Chapter 2
All things considered, it’s a spectacular kitchen. Triple the size of Kara’s own.
Dieter leans against the doorway, looking bored as he gazes within. “Make yourself at home, chickadee.”
She makes a face, hearing his nickname for her.
“Bigger than my damn bedroom,” Kara mutters, enviously gazing at the beautiful countertops and stunning cabinetry. She starts looking around for pots and pans, yanking them out of the cupboards, laying them out in preparation.
Mostly, she can’t believe she’s doing this, but another part of her likes having the opportunity to impress him. Taking care of him is another thing that always gets him to ‘soften up’. He likes being taken care of, the nasty, power-hungry exec. I can’t believe him. This is not a crisis. But, can’t beat a free coffee. Unless it’s shitty coffee. But there’s no way his former kitchen staff stocked shitty coffee.
Wordlessly, he watches her flit around the giant, oversized kitchen, watching her with that flat expression on his face, eyes half-lidded, arms crossed. When he catches her staring back at him, the corner of his mouth twitches, faint amusement in the gesture. His gaze remains icy; he’s not entirely pleased with her executive decision to take over his kitchen. Dieter likes getting his way and Kara isn’t always inclined to let him have it.
Like now, for instance.
Seeing that he has no intention of making this easy, Kara puts her hand on her hip and asks snidely, “I don’t suppose you could be of some use and tell me where the coffee is?”
His peridot eyes gaze about the vast white kitchen as if seeing it for the first time. “I can’t really say I’ve been in here much. So, no. Still sure you don’t want to hire me some new staff?”
Fine. Kara will go about this in the barbaric, rude way. One by one, she opens up different drawers and cabinets, letting them bang shut with her fiery irritation. There are so many fucking cabinets to slam. Too many to search. “I know you’re smart. Stop being a child. Go online and search whatever site you bluebloods use to find house staff. It can’t be that hard!” Ack , she called him a child out loud; Kara can almost taste his stubbornness intensify. Under her breath, she snarls, “Where is that motherfucking coffee?”
He leaves his spot against the archway and pulls out one of the barstools at the oversized granite island, parking his rear down in the middle of the room to watch her. He seems coolly intrigued, watching her make a circus show out of his kitchen. Almost as if watching an ant crawling around under his gaze. “Why should I do it when I can pay someone else to do it?”
When she finds the heavenly-smelling coffee grounds in a glass jar, she quickly puts the coffee maker to work, head pounding from tension and the need for caffeine. Then, Kara ducks into the industrial-sized fridge, taking only a brief moment to admire the sheer amount of food, juices, and meats. She grabs the eggs and turns on the stove.
“Because I am not your mother-” Perfect double zero Saoirse Bittinger never spent an ounce of love on her son from what Kara has gathered. It’s damaged his brain, she’s certain of it. “-and I don’t want to be. You’re a grown man fully capable of making your own phone calls. Don’t roll your eyes at me; you literally run a business. I think you just like the power trip of making other people do meaningless shit for you,” Kara hisses as she cracks a few eggs over a heated skillet, listening to them sizzle with satisfaction. She glances upward to catch his eyes, flushing as she catches him staring at her with that lazy appeal. He doesn’t look away, no shame at so openly gazing at her. Kara’s mouth goes dry and she wonders how a stare can twist her up so terribly inside. He’s always been rather good at that. “H-how do you like your eggs?”
I sound like an idiot. Why does he always make me sound like a total imbecile?
He smiles at that, teeth bright as he laughs softly, glancing out the window for only a few seconds. Then his gaze drifts back to her. “Runny. With toast. Buttered. And not burnt.”
Kara feels her left eye twitch a bit. She feels like telling him to make his own toast. Does he want her to cut the fucking crust while she’s at it? “Oh, I’ll butter your toast,” she mutters, watching the eggs carefully before moving them onto a plate. There seems to be no normal bread, just the thick-cut stuff, so she tosses them on the hot pan with a little butter.
She makes up their plates of food. When the coffee finishes brewing, Kara grabs a few mugs from the bamboo mug holder on the far counter. Dieter slides open the door to the outside. “We’re eating outside,” he says, taking his plate and coffee mug, striding off down a stone pathway, curving to the right.
