Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Corvus…
I picked up my phone off my desk and texted Savannah Davenport while turning her real name in my mind… Kittridge. It sounded vaguely familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place it.
I tapped out my request, read it a time or two, considering it. I wanted to draw her in further, so I softened the wording and moved one of my pawns on the board.
What’s your calendar look like for Friday night at 8pm?
I stared at the screen, waiting, waiting, and just as it tried to go black, it lit up with a return message.
Irritated, I unlocked the phone again and tossed my head back, exasperated that it was a spam message and not from her, just as the device buzzed in my hand, alerting me to another message.
I have a client showing at 7pm, depending on how long that takes, I may still be with them at 8.
“I am not an unreasonable man…” I muttered, but still, she intrigued me.
So soon after last week? I asked her.
Time is money. Her response made me bark a laugh.
Touché. Meet me at The Olde Pink House at 9. Dress for dinner, valet your car.
I wasn’t asking, but I was being accommodating. I wanted her to meet me at eight, but I could do nine.
I prefer to park my own car. I’ll be there at 9, regardless.
“Ooo, the kitten has teeth,” I remarked to myself. “Put those claws away with me, sweetheart.”
I love how you think I was asking. Valet the car under the reservation for Prescott. I’ll see you at nine.
I tossed my phone back on my desk and breathed deep, letting it out slowly.
I did love these little games. She could either do as I ask or suffer the consequences.
It was on her – although it honestly didn’t matter that much to me whether or not she parked her own damn car.
It was a fun little test to see how she would be, and I was sure I could come up with a fun little punishment if she didn’t want to obey.
Something light enough to establish the boundary but heavy-handed enough to delight me.
My palm positively tingled at the thought of it making contact with her supple ass. Suddenly, Friday couldn’t get here fast enough for me. Pity it was only Wednesday.
Friday dawned as it ever did, and the slog of paperwork and other real-estate-related business had been a real drag, but now the moment was upon me.
I sat in the private dining room in a not often used upstairs portion of The Olde Pink House and waited, surprisingly, not so patiently, for my prey to arrive.
I checked my watch. Seven minutes to the appointed hour. Frustratingly, irritation thrashed my heart as though she were already late, and I couldn’t identify if it was my own impatience or something akin to nervousness.
While I sat and tried to pick apart my own Gordian Knot of feelings, working to solve a puzzle I hadn’t even known existed, a runner entered the room and handed me a scrap of card.
I smiled to myself as he hastily exited, and I tucked it away in my inner pocket. She had done as I’d asked and had valeted her car. I took out my phone and texted the prospect to bring it to my place.
I was tearing a page directly from Synister’s playbook on handling my first dalliance with Savannah, much the way he handled things with Mini-Syn – by at least buying her dinner first. What’s more, I had a little gift for her… hopefully enough to buy me at least a little goodwill.
I glanced at the box beside my plate. It was navy and wrapped in a white ribbon with silver edging.
It wasn’t much longer before I heard the smart clack of heels marching resolutely behind our host for the evening, the manager of The Olde Pink House. The door to this little private dining room opened up, and he ushered Savannah through, who did not disappoint in her attire.
She was dressed to the nines in some designer halter dress, the skirt flowy and fluttering on the breeze she generated as she walked.
Her heels were high and did great things for her legs. The outfit suited her. The dress was dove gray, printed with magnolia blossoms and foliage.
Her hair was half pinned up and curled to perfection, her makeup light and understated.
She was beautiful in what appeared to be innocence, but given that she’d entered into this contract with me by way of her continued silence throughout the week and her presence here, I knew that I’d peeled at least a few layers of that innocence away.
I stood and held out a hand gallantly. She reached out and took it. I brushed my lips across her knuckles and told her the truth. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, as the manager pulled out her chair for her at the ninety-degree angle from which my place was set. I wanted something a little more intimate than a table between us.
She took her seat, and he helped tuck her beneath her place setting.
I took my seat as well, as she unfolded her napkin and laid it upon her lap.
“Thank you for coming,” I said as soon as the door whooshed shut behind the manager, closing us into the candlelit space.
