by C. C. Gibbs
His voice was soft, his eyes gentle. ‘If I thought I could change this, I would. But I can’t. And I understand how hard it is for you to believe me. The whole goddamn thing is unbelievable. But this clusterfuck is mine to deal with, not yours. You’re busy with a new job now, you’ve got your hands full. Maybe it would be best if we took a break for a few months.’ It was harder to say than he’d thought. Self-sacrifice had always been for others.
She felt her world die, as if someone had turned down the lights. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘No, it’s not what I want,’ he said, feeling deadly tired. ‘It’s so far from what I fucking want, it’s lost in some black hole in another galaxy. But I’m trying to be decent. How can I ask you to sit and wait for me? I’d like to more than anything. I’d like everything just to stay the way it is.’ He held her gaze.
She didn’t immediately answer. She turned her head away. Then she looked at him, told herself if she was stupid enough to cry, she was truly brain dead. ‘That’s asking too much.’
‘I understand,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not fair to you.’
She felt something give deep inside her, like a Florida sinkhole that was collapsing under her feet. ‘Dammit,’ she whispered, trying to get up. ‘I’m not going to cry over you. You must do this all the time.’
His grip tightened, forcing her to stay. ‘I don’t ever do this.’ His eyes closed for a second and he took a breath. ‘I usually say thanks it’s been nice. I’m trying to be a good guy for once in my life.’
‘You become a good guy by leaving me? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Jesus, baby. Tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it.’
‘Tell me you’re not getting married.’
The silence was oppressive.
‘Christ, Dominic. People don’t get married because of some murky business deal. If they did, half the people I shut down online would have to get married. They’re all crooks. Do you really think I’m that stupid? Jesus, I should have known when you were so super nice last night, when you made me think you actually cared, that I’d get burned in the end. It’s fucking Hong Kong all over again.’
He gave her a black look. ‘If only it were that simple. Because when it comes to being burned, I’m being consumed in an auto-da-fé and you’re feeling the heat from blowing out your birthday candles. OK? It’s not even close.’
‘So what I feel doesn’t matter? Or not as much as you? Is that right?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Answer me, dammit.’
He stared at her. ‘You wouldn’t like my answer.’
‘Fine. I’m sure you’re right. Because you’re always right, aren’t you? I hope your new wife is fucking docile.’ She came to her feet and said, bitchy as hell, ‘I should thank you for the sex last night. It was great. You were fantastic as usual. And make sure you call off your hired help. I won’t be needing them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for work.’
He watched Katherine leave.
Jesus, that went well.
If this was love, it sucked.
He got up when he heard the bathroom door shut and finished dressing while Kate was in the shower. The streets were still quiet as he walked the few blocks home. The front door opened before he reached it. His majordomo stood to attention beside the pedestal table with the large flower arrangement in the centre of the entrance hall.
Dominic nodded good morning to the boy who’d opened the door, spoke politely to the older man who ran his London household. ‘No calls today, Martin, no visitors either. I don’t want to be disturbed. Unless Miss Hart calls.’
But she didn’t.
He hadn’t really thought she would.
CHAPTER 27
Kate swore in the shower and swore while she dressed, swore before and after she slammed down a glass of chocolate milk, calling Dominic every name in the book which was better than crying and showing up at work red-eyed and splotchy-skinned from sobbing her heart out. She found a cab at the corner, and checked her email on her phone as she was driven to work.
She shut her office door when she normally wouldn’t have, but her emotions were shaky as hell and there was no point in having to explain possible tears to people who were more or less strangers. The day passed in a blur, which might have had something to do with her occupying outer space for most of the time. She ate candy bars for sustenance, which was actually the norm prior to meeting Dominic Knight and his host of personal chefs. She’d always consoled herself that Snickers had peanuts, so protein, right? And the sugar high from the candy was a requirement today when her life was so screwed. But her senses automatically responded to a computer keyboard and screen so she was able to function at a tolerable level, her brain navigating the cyber world on autopilot. Although, she wasn’t the only one screwed that day. She closed down a hefty list of vulnerabilities, flagging a GTFO before she shut the hackers’ entry points.
