Page 28 of Dante
For a long, echoing moment, the silence in the apartment grew almost sentient, crowding around her with the same intensity as the ache in her chest. Magda stood rooted to the spot, arms wrapped tight around herself as if she could shield her heartfrom the raw, humiliating vulnerability. The sharp click of the door closing behind him reverberated through her bones, and when her knees finally gave way, she crumpled onto the fluffy gold carpet, her head pounding with fury.
Outside, city traffic hummed indifferently, the distant notes of laughter and car horns drifting up past her window. She pressed her palm to the cool floor and tried to anchor herself to something solid, something that was not slipping away from her grasp. Why had she let him in so far?
She had built her life out of dazzling facades, perfect roles, magazine covers and cool, rehearsed smiles, yet here she was, trembling and unmoored, all her hard-won poise scattered to the wind.
Minutes passed. Perhaps hours. Eventually, Magda rose, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, discovering the telltale traces of mascara. She straightened her shoulders, squared her jaw, and walked to the mirror hanging by the door. Her reflection stared back, beautiful but slightly blurred, eyes rimmed red, mouth set in a determined line.
"No one gets to write my ending," she whispered, the words a brittle promise. She would cry tonight, even allowing herself the petty satisfaction of tearing up old photos, deleting his number, and drowning their memories in a glass or three of wine. But tomorrow, the world would see only the rose of daytime television. Unbowed, unbroken, and perfectly composed.
Magda reached for her phone, thumb hovering over the number of her agent. There was still an audition to prepare for, lines to memorize, and a thousand eyes waiting to watch her next performance. Heartbreak, after all, was just another role. And she had always excelled at those.
And she was damned if she was going to allow a man to send her spiraling into acute misery. She deserved more than that. He was going to come crawling back to her, she decided. And when he did, she was going to make him crawl.
Shaking her head at the unlikely image, she rose unsteadily and went to grab the bottle of wine she had put on ice when she learned he was coming over. She was going to indulge herself in a good cry and several glasses of Chateaubriand. It was well deserved.
He went away on the spur of the moment. Without packing, he turned his car around and called his pilot. A trip to Texas was overdue. He was part owner of a very prosperous ranch, and it was high time he took an active interest in the running of the place. The man he had put in charge of it was an old friend who would certainly welcome his presence.
His mind settled on that, and he felt himself getting steadier. He would give himself time to sort through the mess inside his head.
Chapter 8
He sent her a very terse email on Sunday. After spending the weekend stewing and vacillating between hope and despair, she finally concluded that she was out of a job. And adjusted her thinking accordingly.
She prayed. It had been some time since she went on her knees or even gone to a church service. When she had been stuck in that group home, she had prayed that a nice family would show up and adopt her and Caleb. She had been faithful in praying for that to happen. Had listened to the droning of the preacher who had turned up every Sunday, the one who had told them that God was gracious and loving and would answer their prayers if they were good little boys and girls. And she had been scrupulously good.
Until it dawned on her that her prayers of them finding a good home would not be answered, they were on their own and "the good God" had completely forsaken them.
But lately she had started praying again. She was pregnant by a man who had not loved her enough to stick. Just like her parents. They had chosen to run instead of sticking to their responsibilities. A child required love and stability, and shemade a promise to the life growing inside her that she was going to be different. No matter what happens, she was going to stick.
The email came late in the afternoon and had her blinking at the terse message.
"Cancel my appointments until further notice. I'll be out of town."
That was it. Nothing was mentioned about the crisis she had going on. She supposed she should be grateful that it was that and not "you're fired. Get the hell out of my company" email.
But it was still obscure, and she had no idea what her future holds at the company or if there was a future for her.
"It's good news." Her brother commented as he cut into his grilled chicken and wished it was fried and crispy instead. But his sister had made the effort, and he had to remember that she was tentatively trying to stomach meat.
"How is it good news?"
She was grateful that he had come by yesterday and today to spend the time with her and see to it that she was okay. Her appetite was off, and her morning sickness was draining the life out of her. She woke up this morning with tears on her cheek and a low feeling inside her.
"It means you still have a job." He jabbed the fork in her direction to make his point. He was worried about her and wished she would change her mind and come and stay with him. It was not like he had anything going on in his personal life anyway. Hell, all he did these days was just work.
"For how long? And why this sudden trip? I have his complete schedule, even the personal ones and it never said anything about him going away. And where the hell is he? There's no mention of where he's gone. Nothing."
"The man is a freaking billionaire. Something might have come up in the middle of the night. He owns companies all over the world. He might have gotten a call saying there's a crisis somewhere and just took off. It helps when you have a privateplane tucked at an airfield and not have to deal with the peskiness of commercial flights. Lucky bastard."
He lifted a shoulder when she simply stared at him. "Just saying."
"It doesn't strike you as odd that the minute he knows about my pregnancy, he just up and disappeared?"
"Sounds like the son of a bitch who knocked you up." He grimaced at her expression and shook his head. "Honey..."
"You're right." Pushing the plate away, she reached for her glass of water. "I must have that aura around me. Men keep disappearing when it comes to me. Our father did, Michael did and now my own boss who knows almost nothing about me."
"Don't go there." He warned.
