by Liv Morris
"So, what's it like to have such a stellar reputation?" She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms defiantly over her chest. "Is it hard having men afraid to have you around the women in their life, those they respect?"
I chuckle under my breath, "Okay, you've made your point with me." Raising my hands in the air, I surrender to her ribbing of me. Truthfully, I have no defense to speak of, and I need to also do something rare for me and apologize.
"And I’m sorry about the comment I made before Maurice brought us the wine."
She speculatively squints one eye and purses her lips. Not the response I was hoping for with my apology. “Hmmm. I’m curious. How many times have you apologized for your behavior on a date?”
Shit, her question pins me to the wall, and I don’t see a way of escape. So I’ll aim for honesty, hoping she’ll give me a break.
“Zero, you’re the first, Kathryn.” A satisfied smile graces her face as she nods her head at me. “Please, can we change the subject?”
"All right. Tell me a little bit about where you grew up."
I flinch at her question, and I'm pretty sure she detects it with her keen psychologist's eye. I never discuss my hometown or upbringing with anyone. Only the guys who came with me from MIT to New York know a little bit about my past. But I wasn’t one to bring up the specifics about her or my childhood. Thankfully, they never pushed for them, either.
“I prefer to leave my past where it belongs. In my past." My mouth suddenly feels dry as my mind remembers the sound of the first handful of dirt hitting the top of Flora’s casket deep within the damp walls of her grave. Something in my gut twists and pulls. These dark memories bring back the pain of that day.
Kathryn’s eyebrows rise as she likely perceives my distress. But she appears to be more curious than concerned. And I know she'll continue to prod and poke around at my open sores. My mother’s death by her own hand; it’s something I still can’t speak about openly. Tom doesn’t know the specifics about her death but saw how much it troubled me. He urged me to talk to a therapist about it years ago, but he dropped the subject after I scoffed at his recommendations.
"I'm disappointed you don't want to talk about your childhood, but not really that surprised." She sips her wine, her eyes never leaving mine as I try to digest the veal piccoto she ordered for me. "I have something to confess to you. I searched you on the Internet today. It's silly, I know, but I was trying to figure you out. Find out more about you."
"Really? And what did you find? Were you able to figure me out? Find out what makes me tick?" I can't hide my teasing smile as I feel flattered and hopeful this beautiful creature across from me might feel the same odd connection that I do. The energy between us I felt last night seems even stronger today. The pull between us tinged with lust, definitely an intense sexual attraction, but there's something more around the edges that makes it different, deeper than just a physical rush for me to seek and discard.
"Your bios were fascinating but full of holes. The years before you entered MIT at eighteen are missing. Just basic facts, those that could be easily obtained from public records."
"Believe me, that's where the information came from, public records. It was most definitely not from me." The twist in my gut winds tighter as we return to what I consider to be forbidden territory.
Kathryn's tightened lips clearly display her frustration with me, but I'm not a man to be moved on this topic. "I'm sorry to push you. As I've said, I was just wanting to know about you. We can talk about what I did find out if you'd like."
She reaches across the table and soothingly rubs her fingers over my tightly closed fists. My hand instinctively opens and encompasses hers. I feel something strange as we hold hands and stare into each other's eyes. An unspoken conversation is occurring between us. And for the first time in my adult memory, instead of stopping someone’s attempt at showing me compassion, I allow it to be reflected back at me. A caring sweetness travels from her to me and I don’t want it to stop.
"Someday." Her fingers squeeze mine gently and my body relaxes, eases down from the tension. "Maybe someday you'll tell me everything. I promise to never bring it up again. Okay?"
"Thanks. I appreciate that." Maurice appears as we sit in silence, searching, gazing at each other. I think we're both trying to understand this thing between us.
"You finished, Ms. Kathryn?" Maurice looks to her again, avoiding my mug.
"I think we are. The meal was wonderful as usual. Thank you." Her loving smile aimed at Maurice warms me. I might move heaven and earth to see it again or have it grace her lips for me.
