“Signor Sinclair,” she greeted heartily, “it’s nice to see you! How long has it been mio figlio?”
“Saluto, Carmelita!” Trey greeted the woman, embracing her, “Come stai?”
“È questa vostra bella moglie?” asked Carmelita.
Is this your beautiful wife?
“No, non ancora, un giorno forse,” Trey said.
No, not yet, someday maybe.
The restaurant was filled with patrons eating an early Sunday supper. Carmelita led us to a table for two in a quiet area of the restaurant. It was quaint with red and white checkered tablecloths. Soft Italian music played. Trey ordered a bottle of Chianti for us. I raised an eyebrow at him from over my menu.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said, smirking, “I just recall how pissed you were with Clint because I was drinking at Luke’s bonfire the night of my…accident.”
“Who said anything about you drinking tonight?” he replied giving me his cocky smile.
“Well, I suppose then that I'm the designated driver?” I inquired sweetly.
“No way,” he laughed, “I don’t think you can handle the horsepower.”
“What's good here?” I asked, ignoring the last jab.
“Really there's nothing bad here. I like the baked ziti.”
“That sounds fine to me.”
Trey ordered for both of us: baked ziti and salads. Carmelita brought fresh bread on a cutting board to the table and filled our water goblets.
Our salads came, and as we started in, Trey brought up the subject of Clint.
“You know,” he said, “you were right about one thing. I had no right to be so hard on Clint over the incident at the pool that night. I suspect I may have had more of an issue with him than your inebriated state.”
I eyed him warily; what was he up to with this? “Oh I get it,” I said, smirking. “You’ve made nice with Clint now that you’ve turned him into your own personal nark.” I said, laughing.
“I don’t have a clue what you're talking about,” he replied.
“Well, let's see. I know that it was Clint that called you and told you that I was riding Jezebel in the fourth, so you've managed to put some fear in him, obviously. But you see, I don’t have any desire to remain friends with someone who would nark me out like that.”
“I see,” Trey responded. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Clint was worried about you racing so soon after you were released from the hospital?”
“Maybe,” I said, a bit snidely, “but answer me this; if Clint had not called you in Atlanta to let you know so that you could bust ass back to Bristol and scratch me out of that race, who would you have been more pissed at when you discovered on your own that I had raced - me or Clint?”
Trey was thoughtful for a moment before answering. “I suppose I would've been equally pissed at the both of you,” he muttered.
“I get that you want to keep me safe, but in the process, you're kind of alienating me from my co-workers and friends. That could make it very lonely here for me.”
Trey was right; the food was delicious. We ate in silence, partially because we were both so hungry, and partially because it was a bit strained after the topic of Clint came up. Carmelita came over to clear our empty plates, noticing the silence between us.
“Signor Trey, credo che voi e la vostra amore avete bisogno di dolcezza, no?” Carmelita said.
Mr. Trey, I think you and your love need some sweetness, no?
“Concordo Carmelita. Cosa suggeriresti?” Trey asked.
I agree Carmelita. What would you suggest?
“Vi faro qualche Tiramisu Signor Trey. Ti alimenti al vostra amante. Ha bisogno di un po 'ingrasso.”
I'll bring you some Tiramisu Mr. Trey. You feed it to your lover. She needs a little fattening up, eh?
“It seems we’re having dessert Tylar,” Trey said, his eyes dancing. The tension lifted. He pulled my hands into his, gazing into my eyes.
“I’ve had a really nice afternoon with you. I have to leave on a flight to Atlanta tomorrow morning. Our firm has a class action trial starting on Tuesday, so I have to go. Will you be all right?”
“Of course I will,” I replied nonchalantly.
“Ray should have the locks on your cottage changed by now. He is going to make sure that the key he has is not hung on the hooks with the other master keys to the cottages. Does that make you feel any safer?”
“I never really felt unsafe. It’s just been creepy in the cottage since then, you know? I mean it’s not like anyone has threatened me directly or anything like that…”
“You don’t have to stay there you know.”
