Page 104 of Damaged

Gone. Finally.

It’s not that Sophia and I couldn’t have sex. Or be loud when we did. The house is plenty big. It’s that for the last few days, I couldn’t have her wherever and whenever I wanted.

“So,” I say and flip the lock on the door. “What should we do now?”

Sophia stares me down for a moment. “Cook dinner.”

“Oh… Can’t it wait?”

“Unless you want me biting more than usual, no. I’m starving.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like the worst thing.”

“Come on,” Sophia says, rolling her eyes on the way to the kitchen.

We’ve been cooking for ourselves the last few days. Nothing crazy—steaks. Pastas. Things that don’t take much effort. I didn’t want to bring a private chef out here. And we’re plenty capable of making do ourselves.

Sophia puts on some music and goes to the cupboard. “What do you think? Garlic gnocchi?”

“You’re the hungry one. I have no objections.”

“You’re a very smart man,” she says.

I put some water on to boil while she starts finely chopping the garlic. We’re joking and laughing like we’ve been doing this for years.

Sophia always makes an effort for the final presentation of the plates to look wonderful, with freshly grated cheese and a swirl of sauce. I, however, just want to eat the thing.

Sophia lights a couple candles and puts them in the breakfast nook. It’s a far more intimate setting to share a meal in than the gigantic dining room with its table for twelve.

I go to the pantry to find a suitable red when my phone rings. It’s only done that twice in the week I’ve been out here since the heist.

I’ve told all my employees and associates to only call if there’s an emergency, and so far, they’ve kept a pretty good definition of what constitutes one.

The caller ID readsMark Sundberg, my VP of accounts.

“Hello?” I say somewhat impatiently. “I’m just about to sit down for dinner.”

“You said emergency, and I think we’ve got one. Kim Davis wants to drop us.”

“What?” Suddenly I’m at attention. Kim Davis is the CEO of one of the largest telecommunications companies in the country. He’s one of our largest domestic clients. If he ditches our security software for someone else, this year is in the red, even if the DoD contract is salvaged.

“Did he say why?”

“Yeah. You. He said he was expecting to see you at the investors’ conference last week. He emailed saying he won’t do work with a company whose CEO has gone AWOL.”

“I’m hardly fucking AWOL. I shot a guy in the head. How does he know that’s not keeping me up at night?”

“That might be part of his reservations. Maybe he thinks you’re bad press.”

“What can be done? Did he say?”

“He’s in New York for one more night. He’s available.”

“I’d have to get on a plane this second.”

Mark pauses, and I know why. This isn’t the kind of thing I’ve ever had a hold up over before. “I imagine so, yes.”

“I want you to get ahold of him. See if he can do a late dinner.”

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