Snapdragon (Love Conquers None Book 1)

by Kilby Blades

  “How much?”

  “Fifty grand.”

  He whistled, looking even more impressed.

  “You gave fifty thousand dollars to a film project, and you weren’t gonna come?”

  She polished off another section of the roll.

  “It’s not like they wouldn’t have sent me a copy.”

  “What else don’t I know about you?”

  The question caused a tingle in her spine. Hadn’t she just been lamenting that he knew everything about her and she knew too little about him? Yet, when presented with the question, she wondered whether she had oversimplified the equation.

  “Maybe we should play twenty questions.”

  There went her mouth again, saying things she’d never given it permission to.

  “Maybe we should.”

  His eyes challenged hers, and she knew he was thinking of their conversation from two weeks before. Ever intense, ever competitive, Michael was telling her he was ready to answer her questions. The thing was, she wasn’t good at that, at the grilling part of it. She wanted to know more about him but in her ideal world, he would volunteer information, and she wouldn’t have to pry it out of him.

  “Alright, then, shoot.”

  “How many other films have you supported?”

  She picked up her phone as she chewed, an act that her manners usually forbade. Looking up her profile page on IMDB, she handed the phone to Michael so that he could see for himself.

  “You’ve produced five short films and two features?” His finger moved to scroll down. “Two of which were nominated for Indie Spirit awards?”

  His face registered every bit of surprise she would have expected.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t know. It’s like, one of the first things that comes up when you Google me.”

  “I’ve never Googled you.” He was still scrolling down with his thumb—still distracted by what he was reading on her profile page when his eyes shot up to hers.

  “Wait—have you Googled me?”

  Oops.

  “Only after Benji told me to.”

  “You and Ben talk about me?”

  “You’re really burning through your twenty questions—so far there have been four.”

  “Yet only two direct answers.” He cocked his head to the side.

  She liked that he seemed impatient to know. She rarely saw him act impatiently anywhere other than in bed.

  “Ben and I talk about everything. We had dinner a few months back. I told him we were seeing each other. He told me to check out how impressive you are.”

  Darby caught the guarded look on his face.

  “Does he know about our arrangement?”

  And then, evil psychiatrist she was, she did a trick she’d done a thousand times—she made him wait longer than she needed to so that she could observe his anticipation.

  “Would it bother you if he did?”

  “Yes.” Michael said it bluntly, and with something serious in his eyes that immediately dissolved the playfulness Darby had intended.

  “He thinks that we’re dating. I told him it’s casual. Our arrangement is none of his business. The only people who I’ve told are Anne and Rich, both of whom you know about.”

  At that, the air between them changed. She thought he’d drop it, that he’d ask something as benign as his first questions or that maybe they’d change the subject and just forget this twenty questions thing.

  “Why did you tell Rich?”

  “He’s my friend. We talk.”

  “Talking is risky for you. Anne is your best girlfriend…I’m asking why you told someone who didn’t need to know.”

  She could’ve evaded his question again. Could have kept them going around in circles for minutes, but she didn’t. She knew what he was asking.

  “He bugs me about why I’m not married. I told him it was because I didn’t want anything I didn’t have. That I was in a relationship that worked.”

  She held his eyes for just a moment before putting down her chopsticks and plucking an edamame out of a small bowl.

  “That’s six.” She said as neutrally as she could, as if they hadn’t both just figured out that they had license to ask anything. “My turn now.” She said it after she finished chewing.

  “How many cars do you have?”

  “That’s your question?”

  “Now who’s not answering directly?”

  “Two.”

  She waved an empty pod at him as she chewed another one, urging him to elaborate.

  “The Maserati and the Tesla.”

  “I’ve never seen you in a Tesla.”

  “Every time we pull into my garage, the Tesla is parked next to the Maserati.”

  “That white Model S…”

  “Is mine.”

  “You must’ve gotten one of the first ones off the assembly line. I’ve still got, like, a year left on the waiting list.”

  “You can take mine out any time you want.”

  “Why don’t you ever take it out?”

  “I do take it out.”

  “But not with me.”

  “No, not with you.”

  She looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head. “Uh-uh. If I’m going to answer it, I’m making you burn a question asking.”

  “Why don’t you ever take me out in the Tesla?”

  “Because you like the way I drive the Maserati. And I like it when you like little things I do.”

  Holy hell.

  What had happened at Lake Geneva was happening now. They’d made some silent agreement to break down the barriers. Except this was five times more dangerous.

  “Still wanna play?” he smiled.

  “I think I might need a drink for this.”

  “I think I might need two.”

  “What about the movies?

  “We’re at a film festival. There’ll be movies tomorrow and again the day after that.”

  Ten minutes later, the check had been paid and they were on their way to find that drink.

