The Property of a Lady (1990)
“For a blissful few hours Markheim was erased from her memory and the beautiful hard warmth of Valentin’s body next to hers comforted her. The room was still dark when she awoke, just a faint gray blur where the window was. She rolled over, smiling, expecting to see Valentin’s sleepy head on the pillow next to her. He wasn’t there. She put a tentative hand onto the sheet on his side of the bed. It was already cold. Had he deserted her because she had screwed everything up and Markheim had been m...urdered? Was he afraid he would be implicated? Her heart sank as she contemplated the fact that she might have been a one-night stand, the cute American TV reporter playing at spies and the Russian diplomat afraid of a scandal. Then it leapt with hope again at a tap on the door.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, le petit déjeuner.”
She shrank beneath the covers as a plump maid bustled in, turned on the lamp, and placed a tray of coffee and brioches on the table. Genie stared at it. There was only one cup.MoreLess
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, le petit déjeuner.”
She shrank beneath the covers as a plump maid bustled in, turned on the lamp, and placed a tray of coffee and brioches on the table. Genie stared at it. There was only one cup.MoreLess
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