“As if I had a choice?” She arched one eyebrow and looked at me plaintively with solemn blue eyes.
“I’ve brought you something,” I told her. “A gesture of goodwill, if you will.” I handed over the jeweler’s box, and she took it.
“Really now?” she asked, and her curiosity was so obviously piqued.
She pulled the sash of the ribbon, and it unraveled elegantly.
She lifted the two pieces of the cardboard box apart and set the top aside, turning the velveteen box out of the bottom.
I took the liberty of taking the ruins of the ribbon from her and the bottom of the box as well, tucking the ribbon into my pocket for safekeeping, and setting the bottom part of the box aside without taking my eyes off her.
She cracked the lid of the box she held in her hands, and it folded open and back from the glittering gold within. She gasped and looked from the old watch to me, her eyes filling with tears.
“I thought I’d never see it again,” she said.
“I took the liberty of having it cleaned and fine-tuned at the best place for it in town. I could tell by the engraving on the back that it held quite a bit of sentimentality. What does it mean and who was it from?”
It had been a burning question of mine. I reached out, took the watch from her trembling fingers, and she held out her delicate wrist so that I could clasp it for her.
“It was a wedding gift from my grandfather to my grandmother,” she declared. “It meant that no matter how much time he had with her, it would never be enough.”
“I take it one or both of them has since passed?”
She nodded, but remained mute, staring at the glittering watch on her wrist. Her lovely face was shuttered, her emotions hidden behind a mask of stoicism, but for the glitter of tearing in her eyes.
She took a moment to look at the pressed tin ceiling in here to breathe through so they wouldn’t spill and ruin her makeup.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “I thought you had burned everything.”
“I had to be sure, but no, I simply had things cleaned. Your necklace, earrings, and bracelet are here.” I handed her the bag from the jewelry company I’d had them tended to, and she took it.
“I appreciate it, but these don’t hold a candle to the meaning of this.” She flashed her wrist at me, the candlelight glinting off the watch.
“Perhaps you might forgive me for my misstep with the drink last week.”
She nodded carefully, but I could tell she was still guarded.
“Are you allergic to anything?” I asked. “Or is there anything you dislike immensely?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not allergic to anything. As for dislikes? I can’t say I’m a particularly picky eater either, as long as it’s not bugs or insects.”
“Not a fan of escargot?” I asked with a fleeting smile.
“No.” She shook her head, and a little laugh escaped her.
“Neither am I, so you’re safe on that front.” I unfolded my napkin and placed it into my lap. “There’s no menu. I decided on a four-course meal.”
“Sounds lovely,” she said, and I smiled.
“I took a gamble on seafood,” I said, and her smile grew slightly, and she nodded.
“I do believe it paid off. I love seafood,” she said.
“Very well, I believe it will be served shortly.”
She nodded carefully and asked, “So, um…” She laughed nervously and asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“Consider this as close to an apology that you’ll get. I’m not very big on them,” I said, taking a sip of the crisp white wine in my glass.
She took up hers and took a hint of a sip and asked sardonically, “There’s nothing in this, right?”
I chuckled and said, “Just wine.”
“Okay,” she murmured, but she set the glass down and folded her hands in her lap, fidgeting slightly with them, gripping them, and twisting them slightly.
“Tonight, we’re meant to have a nice dinner, and then, if you’re amenable, we’ll take a bit of a walk back to my place. I had them take your car there and park it in my garage.”
She bowed her head and smiled, shaking her head, and I could tell it was with some displeasure.
“You really like to be in control of everything, don’t you?” she asked.
“It is one of my things, yes,” I agreed.
She took a deep, slow breath and let it out between her luscious and perfectly glossed lips and said, “That’s bound to drive me crazy.”
I chuckled and said, “I fully admit, I enjoy that aspect of things as well.”
“Ah-huh.”
It was at this point that the door opened once more, and the first course was brought to the table.
She said nothing in the presence of the waiter, and I kept silent, too.
While I was perfectly comfortable in the silence, I could tell she was not – that she likely held a multitude of burning questions, and I was curious if she was brazen enough to ask.