At the end of the day, one of the other consultants invited her to join a group going out for drinks. She briefly hedged, thinking, Go, go! Don’t be stupid! Then she smiled and said, ‘Maybe next time,’ because she was already depressed and drinking would only make it worse.
But the minute she reached her flat, she called Meg and whined about no-good men who married other people for no apparent reason and Meg said, ‘What a fucking liar. I hope you found someone else to sleep with tonight.’
Kate laughed. ‘I’ll go out and drag someone in off the street.’ And she felt a couple of degrees better.
‘You better fucking mean it,’ Meg yelled over the phone. ‘Although, maybe someone you know, someone at work, would be less chancy,’ she added in a more thoughtful tone. ‘Send me a picture of the fun.’
Then they talked for a couple of hours about bad-ass men, past and present, laughed more than they cried, compared notes on their jobs – Meg’s fabulous and fun, Kate’s fabulous and fun when she wasn’t crying – and both ultimately decided that at their age life was still golden, alive with promise and legions of men waiting to be laid.
Before they hung up, Meg cautiously asked, ‘Are you going to tell Nana?’
‘Uh-Uh,’ Kate said. ‘For sure not about his marriage. I’d get a lecture for not being more careful about the company I keep when she’d really mean how could you be so gullible. Nana and gullible aren’t even in the same universe. I should be so smart.’
‘Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Anyone would be tempted. The man’s beyond gorgeous even without the money.’
‘And unfortunately a grade-A ass. But since Nana already knows the son-of-a-bitch left me once already, she won’t be surprised he’s gone again. So whatever I decide to tell her will be more or less the same old, same old. Speaking of same old, you’re still with Luke. That’s a record for you.’
‘I just like him. He’s dependable in a serene, unhurried way – easy going and calming when I’m wired. And he’s great in bed and not one bit demanding.’
The word demanding instantly evoked flame-hot memories that Kate worked furiously to suppress. She wasn’t about to recall all the sensational pleasures inspired by a demanding Dominic making her do things for him, things that … Stop! Stop! Sucking in a breath, she said as calmly as she could, ‘Great in bed is definitely on my wish list.’
‘I’ll be expecting reports on your current sex life,’ Meg said with her usual glass-half-full enthusiasm. ‘Look how much fun you had with what’s his name. Believe me, he’s not the only one with a dick who knows how to use it. Now don’t disappoint me. OK?’
There was only one acceptable answer for Meg. ‘OK,’ Kate said. ‘I’ll let you know.’
And she actually meant it. After talking to Meg she was in a much better frame of mind. Meg saw men as functional objects with dicks she could use. Really, it made sense. Why get involved?
*
While Kate survived the day at CX Capital, Dominic stayed in his library and drank. Max called. He didn’t pick up. Max came
over. He had Martin turn him away. So Martin brought in a note from Max with his wedding date and time scrawled in large print with a note at the bottom. Danelli Villa in Fiesole. Morning coat.
Dominic swore, tore up the note, muttered under his breath, ‘Morning coat, my ass,’ poured himself another drink and finally, late that night, locked the door to the library so he wouldn’t go to see Katherine and make what was bad worse.
He came awake on the couch the next morning, sputtering and swearing, from the water Max was pouring over his head. ‘I locked the fucking door,’ Dominic growled.
‘Good for you,’ Max said drily, locked doors child’s play. ‘We have to be there tomorrow,’ he added as Martin waved in house staff to clean up the water.
Dominic groaned, took the towel handed to him and covered his face.
*
The next morning, Dominic viscerally understood the phrase cruel and unusual after undergoing the ordeal of a wedding to someone he didn’t know, with guests he didn’t know, with a priest who eyed him like he was some pervert. Not me, he wanted to say. I don’t do thirteen-year-olds, or sixteen-year-olds for that matter. But he only answered yes or no as needed, didn’t once look at the pregnant young bride, and stood with a tight smile in the blessedly short receiving line after the ceremony.
