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her by that name. She couldn't just pretend to be Niema Jamieson, she had to become that person. Ronsard was sharp; he would notice if she appeared not to recognize her own name.John had been thorough in building the cover identity. The documents would stand up to any inspection and investigation. She didn't have to worry about that aspect of her cover. No, what she worried about was her own ability; John might not have doubts about her, but she did. She had never played a role before, unless it was when they were in Iran, if wearing a chador and not speaking was the same as playing a role.She didn't, however, doubt her ability to plant a listening device in Ronsard's office. When it came to that part of the job, she was confident she could handle it."Let the games begin," she murmured to herself, and went to sleep. PART THREEChapter ThirteenParisLouis! It is wonderful to see you. You are looking as handsome as always." The prime minister's wife beamed up her toothy smile at him as she took both his hands and planted kisses on each cheek.Louis carried her hands to his lips and returned the salute, briefly kissing her knuckles. He was actually fond of Adeline, who was good-natured and inherently kind. Her strong features bore an unfortunate resemblance to a horse, but in the Parisian way she made the most of her best features, her eyes, and after one got to know her, one saw only her nature and didn't think of the long boniness of her face. "I would never miss the opportunity to see you, my dear.""Flatterer." She beamed at him. "I must continue greeting the guests, but promise me you won't leave without speaking with me again. I don't see enough of you, you rogue."He promised, an easy thing to do, then left her to the receiving line and mingled with the throng of guests crowding the ballroom and adjacent rooms. A small orchestra was discreetly installed in an alcove and partially blocked from view by a gauze curtain.Black-clad waiters carried trays of delicate flutes half-filled with golden champagne, while others offered a dazzling array of hor d'oeuvres. Ronsard plucked a glass of champagne from one passing waiter and a delicate pastry from another. He had just taken his first sip of the rather mediocre wine-it was always mediocre at such parties-when he heard his name being called.He turned to see his sister, Mariette, bearing down on him with her husband in tow. Eduard Cassel's expression was indulgent, as always. Mariette was a bubbly froth of a woman, as giddy and harmless as a butterfly. She was three years younger than Ronsard and he had always been protective of the pretty creature. When she married, she had chosen a man fifteen years her senior, and Eduard had taken over as her protector.Eduard had been beneficial to Ronsard on several occasions. Positioned as he was in the Ministry, he often knew interesting little details about the government, the economy, and some high-ranking officials' personal lives, which he passed along to his brother-in-law. In return, Ronsard had set up and regularly added to a无限娱乐.加强对话交流 展现政党责任,普京:美国必须停止批评俄罗斯 否则后果自负,her by that name. She couldn't just pretend to be Niema Jamieson, she had to become that person. Ronsard was sharp; he would notice if she appeared not to recognize her own name.John had been thorough in building the cover identity. The documents would stand up to any inspection and investigation. She didn't have to worry about that aspect of her cover. No, what she worried about was her own ability; John might not have doubts about her, but she did. She had never played a role before, unless it was when they were in Iran, if wearing a chador and not speaking was the same as playing a role.She didn't, however, doubt her ability to plant a listening device in Ronsard's office. When it came to that part of the job, she was confident she could handle it."Let the games begin," she murmured to herself, and went to sleep. PART THREEChapter ThirteenParisLouis! It is wonderful to see you. You are looking as handsome as always." The prime minister's wife beamed up her toothy smile at him as she took both his hands and planted kisses on each cheek.Louis carried her hands to his lips and returned the salute, briefly kissing her knuckles. He was actually fond of Adeline, who was good-natured and inherently kind. Her strong features bore an unfortunate resemblance to a horse, but in the Parisian way she made the most of her best features, her eyes, and after one got to know her, one saw only her nature and didn't think of the long boniness of her face. "I would never miss the opportunity to see you, my dear.""Flatterer." She beamed at him. "I must continue greeting the guests, but promise me you won't leave without speaking with me again. I don't see enough of you, you rogue."He promised, an easy thing to do, then left her to the receiving line and mingled with the throng of guests crowding the ballroom and adjacent rooms. A small orchestra was discreetly installed in an alcove and partially blocked from view by a gauze curtain.Black-clad waiters carried trays of delicate flutes half-filled with golden champagne, while others offered a dazzling array of hor d'oeuvres. Ronsard plucked a glass of champagne from one passing waiter and a delicate pastry from another. He had just taken his first sip of the rather mediocre wine-it was always mediocre at such parties-when he heard his name being called.He turned to see his sister, Mariette, bearing down on him with her husband in tow. Eduard Cassel's expression was indulgent, as always. Mariette was a bubbly froth of a woman, as giddy and harmless as a butterfly. She was three years younger than Ronsard and he had always been protective of the pretty creature. When she married, she had chosen a man fifteen years her senior, and Eduard had taken over as her protector.Eduard had been beneficial to Ronsard on several occasions. Positioned as he was in the Ministry, he often knew interesting little details about the government, the economy, and some high-ranking officials' personal lives, which he passed along to his brother-in-law. In return, Ronsard had set up and regularly added to a.。

her by that name. She couldn't just pretend to be Niema Jamieson, she had to become that person. Ronsard was sharp; he would notice if she appeared not to recognize her own name.John had been thorough in building the cover identity. The documents would stand up to any inspection and investigation. She didn't have to worry about that aspect of her cover. No, what she worried about was her own ability; John might not have doubts about her, but she did. She had never played a role before, unless it was when they were in Iran, if wearing a chador and not speaking was the same as playing a role.She didn't, however, doubt her ability to plant a listening device in Ronsard's office. When it came to that part of the job, she was confident she could handle it."Let the games begin," she murmured to herself, and went to sleep. PART THREEChapter ThirteenParisLouis! It is wonderful to see you. You are looking as handsome as always." The prime minister's wife beamed up her toothy smile at him as she took both his hands and planted kisses on each cheek.Louis carried her hands to his lips and returned the salute, briefly kissing her knuckles. He was actually fond of Adeline, who was good-natured and inherently kind. Her strong features bore an unfortunate resemblance to a horse, but in the Parisian way she made the most of her best features, her eyes, and after one got to know her, one saw only her nature and didn't think of the long boniness of her face. "I would never miss the opportunity to see you, my dear.""Flatterer." She beamed at him. "I must continue greeting the guests, but promise me you won't leave without speaking with me again. I don't see enough of you, you rogue."He promised, an easy thing to do, then left her to the receiving line and mingled with the throng of guests crowding the ballroom and adjacent rooms. A small orchestra was discreetly installed in an alcove and partially blocked from view by a gauze curtain.Black-clad waiters carried trays of delicate flutes half-filled with golden champagne, while others offered a dazzling array of hor d'oeuvres. Ronsard plucked a glass of champagne from one passing waiter and a delicate pastry from another. He had just taken his first sip of the rather mediocre wine-it was always mediocre at such parties-when he heard his name being called.He turned to see his sister, Mariette, bearing down on him with her husband in tow. Eduard Cassel's expression was indulgent, as always. Mariette was a bubbly froth of a woman, as giddy and harmless as a butterfly. She was three years younger than Ronsard and he had always been protective of the pretty creature. When she married, she had chosen a man fifteen years her senior, and Eduard had taken over as her protector.Eduard had been beneficial to Ronsard on several occasions. Positioned as he was in the Ministry, he often knew interesting little details about the government, the economy, and some high-ranking officials' personal lives, which he passed along to his brother-in-law. In return, Ronsard had set up and regularly added to a。


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