Flawless: (Fearsome Series Book 4)

by S. A. Wolfe

  “Why twelve vases?” Greer asks. “Is that number significant?”

  I shrug. “I once mentioned it would be more romantic for a man to send twelve bouquets of colorful lilies to a woman than one bouquet of red roses. It was because of a silly article in a women’s magazine that showed his photo with a list of romantic gestures you can expect from him. He said the reporter made everything up, and I said that’s good because giving women red roses is too predictable. I was just teasing him.”

  Greer laughs. “He certainly called you on it.”

  Peyton gives a disapproving grunt. “This is overkill. He’s just showing off for you. It’s not like he picked them himself. How hard is it to call a florist and place an order over the phone with a credit card?”

  Greer glares at her brother. “You’re being obnoxious.”

  “You’re being easily impressed,” Peyton says to me.

  “I wasn’t expecting something like this. Yes, it’s impressive.”

  “Peyton,” Greer says. “Some men are romantics. I’ve never known you to give any woman flowers. Except Mom. You used to hunt through every cheap bodega and flower stand in Brooklyn to get her sunflowers. But your mother doesn’t count.”

  Peyton grumbles something about the dining room smelling like a funeral home, then herds the staff back into the kitchen.

  “Sunflowers?” I ask Greer as she fingers the stem of a red lily and admires it.

  He calls me sunflower.

  “Oh, yes. Sunflowers. They were our mother’s favorite. She said they are the biggest and happiest flower. Peyton loved to make her happy. He was definitely the baby in the family. I don’t care what he says, he was a mama’s boy. He’d do anything to put a smile on her face. I think he thought he could make everything better. Fix every bad day my mother had at work, especially when she hit the corporate glass ceiling. Peyton was really young at that time, and he thought our mother was actually hitting her head on a ceiling made of glass. It was precious. And I suppose a ten-year-old Peyton thought the sunflowers would make her happy enough that she’d fix her marriage with our dad.

  “Peyton would ride his bike all over Brooklyn neighborhoods, always coming home with those giant sunflowers. He looked so proud when he’d present her with another one. Back then, he was just as tenacious, but he was also an optimist.” Greer pauses. “Now he seems so ruthless with women.”

  “He’s not that bad,” I say, looking at the enormous sprays of lilies. The best way to describe it is that they make me feel positive when I think of Adam, and a little sad when Peyton flashes in my mind, which he does constantly.

  Am I gaining something or losing something?

  “Do you think Peyton will mind if I leave them here? I don’t have room for these at home.”

  “The dining room is my jurisdiction, so I don’t care what he thinks. These big vases work well on the large tables. They’re lovely, and you can come visit them when you’re confused about Peyton and need to be reminded that Adam is pretty fantastic.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A smile creeps across my face, and Greer laughs.

  “Sure you don’t. I’m Peyton’s sister. I see everything he does. I can practically read his mind, and since this place opened, his mind has been on Finn, naturally, and you.”

  “We’re over.”

  “I see,” she says more seriously. “And you have a big date with Adam. I love my brother, but he’s even worse at relationships than I am.”

  “We were never in a real relationship.”

  “Ah, yes. Defining a relationship is really tricky.” She departs with a friendly smile, leaving me alone with my flowers and her lingering sarcasm.

  • • •

  I’m packing meals in the delivery bags when Peyton makes an appearance. After three months of working in his kitchen, I’m used to blending in with the staff, and the cooks and servers are used to working around my little area of the worktable. Sometimes I have them try my new dishes when Bash holds their afternoon tastings, and I like to participate in their daily chatter, which is usually gossip. It has given me good insight into the men and women working for Peyton, and undoubtedly, most of them, like Greer, have a fairly good grasp of what has been, or was, going on between Peyton and me. You can’t really keep secrets in a restaurant. Something about the environment makes everyone’s life naked to anyone employed there.