When the reports had first come in three years ago acquainting him with Gora’s newest infatuation, perversion, whatever you wanted to call it, Dominic had wondered what kind of family would allow it.
A week later, after another report, Dominic had his answer: a titled family with heavily mortgaged property and no money. That’s who. And when he saw the well-heeled guests, albeit only close family, at the wedding and the newly refurbished villa, when he met the parents who sized him up like a prize race horse, he was reminded of that saying No matter how cynical you get, you can’t keep up.
Although he’d already taken precautions to see that no photos would be published, Gora had taken his own precautions as well. But Dominic reminded himself to redouble his efforts in that regard. This Danelli family was out for money and they didn’t care whose it was.
He didn’t stay for the wedding breakfast, nor did he respond to Bianca’s coaxing that was way the hell too friendly; he more than most men recognized a come-on when he saw it. And once he and Max were in the car and driving away, he mentioned Bianca’s overtly seductive approach. ‘If that little bitch doesn’t watch it, Gora will see that she does. Did you notice what she did? She practically crawled up my body, which isn’t easy to do when you’re six months pregnant. I thought her parents might say something.’
‘You’re richer than Gora,’ Max said drolly. ‘Why would they?’
‘That whole scene was surreal. And I don’t scare easily.’
‘You noticed Gora wasn’t invited.’ A lifted brow. ‘His money’s good enough but he isn’t.’
‘The poor schmuck. He’s being played big time and he’s actually looking forward to this child. Tell me not to feel sorry for him.’
Max shot Dominic a narrowed glance. ‘Don’t make that mistake. He’s a brutal killer.’
Dominic nodded, grinned. ‘Never let feelings get in the way. Right?’
‘Always a good idea when Gora’s involved.’
‘Gora’s problems aside,’ Dominic said, ‘we’d better put round-the-clock surveillance on that sex kitten. Bianca’s for sale and I don’t want to be caught up in some duplicitous scheme that family’s concocted. They’re like modern-day Borgias.’
‘We have that covered already. Remember I was the one who did the initial research on the Danellis.’
‘Well, keep them well away from me.’
‘That’s the plan. Will you be in Paris long?’
‘Until this is over.’
It was a short drive to the Florence airport. Dominic’s plane was ready to taxi the moment they boarded and two hours later, Dominic was in his apartment in Paris. Where he planned to stay, save for two short business trips in the offing. He wanted to be near his French attorney so his divorce papers could be filed as soon as Gora’s son was born. Not that he fully trusted any of the other interested parties to notify him. To assure a speedy report, Dominic had come to an agreement with Bianca’s doctor. The doctor was the new owner of a Sardinian villa and with that bribe Dominic bought himself immediate news of the birth.
Dominic was in Paris for logistical reasons as well. He was far enough away from London so he couldn’t force his way into Katherine’s flat – which was a real possibility after a bottle or so – without having time to reflect on what was obviously a bad decision. Yet Paris was close enough that he could reach Katherine in under two hours should she call. Not that he didn’t wince at the thought of his behaviour. Christ, he was like a young boy waiting for his first girlfriend to call. When he’d never in his life waited for a woman.
So much for unemotional fixes.
He’d tried calling Kate. Usually late at night, usually not fully sober. She never answered.
He’d texted her once and she texted back,
don’t.
The short message was lower case and ended in a period rather than an exclamation point, but he could feel the ice through the phone. He hadn’t done that again.
All of which made the current state of affairs brutal for him.
In desperation, six weeks later, he travelled to Minnesota to visit Nana. He’d tried to talk himself out of going. But he had an ache that never went away, a gut-wrenching sense of loss, a feeling of aloneness that had never mattered before and now was so deep and wide it was boundless.
