by MK Schiller
Her mouth crinkled at the corners. “Did you say ‘trousers?’”
“I did. Pants…kind of an undistinguished word, don’t you think?”
“What is wrong with you? I am mad at you.”
“You’re crazy for me?”
“Mad as in angry.” The mouth curved a little more.
I pulled the first garment from the rack. “Then be mad at me in a sexy, low-cut dress.”
“You realize you’re holding a nightgown, right?”
I looked down at the sheer pink, gauzy fabric on the hanger. “Yeah, not this one.”
She snatched it from my hand. “I think it’s just the thing, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Now we’re talking.” I looked at my watch. “We have roughly an hour.”
“You misunderstand.” She held it over her body. “I am planning to wear this to dinner.”
I grabbed the hanger back. “Like hell you will.”
“Why not, sir?” She fluttered her thick eyelashes at me, faking innocence.
“Are you trying to turn me on or piss me off?”
“Trying to please you, sir. Sexy and low-cut is what you ordered.” Her hands ran down the fabric. “This fits the definition. Please excuse me.”
She was teasing me or maybe challenging me, but either way, this girl never ceased to shock me. She turned to head for the bathroom.
I grabbed her elbow. “No way in bloody hell you’re wearing that thing.”
She jabbed her finger against my chest. “Why not?”
I took the scrap of fabric and flung it across the room. The damn thing floated lightly in the air until it landed on the bed. Not quite the dramatic gesture I was aiming for. I gripped her arms. Her mouth parted, our anger fueling the sparks of lust between us. I circled my thumb across her skin.
“I’m a jealous man when it comes to you, Miss Costa.” I nodded toward the gauzy scrap of a garment. “You in that thing would bring my wrath on every man in the room. They would surely fall under your spell just as I have. In turn, I would have no choice but to use my fists to break whatever enchantments you cast on the male population of an extremely populated country. Regardless of my strength, I am certain I would sustain grave injuries. The outcome would be devastating for you. Don’t you agree?”
“Any injury to you would greatly upset me.”
“It’s you who misunderstands now, Miss Costa. The real tragedy is that my body will be far too bruised to properly pleasure you tonight. Now, do you really want to risk it?”
Her face moved forward, diminishing the gap between us. I pulled her against me, kissing her hard and without apology. I swallowed her moans and bit her lip. She melted in my arms, or maybe I did in hers. Whatever it was, I was grateful. We parted, both of us breathing hard, our lips chapped.
“No.”
A single word, but it robbed me of my sense. I had plunged headfirst from whatever tightrope we walked. “No?”
“No, I won’t risk my own pleasure.”
I gave her arse a playful spank. “Good. Now, put on a proper bloody dress. I’m taking my girl on the town tonight.”
It wasn’t exactly low-cut, but the simple black dress she chose did hug all her curves. Her long hair fell in silky waves around her. I led her to the hotel restaurant. It had a modern color scheme and had recently been rated one of the best cuisines in all of Mumbai. She emptied three glasses of wine to my one.
“Planning to get sloshed, Miss Costa?”
“Perhaps.”
“Where did you go this morning? I was worried about you.”
“I found a quiet spot to read.”
“There is a quiet spot in Mumbai?”
“Yes.” One word answers, all part and parcel of the nuanced language of furious female.
“You look beautiful.”
“Happy to meet your approval.” She looked around, sighed, and pushed the empty wine glass toward me for a refill. I obliged.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long are you planning to stay in passive-aggressive mode? I thought we were over the clothes.”
“We are.”
“Then what is it?”
She leaned into the table, her voice a husky whisper. “Everyone is staring at us. They all know who I am and how we met.”
“I’m sure they do. Gossip spreads faster than the speed of light in any language in any country. Don’t let it bother you.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“I thought you didn’t care. That’s what you said when you chose to stay with me when I fell ill, isn’t it?”
“I could walk away from it then. We weren’t on display like zoo animals. We should have ordered room service.”
“That would have defeated the purpose. We’ve had enough meals locked away behind closed doors. I wanted to sit across from you and share a bottle of wine. To help you into your chair and make you laugh. I don’t give a damn what these people think. The only person whose opinion counts is yours.”
“I understand what you’re saying. But honestly, dressing me up and parading me in front of everyone is not a special evening to me. I am not your pretty woman.”
Mary was the proudest person I’d ever met. In fact, her pride was the thing I most admired about her at times.
This was not one of those times. “My pretty woman?”
“The movie.”
“I’m not familiar with the film.”
She smacked the table. “You’re joking. I’m Indian and I’ve seen it. Both the Hindi and English versions. Next thing, you’ll ask me to wear a red evening gown, present me with a diamond necklace, and take me to the opera.”
“Want a diamond necklace, Mary? Would you care to go to the opera? Do they have opera here?”
“Certainly not, no, and I doubt it.”
“Too bad. I think you’d enjoy it.” My jaw tightened. The waiter headed for our table. I waived him away.
