“Five million euros at LIBOR,” Nikki murmured softly, watching in the mirror the outline of crisp salt and pepper hair and the dim reflections of the party in room behind her; a golden haze of soft laughter, muted undertones and the tinkle of cut glass. “ You think that’s good?” he asked in an amused deep baritone. Gere for sure, Nikki thought, as she touched the lace ruffle at her neck, loosening a satin bow. Her long fingers briefly flitted at her nape before she looked up and replied, “for Luxemburg?” Green eyes narrowed for a brief moment as they noticed the crispness of an unruly lock of gray that fell over his forehead. Gray- crisp white- worsted black. The dawn mist over a quiet St Peters as church bells peal in the distance. Green eyes quickly darted to the white-red- white neon lights of the billboards lining the seaboard, the sparkling lights by the bay, the lapping waters beyond and the roaring echo of the waves that seemed to draw her in.