Inferno Anthology (134 page)

“I'd like to think it's my welcome.” Maurice flirts back, and I clear my throat to make my presence known, marking my territory once again. “Who do we have here?”

“Adam Kingsley, sir.” I extend my hand to Maurice. His eyes appraise me warily. I can almost hear the questions he’s likely forming in his head. Yes, the “Adam Kingsley,” playboy extraordinaire. I wonder why this title never seemed to bother me before. Today it’s pissing me the fuck off. He offers me his hand in return.

“Pleasure to meet you, Maurice.” I stand firm, shaking his hand with purpose, as if I have nothing to hide. He drops my hand and regards me carefully.

“Mr. Kingsley, welcome to our restaurant as Miss Kathryn's guest.” His tone makes me wonder how truly welcome I am here. “Please follow me. Your usual spot, my dear?”

“Yes, Maurice,” Kathryn replies.

He seats us next to the window looking out onto Madison Avenue. The table is covered with starched, crisp, white linens. Menus are settled in front of us with an unlit candle placed in the middle of the table.

While scanning the menu and deeply breathing in the delicious aroma from the kitchen, I realize I'm famished, achingly starving, in fact. My unorthodox day of trying to capture some time with Kathryn, the beautiful woman across the table from me, caused me to skip my lunch. So the last thing I've eaten today was after my grueling morning workout. I had my usual egg whites and oatmeal.

“Since you're a regular here, order for me.” I once again concede and allow her to make a decision for me. I hardly recognize myself but wonder if she has any clue what she's doing to me. She really has no frame of reference to gauge me by since we've only just met.

“So how often do you let people, or women in particular, order for you? I'd bet there aren't many people who make even the simplest choices for you. You appear to be an in charge kind of guy.”

She understands me better than I think. It's written all over her face, and surprise is probably all over mine.

“That's right. I live my life in a somewhat controlled fashion, Kathryn. I’m a creature of habit, really. But it has definitely panned out well for me.” I try to explain how I’m set in my ways without sounding like a control-freak. “At thirty-two years old, what I've achieved is beyond even my wildest dreams. I've called the shots and hit the financial bull’s-eye, so to speak.”

“I really don't give a shit about your money or how you made it.” Her words are spoken tersely to me, confirming what I thought last night when I gave the obscene donation. A fat wallet doesn’t impress her. “I'm just curious about you, the man. I'm trying to figure you out. Understand why you put up such a wall around yourself.”

“It's more than a wall. It's a fortress.” The confession slips from my mouth easily, but I wish almost instantly that I’d keep these thoughts to myself.

“So you pick up weak women, fuck them or let them blow you, and then never call them. You're such a catch, Kingsley.” She likes to go straight in for the kill. And as usual she hits the mark.

“It's true, my usual pursuits seldom take more than a simple nod of my head.” I look into her eyes before continuing. “However, I admit that things are different with you.”

“And why is that the case with me?” she curls her lips into a coy smile loaded with a challenge behind it.

“I've not figured it out yet.” I smile at her and reach across the table to touch her hand. She looks down at our fingers, then back up to my eyes. “But I'll let you know when I do.”

“You really have quite the ego. So I'm just supposed to wait until you have a clue? Listen here, Kingsley, I'm not some puzzle that you can take out of a drawer because you find me fascinating in some unique way.” She sighs and takes her hand away from mine, causing my heart rate to accelerate. Surely, she's kidding, but I see the stern look on her face. There's a seriousness about her that unnerves me.

As I'm ready to respond, Maurice comes unbidden to my rescue and brings us a complimentary bottle of wine. He opens it and defers to Kathryn for the first taste of approval. I watch her full lips surround the glass rim as she tips the stem up. Her movement is slow, precise, and completely sensual.

I can’t peel my eyes away from her lips as they meet the deep red wine. Lips that I want to possess. Lips that I want encircling me. When she removes them from the glass and wipes her tongue across the lower part of her mouth, I feel my cock stir at this subtly erotic demonstration.

“Lovely, Maurice.” She smiles and thanks him. As he pours my wine, Kathryn excuses herself from the table, tossing her napkin down by her wine glass as she stands. Her departure seems abrupt, and a sour mood reflects on her face.

Was it what I said? I was only teasing her, but she obviously found no humor in my glib remarks. Maurice’s eyes appear concerned as he watches her. He likely notices the sudden change in her disposition, too. 