  When Peyton begins talking to Bash, there’s an obvious shift in the room. I am invisible. He blatantly ignores me now. I used to at least get a cursory glance if we’d been arguing. His eyes would meet mine at some point, and I felt like a lucky recipient of one of his hardened glares or his mirthful stares, both of which I welcomed. I could never get enough of his eyes, and there’s nothing wrong with feeling your insides puddle, a little weak with a schoolgirl crush.

  That’s done. He’s decided to treat me as if I’m not even here, and I don’t like it. Calling off our trysts, whatever they should be called, is one thing. Pretending I don’t exist is plain mean.

  “You can stop going over all your little lists with me,” Bash says. “I know everything. I can run this place without you.”

  “You wish,” Peyton says.

  “Go see some palm trees and swim in the ocean. Really, we can manage without you.”

  “Screw you. I’ll call you when we check into the hotel.”

  I stop tugging at a zipper on one of my delivery bags and look directly at Peyton. I can’t keep up the charade of nonchalantly eavesdropping. “Where are you going?” I demand.

  He looks my way and regards me with a slight tilt of his head that suggests I’m making an inquiry into something that’s none of my business. “LA, of course.”

  “You’re going to see the Bourdain people?” I’m astounded. After everything he went through with Finn, he’s still willing to break up his family to follow money and fame?

  “Yes, I’m going to meet with them.”

  “I can’t believe how selfish you are!” I give up on the bag’s zipper and storm out toward the van.

  “Hey!” Peyton follows me outside with my other two bags. “Do you think you can keep your opinions to yourself?” He arranges my bags in the back of the van and slams the doors closed.

  “I thought my opinions mattered to you. I thought you took my advice seriously and you realized how lucky you are to have Finn. You set up your house here for him. You said you wanted to give him a stable life!”

  “I’m going to LA to see what Bourdain can offer. Finn is going with me. Tomorrow night.”

  “Oh.” It’s like my last breath is being sucked out of me. “Harmony agreed to this?”

  “She understands this is a big opportunity for my career.”

  “But she moved across the country so her son, your son, could be with his father. Why would she ever consider letting you take him to LA? She would give up custody?”

  “No one ever said anything about giving up custody,” he says with so much disdain I shrink back.

  My cluttered thoughts render me speechless.

  “Harmony is going with me.”

  I never saw that one coming. I feel sick.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” He pauses, not meeting my eyes.

  Can this get any worse? Is he trying to make me hate him? Are he and Harmony a couple now?

  “You don’t have to tell me—you don’t owe me anything.”

  “I do.”

  He steps back and rocks on his feet, bothered, hesitating. Then he kicks a rock and walks around in a circle, cursing to himself and kicking more rocks. He’s beginning to make me nervous.

  “I owe you some objectivity, and to make amends,” he says. “I’ve made this whole thing between us difficult. I’m sorry. We agreed it would be casual, but I kept trying to convince you to accept less than what you deserve. You should be with the person who’s best for you.”

  This is what I wanted, right?

  I acknowledge his statement with
nothing more than a nod and get into the van and leave.

  • • •

  I couldn’t sleep last night. By three in the morning, I was so tired of being consumed with Peyton’s news that I walked on the dreaded treadmill for an hour, conjuring happy thoughts about tonight’s dinner with Adam. I’ll be on a dinner date while Peyton is flying to Los Angeles. With his new family.

  I finish packing the six-course meal. It’s too much food for two people. Too rich, too much butter, and the meal will end with a flourless chocolate torte, so if the butter and fat don’t kill us, the sugar will put us in a nice coma. I cooked the meal at home rather than at Swill under the watchful eyes of the staff.

  Adam said he would send someone to pick up the food since it won’t fit in his car, and then he’ll pick me up at five. I’m surprised he wants to eat at such an early hour, but then, maybe he has plans to crush my soul by topping Peyton’s news. Soul-crushing dates take extra time so all the harsh words can get out and the disappointment can be fully digested.