Kara huffs. He wants to eat outside? Dieter, the not-so-rugged outdoorsman. Polo extraordinaire. Exquisite boatsman. Cocaine snorting playboy. Puh-lease . Grabbing her plate and coffee, she follows him, out into the morning sunlight, squinting. The morning air is crisp, yet very tolerable, the birds being the only sound in the air.
No city sounds. No people yelling and talking. Nothing but nature. The next estate is about ten acres away, giving them more privacy than Kara is used to. As Kara follows the stone path, she comes to the lovely cobbled patio, overlooking a pool, custom hot tub, and a modern outdoor bar. She pauses, staring in awe even though it’s a sight she’s seen before.
“Are you impressed? Please say yes,” Dieter drawls, sitting in the sun at one of the patio tables beside the lovely blue water.
A tropical blue, like Nicholas Havenwood-Calais’ eyes.
Kara feels her throat tighten, thinking of him. She blinks Nick from her mind and joins her client at the table. The first chance she gets, Kara takes a deep sip from her steaming coffee, sighing in orgasmic pleasure. “This is fabulous. You have to tell me what sort of coffee beans you buy.” Then, she pauses, snorting into her mug. “Never mind, don’t tell me; you don’t even know.”
He ignores the barb. Perhaps he doesn’t even care. Dieter is munching on the toast, dipped in yolk. His lovely eyes are staring into the distance, admiring the expanse of his land. He’s strangely silent and Kara fiddles a bit with her food, thinking of what to say.
Do you even need to say anything at all?
Probably not. They have fallen into a certain level of comfort together. Possibly too comfortable, considering the catfights they will randomly get into. Kara fears she’s too close to him, the way she always felt when she saw Gale engaging with him. As if he and Gale were more than just client and lawyer.
Kara spends more time with him than she does with Bianca lately and it’s a problem.
When did he become a permanent fixture in my life?
After he gets some food and caffeine in him, a boyishly sheepish expression steals over his face. He knows he’s been a bear all morning. “Sorry, I was a bit of a problem.” It’s hard to hate him when he looks like this, all earnest and genuine with those gorgeous eyes. “Forgive me?”
Kara drinks more coffee to wash away her ill will. She wants to hit him. She also doesn’t . It’s nice that he uses apologies, even though she suspects that’s another method of submissive control he exerts. “Fine. You’re terrible and I hate you.”
“I love that about you,” Dieter replies, grinning. The air feels like it clears, almost immediately. She’s noticed that over the months; his dark moods set people on edge, but when he brightens, so do those around him. He’s a social mastermind with wicked cunning, pushing and pulling people how he wants.
Dieter tips his nose towards the field in the way back, towards the fenced paddock by the barn. “Your boyfriend misses you.”
Kara’s face twists up. He’s referring to his retired showjumper, a great big European-blooded horse, now fat with age, languishing in the field. The beast is brooding and she can nearly see him from afar. “I’m quite sure that he doesn’t, but nice try.”
Giving her a sly look, Dieter raises his eyebrows and Kara scowls, reading his mind. “I’m not sitting on his back ever again. My tailbone still hurts.”
“Get over it; you’re not afraid of a little pain.” A small, cruel barb. He knows about her dark, unhealthy arrangement with Nick from months ago.
Kara ignores it. “Gale doesn’t ride with you.”
“Yes, well, you don’t have osteopenia, do you? If you fall off, you bounce and cry a bit.” He makes a mocking face of pity. “ Very sad . If Gale falls off, well , then I’ve broken her. Broken Gale is Useless Gale. I need her.”
Sure, he does. What is Kara, chopped liver?
Kara isn’t going to admit that it is a little fun to get out and be with the large animals. Soothing for all the latent anger inside of her. Another thing that isn’t part of her job description is going out in the forest preserve on horseback with Dieter. They haven’t gotten that far yet, but it’s a goal of his to get her suitable enough to go with him. Kara can still remember the last time he threw her up on his old gelding, with him standing there, whip in hand, pale hair moving with the wind.
“Squeeze harder. More leg.”
“I’m giving him all the leg I have. He’s not moving!”
“Well, he’s an ass, what do you expect?”
She’d ended up in the dirt after the fat bastard dumped her, trotting off to eat more grass. She’d watched Dieter kiss the grouchy beast on the nose when they untacked him and figured he must have a heart in his chest somewhere, considering he’d kept the horse for nearly twenty years and planned to have him until he passed.
