The hair on the back of my neck stands as my skin begins to hum.
The little minx sees everything.
“I suppose James is a busy man,” I say casually. “A lot of things demand his attention.”
She snorts a quiet chuckle. I glance at Bull. He doesn’t want to leave Gwen, although there are two cups of coffee sitting on the counter in front of him.
“I’ve never told you ‘ow me and my Charles met,” Mrs. Merriweather says almost wistfully.
Her tone is nostalgic. But I no longer think anything Mrs. Merriweather says is irrelevant.
“No, you haven’t,” I sit back in my chair, seeming relaxed and awaiting a retelling of memories. “Please tell me.” This is going to be as much of a fairy tale as if I’d claim to be Santa Claus.
A soft smile lifts her lips, then she laughs quietly. “Ock, I was a wee thing, just eighteen. I worked in Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Hospital. My father’s father ‘ad been an officer.” She takes a deep breath as ghosts from the past haunt her memories, I can see the past shadow her face, and for that moment, she’s not Mrs. Merriweather but Primrose, fresh and delicate and reaching for the sun. She shakes herself from the memory and settles her hands in her lap still holding the needles, they stopped their movements at some point, I didn’t notice when. “The Americans were always coming into London ever since the war. Well,” her face flushes, “on this particular day, an American Navy soldier had been brought in.” She gives me a stern look with a cheeky grin. “’e’d gotten into a scuffle. ‘e was a right arrogant lad, ye Americans are quite like that,” she smiles.
I smile back at her. I can’t help it; the woman is melting the ice around my heart.
“Well, we’d patched ‘im up and sent ‘im on ‘is way. But not until ‘e’d made me promise to meet ‘im.” She looks off into the distance. It’s Charles she’s seeing. “We were married before ‘is ship left port. ‘e came back for me and brought me to America with ‘im.” Her eyes meet mine. “’e brought me back ‘ere, and ‘ere is where I’ve lived ever since.” She picks up her needles again, their incessant clacking picking up right where they’d left off. “My Charles worked at that mill, the one on all that land that big company wants to buy. The one’s been closed near forever, right there on the river.” She’s trying to tell me something. “Seems to me everyone who’s ‘ad something to do with that place ‘as never left it.”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t, she seems lost in her own memories.
“That’s a beautiful story, Mrs. Merriweather. I wish I’d known Charles. He must have been quite a man to put up with the likes of you.”
Mrs. Merriweather breaks into a fit of giggles, she’s adorable as she can be. “You are a rascal, Gringo, and I’ve a mind to give you the lesson you desperately need.”
“That’s why you love me, Auntie Rose. I’m your favorite, admit it.”
“Posh, Gringo, you’re not the ‘eartless boy you’d like everyone to believe you are, dare I say.”
Her teasing hits a nerve, a very raw nerve.
I certainly hope I am.
CHAPTER 7
Sasha
“Sasha,” James barks abruptly on the other end of the phone. “Have lunch ready, I’m meeting with someone at the house.” I don’t respond. What the hell?! I can’t respond because I’m shocked. I think he’s hung up, but he adds, “And use the china.”
The line goes dead.
James is bringing someone here? To have lunch? He’s never done that before!
I look at the clock. It’s eleven. I don’t have much time, only a half hour to shower and dress, then another half hour to get appetizers done and lunch started.
Grabbing the house phone, I call Lori, the housekeeper. She’s going to kill me! “Yes, Mrs. Williams,” her stiff voice comes over the line.
“Lori, Mr. Williams is bringing someone home for lunch,” I rattle off breathlessly as I jerk off my clothes on the way to the bathroom. “Please set the table with the china.” I hear her heavy sigh. “Please.” I beg.
“Yes, Mrs. Williams. I’ll set the formal table.” She agreed, but she’s not happy about it. I know what she’s thinking. ‘I’m the housekeeper, not the cook. Not the event coordinator.’ She’s right. I need her. And I hate it.
