Page 64 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
Thankfully, it isn’t long before a waiter summons us to a table on the upper deck. I marvel at the view from higher up. The sun is beginning to dip over the horizon, turning the sky a cotton candy pink, and the crystal water below laps gently at the sides of the boat.
There are six of us seated. Grayson is seated in the middle with me on his left, his wife to his right. Andreas sits opposite me, with the other couple to his left. I note the table is wide enough that even if we wanted to, my husband and I wouldn’t be able to touch feet beneath it. The distance is comforting but the view immediately ahead of me is not. Looking directly at my husband sends shivers down my spine.
They’re the same shivers I felt when I first met him, but now they’re fueled by fear, by not knowing what’s to come. We still haven’t spoken about my scars or his expectations of our marriage. I don’t know when or if he’s going to move into our supposed marital home. I once thought I knew him but now it’s clear I know nothing about him at all.
The conversation up to now has been largely small talk and general politics but I can sense Andreas’ impatience to move onto the topic he came here for. A small buzz of warmth fills my chest at the realization I knowsomethingabout my new husband. I lift a finger to touch the diamond at my throat and his eyes dart to me for a moment, narrowing as he inhales a breath. Then he turns back to the governor.
I watch as he lifts his glass of Barolo with the ease of a man who owns every room he walks into, his dark eyes now locked on Grayson across the table. Something in the air shifts with a vibrating tension.
“Boston needs a future,” Andreas says in a low and deliberate voice. “I’m offering one.”
He sets the glass down with a soft clink and slides a manila folder across the table.
“These are the plans for a cutting edge tech facility that will put Boston at the forefront of innovation. And all it takes,” he adds, “is your signature, Governor.”
Grayson flips open the folder, his brow furrowing as he scans the sleek architectural renderings and financial projections.
“It’s ambitious,” he says, tapping a finger against the glossy pages. “And it’s not lost on me how much this benefits your... organization.”
Andreas smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Boston benefits, Governor. Thousands of jobs. Infrastructure upgrades. A tech corridor to rival Silicon Valley. My interests are… secondary.”
Grayson chuckles dryly. “Forgive me if I don’t picture you as the selfless type, Mr. Corioni.”
Andreas leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with an easy grace.
“I’m a businessman. This is just business.”
The governor sets the folder down, meeting Andreas’ gaze squarely.
“And what happens if the city council resists? Whatif this turns into a public fight? I don’t need bad press right now.”
Andreas’ expression doesn’t change, but the breeze from the ocean suddenly feels fresh. “No one fights. I give you my word.”
Silence lingers, broken only by an exaggerated coke-induced sniff at the other end of the table. Finally, Grayson reaches for his glass, an air of smug authority filling his brow. “I will give it serious thought. The odds will be considerably more in your favor if you can elaborate a little on whatIget out of it.”
Grayson’s left hand slides beneath the table and rests on my thigh. I suck in a breath and dart my gaze to Andreas, my eyes wide.
Andreas is either oblivious or unaffected. “Trust me, Governor. There will bemuchto gain.”
Grayson’s hand slides further up my thigh, unbeknown to him hovering above the scars. He squeezes clumsily, his sweaty palm sticking to the fabric. I stare at Andreas, silently begging him to realize what’s going on beneath the table.
Or, does he already know?
“Like what exactly?” Grayson’s voice is suddenly gruff.
“Anything,” Andreas shrugs. “Shares, unions, direction in the south…”
Grayson’s throbbing hand moves higher still until it’s cupping my sex. I gasp in alarm.
Andreas flicks his gaze to me and for the first time thisevening, there’s a thread of annoyance in them. My heart drops and my head feels light. Was this my husband’s intention all along? To use me to gain the approval of his dirty contacts? To pimp me out to advance his own agenda?
I thought I was beginning to see some warmth and compassion in his behavior, but all I really saw was his attempt to prepare me forthis—my role as a pawn in his dirty business deals.
“Anything…” Andreas replies, in a low, conspiratorial voice. My heart turns to stone in the base of my stomach. His eyes dart to me again and I can’t tell anymore if they carry a warning or a threat. “…can be negotiated.”
Grayson’s fingers dig into my dress and press against me. I stifle a sob at the base of my throat.
“That’s reassuring to know,” he says, the words breaking at the edges. Then his hand slides away and I jam my thighs together.
