CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CECI AND CLARKE
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ceci and Clarke
Ceci
Ceci sat on the phone with Pixel, watching Sofia and Beatrice play with Boudica in the living room of her hotel suite. At any moment, she expected Sir Stick to show up.
Pixel giggled. “So, it turns out Sir Clarke has no trouble channeling the knightly vibe.”
Ceci scoffed. “Of course he would have all that Old English up his sleeve. I bet he’s read every Jane Austen book ever written. And her letters. He can probably quote them verbatim.”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Then again, everything’s a bad thing when it comes to that man. He’s ruined every date we’ve been on.”
“I thought it was because of you he got two black eyes, two bloody lips, a cut on his cheek, a busted nose, and a cut on his jaw that required stitches.”
“Look, if he wasn’t such a rigid and uptight stick, those things wouldn’t have happened. He could have stepped in and taken care of business.”
“But he did. Or tried to. You told him to stay out of it.”
That’s true.
Ceci drew a deep breath to collect her thoughts.
“Okay, it’s not him stepping in but his reason for stepping in, and the way he does it, that’s the problem.
He’s not stepping in to right a wrong or stop it.
Or protect someone. Or to stick it to someone who deserves it.
He just can’t bear to be seen or associated with such unseemly behavior, and definitely not with the woman who prompts it, which would be me.
The mortification practically drips off the man.
God forbid, you’re too loud and people are staring.
He’s always got to be civil and proper. All he cares about is the way things look.
If he’d had a fuck-it attitude and been more forceful when he’d intervened, then I wouldn’t have had to. ”
Pixel remained silent.
“Did you hear me?” Ceci asked.
“I heard you.” She paused. “But suppose he’d intervened in the way that you seem to want, are you telling me you would have sat back, let him deal with the matter and done nothing? Because that doesn’t sound like the Ceci Rivers I know.”
There was no response.
“Ceci, you there?”
“I’m here.”
There was a long pause. It was Pixel who broke the silence.
“Did you read that email I sent you with the information about the four cats?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. You never said anything.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing really. I just thought it was interesting. I mean, that he would have those four cats on that stationary. Don’t you think it’s interesting?”
Ceci shrugged and then, realizing Pixel couldn’t see her, muttered, “I guess so.”
“Still having those dreams?” Pixel paused. “Is he still wearing the iron mask?”
“I wish we’d FaceTimed. Then you could see me giving you the finger … with both hands.”
Pixel chuckled.
As long as he’d worn that iron mask in her dreams, she could pretend he was someone else.
Or at least try to. But ever since that Austin date, he’d abandoned the mask and there was no denying the man in her dreams was Sir Stick Up His Ass.
Only he didn’t behave like Sir Stick. He was the man who’d swept her across the dance floor at the masquerade ball, the one who’d kissed her in front of her father and a roomful of people, the one who’d taken her karting and raced alongside her.
“You’re determined to think the worst of him,” Pixel said.
The sudden recollection of how that karting excursion had ended flashed before her.
“The man’s a sexist! I told you what he said to me at the karting track in Austin.”
“He only said that to provoke you, to get you to do what you did.”
“You mean slap him?”
“Yeah. Question is why. You don’t suppose he has a pain kink? Maybe he’s a closeted masochist? Wouldn’t it be interesting to discover that Sir Clarke is a freak between the sheets?”
“Trust me, that man is no freak.”
“Well, you didn’t really expect to enjoy the dates. I mean, that wasn’t the point. It’s not why either of you are doing this. Right?”
“Right,” Ceci said.
Even she could hear the reluctant tone in her voice.
Ceci’s phone buzzed. A text from Aunt Delilah.
Giving you a heads up. Expect a call from your father.
I have confirmation. He is starting up an F2 team.
He knows you’re considering a return to driving.
And he’s seriously considering you for a spot, either on the F2 or F3 team.
Don’t ask me how I know this, I have my ways.
I think Clarke made an impression on him. Did you tell him you missed driving?
Ceci’s heart was pounding.
Just then her phone rang.
She stared at the screen.
Father?
Hurriedly, she ended the call with Pixel.
Prepared for it to be his assistant because he never called her himself, she answered. “Hi, Katie.”
“This isn’t Katie, Cecilia. It’s your father.”
Clarke
Clarke smiled at the girls playing with Holly and Boudica. They seemed happy he’d come and especially happy he’d brought Holly. The whippet flew all around the world with him. She was at every race. He noticed Ceci did the same with Boudica.
“Okay, back to work,” cried Sofia.
“Right,” agreed her sister.
They were creating avatars for their Knights of the Round Table video game. They told him they were going to present it to Pixel once they finished. They also informed him they planned on being the youngest billionaires in Silicon Valley history.
Given they had a knight in their very presence, they decided they would include him.
“But there isn’t a Sir Clarke,” said Sofia.
“Yeah, but he’s in a different time,” Beatrice said. “Now time. That’s what he’s called now, but back then he must have had a different name.”
Sofia’s eyes widened. “Like a dual identity!”
“Like a dual identity!” Beatrice exclaimed, mimicking her older sister. “Sir Percy must have a dual identity since he’s also the Black Knight.”
“That’s right. His identity is hidden under a helmet.”
“Yeah, like a mask.”
Sofia sighed. “He has the Ebony Blade.”
Clarke frowned. “Ebony Blade?”
“It’s magical. So long as you’re carrying it, no harm can come to you. Do you have one?”
“Unfortunately, no. Just ask your Aunt Ceci.”
Scowling, she crossed her arms and looked away.
Grinning, Clarke turned back to the girls. “Where did you hear about this Sir Percy who is also the Black Knight and has an Ebony Blade?”
