Page 33 of Her Dark Salvation

“When I was in grad school, people told me I’d never make it in industry. International investments and corporate finance aren’t places for a wallflower.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Those were my advisor’s words, not mine.”

His lips flattened in a tight line of displeasure.

“What I said earlier? About working down here? That’s why I never did. I believed them.”

My stomach rolled admitting my deepest regret to someone I barely knew. But then again, there was freedom in putting it out there so plainly. Like I was finally owning my destiny. I huffed out a breath, surprised by the revelation, and finished my coffee.

“The car’s here,” he said, glancing over my shoulder.

We put on our coats, and for the third time that morning, Mr. DeVita donned his chivalrous persona and offered his hand to help me into the back seat. The doors slammed shut, and the Range Rover lurched forward into Boston traffic.

“Instead, you became an esteemed professor at the most prestigious university in the world. I’ve seen the awards. Impressive doesn’t begin to describe your accomplishments.”

Over the years, I’d learned to take compliments about my career, but coming from Mr. DeVita, the praise landed with a weight I hadn’t expected. I gave him an embarrassed smile. “Thank you.”

“You’ve made quite a career for yourself. I don’t understand why you’d want to leave that now.”

I looked out the window. It was nearing lunchtime, and the busy sidewalks and streets seemed so far away from our quiet conversation. We drifted through the melee in a bubble, just the two of us, separated in time and space from the chaos of the outside world. It felt safe and secure, and the explanation I’d been holding inside clawed its way out, desperate to be heard.

“It’s easy to look at someone,” I said to the window, “and based on their job and their accomplishments assume they have it together, that they’re in control and have everything they want.” I shook my head. “But you don’t know. All you see is their highlight reel. You don’t see what they’re missing.”

He shifted in the seat behind me, and I sensed I’d struck a chord, but I needed to get the rest of my truths off my chest.

“Prestige doesn’t equate to happiness, or even satisfaction. Neither do awards or tenure. Just because someone’s job seems impressive or noble, that doesn’t mean they’re happy.” I swallowed down a surge of emotion and turned to face him. “If it did, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

The lines around his mouth and across his forehead softened, and his lips parted as if my words had torn open their tight restraint. “You were cast in a role, and you’re done playing the part. You want something more.”

“I do.”

“You want what’s missing.”

“Yes.”

“There are things you told yourself you couldn’t have. Because what you’ve been doing? That’s all you’re supposed to do. And you’ve been doing it for so long.”

I swallowed.

“Then one day, you wake up, and you realize… you want more.” His voice was low and gravelly, barely above a whisper.

My eyes burned with unwanted tears. “How…”

He cleared his throat and turned to the window, severing our connection. “It’s a common experience among people our age.” He lifted his shoulder in a casual gesture that belied how his voice cracked halfway through his excuse.

The car lurched to a stop, popping our cozy bubble and thrusting us back into reality. The haze from our conversation lifted, and I patiently waited for Mr. DeVita to come around to my side of the car. He held out a hand and helped me out but avoided eye contact, and we walked through the lobby of Terme di Boston without another word.

An awkward silence rode with us in the elevator. It only released after the doors opened and Mr. DeVita put distance between us with quick strides. I took off my gloves and coat and hung them on the rack. I smoothed my hair, staticky from the cold, picked up my bag, and headed for my desk.

Mr. DeVita stood in the doorway to his office and watched me, his face a mask of cool control except for the slight tic of the muscle in his jaw. “I’m flying to Italy tomorrow on business. I’ll be back in the office Tuesday after lunch.”

“Okay.” I unpacked my water bottle and notebook before tucking my purse under the desk. The awkward silence from the elevator returned and took over the foyer. “I’m…”Wracking my brain for something to say. “Hopefully I’ll have a draft ready by the time you get back. Oh! And I’ll look over the financial requirements for those permits, too.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Siobhán will help you with anything you need while I’m out. Unless it has to do with your contract. In which case, contact me on my personal cell. I’ll email you the number.”

“Sounds good,” I said, thinking we’d finally reached the end of uncomfortable. But he didn’t move, clearing his throat instead.

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