CHAPTER TWO #2
“We aren’t finished.”
“Your bank may collapse.”
A flicker of irritation crossed his face. He answered and walked toward the study.
At the doorway, he looked back. “Forty-eight hours.”
Alyssa glanced at the clock above the breakfast-room fireplace.
Nine twenty-eight.
“I’ll mark it down.”
The next day passed without an incident large enough to justify Alyssa’s unease.
While answering foundation emails, Alyssa left a third proposal from the owner of a neglected Art Deco hotel near Espa?ola Way unanswered. He wanted her rather than Vader Global. Accepting would require her to admit how badly she wanted work that carried only her name.
Vanessa stayed mostly in the guesthouse. Sophie visited the koi pond, drew at the kitchen table and followed Carmen through the herb garden. Damian worked from home because security advised him against leaving the estate until they knew whether Charles had attempted to trace Vanessa’s car.
At dinner, Sophie sat between Vanessa and Damian.
The placement had occurred without discussion. Sophie entered first, selected the chair beside Damian, then called for her mother to sit next to her. Alyssa took her usual place opposite him.
Vanessa spoke little about Charles. When Damian asked direct questions, she looked toward Sophie and changed the subject.
The restraint impressed him.
Alyssa could see it.
After dinner, Sophie carried a sketchbook into the library. Damian sat on the sofa while the girl drew the fireplace. Vanessa occupied an armchair near his shoulder, close enough to join the conversation without touching him.
Alyssa answered foundation emails at the desk.
“This room used to be blue,” Vanessa said.
Damian looked up. “What?”
“In your plans.”
“There were no plans.”
“You sketched it.”
“I can’t draw.”
“You tried.”
Vanessa smiled at Sophie. “His fireplace looked like a potato.”
Sophie giggled.
Damian did too.
Alyssa returned to her email, though she had read the same sentence three times.
Later, while Damian took a call in the hall, Vanessa approached the desk.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For?”
“The stories. I should stop.”
Alyssa closed the laptop. “You’re free to discuss your past.”
“It must be strange.”
“Less strange than you expect.”
Vanessa’s gaze moved to the framed photograph on the desk. Alyssa and Damian in Marrakech, dusty from a site visit, his arm around her waist. Both of them squinting into the sun.
“He looks happy,” Vanessa said.
“He was complaining about the heat.”
“He always hated being hot.”
“He lives in Miami.”
“That was your choice, wasn’t it?”
“The company’s.”
Vanessa looked at her. “Of course.”
The answer was mild. Alyssa heard the judgment inside it anyway.
That night, Damian came to bed after midnight.
Alyssa lay on her side reading plans for the foundation’s new art rooms. He undressed in the dressing room, returned in black sleep pants and placed his phone facedown on the bedside table.
“You’re working late,” he said.
“So are you.”
“I was with security.”
“I was with six thousand square feet of child-safe flooring.”
Damian switched off his lamp. “Are we going to spend forty-eight hours punishing each other?”
“I haven’t punished you.”
“You’ve barely looked at me.”
“That may be connected to where you’ve been standing.”
He turned toward her. “Beside a frightened child?”
Alyssa closed the plans. “You keep using Sophie to end the argument.”
“I’m describing what happened.”
“You spent the evening reminiscing with Vanessa.”
“She told one story.”
“She told four.”
“You counted?”
“No. The fire in your potato fireplace did.”
Damian laughed before he could stop himself.
Alyssa tried to remain annoyed. His hand settled on her waist beneath the sheet.
“I missed our trip,” he said.
“You canceled it.”
“I still missed it.”
“That is almost romantic.”
He moved closer and kissed the back of her shoulder. “We can go next weekend.”
“You have New York.”
“I’ll cancel.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I will.”
She turned to face him. “Do you know what day next Saturday is?”
Damian considered.
“Foundation luncheon follow-up,” he said.
“Your mother’s birthday.”
His eyes closed.
Alyssa laughed despite herself.
“Dinner,” he said. “We’ll go after dinner.”
“She booked a boat.”
“I’ll sink it.”
“You bought it for her.”
“Then I’m entitled.”
His hand slid along her hip. The argument softened, though it did not disappear. Damian kissed her. Alyssa allowed herself to answer.
A knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Both of them stopped.
The knock came again, faint and uneven.
Damian sat up. “Who is it?”
No answer.
He crossed the room and opened the door.
Sophie stood in the corridor clutching her sketchbook against her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Damian crouched. “What happened?”
“I couldn’t wake Mom.”
“Is she ill?”
Sophie shook her head. “She took the medicine the doctor gave her. I had a bad dream.”
Alyssa got out of bed and pulled on her robe.
“Come in,” Damian said.
Sophie hesitated at the threshold, staring at the large bed.
Alyssa switched on the sitting-room lamp. “You can sit over here.”
The girl followed her to the small sofa near the windows. Damian brought water from the bathroom.
“What did you dream?” Alyssa asked.
Sophie’s fingers tightened around the sketchbook.
“We were in the car. Dad caught us.”
Damian sat in the chair opposite. “You’re safe here.”
“He breaks locks.”
“Not these.”
“He has men.”
“So do I.”
Alyssa looked at him.
Damian’s promise calmed Sophie. That mattered more than its arrogance.
The girl drank the water. Within minutes, her eyelids began to droop.
Alyssa took a blanket from the cabinet and covered her. Damian remained beside the sofa until Sophie fell asleep.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway ten minutes later, hair loose and face pale.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
“She had a nightmare,” Damian said.
“I took a sleeping pill. The doctor gave me six after I filed the report.” Vanessa pressed one hand over her mouth. “I didn’t hear her.”
“She’s fine,” Alyssa said.
Vanessa looked at Sophie, asleep beneath Alyssa’s blanket. “She never goes to anyone except me.”
“She was frightened,” Damian said.
Vanessa’s gaze lifted to him. “You’re the only man she trusts.”
Alyssa watched the statement land.
Damian did not respond, but his hand remained on the back of Sophie’s sofa.
The forty-eight-hour deadline arrived the following morning.
At nine twenty-eight, Alyssa was in the foundation office reviewing grant requests when Damian entered.
He closed the door behind him.
“The apartment isn’t ready.”
She set down her pen. “What happened?”