"Miss Kathryn, Sofia wants to speak with you, alone, before you leave." Maurice hands me the bill as he finishes his request. I do not miss the emphasis on the word "alone." I look at Kathryn, who shrugs and rises from her chair. It appears Sofia is not to be ignored today. I don’t have to guess what Sofia wants to discuss with Kathryn. Their conversation will like be headlining me, the manwhore.
As she walks away, Maurice has not moved from his spot beside me. He's still holding our plates but makes no moves toward the kitchen.
"My wife, Sofia, doesn't like you, Mr. Kingsley. She feels you are bad for dear Ms. Kathryn. She told me to tell you that she will be watching you, too. And believe me when I say this, you don't want her upset."
"Kathryn is lucky to have people who care so much about her." I smile up at him. If I were standing, I'd likely be eight inches taller than he is. My seated position works to his advantage. I take a business card out of my wallet along with several hundred dollars. "Please give this to your wife. The card has my personal number on it. Tell her to call me if she wants. She has carte blanche with me."
He looks befuddled. "I will tell her and I'd be ready for a call, Mr. Kingsley. She's not easily impressed by a few hundred dollars." In a huff, he stuffs the money into his apron pocket. I guess he is, though. I know it's not a bribe, but still I want to leave here on good terms, fatten the calf a little.
Kathryn follows Maurice’s retreat to the kitchen. I see her in a heated conversation with Sofia. It's my reputation again. Before today, I never needed an excuse for my behavior with women, nor did I even want one. I was purely content with the person I was until twenty-four hours ago. Funny how things change.
It's time for me to meet Sofia, my distracter. As I rise and walk toward them, I hear Kathryn speaking in Italian to Sofia, and I wonder how many languages this woman speaks.
"Good evening, Sofia. I'm Adam Kingsley." I hold my hand out in welcome to her. I wait to see her reaction, and I watch as Kathryn nudges her arm and Sofia's hand reaches out to me.
"Mr. Kingsley." Her greeting is laced with contempt as she looks down her nose at me, and I realize that it's most likely a fair judgment on her part; after all, I read the gossip columns, too. I know what they write about me, and it's mostly true, although before I faced this woman in front of me, I usually would've laughed at their reports. But not today. The foreign shift within me is that great. It’s puzzling to me. The sudden change was brought on by something I didn’t initiate. It’s like I’m its target, with no power to stop myself from succumbing to it.
"I had a lovely dinner with Kathryn. The veal was superb." Hoping to sound sincere, I decide to end my accolades. Nothing says fake more than heaping on tons of insincere praise. "Kathryn, are you ready to leave?"
I offer her my arm. "I'm ready, Mr. Kingsley. Goodbye, Sofia. I'll see you in a couple of days for sure." I open the door for her and gratefully lead her outside. I feel like I've been given a reprieve or stay by the governor when I inhale the cool early evening air.
"Well, I think I’ve survived the Italian Inquisition tonight." I place my hand at the small of her back, a possessive move. But I don't care. A man on the sidewalk eyes her up and down, but I glare at him and he hurries away. My body touching hers marks my territory like a hungry wolf. The thought makes me laugh.
"What's so funny?" She looks up at me with a sly smile.
"The man
that just walked by looked too long at you and I didn't like it. Have you always had this kind of an effect on men? Wait, don’t answer that, I don’t really want to hear about other men in your life.” Her sly smile turns to one of smug satisfaction.
As I get ready to speak, my phone sounds an alarm. I stop and search its screen. Rarely do I get this alert. A serious or grave problem is the only thing that warrants its action. Only four people have the ability to institute this "Def-con" alert: Tom, Mrs. Carter, Patrick, and of course Peters. The screen shows Tom is the one sending the warning.
I instantly stop and call him on my cell phone.
"Kingsley. Something crazy just happened at the Library Gala." His words rush together as if he can’t get them out fast enough.
"This better be something besides a report of some overdue books."
"How does a threat on your life sound? Serious enough?"
Chapter 7
“What the hell are you talking about, Tom?” A threat?” I can’t believe what he’s saying to me.