I’m not happy about it either, believe me. “Thank you.” I hang up and throw the phone down, not caring where it lands.
An hour later, the front door opens as I set the platter with the Caprese Salad on the table, crystal goblets are already filled with water and sitting at two place settings. He said he was only bringing ‘someone’ home. I hope it’s just one.
Please let it be just one.
James is talking as I hear two sets of footsteps on the black travertine stone floors of the entry way. “I’ve made several attempts to negotiate with the final partner…,” he’s agitated. Although his tone is even, I can hear the tightness. He uses that voice on me all the time.
“Enough,” comes the firm response from his guest.
I freeze.
Dominic.
Dominic is in my house.
Their steps get closer. “We’re here for a meal. A meal your beautiful wife has prepared.” My heart rate skyrockets. “Where is she?”
I take off as fast as my stilettos will carry me, (how absurd I must look cooking and serving in a three thousand dollar Thierry Mugler suit).
“Sasha, come here,” James calls from the dining room.
Shit!
I take a few deep breaths to ground myself. “It’s fine,” I whisper. I straighten my posture and enter the formal dining room. “What a nice surprise, James.” I smile from the doorway. “It’s a pleasure to have you in our home.” I say to Dominic. I don’t say his name. I’m not sure I’m supposed to know it. That’s absurd. He was talking to me at the function.
James has seated himself…not at the head of the table. Dominic is standing behind that chair.
That gives me a warped sense of satisfaction, despite how uncomfortable he makes me. Is it wrong to take pleasure in another man putting my husband in his place, that place being knocked down a few notches? Even if it’s by a man like Dominic?
Dominic is a very powerful man. The kind of power that doesn’t need to be spoken of, the kind that is exuded and worn. The kind that is unmistakable. He’s a Bugatti and Rolls Royces, Swiss bank accounts and chalets, a gun in his suit and corpses on his resume’ kind of man.
He’s dangerously filthy rich.
“The lovely Sasha,” the greeting rolls off his tongue like Godiva arsenic. “I was so looking forward to seeing you again. I was telling James at our meeting what an asset you are and I insisted we had lunch together.” There’s that word again. Asset.
“Thank you,” I reply, although I’m not sure it’s a compliment.
“James,” Dominic’s eyes don’t leave my face, “you haven’t properly introduced us.” Dominic approaches my paralyzed body still standing in the doorway.
“Where are my manners. This is my beautiful wife, Sasha. Darling,” the false term of endearment tastes like vinegar in my mouth, “this is my associate, Dominic Fellini.”
Dominic Fellini. I repeat the name over and over again in my head so I don’t forget it. So I can tell Gringo.
Dominic is now standing in front of me, so close, he can place his hands on my shoulders, and he does, without stretching his arms. I tense under his touch, it’s confident and possessive. He has the kind of touch that screams he takes anything he wants.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he murmurs as he kisses me on both cheeks.
“Thank you, but you are too kind,” I mumble. “If you’ll excuse, I’ll leave you two gentlemen to your business.” I attempt to step out of his hold, but his grip tightens nominally.
“My dear, there are only two places set. You will eat with us.” NO. “I insist,” he locks his eyes with mine.
I tear my eyes from his and look to James for guidance. After all, i
t’s him I’ll have hell to pay if I go against his wishes.
“Sasha, bring a setting for yourself. We have a guest.” James likes it less than I do.
“Of course,” I turn my attention back to the man I want nothing to do with. “I’d love to. But please make yourself comfortable.”
“Excellent,” he gives my shoulders one more squeeze before he lets go and takes his seat at the head of the table.
My heart is hammering as I check the spinach stuffed salmon and place the French baguette in the oven. As it’s warming, I take a bottle of Pinot Noir and three glasses to the table.
“James, we’re beginning to think you are unable to complete the agreement,” Dominic is telling James. I slow my steps so that I can hear more of the conversation. “That would be very…unfortunate.”
