Page 39 of Infamous Heart

“Thanks.” Yup, even as the woman was raking me over the coals, reminding me that I wasn’t good enough at my job or at my relationship, I thanked her.

“I’m sure you’re good at whatever it is you do. But Sebastian has a higher calling, and any distractions are…” she paused, trying to bait me as she pretended to search for a harsh word, “fleeting.”

“I appreciate the advice…” I hadn’t even caught the woman’s name. “Your name?” If I needed to discuss it with Sebastian, I didn’t want him mistaking her for one of the other dozen women in near identical clothes.

“Rebecca, head of Marketing for Revelations” she turned, holding out her hand as the elevator slowed.

My mother would be proud of me minding my manners, but right now I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cry or smack her. After a day of being told I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t capable of playing with the “big boys,” I put away my civility and did the nastiest thing I could think of. I ignored her hand.

The ding sounded like a victory chime. I’d deal with these feelings later, but for now, I reveled, beating her at the dismissive game. As the doors opened, I stepped from the elevator, not caring if a gentleman should wait. When she didn’t follow, I realized I had been played. Rebecca never needed to leave the building. She merely wanted to share her version of advice and leave me to pick up the pieces.

I turned, ready to curse at the woman. The grin said everything. She had emerged victorious in this game of chess. Her hand spun about a metal necklace, the end of it vanishing into her cleavage. My lip raised in a snarl as I sorted through a list of vulgar insults.

As the doors shut, she tugged on the necklace. At the end, nestled against her flawless skin, I caught a glimpse of a jewel mostly hidden from sight, a green pendant.

Rebecca vanished as doors closed and the elevator raced upward. She might as well have been standing in front of me. The image of her burned into my retina. This woman, a vile one at that, had just shared a dirty little secret.

Rebecca was a supervillain.

16

I checkedmy phone for the millionth time in the last hour. No new messages, no texts. I clicked the corner, double checking that I was able to get a signal despite being in the back of the restaurant. I flipped back to my text messages. Nothing.

“I get fashionably late, but…”

I turned on my camera and gave myself the once over. Neatly trimmed hair, manicured goatee, even a bit of moisturizer to make sure I looked my best. The facial regimen might have gone overboard, but I wanted to make a statement tonight. I snapped a photo so I could prove to the guys that I cleaned up pretty well when motivated.

I inspected the knot of my tie. It wasn’t perfect, a little larger than it should have been, but I didn’t dare fuss it with anymore. I gave it a slight tug, loosening it enough that it didn’t catch on the stubble under my chin.

“Not too shabby Griffin.”

I put my phone down. I had never been to the restaurant before, but it was considered one of the nicest in the area, and only a few blocks from Sebastian’s loft. I figured after a long day at work, he wouldn’t want to traipse across town. If dinner went well, I hoped my tie would be hanging on his doorknob by the end of the night.

The candle on the table flickered. At first, I thought it was fancy because each table held a vase filled with flowers arranged that morning. But the more I examined the decor, the more I realized how upscale it was. The dark wood along the walls softened the industrial feel of the metal along the bar. It was swankier than any joint in the Ward. I had grown accustomed to plastic counter tops made for easy cleaning.

It was a narrow space, with a group of tables in the front, near the window overlooking the street. The bar occupied the middle, running the length of the space with metal barstools with wide, dark wood seats. The liquor on display behind the bartender was perfectly spaced out, light from beneath, making the bottles glow and providing most of the light in this area. I had been given a seat in the back, near a custom wooden divider that hid the entrance into the kitchen.

From here, I had the opportunity to watch all the patrons as they went about their meals. An older couple ate in silence, consumed by their food. I imagined she was his second wife, somebody he met at the club. Their courtship had been rushed as she attempted to climb the social ladder and he wanted the prestige of landing a bride twenty-years his junior.

Not far from them, a trio swished wine around in their glasses, drinking the amber liquid deeply. All three wore suits, and I couldn’t quite decide if their evening out was for leisure or business. When the waiter returned, he had brought another bottle of wine, and without asking, exchanged it for the empty one.

One of the men said something, holding out his glass. The waiter looked petrified as he apologized for whatever faux pas he had committed. Though he had brought them another bottle, apparently, he had forgotten to pour them their next glass. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, astonished at the entitled behavior of the patron.

“I’d pop him one in the jaw,” I muttered.

Now that I had seen a single transgression, I searched for more. The bartender brought a drink to a woman wearing more diamonds than I’d ever afford in my lifetime. As he placed the martini glass on the bar, she reached out, her hands grazing up the length of his forearm. She held him in place, lingering far longer than should be appropriate. The forced smile had been well-rehearsed, but he couldn’t fake it in the eyes. To maintain his employment, he embodied the flirt, whether he liked it or not.

“This is so not me.” I loosened my tie, convinced I had made a fool of myself. I silently cursed Damien’s name while unfastening my top button. I was far more content grabbing a milk shake and burger than whatever was on this menu. Who in their right mind ate pigeon? Perhaps I was always going to be a guy from the Ward, low brow and unsophisticated.

I froze as my phone rattled along the table. After an hour of waiting for him to open the door, I assumed it couldn’t be good news. It vibrated again, short with an abrupt second shake. A text message, two of them to be precise. If I didn’t flip it over and read his message, there was still hope that I’d catch him speaking to the hostess.

Cautiously, I reached for the phone, glancing to the front of the restaurant, hoping that he might ask where I was seated. A shallow inhale and I flipped it over, but at this angle, I couldn’t make out the message. One step closer to confirming my fears.

Purgatory wasn’t the middle ground between Heaven and Hell. It was a hell that prayed on hope. I picked up the phone and flipped it open to read my messages.

Two texts from Sebastian.

I sank into my chair, pulling at my tie until it slid from around my neck. I shoved it in my pocket as I reread the message, worried I might have misread his text. Even after the third time, there was nothing salvageable. I hovered over the last line of the first text.

---