“Yes, but it’s really more than a threat.” He pauses, and I’m getting frustrated. Answers aren’t coming from him fast enough. “I hear traffic in the background. Are you out on the sidewalk or street?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with this threat?” I question him angrily as I feel my temper starting to build. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Kathryn has been standing at my side during this conversation. She’s biting her lip and anxiously wringing her hands. Her eyes look concerned, a likely result of my angry demeanor. My temper can flare at times. This heated exchange being a clear example.
I’d like to reach out to her, bring her into my arms, and soothe her. Just the thought of me soothing a woman makes me wonder who I am. But I’m not sure how she’d receive such a gesture from me. I feel like there is still so much ground to cover with her before I can get physical. I hope I have the patience to wait, as I’ve never been tested like this before. Adam Kingsley isn’t known for being patient.
Tom’s yelling pulls me back to our conversation. “You need to get inside and fast. Just do what I tell you, Adam. Get off the fucking street. Find a coffee shop. Hell, I don’t care. Just get off the sidewalk.”
“Have you gone crazy? Tell me what’s going on. I’m not moving an inch until you do.” I’m way past frustrated now. He had better start spilling the details to me.
“Damn, you stubborn asshole. It’s Simon. He had a gun and fired it at me. Oh fuck, Adam. It’s beyond belief, really. Get inside now and I’ll tell you more. Fuck, you can probably even watch it on the news. Cameras are everywhere.”
“Shit. Okay, okay.” I look at Kathryn and then glance at the glass front of Sant Ambroeus. “Hold on, Tom.”
I bring the phone down to my side. Kathryn appears confused, and I’m right there with her. I have no idea what the hell I’m going to say to her. Other than we need to get undercover. Completely crazy.
“I’m on the phone with my friend and business partner, Tom. He’s saying a threat was made on my life. He wants us inside, out of open view. Something about our former partner shooting a gun at him.” I point back to Sant Ambroeus’s door. “Let’s go back inside, and then I’ll find out more.”
Kathryn and I hastily walk back to the restaurant. Hopefully, my greeting from the owners will be better this time. I already have enough shit to deal with. Once inside, a confused Maurice approaches us.
“Mr. Kingsley. Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there seems to be problem, and I need your help.” I hurriedly respond with my words running together. “Do you have a back room? Something with a TV?”
“We have an office in the back with a TV. Sofia likes her soaps.” Maurice glances in Sofia’s direction.
“Perfect.” I slow down when I prepare to ask for an invasion into this man’s private office. His feelings for me aren’t stellar already, but I really have no other choice. “Can Kathryn and I use your office for a little while? Door open, of course.”
“Certainly. Anything for Ms. Kathryn.” He motions us to follow him, and we beginning walking behind him. We make our way through the kitchen. The head chef looks up from his preparations and stops chopping an onion, almost dropping his knife. Once we’ve left the kitchen area, Maurice leads us down a short hall with his office situated at the end.
I give Kathryn a reassuring look as we enter the small room, but I don’t think it’s working. Her face has worry written all over it. There’s no comforting it at present, either. I return my attention to Tom, who’s been waiting on the line for me. Likely going crazy, too.
“Tom. We’re inside now.” I look around the office. A desk. A couple of chairs. A small television with antennas jetting out of the top on a filing cabinet. The office resembles something from the 1960s, like a scene from Mad Men. Kathryn stands close to me. A mere breath keeps us from touching. I’m focusing my eyes on hers. Their blue violet gleam reflects concern for me, and it’s oddly comforting.
“What do you mean, we?” Tom asks.
“Kathryn Delcour is with me. We just finished dinner and are now in the back of the restaurant’s office. I’m switching the phone to speaker so she can hear.” I’ve given him more details on where I am and who I’m with than he’s given to me on this supposed threat. “Now for fuck’s sake tell me what’s going on. From the beginning.”
“While I was on hold waiting for you, Lois and I climbed into a police car. It’s crazy. Completely fucked up.” He’s breathing fast.
“Right From the top,” I tell him.
