Page 9 of Tributary

CHAPTER EIGHT

Asa

WHAT IN THE hell was that?I don’t even know what came over me in there. I just unleashed upon that woman like some feral wolf…and she seemed into it. I decide to take the train back to the city to clear my head. All told, it’s faster for me to walk to the station and jump aboard than it would be for Andrea to send the chopper to come and get me, let alone hire a driver or arrange a chartered flight from any nearby airport.

The first class car of the train is a nice change of pace from my leather cocoon inside my town car, and I actually enjoy the passing scenery as I catch up on all the calls I should have made yesterday, trying to get the taste of Diana out of my mouth, the sound of her moans out of my mind. “Andrea,” I start, staring at the white-covered hills between Oak Creek and New York City. “I need you to obtain something for me. Immediately.”

She laughs. “Are we doing earrings this time, or pearls?”

“Nothing like that,” I snap, hating that I’ve become so predictable. “I need someone on the phone with a hops farmer in Germany. There’s a botanist in Oak Creek working on something interesting and I want a seedling in her hands before nightfall.”

“A botanist? Weren’t you there to follow up with your artificial intelligence project?”

I sigh, wondering if Andrea can tell that my interest in this woman goes well beyond business. “I…encountered her during the blizzard.”

I can practically hear her raising her eyebrows at me, but she doesn’t give me shit about it. “Send me the info and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Andrea? Get the courier to send you a picture of her receiving it. I want to know that it’s arrived.”

She immediately pivots the conversation to our investment in a small publishing house that’s launching some new print-to-order technology for stores. Turns out some people still like to read physical books. I trust the data Andrea got from our team. I haven’t had time to read a book since undergrad. My thoughts flash quickly to Abigail and her novel, and then immediately jump to a fantasy of me standing behind Diana at a book release party. Shaking my head, I pull it together and work my way through my email.

By the time I finish reading updates on all the clients I ignored during the blizzard, the train is pulling into Penn Station, and I feel more like a human man and less like a beast. This really was a pleasant way to travel. I make a mental note for next time as my driver meets me to take my bag at the platform.

I still can’t stop thinking about Diana Crawford, and I can’t quite figure out why. She’s certainly less uptight than the women who usually attract me. I didn’t notice a lick of makeup and she was primarily wearing thermals and denim when we were together. Except when she was wearing nothing at all. The feel of her silken skin, stretched taut over her tight little body, is imprinted in my mind. I keep replaying the sound of her moaning my name, thrashing against that counter while I drove into her. Damn it, she might actually be a witch. I text Andrea to ask her if she’s ever seen witch hazel in real life, and ask if we can get some for my office.

I decide it must be Diana’s independence that intrigues me. She runs her own business—and I promise myself I’ll find out what she’s really doing in there. She shovels her own snow. She takes care of her brother’s girlfriend while he’s off doing work for me. Yes, I think. Diana Crawford is a mystery worth solving.

Andrea has a corner office opposite mine. She’s really the engine of Wexler Holdings. It comes as no surprise when she pokes her head into my office later in the afternoon to ask how I’d like the picture receipt. I take a minute to marvel that she’s achieved her mission so quickly. “Can you text it to me, Andrea?” I am neck deep in a financial report for a firm in Pittsburgh asking for seed money for a new cancer screening device.

A few seconds later, when Diana’s face lights up my phone, I jump. She looks utterly stunned, her jaw dropped in surprise as she cradles the seedling. It’s just a hasty cell phone pic, blurry and a bit smudged, but it consumes my attention. I love knowing that I managed to surprise her, and I hate that I wasn’t there to hear the sounds she made when she opened the seedling, realized what it was. She has to know it came from me, and I like that I’ve caught her off guard.

I don’t typically see women more than once or twice. These high society women bore me, even as my mother thrusts them toward me, hoping I’ll marry one and give her grandchildren.

I chuckle, knowing Diana is going crazy since she has no way to contact me without going through her family to get my information. I imagine the sound of her voice, calling me to scream obscenities, and the frustration she feels knowing I’ve got the upper hand. Something tells me I won’t be hearing from her before I head back to Oak Creek.

But I can play a long game. And Diana Crawford is a fine prize.

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