Page 63 of Sinful Beauty

On the way to the elevator bank, a silence falls between Peltz and me.

“Who will be at the meeting?”

“Dr. Haussler and at least two others.”

Ah, that’s why he was dragging me along. He wanted equal numbers from both sides at the table.

“What’s wrong with Lucia?” It’s a normal question, and when he raises an eyebrow, I fight the urge to defend the question. She sits outside my office.

“Why do you think something’s wrong with her?”

“She’s sick, isn’t she? Isn’t that why she’s out?”

“She’s taking a personal day.”

“Ah. She didn’t mention that yesterday.”

He takes out his mobile and reads it in the elevator, dismissing me.

The meeting is boring, but it’s also intriguing. It turns out Dr. Haussler worked closely with both Salo and Dolston.

When the meeting concludes, Peltz announces to everyone in the room I’ll be distributing a recap of the meeting. He smiles like he’s caught me and I’m going to fail. He also makes a show of how packed his calendar is and that he must depart, which gives me an opportunity to ask Dr. Haussler and his team to dinner.

I’m not sure what I can elicit from them, but it’s worth a try. With luck, I can separate him from his team.

When the meeting concludes, there’s still no response from Lucia. I would check in on her, but I’m scheduled to meet my father for lunch today. If I wrap it up quickly, which I should easily be able to do, I’ll swing by.

Me: Can I bring you lunch?

The cafe my father chose for lunch is on the opposite side of Geneva. When I arrive, while standing at the hostess stand, I check my mobile. There’s still no response.

I dial her, but she doesn’t answer. Maybe she’s sleeping. She wasn’t that sick this morning. A hand claps over my shoulder and my father pulls me in for a hug. I stiffen, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t have long,” I inform him as we’re seated at a private table for two towards the back of the cafe. “I’d have more time if you picked a place closer to the office.”

“I suppose I should have. It’s force of habit to put distance between myself and that place. How’s it going for you?”

“I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

He waves a hand in the air to catch a wait person’s attention.

“We don’t have long,” he says to the young woman dressed in platform boots, torn tights and jean overalls. “Can we order?”

“Of course,” she says brightly.

After we order, my father places both hands palm side down on either side of the place setting. The wait person hasn’t yet delivered his wine, and he’s on edge without his armor.

“You never answered. Are you liking it there?”

“Well enough.”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Well, enough isn’t a way to live a life. I didn’t have a choice. You do. I made sure of it. If it’s not for you, do something else with your life.”

“If you didn’t like it, why’d you stay so long?” He stayed on at Lumina for years after his father died.

“I don’t know.” There’s sincerity in his light blue eyes. And a humility in his posture I used to see in my grandfather. Perhaps age grants humility in everyone, even former titans.

Wine is delivered, and he brightens.

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