“Liam…”
I drummed my fingers against the table. “What is it, Lotus Girl? Are you not going to let me kiss you on the lips now? That would be a very severe punishment, considering how much I love your mouth. Even when I hate the words coming out of it.”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. “You have seen the movie then.”
“Everyone has seen it. Your analogy is complete rubbish. You are not my whore. Call yourself anything you want. My lover, my companion, my muse, my friend. All appropriate terms, but this…this analogy is not. You insulted me, which is bad enough. What’s worse is you insulted yourself. That will not stand with me.”
She was quiet, taking small sips of her wine. “You’re right. I’m just not used to this.” She straightened in her chair, clasping her hands. “I’m sorry, Liam. Thank you for the clothes. They are lovely.”
“Welcome.”
I followed her gaze around the room. Several sets of eyes focused on us before turning away. “You’re right as well. Although my intentions were sincere, this was a bad choice. I never meant to put you in a humiliating position.” I stood and helped her from her chair. “We can order room service.”
Her hands clasped around mine. She gave me a real smile. “I’m all dressed up. You’re…well, as always you’re very dashing. We’re both starving. We should go out. Just not here, okay?”
I grinned. “I’d like that.”
We left the restaurant and the hotel. We weaved our way through humid air and crowded streets.
“We should have taken a car. We could have gone to the Taj and dined there.”
“The competition?” She giggled as if I’d made a joke, the effects of three glasses of quality Bordeaux.
I shrugged. “Why not? Either way, I hope we find something fast. I’m starved, and you, my love, are very drunk.”
She pouted. “Am not.”
“Baby, if you sway anymore, you’ll be doing a salsa. Not that I
’m complaining.”
She spun around to face me. Her hands settled on her hips. “Sir, I swear I am sober.” Sir came out shure. Swear was shewar. Sober was shober. Hell, Mary managed a better Sean Connery than I did. She was battered and fried, this one.
“All the same, I’d like to get some food in you. Where shall we go?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’ve lived here. Surely, you have a recommendation.”
“I haven’t been here in years, and I’m sure the restaurants I frequented are not the same ones you’d choose.”
“Try me.”
She didn’t. Instead, she stopped another couple on the street. “Excuse me, can you recommend a nice restaurant in the area?”
“Chili’s,” the girl said. “The best food, and it’s just down this gully.”
Mary turned to me. “Chili’s, then?”
“It does sound exotic.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were being greeted by a waiter in a referee uniform, surrounded by walls covered in sports pendants. I laughed at the irony.
“What’s so funny?” Mary asked.
“This is the same exact Chili’s they have in New York.”
She looked around the room. “Really?”
“Right down to the numerous pins the wait staff wears. I wanted to take you to a five-star establishment, not my neighborhood bar and grill.”
The waiter set down the huge margarita in front of her and a beer for me. Her eyes widened as she sipped from the glass. “I’m happy with this.”
“You really think a margarita is a good idea? You’ve had a lot for someone who only partakes during communion.”
“You’re right. The liquor is really loosening my inhibitions.”
I leaned into the table. “Oh, yeah?”
“I want to rip off all the buttons of your shirt…with my teeth.”
I held up my hand to get our waiter’s attention. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Not sure. Either asking for the check or another round.”
She laughed, falling back in her chair. “I am sorry it wasn’t the exotic five-star cuisine you expected.”
“No worries, love. I planned a feast for later.”
“I hope I’m invited.”
“Darling, you are the main course.”
The rose color spread across her cheeks. She took a long sip of her margarita, licking the salt off her lips. “Next time, we’ll try something more ethnic. Pizza Hut, perhaps?”
I laughed so hard I sloshed my beer.
Chapter 21
Mary
We crawled through Mumbai traffic. Liam took in every sight, looking awestruck at the massive crowds and architecture.
“Where are we going?” I asked. He hadn’t told me much, except that he wanted to show me something and asked me to dress conservatively. I wore a traditional cotton Salwar Kameez, which consisted of a long embroidered blue shirt and loose cotton pants.
“Just a place I want you to see. Actually, I want to see it, too.”
We pulled up to a large brick building. The sign over the gate read Community Center with smaller script beneath stating auspices of Wilshire hotel. Although the facade was unremarkable, walking inside was like stepping into the pages of a child’s coloring book. The walls were a sunny yellow, with renderings of clouds and children.
“What is this?”
“It’s sort of a catchall. The center offers classes to help women learn work skills. There is tutoring and art therapy for their children. I believe this mural was done by some of the students.” He touched the wall. “Pretty impressive.”
“It is. What types of classes do they offer?”
“All kinds. Basic reading and writing to computer skills. There are also craft classes in sewing and embroidery. If students show an interest in a subject, the center helps them in finding work. Or we pay for raw materials and assist them in setting up online businesses to sell their creations.”
We passed several classrooms where instruction was taking place.
“Mr. Montgomery, it’s wonderful to finally meet you,” a portly man said, practically running up to us. He shook Liam’s hand vigorously. “My name is Ram. Please sir, let me take you on the tour.”
