by Claire Adams
It was the last straw, and my nerves, which were raw to begin with, gave way. I turned and grabbed his shirt and yelled in his face, "No, that's not it at all! I work because you are an alcoholic baggage handler who can't seem to remember to charge enough for a repair job so that we're not in the red for it! I work because someone has to pay the bills around here and keep things going! I work so that I can earn enough money to pay off our debts and put something in savings every month, but most of all do you know why I work, Tommy?" I was screaming at him at the top of my lungs. "I work because I can't stand being around you anymore and I have to get away from this house as often as I can!"
I didn't see it coming. Tommy pulled his hand back and slapped me across the face so hard that my neck snapped and I went flying to the floor. I brought my hand up to my face and looked up at him in horror. He'd never once hit me in the entire time we'd been together. He'd never even raised his voice to me. This was completely out of character, but I wasn't willing to stick around and find out if it was part of his new character.
I pulled myself off the floor as he watched me with a shocked look on his own face. I didn't think it had quite registered with him what he'd done. And in that moment, I knew our marriage was over. There was no going back. We'd crossed over the point of no return and I was not going to give him a second chance.
"Emily?" His voice sounded small and lost. It was a radical difference from the arrogant drunk I'd walked in on an hour before. "Em? I'm sorry."
I gathered up what things I could, and walked out to the front yard where I surveyed the damage and grabbed the things that were of value to me. Tommy followed and stood in the doorway calling my name as I gathered my things and put them in the trunk of my car. I didn't say a word to him. I simply packed my things into the car, then looked up at the front door and gave him a sad smile.
"Tommy, I'm done," I said with a sad smile. "We had a good run, but it's over. And I mean over over. There's no going back. I don't want to be married to you anymore."
"But, Emily," he began. I held up a hand and shook my head.
"We're done," I said as I walked to the car and slid inside. I slipped the key into the ignition and turned it hearing the engine roar to life. I took one last look at the house that had once held so much hope and promise, and then I waved one last time as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway and left my old life behind.
I pulled into the road and shifted the car into drive, put my foot on the gas, and moved forward into my new life.
Chapter Fifty-One
Emily
I sat on a bench in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and listened to a guide telling a group of tourists about the history of the tower.
"The tower was criticized by the 'Committee of Three Hundred,' so named because it had one member for every meter of the tower's height," he said lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level. "The Committee said the tower would dominate Paris like a gigantic black smokestack, crushing under its barbaric bulk Notre Dame, the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Louvre, the Dome of les Invalides, and the Arc de Triomphe and that for twenty years, the city would see stretching like a blot of ink the hateful shadow of the hateful column of bolted steel metal."
"Oh goodness," gasped a woman wearing the classic French scarf tied jauntily around her neck. Her attempt at looking French was not assisted by the rest of her outfit; a pair of bright red skinny jeans, a tight navy blue t-shirt with a scoop neck and an American flag silkscreened on the front topped with a white windbreaker. The camera hanging around her neck completed the outfit in a way that the scarf couldn't compete with.
I pulled my trench coat around me a little tighter and looked down the path at the tall steel structure casting a shadow on the people below it. I had been in the city for several days on a layover from New York and had decided that this time I'd get out and see a bit of Paris. As I looked around, I thought about Austin and how I hadn't heard from him in a few months.
Whatever we'd had in Sydney had died out once I left. I'd texted him a few times to see how he was doing and to try and explain why I'd left so quickly. I still wondered if he'd found my note and if he had, why he wasn't willing to talk to me. I'd told him I'd be back, hadn't I?
What I had noticed over the past few months was that my flight assignments had gotten better and that my trips were to some of the more exotic places on the airline's flight schedule. I'd seen Indonesia, the French Polynesian Islands, and had spent a few nights in Marrakesh, but mostly I flew the route from Los Angeles to London. It was an easy flight with very few disruptions in first class, and I'd gotten comfortable with the routine.
Back home, I'd walked out on Tommy hoping that the beginning of the end with him would allow me to see what Austin and I might have. But after weeks of not being able to get in touch with Austin, I started to doubt my decision and after Tommy called one night crying and saying he was so sorry for all he'd done, I decided that it might have been a pipe dream to think that Austin cared for me. So, I went back home and tried to shape our life together into something that we could build on. It wasn't what I really wanted, but it was my life.
My mother had been thrilled that I'd gone back to Tommy and now she was nagging me about when she could look forward to having a grandchild to spoil. The thought of having a baby made me feel ill. Tommy was still drinking and gambling, but he'd cut back to doing it when I was on trips. When I was home, he'd hang out in the backyard working on a project, as he called it, and coming inside to ask what was for dinner. I'd give him a tight smile and tell him whatever it was that I'd prepared.
The worst were the nights when he wanted to make love. When we'd been young, sex had been a grand adventure. We were each other's firsts and, I assumed, lasts. We weren't particularly imaginative, but he'd always been sweet and kind and I'd always thought sex with him was the best it could be, but after the passionate nights I'd spent with Austin, I knew that Tommy was not the lover of my dreams. Not by a long shot. So, I tried, but it was never very good, and I was often thankful when Tommy would fall asleep before we were able to get past the kissing and fumbling groping. Those nights, I'd reach down between my legs and call up the memory of Austin's hands on my body and his lips pressed against mine as he slowly pressed himself deep inside of me, and I would orgasm as I cried for what might have been.