“I'll be right back,” she says, sounding curt. As she turns on her heels, I watch her head to the rear of the restaurant. Maurice is still standing next to me even after the wine is successfully poured. Oh boy, I think he has something to say as his eyes glower down at me.

“Mr. Kingsley, I've watched Miss Kathryn grow up from a little girl. Her parents brought her here to eat every weekend. She's always been my favorite.” He glares at me over his spectacles. “She's never brought anyone in here besides her brother and a few girlfriends.”

“Really?” This revelation surprises me. But he continues on as if I hadn't responded.

“My wife reads the Post's gossip columns to me, so I know all about you.” I can't help but notice he's pointing the sharp, screwy end of the wine opener at me. I don't believe it's by accident. “I'm not sure what she's doing with the likes of you. But you better watch yourself with her. She's all class.”

“She’s in her own class.” I take his assessment of Kathryn one step further.

“The minute you strode in here with Kathryn, your cards were marked with me. I may be an old man, but I have friends...” I detect a hint of a smile behind his eyes as his words trail off. It’s as if his words are meant more in jest than as a warning. Being a smart man, I decide to turn on the Kingsley charm.

“I understand completely. There's something special about her, and I intend to treat her as such.” I follow my words with a slight wink. “I do have my limits around such a beautiful woman. It may be hard to rein myself in.”

He laughs and walks away saying, “Good luck with that.” I chuckle but quit the instant I see Kathryn walking toward us, looking confused. Probably rightly wondering what transpired between Maurice and me. And quite frankly, I'm not sure what just happened. Did he warn me or in the end encourage me? I'm totally confused, too.

“Kingsley, what did Maurice say to you?” Her question is spoken in more of a challenge.

“I'm sure you can guess. He has fatherly feelings concerning you and issued me a warning as far as you're concerned.” My eyes shoot toward the front entrance where Maurice is standing, appraising me still. “I assured him that my intentions with you were noble.”

Kathryn huffs at my statement. It’s a sound I don’t like at all.  “Maurice is no fool. I'm sure he found your comment amusing to say the least.”

“He definitely isn't a fool, but he made it clear that I would be one if I treated you badly.”

“So, what's it like to have such a stellar reputation?” She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms defiantly over her chest. “Is it hard having men afraid to have you around the women in their life, those they respect?”

I chuckle under my breath, “Okay, you've made your point with me.” Raising my hands in the air, I surrender to her ribbing of me. Truthfully, I have no defense to speak of, and I need to also do something rare for me and apologize.

“And I’m sorry about the comment I made before Maurice brought us the wine.”

She speculatively squints one eye and purses her lips. Not the response I was hoping for with my apology. “Hmmm. I’m curious. How many times have you apologized for your behavior on a date?”

Shit, her question pins me to the wall, and I don’t see a way of escape. So I’ll aim for honesty, hoping she’ll give me a break.

“Zero, you’re the first, Kathryn.” A satisfied smile graces her face as she nods her head at me. “Please, can we change the subject?”

“All right. Tell me a little bit about where you grew up.”

I flinch at her question, and I'm pretty sure she detects it with her keen psychologist's eye. I never discuss my hometown or upbringing with anyone. Only the guys who came with me from MIT to New York know a little bit about my past. But I wasn’t one to bring up the specifics about her or my childhood. Thankfully, they never pushed for them, either.

“I prefer to leave my past where it belongs. In my past.” My mouth suddenly feels dry as my mind remembers the sound of the first handful of dirt hitting the top of Flora’s casket deep within the damp walls of her grave. Something in my gut twists and pulls. These dark memories bring back the pain of that day.

Kathryn’s eyebrows rise as she likely perceives my distress. But she appears to be more curious than concerned. And I know she'll continue to prod and poke around at my open sores. My mother’s death by her own hand; it’s something I still can’t speak about openly. Tom doesn’t know the specifics about her death but saw how much it troubled me. He urged me to talk to a therapist about it years ago, but he dropped the subject after I scoffed at his recommendations.

“I'm disappointed you don't want to talk about your childhood, but not really that surprised.” She sips her wine, her eyes never leaving mine as I try to digest the veal piccata she ordered for me. “I have something to confess to you. I searched you on the Internet today. It's silly, I know, but I was trying to figure you out. Find out more about you.”

