CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sable’s Three Wishes
“Love her madly?” Vance repeated Sable’s revealing question. “Oh, you mean Nastassia. No, I don’t love her the way I love you.” Noticing an elaborate silver cigarette lighter beside the ashtray on the bedside table, he picked it up. While he flicked it on, she placed the cigarette to her lips. He held the flame below the tip of her cigarette, and she breathed in until the tip glowed and a light plume of smoke rose.
Sable exhaled. “What do you mean, you don’t love Nastia the way you love me? Don’t play games. Do you love her more or less than you love me?”
“Oh, I love you more!”
Drawing deeply on her cigarette, Sable exhaled a voluminous puff of smoke into Vance’s face.
Coughing and waving away the smoke, he said, “Thought you didn’t smoke.”
“I’ve
