Page 19 of Dante
Her brother had gone the opposite way. He had told her bluntly that he did not need permanency. He preferred to think of the place he stayed as somewhere to lay his head. But he could afford that sentiment. He was hardly ever there. She knew hestill suffered from extreme bitterness after being left in that group home. She still had nightmares. Pressing a hand on her flat stomach, she imagined she could feel the life growing inside her. The man had gone, but she was starting to grow accustomed to thinking of this baby as her own. All her own.
Outside, a siren wailed, fading into the distance. She jotted a single line in her notebook, something about possibility, about not letting ghosts have the last word. Then she closed her eyes and breathed, letting the quiet fill her until she felt almost new.
He was restless and edgy. Had been ever since he woke up this morning. If he hadn't made a direct promise to Magda to accompany her to the gala, he would have called and cancelled. His gut warned him that she was expecting more than he was prepared to offer.
He gave a brief nod to the blonde in the stunning red silk before turning his attention to the men talking business.
It was supposed to be a charity thing, one that his company was also involved in. So, it paid for him to show his face. Besides, the hotel was partially owned by his company as well. But hehated dressing up in these damn monkey suits and talking to strangers. It helped that some of his friends were present.
What did not help at all was Magda keeping a possessive hand on his arm as if she expected him to bolt. Which he felt like doing. He also knew she expected him to invite her back to his place, which was not going to happen. He wanted to be alone. And annoyingly, he could not get his damned assistant out of his mind. He should not be thinking of her at all. She was just an employee and one who had been there for a week. She should not have made such an impression. But she had. And it was not her extreme efficiency and biting tongue. The woman had a mouth on her. Jesus! He should not have gone there. The image of her lips, especially this morning, was wedged deep inside his brain.
Disengaging his arm from Magda and offering a polite excuse, he made his way through the throng of people, some of whom insisted on stopping him to offer conversation. He finally made it to the terrace, where he was alone.
Leaning on the wrought iron rail, he took several deep breaths, appreciating the cold. A hint of rain and the scent of flowers assailed his nostrils. He had learned to appreciate the simple things. Years gone by, he had been in a desperate situation. Often hungry and homeless. His life had been one of uncertaintyand if he had given into it, hopelessness. But he had been determined to make something of himself. After enduring abuse from a drunken mother who had taken out her failures on a helpless child, he fought bitterly to get ahead. Lifting his head, he gazed at the star filled sky and the sliver of moon glinting its pale light everywhere. The hotel was a magnificent old building that had been around for several hundred years. It had a delightful mix of the very old and the contemporary. And was located near the harbor. The scent of the water had him sucking in his breath. It had been ages since he took his boat out.
When the glass doors were pushed open, he hissed out a breath and turned with the intention of leaving.
"I brought you some scotch. Seems like you needed it." Jackson grinned as he handed his friend the glass.
"I had no idea you were here." Dante had to admit he was grateful it wasn't someone else.
Jackson clinked his own glass against Dante's, brown liquid sloshing just shy of the rim.
"You looked like you were about to jump ship. Figured I'd better throw you a lifeline. I came just when you managed to detangle yourself from the lovely Magda." He strolled over to the rail and looked down. "I hate heights."
"Yet you insist on building your galleries on the uppermost floors," Dante reminded him dryly. His mood had improved drastically.
"For the effect." Jackson turned to eye his friend. "From the little I saw before you made your escape, it seemed to me that you were not having fun."
"What's not to like?" Dante shrugged his shoulder and took a sip of the drink. "People dressed up in their fineries and eating expensive food. I should be in heaven."
His friend grinned at that, accustomed to the man's dry and caustic wit.
"Precisely. Not to mention paying an arm and a leg for the privilege of being part of this whole shebang. My darling wife had to strong arm me to be in attendance. I would have preferred to just write a check and be done with it. The game is on. A beer, some of Jerri's wonderful pot roast and I would have been in seventh heaven."
"You're such a peasant."
"And happy for it." He took a sip of his own glass of scotch and eyed his friend. "Tell me you don't feel the same."
"Considering that I don't have the privilege of Jerri's pot roast to savor, then I'd say I would halfway agree." He sipped his drink. "I was just here thinking that years ago this was what I would have wished for."
"And now?"
He shrugged.
"It's tiresome. I hate these social gatherings and I'm getting restless." He jerked a head towards the water. "I was also thinking that it's been a while since I took out the boat."
"What's stopping you?"
"Responsibilities." He slid a glance sideways. "I see Jerri also has you wearing a tux."
Jackson grimaced, easing a finger beneath the stiff white shirt.
"That woman can make me walk through fire."
"You're smitten."
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Jackson's mouth.
