Page 4 of Dissension

His peridot eyes gaze about the vast white kitchen as if seeing it for the first time. “I can’t really say I’ve been in here much. So, no. Still sure you don’t want to hire me some new staff?”

Fine. Kara will go about this in the barbaric, rude way. One by one, she opens up different drawers and cabinets, letting them bang shut with her fiery irritation. There are so many fucking cabinets to slam. Too many to search. “I know you’re smart. Stop being a child. Go online and search whatever site you bluebloods use to find house staff. It can’t be that hard!”Ack, she called him a child out loud; Kara can almost taste his stubbornness intensify. Under her breath, she snarls, “Where is that motherfucking coffee?”

He leaves his spot against the archway and pulls out one of the barstools at the oversized granite island, parking his rear down in the middle of the room to watch her. He seems coolly intrigued, watching her make a circus show out of his kitchen. Almost as if watching an ant crawling around under his gaze. “Why should I do it when I can pay someoneelseto do it?”

When she finds the heavenly-smelling coffee grounds in a glass jar, she quickly puts the coffee maker to work, head pounding from tension and the need for caffeine. Then, Kara ducks into the industrial-sized fridge, taking only a brief moment to admire the sheer amount of food, juices, and meats. She grabs the eggs and turns on the stove.

“Because I am not your mother-” Perfect double zero Saoirse Bittinger never spent an ounce of love on her son from what Kara has gathered. It’s damaged his brain, she’s certain of it. “-and I don’t want to be. You’re a grown man fully capable of making your own phone calls. Don’t roll your eyes at me; youliterallyrun a business. I think you just like the power trip of making other people do meaningless shit for you,” Kara hisses as she cracks a few eggs over a heated skillet, listening to them sizzle with satisfaction. She glances upward to catch his eyes,flushing as she catches him staring at her with that lazy appeal. He doesn’t look away, no shame at so openly gazing at her. Kara’s mouth goes dry and she wonders how a stare can twist her up so terribly inside. He’s always been rather good at that. “H-how do you like your eggs?”

I sound like an idiot. Why does he always make me sound like a total imbecile?

He smiles at that, teeth bright as he laughs softly, glancing out the window for only a few seconds. Then his gaze drifts back to her. “Runny. With toast. Buttered. And not burnt.”

Kara feels her left eye twitch a bit. She feels like telling him to make his own toast. Does he want her to cut the fucking crust while she’s at it? “Oh, I’ll butter your toast,” she mutters, watching the eggs carefully before moving them onto a plate. There seems to be no normal bread, just the thick-cut stuff, so she tosses them on the hot pan with a little butter.

She makes up their plates of food. When the coffee finishes brewing, Kara grabs a few mugs from the bamboo mug holder on the far counter. Dieter slides open the door to the outside. “We’re eating outside,” he says, taking his plate and coffee mug, striding off down a stone pathway, curving to the right.

Kara huffs. He wants to eat outside? Dieter, the not-so-rugged outdoorsman. Polo extraordinaire. Exquisite boatsman. Cocaine snorting playboy.Puh-lease. Grabbing her plate and coffee, she follows him, out into the morning sunlight, squinting. The morning air is crisp, yet very tolerable, the birds being the only sound in the air.

No city sounds. No people yelling and talking. Nothing but nature. The next estate is about ten acres away, giving them more privacy than Kara is used to. As Kara follows the stone path, she comes to the lovely cobbled patio, overlooking a pool, custom hot tub, and a modern outdoor bar. She pauses, staring in awe even though it’s a sight she’s seen before.

“Are you impressed? Please say yes,” Dieter drawls, sitting in the sun at one of the patio tables beside the lovely blue water.

A tropical blue, like Nicholas Havenwood-Calais’ eyes.

Kara feels her throat tighten, thinking of him. She blinks Nick from her mind and joins her client at the table. The first chance she gets, Kara takes a deep sip from her steaming coffee, sighing in orgasmic pleasure. “This is fabulous. You have to tell me what sort of coffee beans you buy.” Then, she pauses, snorting into her mug. “Never mind, don’t tell me; you don’t even know.”

He ignores the barb. Perhaps he doesn’t even care. Dieter is munching on the toast, dipped in yolk. His lovely eyes are staring into the distance, admiring the expanse of his land. He’s strangely silent and Kara fiddles a bit with her food, thinking of what to say.

Do you even need to say anything at all?

Probably not. They have fallen into a certain level of comfort together. Possibly too comfortable, considering the catfights they will randomly get into. Kara fears she’s too close to him, the way she always felt when she saw Gale engaging with him. As if he and Gale were more than just client and lawyer.

Kara spends more time with him than she does with Bianca lately and it’sa problem.

When did he become a permanent fixture in my life?

After he gets some food and caffeine in him, a boyishly sheepish expression steals over his face. He knows he’s been a bear all morning. “Sorry, I was a bit of a problem.” It’s hard to hate him when he looks like this, all earnest and genuine with those gorgeous eyes. “Forgive me?”

Kara drinks more coffee to wash away her ill will. She wants to hit him. She alsodoesn’t. It’s nice that he uses apologies, even though she suspects that’s another method of submissive control he exerts. “Fine. You’re terrible and I hate you.”

“I love that about you,” Dieter replies, grinning. The air feels like it clears, almost immediately. She’s noticed that over the months; his dark moods set people on edge, but when he brightens, so do those around him. He’s a social mastermind with wicked cunning, pushing and pulling people how he wants.

Dieter tips his nose towards the field in the way back, towards the fenced paddock by the barn. “Your boyfriend misses you.”

Kara’s face twists up. He’s referring to his retired showjumper, a great big European-blooded horse, now fat with age, languishing in the field. The beast is brooding and she can nearly see him from afar. “I’m quite sure that he doesn’t, but nice try.”

Giving her a sly look, Dieter raises his eyebrows and Kara scowls, reading his mind. “I’m not sitting on his back ever again. My tailbone still hurts.”

“Get over it; you’re not afraid of a little pain.” A small, cruel barb. He knows about her dark, unhealthy arrangement with Nick from months ago.

Kara ignores it. “Gale doesn’t ride with you.”

“Yes, well, you don’t have osteopenia, do you? If you fall off, you bounce and cry a bit.” He makes a mocking face of pity. “Very sad. If Gale falls off,well, then I’ve broken her. Broken Gale is Useless Gale. Ineedher.”

Sure, he does. What is Kara, chopped liver?

Kara isn’t going to admit that itisa little fun to get out and be with the large animals. Soothing for all the latent anger inside of her. Another thing that isn’t part of her job description is going out in the forest preserve on horseback with Dieter. They haven’t gotten that far yet, but it’s a goal of his to get her suitable enough to go with him. Kara can still remember the last time he threw her up on his old gelding, with him standing there, whip in hand, pale hair moving with the wind.

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