“Where else would I stay?”
“Well, you can stay up at the main house if you wish.”
Give me a minute to pack…
“Oh and that would look real good, wouldn’t it? I can just imagine the comments from the rest of the staff on that one,” I replied with an eye roll.
“I really don’t care how it looks or what people think. The fact of the matter is I'll be gone for the week and I don’t want the additional stress of worrying about your safety. There’s staff at the house. No one would bother you there.”
“I’m a big girl,” I asserted. “I can take care of myself. If something starts creeping me out, I’ll call Ray or Denise, how’s that?”
I could tell he felt a little relieved, but I was certain that having me stay at the manor would have made him feel totally better. Carmelita brought over a plate with a large piece of tiramisu and two forks. She winked at Trey and removed his dinner plate, hurrying off. I reached for one of the forks, but Trey stopped me.
“Here, let me,” he said in his soft, silky voice.
He lifted a fork, and cut a bite-sized piece of the cake, dipping it into the small cup of warm chocolate sauce that was on the plate. He raised it slowly, teasingly up to my lips, cupping his other hand underneath it to catch any drips. His eyes never left mine. I parted my lips slightly, and felt the warm cake as it brushed past my lips and reached my tongue. A small drop of chocolate dripped onto my bottom lip; Trey leaned over and wiped it from my lip with the pad of his thumb, smiling as his eyes locked with mine. He licked the chocolate from the tip of his thumb, circling it provocatively on his bottom lip. We continued this ritual until the cake was gone, taking turns feeding each other. It was totally erotic and delicious.
Oh wow!
When the last of the dessert had been enjoyed, Carmelita cleared our plates. She paused at the table and gave my cheek a pinch.
“Prendersi cura del cuore dolce di Signor Trey, assicurarsi che vi riporta presto!”
Take care of Mr. Trey’s heart sweet one; have him bring you back soon!
“She said to take care and that she hopes you come back soon,” he interpreted for me.
As if I needed it. Eventually I might share my grasp of Italian with Trey - but not today.
"Thank you,” I responded, smiling. I gave Carmelita a quick hug.
She beamed and turned to Trey.
“Ah questa è molto meglio di femmina Charlotte, amico mio!”
This one is so much better than Charlotte, my friend!
Trey quickly gave Carmelita a hug and a peck on her cheek and we were out the door.
“Thank you for lunch, Trey, that was really delicious,” I said, smiling over at him as we got settled in the car.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Carmelita's quite the character, and very fond of you I can tell.”
“I'm impressed by your command of Italian. I had no idea you spoke so fluently.”
“I studied abroad during high school and college.”
“I see, So what does ‘Charlotte’ translate to in English?” I asked, batting my eyelashes at him.
“Oh, you caught that, huh?”
“Well…yes.”
For all of his denial of having any type of relationship with Charlotte, it appeared that they had made their rounds as a couple. “Carmeli
ta reads too much into things,” he said impatiently. “I took Charlotte to Morelli’s one time, weeks back, for dinner. Carmelita thought she was a royal bitch, which she can be. Charlotte insulted the Carpineta Fontalpino wine we were served. She told Carmelita it tasted like Tuscan vinegar spiked with battery acid. You can imagine how that went over with Carmelita.”
“How'd it go over with you?” I asked.
He slowed for a traffic light and looked over at me, taking my left hand into his right one, raising it to his lips. “I’ve told you before, Tylar, there's no relationship whatsoever between Charlotte and me. As far as that particular incident, it was embarrassing for me.”
We were back at the estate in no time. As we pulled into the winding drive leading up to the mansion, Ray’s truck was parked near the pool. No one was swimming, but Ray looked to be checking the chemical levels, probably waiting for Trey to get back.
“Hey Ray,” I said smiling.
“Hey, Ty. You doing all right?”
I nodded.
Trey walked over to Ray. “Did you take care of what I asked you to?”
