Page 49 of Dissension

Taking one of the gigantic smoothies in the tall glass, Kara asks, “What are these?”

“Compliments of Chef Beau, the chefyoudidnothire for me,” Dieter proclaims as he keeps one for himself, sitting down comfortably beside her. “He makes a killer protein drink.”

Kara is hungry and eager to fill up her stomach with just about anything. She takes the first sip and sighs at the different flavors of dark berries and rich red grapes. “This can’t be healthy, that’s a lie.”

“I never saidthesewere, in particular.” He shrugs, drinking his own, leaning over to view the various albums of a life that Kara can’t even begin to imagine. From tropical sailing trips around the world with his father, to jaw-dropping images of a much younger Dieter leaping over high fences astride a horse. Even African Safari hunts with Dieter beside a trophy kill. Kara marvels that his life is so utterly unlike her own. They are worlds apart.

There are no photos of his mother in these books of a life lived. Nothing at all to denote her existence. “No Saoirse?”

A little puff of air leaves Dieter’s mouth. “She lived a different life. Most of my childhood memories that include her are of her blipped out on drugs. The beauty industry is cutthroat. She was already a slim thing, but the cocaine kept her eventhinner. When she was present physically, she wasn’t there at all.”

Kara can’t glean how that makes him feel. He sounds emotionless on the matter and for once, she doesn’t want to press. She flips into another album and is shocked to see what looks like-

“Is thatNick?”

Dieter leans over and chuckles low in his throat. “Can’t you recognize that scowl? ‘Course that’s Nick. We spent a lot of our childhood on the East Coast with our families. Our fathers were close then. My father had another estate out there with an equestrian hunt field. A couple of families would always show up for the summer or fall. Nick lived out that way, back then.”

Kara looks on with interest, looking to see into this secret piece of Nick. There are scenes of him playing tennis, various pictures of him and Dieter grinning into what must have been an old camera. Despite a number of photos of him appearing to be a happy boy, there are so many with this forlorn, lost look on his face. Kara wonders about that, how someone like him could be so unhappy surrounded by such excess.

There are various group photos of the adults, all very well-dressed. Some pictures involving various riders astride horses with hounds. Dieter points that out. “My father would hold a mock fox hunt on the property. It was a blast to gallop the trails with the hounds and horses. Not Nicky’s thing though. I would hang back to keep him company so he wouldn’tpout.”

Kara flips more pages.

There’s a woman in her later fifties in a few of the photos, often sitting near Nick. “Who is that? His mother?” Kara squints, looking closer. They don’t look anything alike.

Dieter tilts his head and gazes down, as if trying to recall something. Or trying to determine what to say. “The Judge. Not Nick’s mother, she wasn’t a judge back then. This was the one previous to her. Very politically connected.” He pauses, eyes going half-mast. “Long dead now.”

Peering down at the various pictures of Nick, Kara tries to see what turned him into who he is today. She sees a boy with soft brown hair and big blue eyes, looking downcast and distant even then. She thinks he’s thirteen, perhaps, in the images, somewhere about that age.

There’s no confidence and arrogance. He doesn’t have that ‘brat image’ to him that Dieter seems to carry across the pages.

Dieter is playing with her hair. She swats his hand away. “Stop.”

He shifts closer, the heat of his thigh against hers. “You said later.”

Thinking about that, Kara frowns. What…?Oh. When he tried to kiss her in the car and she refused him. “I never said later. I never said anything at all.”

One of his hands falls on her thigh, his free arm along the back of the couch. His nose, nuzzling by her ear. “That’s as good as sayingyes.”

Actually, it’s not.

Quick as a snake, Kara shifts and grabs him by the chin in a domineering fashion. “I’ll tell you when you’re allowed to kiss me.”

His eyes glitter with amusement, allowing her this little display. “Will you? Howthrilling.”

God, he’s such a shitcan. Instead of allowing him to continue with his absurd word games, Kara grips his chin tighter and leans forward to kiss him herself, controlling the act. It’s exactly as she wants it to be in this moment with this particular man; it’s her choice, not his.

This man, who tries to control her every move and feeling, does not get a say this time.

It still feels like losing, somehow, when he grins against her mouth, eagerly accepting her domination. The fierce press of her lips against his, fought like a war with one side easily submitting. Taking all her energy and red-hot passion into himself, letting her maneuver him the way she wants.

The terribly wrong act of kissing her client never felt so good. The feeling of his body under hers as she pushes him down, thesensation of his fingers trailing a path down her spine. The heat of him, pressed between her legs-

“Pardon,” Chef Beau interjects with embarrassment as he politely drops off another set of those delicious smoothies. “Est-ce tout ce soir, Mr. Bittinger?”

Kara yelps and sits away from the man under her, flushing red. Why does this bastard have so many employees wandering his damn house? At least Maria already left hours ago…

Dieter sits up and grins without an ounce of shame, lips red and bitten. “Merci beaucoup. C’est tout. Bonne nuit.”

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