I move the chicken around on my plate. With a sigh I put it down. This was one of my favorite microwave dinners, but I think I’ve had it too many times.
My phone rings, setting Grover off on the intent to kill my phone. I snatch it up without checking the display. “Hello?”
“Hey Alicia, I wanted to check on you. When you left, you seemed a little...off. Is everything okay?”
The internal debate about talking to Jeanine lasts twenty seconds. I don’t really have any friends. In high school I was a nerd struggling to get good grades because I thought I needed a scholarship, unaware until my senior year the state would cover tuition for an in-state university. In college I still needed to work to support myself and Bethany. I barely had enough time to study, let alone form friendships. At the school where I worked, most of the teachers were married, and the ones who weren’t only wanted to go out drinking to bars or clubs. The only person I really talk to is Bethany, and there is no way I can talk to her about this.
With a deep breath it all comes out, from what Dante said in his office to what Cesare said in his. When I stop, I wonder if it was right to share with her. Her silence grows until I’m having a hard time sucking in air.
“Holy crap, you have landed Cesare Sabatini. I never thought I would see the day. I’m also sure Ces
are never thought he’d see it either, which is why he’s being a huge asshole.”
Her words spark fear deep inside me. “No, I don’t want to land Cesare Sabatini. The guy is completely out of my league. I have no comprehension of what to do with a guy like him. How can you say that? He’s mean, he’s rude, he’s disrespectful. Did my phone cut out while I was talking or something?”
“I heard every word you said. And it’s like I said, Cesare never thought any woman would break through his fortress of solitude. Sorry, my husband’s a huge nerd. It’s why he's so rude to you. Cesare stopped smoking cigars almost two years ago. He’s lapsed a few times with clients, we’re talking twice. That man has never told Hannah or me what to wear. Yes, he and Dante have stopped working with men who overstepped their bounds. Once a guy grabbed my ass, and Cesare cut all ties the next day in agreement with Dante.
“However, Cesare has never cared if I got handsy with a client or danced with one. Hell, I was trying to land a husband for a while there. He never cared, he sure as hell never said to tell someone I already had a man. He wants you to tell them you have a man because as far as he’s concerned he’s your man, and he doesn’t want to have to get territorial with a client.”
“That’s crazy.” I gasp the words out.
“Okay, if it’s crazy, ignore his instructions. Instead of the black Christian Siriano dress which is exactly what he wants you to wear, wear the Monique Lhuillier in peach. You’ll know exactly what he wants when he sees you in that dress.”
The peach dress, which was bought without me actually agreeing. It’s a shimmering, clinging, gorgeous dress that bares not just my shoulders but down to my breasts exactly the way Cesare told me not to. “I don’t know. I mean what, what would me getting involved with Cesare even turn into other than me jobless and in tears?”
“Wow, time-out on the worst-case scenario. Maybe you’re the game changer he’s been waiting for? I have never known the man you described. I mean look at you, you weren’t looking to switch jobs. You were all content buried in your safe place, but a salary to die for and a chance to do something different changed you. People change. Eventually they get tired of being confined by their past; maybe Cesare is too. What would it hurt to try?”
As I hang up I wonder. What would it hurt to try? Except I can’t stop thinking it would hurt as badly as falling from the top of the Sabatini building.
5
Alicia
I swear the clock is going backward every time I check it. At least Jeanine hasn’t brought up what we talked about last night. Although I shriveled when the first time I saw Cesare, he looked right through me as if I wasn’t even there. The fucker didn’t even acknowledge me. Then it happened again as he came back from lunch. It hurt, and it pissed me off. I don’t have the best temper—Bethany often calls me a bear once I’ve been set off. I’m at my absolute worst before coffee in the morning. Bethany has learned to, as she said, not poke the bear before I’ve had coffee.
Is that why at seven fifty-eight, as I watch the seconds tick fast on my watch, I’m in the peach dress? I wrap myself in a faux-fur coat that covers me from neck to ankle to hide the dress until the last possible moment. Did Cesare’s ignoring me poke my bear, and now I’m ready to poke back? I jump at the ringing phone. It’s the driver. I let him know I’ll be right down. I’m not in heels higher than two inches, only because I can’t walk in those things. Taking a deep breath, with a goodbye to Grover I lock my door.
The driver is different than the last time. He’s out of the car, holding my door open for me. I slide into the limo, glad to feel the warmth after the frigid cold of the night. I want to kick myself for the way my heart starts beating faster, and those damn bees start buzzing as I slip into the car. The back of a limo usually feels roomy, but not with Cesare in it—his presence fills every inch.
I fight a shiver as I feel his eyes run over me, grateful he cannot see below the coat. My hair is in a tight bun, mainly because I was all thumbs and after trying to get it to go into soft waves nothing else looked good. He nods, then his deep voice startles me with a single word. “Seat belt.”
Numb hands struggle to fasten my seat belt. We’re barely five minutes from my apartment when his phone rings. “Hello.”
A woman’s voice can be heard clearly. “Hi, is this Cesare Sabatini?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Monica. I’m uh, I guess you could say the entertainment Rodney ordered for the night. Except he started early. He’s so drunk the guy can hardly stand. He kept talking about this dinner like it was really important, but I have to warn you he is not up to it. He passed out in the shower when he was trying to get ready.”
Cesare’s jaw tightens. “Thank you for informing me of Rodney’s status. Have a good night.” He rolls his shoulders as he cracks his neck. Then his eyes are on me. “It would appear Mr. Billings is not up to dinner. However, I am still hungry. I’ll leave it up to you. Would you like me to have Daniel return you home for the evening or continue on to the restaurant?”
The coward in me votes to run back home, but my stupid stomach growls loudly. I hadn’t been able to eat a full meal all day. He chuckles. “Dinner?”
I nod, shaken by the way my stomach flips in response to his chuckle.
Only a few minutes later the car comes to a stop. Seconds later the door is open, and Daniel offers his hand to help me out of the car. I need it as my legs are wobbly. The cold propels me toward the bright lights of the front of the restaurant. Porters is a place I’ve read about. However, I’ve never been here. A woman offers to take my coat. Without thinking, I nod then untie it and undo the five large buttons.
Once it’s off, I give it to the woman. Is that a growl? I turn to Cesare and I’m enveloped in a wildfire burning out of control. Cesare’s eyes are blacker than black, his face is still, yet savage anger emanates from him in waves that crash into me. A fear I can’t name has me stepping back from him. He sees it, and his jaw tightens. He blinks, and it’s gone, and I’m cold to my core.