  After a young man in a truck came by to get the food, I received another text from Adam, informing me to dress in jeans and wear comfortable shoes.

  “I don’t know, Talia.” Aleska is sitting on my bed, watching me select a casual outfit. “A five o’clock dinner? Jeans and sneakers? It sounds like two seniors going for the early bird special at a diner.”

  “I think we’re eating outside. He said he wants to beat the mosquitos.” I observe myself in the full-length mirror. I’m wearing skinny jeans with a sleeveless, pink wrap blouse and a pair of white Toms slip-ons. “Should I wear my hair up or down?”

  “Down,” she says in a bored tone as she flips through a magazine. “That way he can run his fingers through your hair when he kisses you.”

  “What’s wrong? You’re acting like this is a bad idea. You’re the one who kept saying how fabulous Adam is and wouldn’t it be great to date a man like him.”

  She tosses the magazine on the floor and looks at me in the mirror. “You look very pretty. He’ll think so, too.”

  “So, why are you so gloomy?”

  “I guess I’m a little sad that, after all you and Peyton have been through together, you’re tossing him aside so you can go out with Adam.”

  I turn away from the mirror and face my sister. “I didn’t toss Peyton anywhere. He’s leaving for Los Angeles tonight, and he’s taking Harmony and Finn with him. He’s practically a married man!” I pick the magazine off the floor and throw it at her head.

  “Hey! Don’t get mad at me. You asked me, and I told you. Adam seems terrific, but I don’t think you and Peyton are over each other.”

  “We were never supposed to be into each other. I slept with him to prove to myself that not every man will reject me like Marko did. Peyton and I had an understanding that we were friends who slept together. I did it to make myself feel better after …”

  “After the surgery, and the depressing recovery … and you wanted to feel good again.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly. I wouldn’t have gotten involved with Peyton if I had known about Finn.”

  “So you and Peyton haven’t slept together since he met Finn?”

  “Well … no … that’s not true. I wasn’t going to continue with the sleepovers, but we got carried away a few times.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it now? Sleepovers? And getting carried away?” Aleska chuckles. “I think you two are crazy about each other. And no matter how charming and nice Adam is, you’re not going to be into him as long as you have feelings for Peyton.”

  “Sometimes feelings aren’t enough. Sometimes you have to put them aside and move on.”

  “But, why would you? Peyton is a great guy. So he has a kid, and there’s an ex-girlfriend in the picture. It’s a little complicated, but you guys were working that out so well, and Finn really likes you.”

  “Peyton is seriously considering a big job opportunity in LA. It’s thousands of miles away from me. He has Finn. And Harmony. He has a ready-made family. When Harmony and Finn came into his life, in the back of my mind, I always knew it was a possibility that they would come together as a family.”

  My sister frowns. “I can’t picture Peyton and Harmony together.”

  “Let’s drop it. I have a date to get ready for. And if you see any evidence in Adam’s home that he has any ex-wives or children living in other states or countries, would you please tell me?”

  “Adam has been too busy climbing the corporate ladder to get married or have kids. He’s at that age, though. He’s looking now.”

  “He said that to you?”

  “He doesn’t have to. A single man doesn’t buy a home made for a family in a town like Hera unless he’s thinking about settling down.”

  • • •

  Adam picks me up in an expensive-looking red convertible. He’s wearing jeans and a gray polo shirt, and he looks dashing with his Ray-Bans and early summer tan.

  “Where’s your Tesla?” I ask as he holds the passenger door open for me.

  “At home. I thought we’d take out my new toy. It’s a Bugatti.”

  “I don’t know anything about cars. It sounds like an Italian dessert.”

  He grins. “You look very beautiful. As always.”

  “And you always say the right thing.” I get in the car, feeling light and hopeful.

  We zoom along the back roads, and I point out areas of interest. They are only areas of interest to me because I like old farms with rusted-out trucks planted by the front of their driveways as if they died before reaching the home and the owner decided it wasn’t worth the bother to have it towed.

