by Nina Bruhns
He called out for Margot when he entered, but she didn’t answer. Not that he expected her to be there. After all that had happened she could be on a plane back to the states by now or be headed deeper into Europe along with her bag of stolen books. Or better still, she’d made a contact at the book fair, had met them at some clandestine location while he thought she was having dinner with her agent, made the exchange and was now on her way to some exotic island with a suitcase full of cash.
Antonio’s phone rang. It was Jim Sutton. On the third ring, Antonio answered, not really wanting to know the truth. After what Jackie had said to him, there was no telling what she and Margot were capable of doing.
Antonio answered. “Tell me what you have.” He wasn’t in the mood for sugar coatings. All he needed were the facts.
“It won’t be what you want to hear,” Jim Sutton told him. His voice sounded raspy, as if a cold was pending.
Antonio’s chest clenched. No matter what he’d seen or heard, part of him still hoped for the best. Apparently he would get the worst, and at this point . . . he could handle anything.
“What do you have?”
“Your copy of Oliver Twist was stolen. Matter-of-fact, the entire list of books you sent me . . . all stolen.”
It was exactly the news Antonio was dreading. It meant he had to take action.
He took in a deep breath and let it out, then he walked down the hall to Jackie’s bedroom to check to see if Margot’s suitcase was still there. The romantic side of him wanted it to be gone, but it wasn’t. When he checked its contents, all the books were exactly how he’d left them.
“Thanks, I know what I have to do now.”
Jim Sutton sneezed, then said, “No . . . you don’t understand.” Then he coughed, and wheezed.
“You should take care of that.”
“Thanks. I’m going to the doctor later today.”
“Okay, then we’re all done here.”
More coughing. “Wait!” He sneezed three times in a row.
Antonio desperately wanted to end the call. Listening to this man hack out his lungs wasn’t exactly what Antonio needed at the moment. “Hot liquids and bed rest.”
“Don’t I know it.” He sniffled into Antonio’s ear.
“I’m hanging up.”
“No. Listen.” He sneezed again.
Antonio hung up and within seconds Jim Sutton called him back. This time Antonio let the call go to voicemail as he dialed Scotland Yard.
* * *
Margot had spent much of the night sobbing uncontrollably over losing Antonio, which was the end to the story that was now her life. Great big loud kid sobs. She hadn’t cried that hard when she’d caught her ex in the playhouse or when her favorite aunt died, or even when her daughter fell out of a tree and cracked a rib.
Oh yeah, she had plenty of control. Right.
Unfortunately, sometime during the night she realized she had truly and deeply fallen in love with Antonio, an emotion she thought she would never experience again. An emotion she guarded and kept only for her family. The realization sent her heart reeling, especially when she thought of how cold he’d acted right before he stepped into the limo.
The entire experience was a tangled mess and she needed it to end so she could return to her normal life.
She needed to go home.
She finally fell asleep just after dawn and apparently slept right through the talk she was supposed to have with Beth. It was now well past eleven as she quickly cleaned up, got dressed and snuck out of the house, leaving Stella a heartfelt thank you note.
She couldn’t wait around for Stella to give her anymore advice. She’d made up her mind to get her things, which Jackie had more than likely brought back to London, and catch the next flight home. She’d had enough fun for one trip and wanted to see her kids, their love she could trust.
Yes, she would still go through with whatever book deal Beth thought she should take. She wasn’t a complete idiot. She would consider any publishing deal except one with Market Street. She certainly didn’t want to work with Antonio. And George, despite what Beth had said, was completely out of the question. And no way did she want to work with Antonio’s brother. She wanted away from all of them.
She would simply learn to look at Antonio as a wonderful vacation fling, and no matter how long it took her to get over him, she would go to her grave with the secret of their lovemaking.
* * *
By the time Margot arrived at Jackie’s apartment she had gone over what she would say and was ready to be polite, but determined to get out of there without crying another tear.
This time she rang the bell, not willing to find the two lovebirds in a compromising position if she used the key.
Jackie opened the door, still wearing her nightclothes, a dramatic dark colored silk robe, cinched at her waste, with something black and lacy peeking out of the top. Her blonde hair had been pulled off her face with three thin black hairbands and her face scrubbed clean.
She looked positively radiant.
As soon as she saw Margot her face lit up and her arms fastened around Margot’s shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug. Margot couldn’t help but return the warm welcome, after all, they were like sisters, always had been since the day they met. “Where have you been, luv? We have so much to catch up on. I can’t wait to hear all about your agent and her plans and, well . . . everything! Come on in. It’s cold out there.”
It was a dreary damp day in London. Not unlike most days she’d experienced since she’d arrived . . . the absolute perfect weather for Margot’s drippy emotions.
Jackie pulled Margot inside and shut the door.
“I can’t stay, Jackie. Something’s come up back home and I have to leave. My cab is waiting outside. I only stopped by to pick up my things.”
Jackie’s expression instantly changed. “Are the kids all right?”
Margot couldn’t lie, at least not about her grown babies. “Yes, they’re perfectly fine.”