“Really? And what did you find? Were you able to figure me out? Find out what makes me tick?” I can't hide my teasing smile as I feel flattered and hopeful this beautiful creature across from me might feel the same odd connection that I do. The energy between us I felt last night seems even stronger today. The pull between us tinged with lust, definitely an intense sexual attraction, but there's something more around the edges that makes it different, deeper than just a physical rush for me to seek and discard.

“Your bios were fascinating but full of holes. The years before you entered MIT at eighteen are missing. Just basic facts, those that could be easily obtained from public records.”

“Believe me, that's where the information came from, public records. It was most definitely not from me.” The twist in my gut winds tighter as we return to what I consider to be forbidden territory.

Kathryn's tightened lips clearly display her frustration with me, but I'm not a man to be moved on this topic. “I'm sorry to push you. As I've said, I just wanted to know about you. We can talk about what I did find out if you'd like.”

She reaches across the table and soothingly rubs her fingers over my tightly closed fists. My hand instinctively opens and encompasses hers. I feel something strange as we hold hands and stare into each other's eyes. An unspoken conversation is occurring between us.  And for the first time in my adult memory, instead of stopping someone’s attempt at showing me compassion, I allow it to be reflected back at me. A caring sweetness travels from her to me and I don’t want it to stop.

“Someday.” Her fingers squeeze mine gently and my body relaxes, easing down from the tension. “Maybe someday you'll tell me everything. I promise to never bring it up again. Okay?”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Maurice appears as we sit in silence, searching, gazing at each other. I think we're both trying to understand this thing between us.

“You finished, Miss Kathryn?” Maurice looks to her again, avoiding my mug.

“I think we are. The meal was wonderful as usual. Thank you.” Her loving smile aimed at Maurice warms me. I might move heaven and earth to see it again or have it grace her lips for me.

“Miss Kathryn, Sofia wants to speak with you, alone, before you leave.” Maurice hands me the bill as he finishes his request. I do not miss the emphasis on the word “alone.” I look at Kathryn, who shrugs and rises from her chair. It appears Sofia is not to be ignored today. I don’t have to guess what Sofia wants to discuss with Kathryn. Their conversation will likely be headlining me, the manwhore.

As she walks away, Maurice has not moved from his spot beside me. He's still holding our plates but makes no moves toward the kitchen.

“My wife, Sofia, doesn't like you, Mr. Kingsley. She feels you are bad for dear Miss Kathryn. She told me to tell you that she will be watching you, too. And believe me when I say this, you don't want her upset.”

“Kathryn is lucky to have people who care so much about her.” I smile up at him. If I were standing, I'd likely be eight inches taller than he is. My seated position works to his advantage. I take a business card out of my wallet along with several hundred dollars. “Please give this to your wife. The card has my personal number on it. Tell her to call me if she wants. She has carte blanche with me.”

He looks befuddled. “I will tell her and I'd be ready for a call, Mr. Kingsley. She's not easily impressed by a few hundred dollars.” In a huff, he stuffs the money into his apron pocket. I guess he is, though. I know it's not a bribe, but still I want to leave here on good terms, fatten the calf a little.

Kathryn follows Maurice’s retreat to the kitchen. I see her in a heated conversation with Sofia. It's my reputation again. Before today, I never needed an excuse for my behavior with women, nor did I even want one. I was purely content with the person I was until twenty-four hours ago. Funny how things change.

It's time for me to meet Sofia, my distracter. As I rise and walk toward them, I hear Kathryn speaking in Italian to Sofia, and I wonder how many languages this woman speaks.

“Good evening, Sofia. I'm Adam Kingsley.” I hold my hand out in welcome to her. I wait to see her reaction, and I watch as Kathryn nudges her arm and Sofia's hand reaches out to me.

“Mr. Kingsley.” Her greeting is laced with contempt as she looks down her nose at me, and I realize that it's most likely a fair judgment on her part; after all, I read the gossip columns, too. I know what they write about me, and it's mostly true, although before I faced this woman in front of me, I usually would've laughed at their reports. But not today. The foreign shift within me is that great. It’s puzzling to me. The sudden change was brought on by something I didn’t initiate. It’s like I’m its target, with no power to stop myself from succumbing to it.