shops and galleries of the picturesque old city. The cobbled streets and alleys are backed up with vehicles and the sidewalks packed with tourists carrying bags of souvenirs. A trail of laughter floats through the window and the honking horns have an almost musical quality. Along the sidewalk, at restaurant tables covered in linen with bouquets of fresh flowers, attractive patrons feast on heaping platters of food and pour wine from brimming carafes. Outdoor markets along the sidewalks sell barrels of fruit and produce, like they did in the past. The old town is the perfect backdrop to barter the splendid abundance of the present period.
    “Beautiful day. You missed the rain,” he says.
    The vehicle slows to a stop at an intersection and I see a flash of red fabric pass my window. The white-haired woman, who peered through the window of Mimi’s salon, shoves her face up against the tinted glass. She springs back when she catches my eyes and disappears into a crowd, crossing the street to an art fair in a park next to a cathedral.
    “Are you from Montreal, Daniel?”
    “I live in Paris, but I am staying in the city for a year. I have taken a leave from school and am living with my cousin, Robert. He is the partner of Oscar. They together own L’Auberge de Oscar and Robert. It is a small bed and breakfast