“Sure thing,” Ray answered. “Here you go,” he said, handing something to Trey. “I’ll keep my key on my personal key ring. No one else will have access to it—as you requested.”
“Thanks Ray.”
Ray turned back to me. “Mrs. Johnson is expecting you tomorrow morning at nine, Ty, at the main office. I think she has a special assignment for you. Hopefully, you won’t be too bored.”
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll be there, don’t worry, Ray.”
We exchanged smiles and Ray took off to his truck.
“You’ll like Rebecca,” Trey commented. “She and Ray are probably my two most trusted employees. I know my parents feel the same way.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Rebecca—Mrs. Johnson,” Trey clarified. “If I know her, you won’t be calling her ‘Mrs. Johnson’ for long. She doesn’t go in for a lot of formality and pretense. That’s why I know you'll like her.” He gave me another one of his award-winning grins, and placed his right arm around my shoulders.
“C’mon you,” he said, softly. “Let me walk you to your cottage. I want to make sure everything is secure and that you get settled in for the night.”
“It’s not even dark yet,” I protested. “I’m not ready to call the day over.”
“I don’t want to either,” he said gently, “but I’ve got work to do this evening, reviewing the case before the trial starts on Tuesday. Then I have to pack, shower, and all that good stuff. Plus,” he continued, squeezing me closer as we made our way up the path to the cottages, “I want a few minutes alone with you before I go. I want to make sure I give you a proper goodbye.”
My stomach butterflies were swarming. My cheeks were warm and flushed. We arrived at the cottage and Trey fished in his pocket pulling out the two keys that Ray had given him. He handed one of the keys to me. “Put this on your key chain,” he instructed, “and pitch the old one.”
I nodded. “What about the extra key?” I asked, nodding toward the one in his hand.
He grinned at me. “I thought you might feel safer if I held onto it, just in case.”
“In case what?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“In case you lose yours or something,” he frowned at me, feigning insult that I could think anything other than honorable thoughts about him. He was a complicated man, I thought. It didn't bother me a bit, him having a key. He owned the place. As far as I was concerned, Trey had a right to anything here, with the exception of any other woman apart from me. I looped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes, kissing his mouth.
“Oh no—you can and will do better than that, Ms. Preston,” he laughed, chasing me up the couple of steps onto the porch. I struggled from his grasp, playfully, and then saw that a small shopping bag had been hung on my doorknob.
“Hmm, looks like someone left me a gift,” I teased. “Is that why you wanted to escort me to my cottage Mr. Sinclair?” I asked coquettishly. “You do spoil me, don’t you?”
Trey’s facial expression had lost the amusement of just a moment ago.
“That’s not from me,” he said, his tone serious.
I tried to lighten the mood; I wasn't into getting creeped out again after having spent such a wonderful, calm day with him. I opened the screen door, and lifted the shopping bag off of the doorknob. I held the bag open and saw a small pile of plum silk material. I unfolded the articles of clothing, holding them up. Suddenly I recognized them. The realization hit me hard. Oh my God. I remembered them from my dream. It was the silk pajama shorts that were ripped off of my 13-year-old body; the matching camisole was in the bag too. It had been cut in half. That part wasn't in my dream. There was a typed note on a piece of paper pinned to the camisole. It read:
I believe these belong to you, Sissy.
“Oh God!” I screamed, flinging the bag down. Trey’s arms were around me in an instant.
Suddenly, Clint was there n the porch, his face a mask of anger and concern. Did Clint think that I needed help? Trey’s voice was in my ear.
“Stop fighting me Tylar. For Christ’s sake, it’s me. It’s Trey.” He handed Clint my key. “Open the door so I can get her inside,” Trey instructed.
Clint made no move to do it. He was sizing up the situation.
“Clint for Christ’s sake, it’s not me she’s afraid of. Open the door before we have the whole compound down on us.”