  Adam turns onto a dirt road designated as Private.

  “We can’t drive here; it’s private land,” I explain.

  “I know. I have permission to use it.” He shifts into low gear as we take the uphill road slowly.

  “Where are we going?” I brush my windblown hair out of my face. It keeps sticking to my lip gloss. Not the look I was going for, so I hold it back with my hand.

  “You’ll see. A friend owns this property. He’s going to build a house up here, but we’re the only ones here today.”

  The road opens into a wide-open hilltop with a three hundred and sixty degree view like I have never seen.

  “We’re not alone,” I point out.

  In the clearing where I assume the house will be built is a table set for two and a woman dressed in black with a black apron retrieving my food from the truck that came by my home earlier. A few feet from the table is a quartet taking their seats on wooden, fold-out chairs. I watch as the cellist positions her instrument against her long, flowing skirt, then adjusts the sheet music on the stand in front of her.

  “Pretend they’re not here.”

  “You didn’t have to do all this. I would have been happy to serve the food myself at your house. You don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”

  “Are you impressed?” He parks the car on the grass and gives me a moment to take it all in.

  “Yes. You’re good at this. Must have had a lot of practice.”

  “If you’re implying I’ve dated many women, I suppose I have. However, I consider myself a gentleman, not a womanizer.”

  “Did your mother advise you to use that line?”

  “My father.” He cheerily gets out of the car and comes around to assist me before my foot even touches the ground.

  We walk arm in arm to the table, which has been set with real silver, a small vase of wildflowers, and rose petals scattered across the white tablecloth. There’s fine china with sterling food covers over the plates, and crystal goblets for the wine, which has already been decanted. My mother’s pastries and my chocolate torte are arranged on a three-tiered, glass platter. The pieces all look like authentic antiques. Adam went all out, down to every last detail.

  “Thank you, Sasha,” Adam says to the woman handling the food. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Sasha nods, then leaves in
the truck.

  “A string quartet,” I say with admiration. “Mozart. Number fourteen. G major.” They are far enough away from the table that we can still talk without raising our voices.

  “You know your music.” There’s a gleam of appreciation.

  “I know some. I never played the violin, though.”

  “I decided against having a pianist tonight because bringing a piano up here would have been a mother of a job. Also, because no one can top you.”

  I laugh. “Oh, heavens, nice save.”

  “Really, I’m not this smooth. I’ve never done this.” He waves his hands at the extravagant setup. “Other people came up with the idea. I’m not that creative.”

  “Where did you find Sasha? And this china? This didn’t come from your home.”

  “Sasha works at Mohonk. And, no, I didn’t date her. The musicians perform in the area and came recommended by a friend. The china is on loan from a friend, too.”

  “You have nice friends.”

  “It was Lois. She gave me the phone numbers. She loaned me the china.”

  “I take it back. You don’t have nice friends.”

  Adam laughs. “She’s a tough one, that woman.”

  I walk over to inspect the china. “I should have recognized this. I’ve seen it displayed in one of the hutches at her home. Once, I took a plate out to look at the pattern more closely and Lois actually told me to put it back. Gently!” I say in Lois’s gravelly voice. “I hope my food lives up to your expectations.”

  He pulls out a chair for me. “Honestly, we could have hot dogs and potato chips, and this would still be perfect.” His mouth quirks into a brief smile, and I’m touched by his statement.

  Once we start drinking the wine, the conversation flows easily and we’re both back to our usual banter. My initial concern over trying to live up to a fifty thousand dollar date doesn’t hang over my head like I thought it would. Adam is funny and quite open about his work and his life. Behind the good looks of the rich CEO facade, he’s really just a small-town boy from Ohio who grew up in an average, middle-class American family with its share of drama and comedy. I like the way he can make fun of his family members in a loving way and can put aside work. He’s different than both Marko and Peyton in that regard.