“Is it your mom? I know how fragile she is.”
“My family is one-hundred percent healthy. I just need to leave.”
“If everyone is fine, then you’re staying right here. I won’t hear of your leaving. We barely said hello and we have so much to talk about. Besides, you haven’t even begun to see all of London. ”
“I really can’t stay. My cab is waiting.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Jackie grabbed a small lip-shaped, black sparkly purse off the small table next to the front door, walked outside in her bare feet, paid the cab driver and sent him on his way.
Then she came back inside, dropped her purse back on the table and turned to Margot. “Take off your coat, sweetie. I just made a fresh pot of the absolute most divine coffee I picked up in France. You’re going to love it.”
“I’m a tea drinker.”
“Then I’ll put on some water. I assume you saw my collection of tea. What would you like?”
It was at that precise moment when Margot forced herself to glance through the French doors to Jackie’s office and noticed that Antonio’s bed was neatly made, his things were still scattered around the room, and the sound of running water echoed from Jackie’s bedroom.
Dread swept through Margot as she realized that unless Jackie was running a bath, Antonio was more than likely taking a shower.
Margot had practiced for this moment on the way over in the cab. Had told herself she could handle it, that it didn’t matter, but being in the apartment again and remembering everything that went on between her and Antonio was simply too much.
“Look, Jackie, I need to tell you something about Antonio and me. I need to tell you because you’re my best friend and you have to believe me when I say that no matter what, I love you. You’re not merely a friend, you’re my sister, my confidant, my better half. My life wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks for the love, honey, but we both already know what we mean to each o
ther, so unless you’re about to tell me that you’re dying, come make your tea. The water’s boiling.”
The electric tea kettle gurgled as it automatically snapped off.
“I don’t want any damn tea! You need to listen to me,” Margot was shaking now from both the terrible fear she had of losing Jackie’s friendship and because at any minute, Antonio would come walking out of the bedroom and she didn’t know if she was going to be able to deal with seeing him again.
Jackie ignored her and sashayed through the living room then disappeared behind the kitchen wall. A few minutes later she returned carrying a tray loaded down with everything they needed for a tea party.
“You want to tell me what’s going on, sweetie, ‘cause you’re scaring the living shit out of me. Here,” she pointed to her white sofa, the last place Margot and Antonio had made love. “Come and sit down and tell me everything. I know you, remember? You’re having a hard time telling me something. Just know that if you’ve done anything short of murdering one of my family members or one of yours--I can’t condone murder under any circumstances . . . except maybe in self-defense . . . what was I saying? Now I’ve lost my train of thought. I had an absolutely exhausting night. I’m going to have to tell you all about it during one of our wine marathons, but anyway . . . ” She carefully placed the tray on the coffee table then sat down on the sofa, crossed her legs under her bottom, leaned back, and patted the very spot where just yesterday Antonio had . . .
“I love the smell of coffee in the morning. I could sure use a cup,” a male voice boomed through the living room causing Margot to turn in his direction. He smiled and kept on walking toward her.
“I just made a fresh pot, luv. Come help yourself,” Jackie told him.
“Thanks, babe,” he said and winked at Margot as he passed.
Margot watched as a tall, slim man, probably in his early thirties, with a shock of black curly hair, dressed in low-slung black dress pants with the top button unfastened and appearing as if they were about to fall off at any moment, barefoot, with no shirt to hide an amazing ripped chest, walked past her and headed for the kitchen.
“Margot, honey, this is Philip. Philip this is my very best friend, Margot.”
“Hey,” Philip said and disappeared behind the kitchen wall leaving Margot in a total state of bewilderment.
* * *
It was dusk by the time Antonio climbed the stairs to Jackie’s apartment not really knowing how he would handle the situation. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to anyone at Scotland Yard, at least not until he knew more about those books in Margot’s suitcase.
When he finally listened to Jim Sutton’s sneezy explanation, he realized what a fool he’d been. Jim couldn’t go into all the details due to his inability to actually speak clearly because of his cold which seemed to be turning into laryngitis by the second, but it was enough information for Antonio to kick himself for ever doubting Margot’s innocence.
He owed Jackie and Margot both a huge apology, he only hoped they’d accept it.
He rang the bell and waited, his breathing becoming labored as tension gripped his insides.
The door opened and the guy Jackie had picked up greeted him wearing the same clothes he’d worn the previous night. Antonio couldn’t remember his name, so he quickly went through the alphabet to see if something stuck. “Hey, dude, come on in. The party’s just getting started.”
The noise level inside Jackie’s apartment seemed almost defining as Antonio made his way inside, stopping his mental alphabet on the letter P. “What is all this?” Antonio asked the P-dude who carried a bottle of beer in his hand.
Pat. No.
Parker. No.
Pete . . . definitely not.
“It’s some sort of combination party to celebrate Margot’s thing, but mostly for Jackie who returned millions of dollars’ worth of rare stolen books to, let’s see if I can get them straight, the British Library, Manchester’s Central Library, and the Lambeth Palace Library. I think there was even a book she located and returned to the National Library of Sweden. That one must have been worth a fortune ‘cause the dudes who came to retrieve it wore gloves. Everybody already left with their booty, but the Swedish government wants to officially thank her with a banquet next month. I’m her date.”