Clint cautiously complied. In seconds, Trey carried me inside and placed me gently on my couch. Clint brought the stuff I'd dropped on the porch inside. Trey snatched the silk pajamas and shoved them back into the bag so that they were out of my sight. Some calmness was starting to seep in. Trey sat down next to me, looking at me, clutching my free hand as if he expected me to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.
“Can Clint go ahead and leave?” he asked me gently. I was confused. “Clint thinks you were screaming because of me,” Trey explained. “He wants to make sure that you aren’t afraid of me, and that it wasn’t me that made you start screaming just now.”
I understood now. Clint was going to protect me against Trey, if necessary. He was a friend to me. I saw that now.
“Oh yes,” I said. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m sorry for that out there.” They were both staring at me now. “It's okay, Clint. I received a shock, but Trey's not responsible.”
“Are you sure?” Clint asked quietly, moving in front of Trey, blocking his view of me for the moment while I answered him. He apparently wanted to make absolutely sure that I wasn't being forced to say this to him. I knew that this was really pissing Trey off. I heard Trey’s heavy sigh, as he mumbled, “Oh for Christ’s sake,” from behind Clint.
“No Clint, really. I’m fine. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” he said. “I’m right next door. You just holler if you need me,” he assured me as he moved away.
As soon as Clint left, Trey closed the door abruptly behind him, mumbling something inaudible. He returned to the couch, pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his strong chest. I rested my head against his chest; the sound of his heartbeat made me feel safe and secure.
I closed my eyes and felt his warm, sensual lips on my mouth. They moved slowly, caressingly over my lips; his hands now framed my face on each side.
I opened my eyes, enjoying the calming effect of our second kiss. His eyes were a deeper blue than before. He was watching me; what was he looking for?
“Hmmm,” he breathed against me, “do you know how much I've wanted to do that again ever since this afternoon? Hell, ever since I first laid eyes on you, if you want to know the truth."
I was dumbfounded. I shook my head. He lifted an errant lock away from my face, and then brushed his thumb lightly against my lips, still moist from our luxurious kiss.
He pulled me in, and kissed my brow. My head rested against his chest again, as I listened to his steady he
artbeat. His hand traveled up to my ponytail, twirling it around his fingers absently.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked softly.
“I don’t want to,” I replied quietly. “But I will.”
Chapter 14
“Go ahead,” Trey urged gently, “please tell me what these clothes mean to you.”
“When I was growing up, Saturday was special to my mom because that was the only night out of the whole week that she had a date. By that, I mean a date with her boyfriend.”
“And what was his name?” Trey asked.
“Well,” I answered, “I’m not really sure.”
Trey looked confused.
“It seems like maybe there were a few of them.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “So anyway, my best friend was Laurie and her mom was Mona, my mom’s friend. On Friday nights, Laurie would spend the night with me, and then on Saturday nights, I'd spend the night at Laurie’s.”
He nodded for me to continue.
Little by little, with Trey continually prodding me on, I relayed everything to him about the dream I'd had the other night about Laurie, the video parlor and going home unexpectedly on one of Mom's date nights. I was pretty sketchy after that part, not wanting to go into the last part of it, which I found totally sickening. I simply mentioned Mom was pissed, and she told her boyfriend I was her younger sister.
“Tylar,” Trey said in a very serious tone, “that can’t be it. That doesn’t explain the ripped pajamas. That doesn’t explain the note about Sissy.” He rubbed my back, comfortingly, consolingly.
“In the dream I had, it got into more detail. But I’m not sure that part really happened.”
“What part?” he asked. “You need to tell me everything, sweetie. We'll sort it out together, remember?”
I swallowed nervously, afraid that I might be sick. I snuggled closer to him, as if that would help my memory be less despicable.
“After I went to my room that night and finally fell asleep, Momn's boyfriend came in and well, in the dream, he messed with me," I finished quickly.
“Tell me what he did to you.” The tone of his voice frightened me.
Shattered Dreams (Dreams Series Book 1) Page 9