A cold wind blew across my face and I looked up and noticed that the sun had sunk low on the horizon. I needed to get back to the hotel for Tommy's nightly check-in call. He'd started doing that when he'd started playing poker while I was gone. It seemed that the more he cheated, the more he wanted to make absolutely sure that I wasn't.
"Why am I doing this?" I said to a group of hopeful pigeons that had gathered near my feet in the hope that I'd toss out some crumbs.
"Doing what?" said a voice that for a moment, I swore came from on of the birds.
"Huh?" I said spinning around to find a small man seated on the bench beside me pulling large chunks of bread from what smelled like a freshly baked loaf.
"Doing what?" he repeated as he broke off bread and tossed it to the waiting crowd.
"Oh, nothing," I said shaking my head. "I was just talking to myself."
"Ah, I see," said the little man. He was wearing a driving cap that obscured his face and a big tweed coat that made him look like he was drowning it fabric. "I often talk to myself. And the birds. They are very good listeners, that is if I bring bread. Otherwise, not so much." He laughed lightly as he threw another chunk of bread and watched the birds race to be the first to claim it.
"I see," I laughed with him. "They're a greedy bunch!"
"Oh, no, not greedy," he said smiling. "They just know what they need and aren't afraid to take it."
"But isn't that a form of greed?" I asked, wondering how a man feeding birds could hone in on my issue without knowing anything about me.
"No, my dear," he said as he threw piece after piece in rapid succession until each bird had a piece of bread. "
Settling for less than one wants or needs is actually the greedy thing. It's weak and it relies on others to make the decisions. Taking what one wants or needs is the epitome of strength."
"But if I take what I want..." I began and then stopped.
"Someone will get hurt?" he finished.
"Yes," I said bowing my head and feeling ashamed.
"But what is the price of not taking what you want?" he asked. "If these birds didn't take what they wanted and needed, they would likely die. Isn't that the same for humans?"
"Yes, but I don't think you can compare bread in a park to a marriage," I blurted out. Then, I blushed as I realized that I'd just told a complete stranger about my problems.
"Oh, I think you can," he said smiling again. "In fact, I think it's the perfect comparison. Bread is both a life-giving substance and a pleasurable treat for these birds. Take it away and they'd find worms or bugs, but life wouldn't be as sweet as it is when they can come to me and get bread."
"But if they eat a diet that consists solely of bread, then they'll die!" I cried.
"True," said the old man with a thoughtful look on his face. "But their systems have adapted so that they can eat both and survive, but the act of coming and taking bread from me is so much more fun, don't you think?"
"I suppose," I said.
"Look at it this way, dear," he said. "Birds don't have to eat bread, but they choose to do it. That must account for something, right? I just choose to believe that it's because they prefer the human contact over digging cold worms out of the dirt!"
I laughed loudly as I thought about what he was saying and then smiled at him as I got up off the bench and turned toward my hotel.
"Whatever it is you're trying to decide," he called after me in a voice that took to the air. "You haven't yet made the right decision. If you had, you'd be walking lightly and looking forward to going wherever you're headed."
I walked a few steps as I thought about what he'd said, and then turned to say something and found the bench empty and the birds gone. I walked the whole way back to the hotel muttering under my breath about how Paris was making me crazy.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Austin
We had been holed up in the conference room most of the day arguing about whether to proceed with the Paris project or the Berlin project. Daniel was arguing that Berlin was a better value given the value of the Euro and the fact that Berlin was becoming increasingly attractive to hip urbanites and investors there was a window of opportunity that we were going to miss if we didn't take advantage of it right away.
I was skeptical of his assertions since, thanks to Bax, I'd gotten the report we'd compiled about Daniel's dealings with the Camorra, the Italian crime syndicate that had infiltrated the construction industry in Germany. I knew that Daniel had ties to the top Camorra capos, but since I didn't know which ones, I had to keep the information to myself as Bax frantically searched for more evidence to prove that something was more than not right.
"I don't think you should back this Paris project right now," Daniel was arguing at the conference table. We were meeting with the top brass in the construction industry in France and I was trying to convince them that investing time, energy, and money in a Marks Casino and Hotel project would reap untold benefits. Meanwhile, Daniel, in his bid to preserve his own interests, was arguing that perhaps they might want to reconsider and think about putting off the project until after the first of the year. I knew that if we did that, we'd lose out on some substantial tax breaks set to expire at the end of the year, but he was intent on claiming those breaks for his own project.
"I do think you should back the project, Mr. Benoit," I argued passionately. "I think that this is perfect time and we've got the perfect location on which to build. If we delay starting the project until next year, we're going to lose out on some big benefits that are set to expire."
"I think you're out of your element on this one, Austin," Daniel said in a voice meant to evoke my father. It irritated me, but I wasn't about to let that show in front of the Frenchmen.