“Ian Anker,” Sofia said.
“He’s the Black Knight,” Beatrice added.
Clarke chuckled. “Ian Anker’s the Black Knight? I guess that makes sense. But I think Sir Percy is from the Marvel comics. He’s also the Black Knight. But that’s a different Black Knight than the one in the Arthurian legends. There isn’t a knight named Percy in the legends.”
The girls’ eyes ballooned.
“What about the Ebony Blade?” Sofia asked.
Clarke shook his head. “Not in King Arthur’s court. That’s from the comic books too.”
Sofia glared into space, fisting her hands. “He deceived us.”
Beatrice mimicked her sister. “He’s so the Black Knight.”
Softening, Sofia turned to him. “You don’t need the Ebony Blade anyways. You’re good.”
“And kind,” Beatrice added.
“You’re perfect.”
“Too perfect,” Beatrice said, “that’s what Aunt Ceci says.”
Grinning, his eyes sought hers. “Really?”
“It wasn’t meant as a compliment,” she hissed.
“Yeah,” Sofia said. “Too perfect.”
Beatrice nodded. “Too perfect.”
Suddenly, their eyes popped open and each girl emitted a loud gasp.
“Sir Galahad!” they cried in unison. “The most perfect of all knights.”
“The most gallant,” said Sofia.
“And brave,” said Beatrice.
“And chivalrous,” said Sofia.
Beatrice hiked up one shoulder. “Especially toward girls.”
They both looked over at Ceci, giggling.
Clarke puffed out his chest, shooting her a smug smile. “The most perfect of all knights.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What about Ceci?” he asked. “Who’s she?”
“There aren’t any girl knights,” said Sofia.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But there are some formidable women in the Knights of the Round Table stories. They do things every bit as amazing as the knights. They might as well be knights.”
“So why don’t they call them knights?” asked Beatrice.
Clarke shrugged. “Good question.”
“If they might as well be knights, then it’s just stupid not to call them knights.”
“Most definitely,” said Beatrice.
“To be sure,” agreed Clarke.
Beatrice beamed. “So who should Aunt Ceci be?”
“I think she should be Morgan le Fay,” said Clarke. “She’s King Arthur’s half sister. She’s intelligent, cunning, and she challenges male authority. Given your Aunt Ceci is the only female F1 team principal, I’d say she fits that description perfectly.”
That got her to look over.
The girls clapped their hands.
“We haven’t done a girl yet,” said Sofia.
Sitting on the floor and leaning up against the sofa, the two of them got to work creating her avatar.
Clarke looked over their shoulders. “No, the hair is …”
“Lighter?”
“No, not lighter.” He looked over at Ceci, who was now staring back at him. “Maybe, brighter? Kind of sparkly, like a diamond or when the sun hits the water. But not all the hair, just some of it, so it’s sparkling, but in between stalks of wheat.”
Sofia and Beatrice stared back at him with blank expressions.
“I don’t suppose they have anything like that to choose from.”
They shook their heads.
“Okay, blonde then. But”—he pointed his index finger at the screen— “the outline is sort of …”
They waited.
“You know, the, the—”
Just say it already.
“The lines, the shape …”
“The body?” Beatrice ventured.
“Right. That. Here,” he said to the girls, “hand me the laptop.”
He kept his head down, lifting only his eyes to look at her. “I don’t suppose you’d stand up.”
She folded her arms and scoffed. “No.”
“That’s okay,” he said, turning his eyes back to the screen. “I can do it from memory.”
Once he was finished, he handed the laptop back to the girls, who clapped their hands.
“That is Aunt Ceci!”
“Most definitely!”
When he glanced over at where Ceci had been sitting, he noticed she was gone. Just then his phone rang.
Athos.
He stood up and walked down the hallway.
“Hi, Athos.”
“You’re coming?”
He ducked into what looked like a small sitting room with a sofa and a couple chairs.
“Yes, I’ve already told you I’m coming.”
“Let me hear you say it in a complete sentence, including the name.”
“Are you recording me? If I don’t show up, are you going to use it against me?”
“What do you mean if you don’t show up? You just said you’re coming.”
Clarke groaned. “Fine. I will be there at the Grouse Gathering next weekend.”
“For the entire weekend?”
“Yes, for the entire weekend.”
After pizza, gelato, and more work on their video game, the girls fell fast asleep curled up with Boudica and Holly. Clarke gingerly disengaged the whippet from the human-dog pretzel they’d formed, taking care not to wake them.
He and Holly followed Ceci to the door. But when she grabbed the doorknob, he reached around and placed his hand on hers. Leaning down, he murmured in her ear.
“I know what you were trying to do tonight, but it won’t work.
This was not a date. It’s my turn to choose what we do.
And much as I enjoy the company of Rocco’s two adorable nieces, this tonight was not of my choosing, which means I’ll be over tomorrow night to pick you up at eight p.m. And don’t say you won’t be here.
I happen to know that you, like me, are staying another night. ”
He removed his hand, she opened the door, and he stepped out into the hallway. He was about to walk away but paused.
Fuck it.
He turned around and bowed.
“Goodnight, fair lady. May the stars watch over thee as thou dost rest this night, and may your dreams be as sweet as the moon’s gentle glow.
I shall look forward to having the honor of your company again tomorrow eve.
Though I sense you may not share in my enthusiasm, fear not, I shall endeavor to keep my eagerness in check. Until then.”
The only response he got was a pair of crossed arms, a jaw that looked like it was made of granite, and those eyes—two squally, gray harbingers of a storm on the brink of the horizon and about to break.
He pivoted and sauntered down the hallway. He wasn’t wearing a cape, but if he was, this would be the moment he threw it over his shoulder.