  The opulent French sofa at the cozy lounge he’d taken her to faced a fireplace and looked as if it belonged in the Palace of Versailles. As soon as Michael had mentioned his name, they were taken to a little nook and served the drinks that now sat upon its coffee table.

  “How do you make stuff like this happen? Tables at jam-packed restaurants with lines out the door, tickets to anything. You can get access anywhere. How do we always end up in the perfect place?”

  “I like to be prepared, Darby. We’ve been doing this for eight months. You know this about me already. So stop asking me questions you know the answer to and ask me something real. You’ve only got fourteen left.”

  She said the first thing that came to mind, one of the questions she’d been queuing up in her head.

  “Has anyone ever called you anything other than Michael?”

  “You needed a drink for that?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. Then he said, “My mom used to call me ‘Boo-Boo’.”

  “When you were little?”

  “Yeah. And when I was, like, twenty.”

  She laughed out loud.

  “I miss it,” he admitted it, though he was smiling. “My sister Bex calls me Mikey,” he offered a second later.

  “Tell me about Ella and Bex,” she said then, now thinking about his family. “What do you do with them?”

  “Little girl things, mostly. I go to dance recitals and show up at Ella’s school to watch her in historically inaccurate and culturally insensitive plays.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and began thumbing around before presenting it to Darby.

  On the screen was a gorgeous little raven-haired girl dressed like a native American. She stood on a stage, shaking the hand of a boy who was dressed like a miniature pilgrim. They looked thrilled to see one another, as evidenced by Ella’s wide grin. She had Michael’s sparkling blue eyes and was missing her two front teeth. It was one of the cutest things Darby had ever seen.

  “Oh,
my…” He was right about the cultural insensitivity. “But she is adorable.”

  Michael looked down at the photo and smiled. “Yeah.”

  He pocketed his phone and picked his drink back up.

  “Bex cooks dinner every Sunday. When I’m in town, I always show up for that. They want to meet you.”

  “You’ve told them about me?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, as if it were obvious.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “They know we spend a lot of time together, that’s all.”

  “Have they ever seen any pictures of me?”

  “I don’t have any pictures of you.”

  Oh.

  “Invite me sometime.”

  “You always work on Sundays.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Invite me sometime.”

  “I will.” They held each other’s eyes for a beat.

  She took another sip of her drink, a house cocktail with bourbon and something sweet that made it delicious. She liked the way they were positioned, as if sidesaddle on the sofa facing each other. They sat in silence, not an awkward one, but a pregnant one, words unspoken thick between them. Both of them knew that the lightweight questions would only take them so far—that things more serious would need to be asked.

  “Was seeing Huck get what he deserved the only reason why you hired that private investigator?”

  Michael put down his drink, as if preparing himself.

  “I hired him because I wanted to protect you. Did you think less of me for wanting to do it?” His voice lacked some of the confidence it had held a minute before.

  “No. I thought more of you. I liked that you made me feel protected.”

  “I told you,” he said, and she could tell he was proceeding with caution. “I can’t stand by and watch that shit without doing something.”

  “What are you going to do to Charlie Sweeney?”

  He studied her, as if trying to anticipate her response.

  She took a breath. “Just tell me.”

  “I want him to go to jail where he belongs. There were other cases—lewd acts with a minor and attempted rape—but he settled out of court. Since we can’t get him for that, we’re digging up other dirt. It’s still early, but right now the plan is to get him for campaign misconduct and other political misdeeds.”

  She cast her eyes toward the fire. Michael scooted close to her, slinging an arm around her and pulling her in as close as he could without sitting her on his lap.

  “Who’s we?”

  “The private investigator I told you about is really a friend I grew up with. He works with private clients in Washington. He handles things like this.”

  Her heart was still pounding too hard for her to form words.

  “Things like what?”

  “Bad guys.”

  She sniffed back tears that were threatening for reasons she couldn’t understand.

  “You never talk about your friends.”

  Michael smirked. “Is that a question?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Michael…why don’t you ever talk about your friends?”

  “They all live far away. I rarely see them.”

  “But you never talk about them either. Just like you never told me you had dinner with Ben the night before I did the last time he was in town.”

  “Darby, when I’m with you, I’m not thinking about anybody or anything else.”

  “I envy you that.” The words slipped out of her mouth. “Your ability to compartmentalize.”

  The space remained thick between them, as if the air itself were drunk. It felt as if they were speaking to one another in code.

  “What do you want that you can’t have?” he asked finally.

  “Time, I guess. I always want to be five different places at once. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’m always thinking of someplace else. Except when I’m with you. I should probably see someone.”

  “That bad?” he asked. She realized that she had alarmed him.

  “Not bad, just…unresolved.”

  He waited a minute before he responded.

  “Why don’t you ever call me?” he asked.

  “Because whenever you’re not right next to me, you’re half a world away.”

