The Fox had done his homework. Cruel De Vil ran an exclusive establishment - high-end, discreet, very expensive. Her clients were wealthy, powerful, and private. Getting in hadn't been easy, but he'd managed to convince one of the Dalmatian assistants that he had urgent business.

  "I need to speak with Eugene Gingersnap," he'd told the receptionist - a young woman in a perfectly tailored bck and white uniform. "I know he's here."

  She'd looked at him with professional neutrality. "I'll see if Miss De Vil can assist you."

  Now he stood in a vishly decorated sitting room, waiting. The whole pce reeked of money and sex - silk curtains, velvet furniture, the faint scent of expensive perfume.

  The door opened, and Cruel De Vil walked in.

  The Fox had seen pictures, but they didn't do her justice. Tall, striking, with that distinctive bck and white hair that framed her face perfectly. She wore a silk robe that left very little to the imagination, and she moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what effect she had on people.

  "Well, well," she said, her voice like smoke and honey. "The infamous Fox. I've heard about you."

  The Fox straightened, keeping his expression professional. "Ma'am, I'm here on official business. I need to serve papers to Eugene Gingersnap. I have reason to believe he's on the premises."

  "Do you now?" She moved closer, and the Fox found himself taking a step back. "That's quite an accusation, darling. I run a very discreet operation here."

  "I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I just need to—"

  "Serve your papers. Yes, I understand." She was standing very close now, looking up at him with dark, amused eyes. "But you've had quite a day, haven't you? I heard about the theater incident. Those ninjas are *very* territorial."

  The Fox blinked. "How did you—"

  "I hear things." She reached up and straightened his colr, her fingers lingering. "You look tense, Fox. Very, very tense. When was the st time you rexed?"

  "Ma'am, I appreciate the concern, but I really need to—"

  "The Dog Whisperer. That's what they call me, you know." Her smile was wicked. "Because I'm very good at getting people to... sit. Stay. *Heel.*"

  The Fox felt heat rising in his face. "I don't think—"

  "That's the problem, darling. You think too much." Her hand slid down his chest. "Let me help you with that."

  "I'm working," he said, but his voice came out weaker than he intended.

  "So am I." She took his hand, gentle but firm, and started leading him toward another room. "Come. Let me show you what you've been missing while you've been chasing that boy all over town."

  The Fox should have pulled away. Should have insisted. Should have done his job.

  But he'd been Jell-O'd. Almost killed. Chasing Eugene Gingersnap for weeks with nothing to show for it. And Cruel De Vil was looking at him like he was the most interesting thing she'd seen all day.

  "Just... just for a minute," he heard himself say.

  Her smile widened. "Of course, darling. Just a minute."