I hear Tom swallow and take a deep breath. Trying to calm himself before he starts in. “Eddie picked Lois and I up around six thirty tonight for the event. Nothing seemed amiss at all. The usual line-up of sedans and limos as guests were dropped off in front. One by one people exited their cars. Finally it was our turn at the curb. Eddie came around to open the door, and I was sitting on that side so I got out first.” Tom stops and takes another deep breath, but I still don’t know shit.
“Keep going, Tom. My patience is running thin.” My tone carries a distinct reprimand to it.
“Right. Sorry. Just a little overwhelmed. Here’s where the shit hits the fan. As I’m getting out, a gun goes off, and I feel a bullet whiz by my head. It was fucking unreal. Like in the movies. I look to my right and see Simon standing by the back tire. He’s dressed in a black trench coat like some Matrix dude with a pistol in his hand. Pointing at me, Adam. God the look on his face was nothing but sheer hatred. The gun aimed right for me. Thankfully the bullet he fired embedded in the limo in front us. No one was hurt. I could’ve been shot in the head.”
“But something happened when he saw it was me standing there. He appeared shocked and dropped the gun to his side. Lois had climbed out of the car by now and was standing behind me. She only saw the gun at this side. Thank God. But Adam, before he ran off, he said something that has scared the shit out of me.” He stops and I hear him saying something to Lois. I think she’s crying in the background.
“Don’t stop now, Tom,” I practically yell.
“Simon told me he thought it was you inside. He came to event with a gun in hopes of shooting you. What he said, Adam, chilled me to the bone. He said, ‘Tell Adam that bullet was for him.”
Listening to Tom, one thing comes to my mind. Am I dreaming? A horrible, awful nightmare. I am at a loss for what to say back to Tom. Stunned, shocked. Nothing makes a bit of sense. Nothing.
“He’s gone mad. Completely snapped,” I say in disbelief.
I just can’t figure out why I’m his target. I’ve been combing my mind since yesterday after I found out about Simon, but I keep coming up empty. I can’t even remember the last unkind word we spoke to one another.
“How’s Lois doing? I can hear her crying in the background. In her condition, this has to be even worse.” Lois’ sobbing doesn’t seem to be subsiding at all.
“She’s shaking like a leaf. If she doesn’t ca
lm down I may take her to the ER. I’m concerned about shock. But no one was hurt by Simon directly.”
“So what happened after he ran off? Did he leave or were the police able to find his crazy ass?” The thought of Simon running free around this city hell-bent on killing me or someone else unsettles me to my core.
Kathryn is now seated in the one chair in the office. I’m sitting on the corner of the desk. But my eyes are solely on Kathryn, and hers are on mine.
“He ran away. Virtually disappeared. No one but Eddie, Lois, and me saw him with the gun. Since he’s left-handed, the black arm of his trench coat and gun were right up against the black of the Escalade. He just blended in. Everyone was busy arriving. Waiting for the real celebrities to show up. Do you have any idea what might have triggered all of this with Simon? Besides the ex-fiancée.”
“I’ve wracked my brain. I can’t think of a thing. As far as I knew everything between Simon and I was okay. We hadn’t talk outside of business in months, but you know that’s not unusual for us. He asked me via email to join him and his fiancée Marta for dinner on several occasions. I didn’t go. Had another commitments. But there’s no way something like would make him snap.”
“I’ve been doing the same. Not a single thing comes to mind. It makes me think that when Marta broke the engagement off, he lost it, literally. He’s a wanted man now. Which is unreal. The police are searching everywhere for him. They believe he took the subway from Bryant Park, and there are so many lines and options for him to take from there. No telling where he is now.”
“It seems like all of this is a dream. Is Eddie doing okay? He’s tough on the outside, but I bet this gave him quite the fright?”
“He’s the one that ran and got the police after it all happened. The cops were stationed closer to the red carpet. Celebrity security, I guess. But Eddie was beside himself after he came back with the cops. I sent him on home. The police wanted the SUV left on the scene. They’re sweeping it for prints.”
“I should let you go. Lois needs you more than me. Call me later tonight after everything has settled down. Give her my best.” I truly hope that Lois is all right. I feel partly to blame for this whole situation, even though I have no idea why Simon has me as his target.