When they finish eating and return to the house, Dieter mentions to her, “I’m told that I should expect a call from detectives soon about answering some questions at the station. Over Paxton’s little problem with the Dark Mirage and those oh-so gruesome torture videos.”
Kara feels her heart still. This brewing situation has been on her mind as of late, haunting her. “ Um …about that. Do you need Gale to be with you for it? It could be looked at poorly if I’m with you. Considering my connection to prosecuting Paxton Brooker in the past for the Debra Mills case.”
Something flickers on his face. A certain slimy knowing. “I see no issue on the matter. You have no client wishing to prosecute him anymore. Benson won’t waste time on a job that doesn’t pay, and why should he? The State or the Feds are probably going to claim jurisdiction for those nasty basement tapes. It won’t be your problem anymore. You’ll be fine, chickadee .”
Dieter hears a lot of things- and never through reputable means, as Kara is starting to learn. She suspects he’s got his fingers in more pockets than he should. Money makes people forget their morals.
“You aren’t worried?” She tries to assess behind his mask of cool. “I mean…isn’t Paxton Brooker your friend? This is a serious crime we’re talking about. This isn’t about a parking ticket.”
“I’m aware of the sordid details.” It’s been on the news, after all. Footage of the terrifying warehouse that was found, a wretched, dark place where gruesome videos of those tortured had been taken. Rooms with dark stains. Empty, hanging chains. Instruments of torment sitting beside empty gurneys. Rusted dog cages-
Giving him the stink eye, Kara says, “…and that doesn’t bother you in the slightest?”
“Pax says he’s never heard of such tapes or films being done on the property. Hell, he didn’t even know he had the property. Which is so odd, I mean, he owns it.” Dieter walks her to the front hall. “Then again, he does have so many properties, after all. He doesn’t keep track of them too well, so it’s plausible that it’s been going on without his knowledge.”
That sounds nice and neat.
“I don’t believe it. Shit, Dieter, I spoke to one of the women from that place. She was rough . I don’t know how she even lives .” She shudders, remembering. “Someone has to go down for it. The cops aren’t going to let this go and your freaking pal is in the immediate crosshairs.”
He’s leaning against the imposing double doors, the immediate exit of his home. Blocking her way out, as if to say, ‘ you leave when I allow and not a moment before’ . Kara shifts on her feet, wanting to go home. Her client is hard to read, in moments like these. There are times that she gets a hint of his desire to be less domineering in nature, but he’s also the type that makes a person work for it.
She can’t tell which is the mask; the powerful financier or the sly man that bares his neck for fun. It doesn’t matter; at the end of the day, Kara works for him and that’s all . It isn’t her job to dissect his brain and his odd tendencies.
Getting close to him would be dangerous. Gale has told her as much. Repeatedly.
Staring him down seriously, trying to keep her nerves in check, to hide the way her mouth is drying, Kara asks, “Is there something else you need from me today? I have other engagements.” You are not my only client, you wonderful, terrible, spoiled brat.
For a moment, it gets her no reaction. Then, slowly, he pushes away from the doors, giving her room to leave. A whiff of his fresh cologne reaches her senses, like crisp apples and hints of icy pine. “I’m not holding you hostage.”
The door opens and a soft breeze carrying the aroma of trees flows in. “Fabulous. I was worried for a moment there.” Stepping outside, Kara pauses, waiting on the large stone porch, waiting to be officially dismissed.
Dieter is in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “It was very sweet of you,” he tells her, a pleasant expression back on his clean-cut face. Voice soft, almost enticing. “To make me breakfast.”
It’s like whiplash with him. How fast he can repulse and then draw a girl in.
Kara feels her heart leap, secretly delighted that she’s gotten him to admit to being happy about something she’s done. He’s near impossible to please. “You’re welcome.”
But then, he cracks his neck idly and Kara knows something bad is around the corner.
He steps forward into her space and twirls a lock of her hair around his fingers. He’s watching the strands wrap around and release, an unpleasant smirk slipping onto his lips slowly. Dieter looks back up at her, a flat expression in his gaze. Gone is his persuasive, sultry tone when he coldly says, “Now, I expect you to find the candidates to replace my head of housing staff and my chef. Pick them. Hire them. Be fucking done with it. Then, arrange for our interview with the police.”
The door shuts in her face and Kara feels her cheeks redden. He’s awful. Absolutely horrid.