“Dominic, things will go according to plan…,” James begins to answer him.
“I will get what I want,” Dominic doesn’t raise his voice, but his words drown out James’, then his gaze fixes on me, “one way or another.”
The conversation stalls as my presence is acknowledged. My palms are sweaty as I place the wine bucket and glasses on the table. “Lunch is almost ready,” I attempt light but it comes out strained.
“There would be no better feast than you, Sasha.” Dominic’s sexual innuendo echoes throughout the large room.
I look at James. And I’m horrified.
He’s happy. He’s pleased with Dominic and how he’s speaking to me, how he’s treating me.
I’m just an object to him. A fucking means to an end. I wouldn’t be surprised if James gave me to Dominic to use, anything to keep his business partners happy!
“I…um…lunch is almost ready,” I stutter as I turn and rush from the room.
In the kitchen, I grip the counter and breathe deeply, trying to regain control.
“Sasha,” it’s Dominic.
“I’ll be right out,” I jump, startled by the intrusion.
“Let me help you. My apologies, I know this was short notice and I’m putting you out. The least I can do is offer my assistance,” he walks toward me and picks up the oven mitts.
In all the years we’ve lived in this house, James has never dirtied has hands with anything domestic. This man is moving around my kitchen like he lives here, and is completely comfortable in a kitchen.
Placing the bread in the basket, he turns back to the oven and takes out the tray of salmon. “My mother had nine children. We all learned to cook. The kitchen was always the heart of the home, it’s the Italian way. Of course the kitchen is the woman’s place,” he picks up a fork and flakes off a corner of the fish and tastes it. “Exceptional. You are more than I thought, beautiful Sasha. James does not deserve you. He’s a fool.”
You’re right, he doesn’t.
Who is this man and what did he do with the intimidator in the dining room?
“He’s under a lot of pressure,” I mumble the response automatically.
He laughs a deep baritone laugh. If I wasn’t so scared of him, I’d laugh too.
“He’s got you trained very well. Very well indeed,” he laughs a little more. “Come. Time to eat.” He takes the pan with the fish into the dining room leaving me to follow behind gobsmacked.
I follow him out with my plate and silverware and the bread basket.
“Sit here next to me,” Dominic pats the seat next to him.
I glance at James once more. For his approval? Direction? For him to save me?
James nods with that satisfied smirk he wears when he’s getting what he wants.
What the fuck is going here? What does this man want?
Dominic serves each of us. Holding his fork, he waves it at both James and I, “Eat. This is delicious, Sasha’s really outdone herself.”
“She’s quite the wife. Exceptional with all of her talents,” James adds as he opens the wine and pours us each a glass.
What the hell am I? Some kind of a pet or something?
Dominic takes a bite of the salmon. “I was just telling James that appearances can only go so far. It’s the subtle things. Things like perception and understanding. One must be able to make their prey want to be taken. Make them feel it is what they want. That it is for their own good.” He stares into my eyes with his commanding gaze. “That it is exactly what they need.” He closes his lips around the silver tongs of the fork and slowly chews. “Then and only then is when they will give you whatever you want.”
My gaze slides to James. He’s smiling at me as he eats his lunch. Just as slowly and methodically as Dominic.
“It reminds me of how we were married. When I saw Sasha, I knew she was perfect,” James states quietly.
I feel sick to my stomach. I want to run from the table. I want to run and keep on running. I want to go where it’s safe, where I feel protected.
I want to go to Gringo.
“Your husband and I are working on a business deal,” Dominic turns to me with the glass of wine poised at his mouth. This is why I have to stay. For information. I might not understand it, but Gringo will. “He seems to be having some difficulty finalizing it.” James looks like he’s just sucked on a lemon. GOOD. “This is why I was telling him this. He must court those he wants to control. If he wants to own something, he must romance them.” Dominic circles his fork in the air. “Yes, much like when he was courting you, lovely Sasha.” He pins me with his fucking penetrating eyes again. “Isn’t that right?”
