Rogue Betrayer

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Olivia leapt from Jean-Claude.

“Aye! I hope you are not that rough with my clients,” he said in French.

She rolled off the bed and worked bra straps over her shoulders.

“No,” she said. “I treat your clients well. You gave me only the gentlemen.”

“I wish I had to share you with no one.”

She slid her pantyhose up her legs and reached for a blue satin evening gown.

“Consider yourself lucky I sleep with you at all.”

“How would it appear if my top lady ignored me?”

“Top lady? You’ve only known me five weeks.”

He strolled to the bathroom. She heard him flush his condom into the Parisian sewer system and splash water from the rushing faucet. He returned and grabbed her waist.

“You are a truly magnificent woman,” he said. “Leave the CIA and stay with me. I will triple your salary, whatever it is.”

Olivia teased herself with the idea until she could flush the greed from her mind.

“We’ve got a bad guy to catch,” she said.

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