It was the beginning of April, when he found himself standing outside Nana’s door, waiting for someone to answer his knock. It was cold in northern Minnesota. He should have considered the weather before he left Morocco; he was dressed in jeans, a short-sleeved T-shirt and sandals. The car he rented at the Duluth airport had been warm so he hadn’t noticed until he was standing in the wind on this porch overlooking a lake that was still covered with ice.
The door suddenly opened.
‘I’m not giving the money back if that’s why you’re here,’ the elderly lady snapped.
Dominic smiled, thought of Kate, knew where she’d learned to be outspoken. ‘Obviously you know who I am.’
‘You hide that private foundation real well. It took me over twenty hours to sift through all the shadow companies before I found your name on a document.’ She smiled. ‘Love the web. Opens up the whole world, even to people who live in the sticks.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Come on in. You must be here for a reason and’ – she glanced at his sandaled feet – ‘you’re not dressed for the weather.’
‘It was warm when I got on the plane.’
‘What are you, a three-year-old kid?’ she said over her shoulder, leading him down a hallway.
‘I had a lot on my mind, Mrs Hart.’
‘Call me Nana. Everyone does. At least you have an excuse. I suppose what you had on your mind was Katie.’
‘Call me Dominic and, yes, she’s been on my mind.’
‘I have a cousin named Dominic. It’s a pretty common name up here. Have a seat.’ She waved him to a chair in a living room that hadn’t changed since the eighties. A hotchpotch of upholstered furniture, nothing matching, framed photos everywhere: mostly Katherine with her trike, bike, motorcycle – his brows went up at that – high school graduation, the prom – he scowled at the good-looking kid standing beside her – two recent ones with her smiling on campus; one or two of Nana, one of a man in uniform he assumed was Roy Hart – Gramps to Katherine – several that might be Katherine’s mother, the resemblance was strong.
‘I was wondering if I’d see you,’ Nana said, sitting down opposite Dominic in a matching BarcaLounger. ‘Thanks, by the way, for the money. I’ve already told you I’m not giving it back if that’s why you’re here. With all the cuts in public education, the district needs the money. I didn’t mention it to Katie either. There was no reason to tell her.
She’s not here, if that’s why you came, and I’m not telling you where she is.’
He knew where she was. That wasn’t why he was here. ‘I was wondering how she’s doing.’
‘How do you think she’s doing? A young handsome man like you with bags of money. You’d turn any young girl’s head.’ Edited version or not, Nana knew when her granddaughter was hurting. ‘Leave Katie alone. You’re out of her league.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Then you choose to be.’
Silence. Then he said, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’
‘Too long a pause, my boy. My baby girl needs someone who doesn’t have to think about loving her.’
Dominic visibly flinched at the word ‘love’. This wasn’t a subject he spoke of in public, or even considered before Katherine.
‘There, you see. You can’t do it.’
‘I’d like to try. I am trying.’
‘Then tell her.’
‘She won’t talk to me.’
‘Smart girl,’ Nana said, her grey perm stirring with her brisk nod. ‘She was unhappy for quite a while. She’s better now, if you really want to know. If you want to help her, you’ll leave her alone. She’ll get over you. You’re not the only good looking man in the world.’
He was pleased to hear Kate was fine; he was displeased to hear she was fine without him. But just talking about her made him happy, so he smiled and said, ‘She’d been doing well in her new business, I hear.’
Nana scowled. ‘Don’t try and charm me. I’m an old lady. I’ve seen it all.’
‘I’d like to talk about her if you don’t mind.’
Blunt, honest, a quiet humility in his gaze. ‘Would you like a drink? You look a little peaked.’
‘It was a long flight.’
‘Come downstairs, I’ll give you a little pick-me-up. My husband Roy made my still years ago when he came back from Nam. He needed something to take his mind off … well, you know what went on over there. He showed me everything I know about making vodka and mine’s damn good, if I do say so myself.’
‘No problems with law enforcement?’ Dominic followed her down the stairs to the basement. She was thin and spry at seventy-five, taking the stairs with a little spring in her step.