He’s so fucking right, I want to claw his eyes out.
I hate him for that.
I hate James more.
This. This is the ugly truth of what my life is. This is ‘how’ my existence came to be.
THIS is the truth of what I am.
I lay my hands firmly on the table and am about to get up. My mouth opens to say the words, ‘Fuck both of you. I hope you rot in the hell,’ but before I do, Dominic wraps a hand around my wrist, stopping me.
“But you are an exception. You’re valuable. You’re beautiful,” his eyes lock with mine. I wish I could burn a hole right through his handsomely vile face. “You should be appreciated and adored. That is where James made his mistake.” My body slackens with his words. “You are truly a rare commodity. James never realized this, and for that mistake, he will lose.”
Anxiety and fear fill my body.
That is exactly what I’ve always wanted to hear. That is what I’ve always known but could never believe because James made me feel that I’m worthless. But this man, he’s only just met me and has flayed me wide open and torn out my most private pains. He’s opened every single one of my wounds and left me naked.
Why?
This is a business meeting, why is he talking about me? What does he want with me?
Dominic releases his hold on my wrist, but I don’t move. I can’t look at them. I feel that if I do, they’ll know exactly what I’m thinking. I don’t get up, my curiosity to know more, to find out what they’re really up to is stronger than my own humiliation. I need to.
I pick up my fork and pretend to eat.
James hasn’t said anything through Dominic’s dissertation of my pathetic existence. I steal a glance at him through lowered lashes. His attention is going back and forth from me to Dominic, satisfied and smug.
It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.
“The deal will go through, James. One way or another.” Dominic’s tone is dangerously soft.
I don’t want to know what they’re talking about, not really. James has never discussed business with me. I’ve always assumed it was bureaucratic things he did every day.
This doesn’t sound like anything I’ve imagined.
I don’t think I want to know.
I know I don’t want to know. But I have to find out.
Through the rest of the meal I sit quietly, waiting and hoping they’ll say exactly what the deal is. But they never do. They don’t give me any details, no real information, their conversation intentionally v
ague and full of empty sentences, at least to me. Finally, I get up to leave because I can’t stall any longer. I have only a few breadcrumbs of things I didn’t know before. I begin clearing the table trying to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible.
When I’m in the kitchen, I dump the dishes by the sink and rush to the half bath in the hallway. I pull out my cell phone and text Gringo
Fellini. His name is Dominic Fellini. He’s in my house having lunch!
Heart pounding and breathing ragged, I shove my phone back in my jacket pocket and hurry back to the kitchen, hoping no one was looking for me. I shouldn’t be scared, I’m a grown woman and I should be able to go to the bathroom without having to report to anyone. But I am, and I have strong feeling I’m not supposed to be talking about Dominic Fellini, or the goings on of his meeting with James.
When I return to the dining room, both Dominic and James glance at me. I’m nervous being the center of attention once again.
“I’ll be in the kitchen cleaning up. Please let me know if you need anything further,” I’m certain they can hear the nervous tremor in my voice.
James smirks. “That will be all, Sasha.”
Dominic stands and holds me to give me another double cheek kiss.
“Nothing else. For now. I’ll see you soon, Sasha,” Dominic tells me quietly with a confident glare.
I have no doubt he will.
That’s what scares me.
CHAPTER 8
Gringo
“Do you know of anyone named Dominic?”
Rock and I are seated in the waiting area of Inked, the tattoo shop. The last clients are long gone. Now it’s time to discuss business. Maybe. Bull is next door at the coffee shop. One of us is always with Summer ever since the contract for her retrieval was disclosed. It helps that Bull has got it bad for Gwendolyn. Although by now, Gwen’s home with Mrs. Merriweather since it’s long past the end of her shift there. If I know Bull, he’s chafing at the bit to get in his truck and sit outside Gwen’s house to keep an eye on her in order to ensure her safety. Rock will be over to get Summer shortly. After we talk.
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