Page 23 of Don't Bite The Boss
He shakes his head, rolls his glass around in his hands, head down, as though the answers to all life’s questions lie in the amber liquid before him.
“She’ll come around,” I frown, shrugging, “you guys are made for each other.”
‘Not. She’s as thick as two bricks, and you will get bored with her conversation after 12 months, six if you spend any amount of time with her. Jesus, half an hour with her and I wanted to blow my brains out.’
“I need to get out, to go further out to sea for a while,” he says quietly, “find myself. I told Nick this evening, I told you. Work on the villa can stop, just finish the township. I can’t be here anymore.”
I shake my head and grit my teeth.
“You can’t just leave. I mean there are sixty archaeological students on your site that have barely unpacked their bags. Not to mention the fact my business is all wrapped up in this contract for at least the next six months.”
“I knew you would take it hard,” he sighs, “I should have explained earlier, I owe you that, but.. anyway, you are here now. I’ll pay you for the entire contract immediately,” he says quietly, “you’ve been fantastic, Pru. More than fantastic. I’m glad to have been able to get to know you.”
I close my eyes momentarily to get my bearings.
‘That’s it? Here’s your money, see you later?’
The thought of him leaving, of him sailing away into the sunset, and me never seeing him again, almost makes me gasp out loud in pain.
“What happened?” I ask gently, unwilling to let him go without a more thorough explanation. I know that he knows what I am talking about. Her.
He shakes his head.
“Tell me, Tristan, what happened?”
I wait quietly, I know he will tell me, he has shared a great deal of his life with me over the past few months. I think he likes talking to me, revealing his thoughts. Hell, I like talking to him too – I refuse to believe he’s going to leave.
I don’t have long to wait, one more glass downed in a quick, hot mouthful.
“I wanted to tell her,” he shrugs. “I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us before we married. I wanted her to know that my life has a more than average modicum of violence and danger attached to it. She’s so sweet, Pru, so innocent in many ways, I didn’t want to lead her in a direction that she would find too much to bear; she needed to know from the outset.”
“And let me guess,” I sigh, “she ran screaming to the hills?”
“No,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, “she interrupted me before I could tell her anything, told me she didn’t want any secrets either, that she had something she needed to tell me.”
‘Oh, shit.’
“And?” I prompt, albeit reluctantly. Strangely, I can see where this is heading.
“She has been sleeping with her set designer for the past three months,” he croaks, “she says she thinks she loves him.”
“Bitch!” I snipe.
He shakes his head. His pain is still too raw to have yet turned to anger.
“And what?” I shrug, “you called off the wedding?”
“Of course,” he growls, throwing his crystal glass at the side of the boat in an unexpected show of violence. I flinch as it explodes and shatters into a million pieces on the deck.
“Tristan,” I shake my head, “you can’t let this destroy you. You have people who rely upon you for their livelihoods, commitments you have made.”
“Money talks,” he snarls, “I will pay everyone everything they are owed. No one will suffer any ill effects from my decision.”
‘I will.’
“Right,” I scowl, “so you think the best thing to do is fold all your business interests in Italy and run away to sea with your tail between your legs?”
“If that’s how you want to see it,” he says, standing and looking down at me.
