Pearl (The Pearl Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

warned.
    “Don’t you dare! I hate all this Googling shit and cyber-spying. I know we can’t talk, with HookedUp and stuff, but I miss the old days when you found out about someone little by little, face to face, not from the Internet. It’s so bloody unromantic.”
    “You see romance on the cards with that woman?”
    That woman. She sounded like Bill Clinton. I closed my eyes. “Shame you turned gay, Sophie. Because you know what? You sound frustrated. You obviously need a good seeing to.”
    “Oh, you think a man’s penis is the answer to everything, do you, you sexist jerk.”
    I smirked. “You’d be surprised.” Touché .
    Sophie had a girlfriend. Fine. But Sophie was also married. Married, and with a stepdaughter, Elodie, who was eighteen. Sophie’s predilection for women was a deep secret. Didn’t want her husband or Elodie finding out. I had no idea whom Sophie was seeing, though. Asking my sister about her sex life didn’t interest me.
    “She is pretty, though—” Sophie continued, “—the American in the coffee shop. Must be in her early thirties, I’d say—a tad younger than me.”
    I could see that my sister was bordering on obsession.
    “Very sexy. Very fuckable,” she said.
    “Drop it, Sophie.”
    “Am I right? Is she good, then?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Ah, so she’s playing hard to get, is she? Clever girl.”
    I put on my headphones and turned on my iPod, glad to let Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together drown out Sophie’s drivel.

    I always stay in the Presidential Suite at the George V when I go to Paris, and this time was no exception. My mother was disappointed, but I preferred to come and go when I pleased, not worry about offending anyone by turning up late to dinner and so forth. The hotel let me bring Rex, too—a bonus for clocking up a large bill and being such a good, repeat customer.
    I was ensconced in my suite. My loyal Labrador-mix lay patiently by my side while I had various meetings with people who were keen to take a slice of the HookedUp pie. A couple of government officials dropped by; embarrassed by the fact that it had been America, not France that propelled HookedUp forward. Too late, now—they’d missed the boat for real investment.
    Then, just as I was winding things up, Claudine called. I’d forgotten about her. Christ .
    “Mon amour,” she began in a sweetie voice.
    “Claudine. Everything okay?” I asked, dreading what was to come.
    “Look, I want to clear the air first,” she said ominously. Fuck, what did that mean? I had a vision of her with a razorblade poised at her doll-like wrist. “I can’t involve myself with you sexually anymore,” she explained.
    “Wow,” was all I could muster. I took a deep breath. Was there a catch? This was too good to be true!
    “I have a boyfriend now . ”
    Poor bastard, I nearly said, but answered, “That’s wonderful, Claudine.”
    “You’re not jealous?”
    “No, not at all.”
    “Why not?” she asked suspiciously. “Have you turned gay?”
    I laughed. “I’ve met someone.” I told her about Pearl, immediately wondering if that was a mistake. I wouldn’t have put it past Claudine to stalk her, Glenn Close style.
    To my surprise, she said. “I’m happy for you, I really am. Truce then? No sex, is that a deal?”
    This was getting better by the second. “No sex,” I agreed.
    “Then I can trust you to accompany me to Delphine Aimée’s vide grenier at her house? You won’t try to seduce me or anything?”
    The ego of some models, I thought, but ignored her little quip . “You’re joking? A vide grenier? ” I said. Delphine Aimée resided in one of the oldest and most beautiful mansions of Paris. She had recently died; the papers were full of her obituaries, celebrating her colorful life as one of the great Parisian beauties and fashion setters of her time.
    “Her children are selling some of her furniture and belongings and I have a private invitation. A friend of a friend,”