"I don't think so, Daniel, but I appreciate your input," I replied with a smile that did not reach my eyes.
"I am interested in the reasons for your differing opinions, gentlemen," said Girard Benoit. "It seems to me that there's more to this dispute than just a casino, am I correct?"
I shot Daniel a look telling him to keep the dirty laundry between us, but he ignored me and addressed Benoit.
"Mr. Benoit, we have a difference of opinion about the fiscal wisdom of building in Paris versus Berlin," he said. I could see his reptilian brain working on how to get what he wanted while also completely sinking me. "I believe that building in Berlin is a smarter move right now given the construction market there, but my CEO differs in opinion and feels we should break ground here first before we branch out. I am simply saying that as someone who worked with his late father, I feel that I know what's best for this company and that Austin, while definitely gifted and knowledgeable, should let the old hands work this one out."
"I see," said Benoit looking at me with fresh eyes. I was so pissed at Daniel for sinking me in front of this potential partner and even more pissed that he'd invoked my dead father in order to do it. "And what do you think, Mr. Marks?"
"Mr. Benoit, I believe that this company was built on a lot of risks that, back in the day, were necessary in order to survive and then get ahead," I began. Daniel might be trying to drown me, but I wasn't going to go under without a fight.
"But I believe that time as passed, and that we now need to look at expanding the company's holdings in a way that we hadn't considered before. I believe that the smarter move is to build in Paris where we have strong ties to your company and to the union that governs construction activity. Once we launch this project and have it firmly underway, we'll be in a better position to negotiate with the...operators in Germany."
I hesitated to make my point that Daniel was negotiating with the mafia and that any deals struck would be at a distinct disadvantage to Marks Enterprises. Daniel's eyes burned as he looked at me. I would pay for this at some point, but right now, I needed to secure the French deal and get that in motion.
"And, if we sign on to do the project, Mr. Marks," said Girard. "What guarantees do we have?"
"I'll offer you the same agreement that we offered the Australians," I said confidently. "No foreign imported workers and all decisions will be made by the crew hired and installed on site. We will give you a lot of leeway to run this project as you see fit, but you will have to meet all of the deadlines we set or the deal is off."
"Mmm hmm," he hummed as he looked back and forth between Daniel and me trying to get a sense of who was really in charge. "I believe we will discuss this offer, Mr. Marks, and then let you know first thing in the morning."
Benoit stood and offered his hand to Daniel. "Thank you, Mr. Wentworth. I appreciate you taking the time to come all this way to present your case. I will give it the consideration it deserves."
Daniel shook Benoit's hand before shooting me another death glare. He stepped back and waited as Benoit offered me his hand and said, "First thing in the morning, Mr. Marks."
"Thank you, sir," I said as I let go of the man's hand and turned to walk out of the room. Daniel followed me, muttering something under his breath. When we reached the lobby of Benoit's offices, I turned and looked at Daniel for a moment, then said, "Why did my father hire you?"
"Why?" he parroted with a surprised look on his face. "Why did your father hire me? Oh kid, that's a good one!"
"I'm serious, why did my father hire you?" I repeated.
"Kid, your old man was the most savvy businessman who ever lived," he said as he leaned in and dropped his voice. "He hired me because I wasn't afraid of him and because I knew how to get the job done. And, that's what I'm doing here. Getting the job done."
"Good to know," I nodded. "Except you need to adjust your thinking since I'm not my father, and I don't do busin
ess the way he did."
"Oh, I know, kid," he said with a mocking look on his face. "Oh, believe me, I know. We all know."
He turned and walked out to the office door, but before exiting, he looked back at me and said, "Kid, there are some things that you know nothing about and some things that you don't need to know anything about. Trust me on that one." Then he turned and walked to the elevator and jabbed the button. When it arrived he got on without looking back.
I stood staring at the space he'd left that was now empty wondering what my father would have done in this situation – and being glad that maybe I didn't know. I walked out to the elevator, pressed the button, and when the car arrived, I got on and downstairs.
If Daniel Wentworth was going to wage an internal war against the CEO of Marks Enterprises, then that CEO was going to be good and ready for him. I strode across the lobby, confident that one call to Bax tonight would get me the information I needed and that I might have lost the battle this afternoon, but I was going to win the war tomorrow.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Emily
I'd just walked through the door and was on my way across the lobby to catch the elevator up to my room when Austin rushed past me. I stepped back and watched him quickly walking away, until he stopped and turned.
"Emily?" he said.
"Hi, Austin." I smiled. He looked even more handsome than he had the last time I'd seen him. His hair was a messy mop of curls and the five o'clock shadow he wore made him look dark and somewhat dangerous. He was dressed in a suit, but true to his nature, he was not wearing a tie. I looked up at him and smiled.
"What are you doing here?" he asked with a confused look on his face.
"Oh, I thought you knew," I said feeling disappointed that I'd read the promotion wrong and that he hadn't had a hand in it at all. "I got promoted to the European route. I'm out of LA."
"Ah, I see," he said. His eyes were a swirling mass of something dark and conflicted, but since I'd been wrong about the promotion, I didn't assign any meaning to it. "Are you enjoying Paris?"