  And what looked like guilt colored his features for a moment before it was replaced with resolve.

  “I’m here now. Here is where I’ve wanted to be all week.”

  He reached out his hand to hold hers, intertwining their fingers.

  “Do you want to know what I love most about this place?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “No one cares who we are.”

  With her fingers in his, he began stroking the top of her hand with his wayward thumb.

  “When was the last time we were in a crowded room and no one was looking at us?”

  But she didn’t bother to scan the room. She was transfixed by his gaze.

  “Never.”

  “When’s the next time we’ll be in a crowded room and no one will be looking at us?”

  She felt a pang of sadness at the reality. She’d been waiting to tell him, waiting until they were in a truly private place, waiting for the right moment. But the music was loud and they were sitting so close, and he was the one person in the universe she wanted to tell. So, in a gesture that made her feel like she was six years old, she shielded her mouth from prying eyes whispered in his ear.

  “It’s locked in. I thought we had more time…but Sanderson’s going to announce in a month. My father’s going public about his VP spot on the ticket.”

  Saying it out loud was more emotional than she had anticipated. As soon as she pulled back, she knew that Michael could see her tears threatening to spill over. He was one of two people who knew the real reason why she hated her father so much, and he was the only person who knew how much anxiety his campaigning caused her. Soon there would be no protection from the opposition researchers and paparazzi. Soon, there would be no stopping Frank from whatever he was going to do about the South Side.

  He held her tighter then and she felt like he was holding her together. The alcohol wasn’t helping to stabilize her emotions, either.

  “For once, let’s just be free.” He whispered as he held her, in a voice so soft as to expose it for the plea it was.

  “I don’t think I know how.” Her words were nearly inaudible.

  “I’ll show you.”

  “Thank you,” Darby said to the stranger who held the door for her as she exited to the street.

  After three loaded cocktails punctuated by as many glasses of water, she had made sure to hit the ladies room before leaving the bar. She squinted as she walked outside, her eyes needing to adjust to the bright sunlight after two hours spent in a pleasantly cavernous retreat. Yet, in that moment, she liked the sunshine, the way that when she looked up to the sky, rays coming down through the clouds were visible. The crispness of the air mixed with the warmth of the sun was a welcome sensation.

  Michael had agreed to meet her out front and with the film festival in town, “out front” covered a broad area. Cars still rode through the streets, but had to be careful of the pedestrians that spilled over from the crowded sidewalks. It didn’t matter that there were hordes of people walking up and down Main Street. She immediately saw Michael. He must have been thirty feet in front of her, and there must have been fifteen people in between them. But he was impossible to miss. Even in a town full of famous actors and wealthy patrons and all the other good-looking people, Michael was in a class of his own.

  She watched him fish a pair of sunglasses out of the pocket of his fitted leather military jacket, which looked a bit steampunk, and which, alone, made him look about ten times more stylish than everyone else already. She took in his army-green junker fitted cargo pants, worn and faded as if he had fought half a war in them. The boots he wore beneath them, also impeccably distressed, pulled together the look.

  She shook her head as she got closer to him. Her awe of h
is fashion sense never faded. He’d been in New York for a week. They would be in Sundance for two more days. He only had a small carry-on and a garment bag that didn’t look bulky. How was it even possible for him to be this well-dressed?

  “Only you could stand among movie stars and make them look shabby. You’re lucky I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t mind walking in the shadow of a much better-looking man.”

  “We’re in Sundance. I’ve gotta stay on my game if I want to head off the competition. I can’t let the Hollywood glitterati take you away from me without a fight.”

  She moved her fingers to gently remove his glasses. Even though she’d spent the past few hours looking directly at his face as they’d talked, something in her still jumped when the glasses lifted to show his eyes. The sunlight made them even more dazzling, and it took her an extra breath to come back with her retort. He didn’t protest—didn’t ask her why she had taken his glasses off. He just gazed back at her the way he always did, but also with something new that she’d been trying to pinpoint all day. Some new softness or radiating warmth.

  “Could it be? Are those blue diamonds turning green?”

  “Blue diamonds, huh? So you like my eyes?”

  “The answer to that question is so obvious that I’m not going to dignify it with a response.”

  He quieted then, his face sobering a bit.

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with who never talks about my looks.”

  “Your looks aren’t the reason I’m with you.”

  Then she was afraid she would say something she regretted. So she said the only thing she could think of that would lighten the air between them.

  “Your gigantic cock is.”

  He shook his head and she giggled a bit drunkenly. It felt good to laugh.

  Turning them to walk up the road, he hooked his elbow in hers.

  “You’re lucky you came out when you did,” he said, too casually. “I thought I was going to have to send in a search party…”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” She knew she was being baited.

  “And if I had called your phone, what ringtone would I have heard?”

  She was laughing again. He had her.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you call me?” she played along, laughter still in her voice.