“Thank you. This is Mary Costa.” The man shook my hand with the same vigor.
“You have no idea what good works you are doing here. Entire generations have hope because of you.”
“Not me, Ram. The Wilshire funds this project.”
“Yes, with your approval.” He smiled widely. “Come.”
Ram took us into each room, where he made grand introductions in Hindi to announce Liam. The women and children clamored around him. He shook each of their hands and asked them questions about their work. Ram and I took turns translating. An elderly woman bent to touch his feet, a gesture of respect. Liam stopped her, looking a bit horrified. She turned toward me, speaking in rapid Hindi, moving her head from side to side.
“She wants to thank you. She says her daughter is receiving an education because of you. She says they have a proper home now.”
“Tell her she created all that. We only provided a resource. That’s all.”
I repeated his phrase. His humbleness surprised me, but it rendered her speechless.
Many people came up to him. He took his time, listening to all of them. A woman explained to Liam how her son had cancer, and she could not afford his medicines. The center had been a saving grace to her family. As we left, Liam gestured to Ram. “See that her son gets in with a doctor. Make sure it happens.”
“Yes, sir, it will be done.”
“And also, I think we should have a cafeteria that provides at least one free meal per day. Some of the students spend eight hours here. I noticed very few of them leaving for the food stalls.”
“The stalls are rather overpriced, sir.”
“See to it, Ram.”
* * * *
“I can’t believe something like this exists,” I said as we left many hours later.
“There are several projects up and running. We built an irrigation system in a remote African village. We have a school for girls in South America. There are a few other proposals we’re looking into.”
“It’s really an amazing concept, Liam.”
Ram and a few children waved to us as we drove away. “I wish I could take credit, but it was Stephen’s idea, one of his best. He proposed we start a charity for the hotel to sponsor certain projects in the countries where we had property. It’s a way of giving back to the community. Stephen runs the whole thing. I just sign off on them. I have to admit he does an admirable job.”
“Why don’t you get along with him?” my mouth blurted out before consulting my brain.
Liam’s jawline clenched. I’d stumbled onto sensitive territory.
“I have my reasons.”
I thought of Hannah and what I would give up to change a few memories. “He’s your family, Liam. Your only family.”
“Stephen ruined our relationship before it even formed. You see, we’re close in age. He’s always hated me for existing.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Our father had an affair, Mary. I was the outcome. I was sixteen when I moved to the States. Stephen made sure I never felt welcomed in his house. He had all the advantages I never did. He turned people against me. Made up rumors about the kind of person my mother was. Who I was. We’re adults now, and we have a business to run. We do it, but it’s not easy. Mostly, we just divide and conquer.”
“But you were both so young. Surely, you don’t hold the things he did as a teenager against him? He was very concerned when he called to inquire about your health.”
I couldn’t reconcile the man who had sounded so relieved when I told him Liam would be all right, the one who ran this charity, with the same man Liam regarded with such disdain. Were we speaking about two different people?
&n
bsp; “Are you sure it’s concern you heard? Maybe he was disappointed I would recover.”
“I’m sure.”
“Let’s drop this topic. It might have taken place a long time ago, but Stephen’s actions are unforgivable.”
“I used to hold anger inside me, too, once. I used to let it rule my decisions. It took a long time for me to realize it was another method of hurting myself. When you forgive someone else, it’s not for their benefit, but your own.”
“Some things cannot be forgiven.”
“Maybe not all things, but most things.”
He raked his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. I should have moved on. He’d asked me to. He’d respected me when I created lines he couldn’t cross. But there was some deep hurt in Liam. He carried it silently, almost as if he thought showing it would make him weak. He’d let me see that side of him, but only a few quick glimpses before he shut down.
“Mary, understand one thing. If I could cut Stephen out of my life, I would. He’s toxic. I think the only reason my father left me half of the family business was because he figured Stephen would blow it. I’m sure the original plan was for his legitimate son to inherit everything. Stephen holds that against me, too. That I barged into his life, an uninvited guest. As if I even wanted to be there in the first place.” Liam’s laugh was heavy with cynicism. “Or maybe our father did it to punish us both. The old man wasn’t exactly gracious.”
Who would Liam have been if his mother hadn’t died? I suspected he’d be a passionate artist. A selfish part of me, a part I hated, rejoiced he’d taken a different path. Otherwise, I’d never have met him.
“Why did your father think Stephen would fail?”
“Stephen has a talent for fucking up his life. He’s been to rehab more times than I can count, not that any of them have helped. It’s a miracle he functions as well as he does. His ideas are crazy, but most of them turn out profitable—not just profitable, almost visionary. We are the only hotel chain our size that recycles ninety percent of our refuse, and our energy use is lower than any of our competitors thanks to some innovative construction techniques. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s become a model for other hotels. Despite his ingenuity, Stephen is on a roller coaster. Eventually, it will go downhill, and one of these times he won’t recover from the fall.”
