Page 86 of His Forced Bride
"You see everything as strategy, don't you? Every action is calculated three moves ahead."
"Four, usually."
"How? How do you keep track of all the variables, all the potential outcomes?"
He sets down his utensils and considers the question seriously.
"People are predictable. They want power, money, revenge, safety. Once you understand their primary motivation, their actions become inevitable."
"What about love? Family? Loyalty that isn't purchased or coerced?"
"Those exist. They're simply less reliable than self-interest."
His cynicism appalls me, but I find it fascinating too.
Life's taught him some devastating things and he's found a way to manage it all.
His mind works in dark and sinister ways, and I’m glad it's working for me right now.
"You enjoy it," I realize aloud.
"The complexity. Managing all the moving pieces."
"I'm good at it."
"That's not what I asked."
He reaches for his wine glass, and I can tell he's distracting me, buying time to think of something to say that won't upset me or be a direct lie.
"Enjoyment is a luxury. Survival requires action."
"But you do enjoy it. I can see it in your face when you talk about strategy, about outmaneuvering opponents."
For a moment, something almost resembling a smile touches the corners of his mouth.
"Perhaps."
We continue eating, but the conversation dies down.
The tension that usually crackles between us has been replaced by a warmer atmosphere.
I watch him work through his meal and I find myself wondering about the man beneath the hardened exterior.
I wonder what version of him his first wife saw.
What version of him raised Dominic, and if I'd have found Dominic as curious or interesting.
"Your mother called the other day and I met with her."
The words drop into the peaceful evening atmosphere, shattering it completely.
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth.
"What?"
"She wants to see you."
My pulse quickens, hope and dread warring in my chest.