Antonio could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Wait a minute. Jackie works in stolen rare book retrieval?”
“Yeah, something like that. She was in Paris for the annual International Antiquarian Book Fair. She locates and returns rare books to their rightful owners. Who knew, right? She doesn’t seem like the stuffy, upper-class espionage type. Apparently, she’s been working for this organization for a long time. She just returned an entire suitcase full of stolen books. It’s all secret James Bond kind of stuff. She won’t give out the details. You have to give her credit, man. It has to be a dangerous profession.” P-dude had to almost shout over the clatter.
“Right . . .” Antonio said, feeling like an ass. He wondered why Jackie hadn’t simply come clean and told him some of the details of her work. It would have made his life so much easier. And Margot . . . had she known about this all along?
That explained the suitcase filled with books, but Antonio still couldn’t figure out why Margot had them or why had Jackie pretended to be Margot while she was in New York?
Antonio wanted some answers, but for now he’d pour himself a couple shots of scotch and try to enjoy the fact that he didn’t have to turn anybody over to the police.
“Philip!” Antonio said out loud as the dude’s name came to him in a memory burst.
“Yeah?”
“And . . . um . . . what exactly is Margot celebrating?”
“Dude, she signed with some big-deal publishing house for eight figures. We need to start writing books, man. These people make fortunes.”
Antonio let out a sigh. Market Street had lost her and he hadn’t even been warned. “Don’t kid yourself. Most writers barely make a living.”
“That might be true, but not for Margot. Eight figures, man. That’s awesome.”
“Who’d she sign with?”
“I can’t remember the name of the house, but the dude is here . . . somewhere.” Antonio looked around the crowded room for a familiar face. He knew most of the senior editors at the other houses so he figured he’d spot a familiar face soon.
“That’s the guy,” Philip said, pointing to someone standing in front of the windows.
Antonio waited as a woman with big hair walked in front of him, blocking his view. Then, as if the sky had opened up and a ray of sunshine peeked through, he saw Margot standing with Beth Corina and an editor he knew well . . . his brother, Paulo.
“That’s him, standing next to Margot,” Philip shouted as the music suddenly got louder. “Paulo something. You want to meet him?”
“No thanks,” Antonio said. “I think I already know him.”
Everything He Never Wanted: Chapter Eleven
As soon as Margot spotted Antonio from across the room, she wanted to run into his arms. The problem was she didn’t know if he felt the same way, especially now that she’d signed with his publishing house without telling him first.
Now, it was business and business changed everything.
According to her Beth, Paulo had showed up at her mom’s flat early that morning with a contract all ready for Margot to sign. Beth, being the negotiating wizard that she was, had negotiated the deal at a restaurant down the street before she presented it to Margot. When she finally presented it to Margot at Jackie’s apartment, Jackie had to read it over and made her own changes, which allowed Margot to keep her digital rights on her short stories. Paulo and the board members back in the states agreed.
Then, before Margot could change her mind, Paulo stepped in and offered her even a sweeter deal if she allowed Paulo to be her editor. She simply could not refuse, so she signed on the dotted line.
She didn’t know why Antonio wasn’t part of t
he deal, but she was grateful he wasn’t. She didn’t want to look at him as someone who could make or break her career, if she even had a career. That was yet to be determined.
Antonio approached and Paulo walked up to him first. They exchanged a few words that Margot couldn’t hear. Moments later Antonio slapped him on the back and the two men hugged.
Then Antonio’s focus fell to Margot. She couldn’t read his face or his demeanor. Was he angry over the deal? Did he think her work wasn’t worth the money? Or was he still angry at her for something she might never figure out?
As he approached, his hand darted out for a handshake. She took it. “Welcome to Market Street, Ms. Butler.”
His hand felt warm as he wrapped his fingers around hers. “Thanks. I’m happy to be here.”
Antonio let go of her hand and patted his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t let Paulo’s happy disposition fool you. You’re going to work hard in the coming months, harder than you ever thought possible. But in the end, you’ll have some incredible stories.”
“Antonio likes to exaggerate. I’m not that bad,” Paulo told Margot, a bright smile on his face. But Margot had already done some research on Paulo, had talked to Beth about him, and was convinced of his work ethic. He’d already taken some barely known writers to stardom. She’d read some of his authors, and had even featured their books at her store.
“Bring it on. I’m ready for anything.”
Margot knew that from now on she’d have to focus one-hundred percent of her time and energy on her writing. Her beloved bookstore and coffee shop would have to be sold. With the stroke of a pen her entire life had changed and she welcomed the next phase. She only hoped Antonio would be a part of it, and not just as her publisher.
“The writer of my dreams.” Paulo turned to Antonio. “Why didn’t you tell me she was so agreeable?”
Antonio’s eyebrow shot up as he glanced at Margot knowing perfectly well she was anything but agreeable.
Still, he said, “Yep, a little lamb.”