Ricardo #2
Patrick chimes in with what he thinks is a charming tone. “At other times, people can be a bit rash. I'm afraid Julia has always been the impulsive type.”
My grip on the glass tightens once.
So there it is.
Mario’s eyes go very still.
He has not heard everything Julia told me. I have not told him. It was not mine to repeat. But Mario knows enough to understand the tone in Patrick’s voice. More than that, he knows men. He knows fathers. He knows ownership when it is dressed as concern.
“Julia seemed clear and decisive when I hired her,” Mario says.
Patrick inclines his head. “I don’t doubt it. She's always been a charmer, our Julia.”
Mario’s smile does not move, but it grows colder by several degrees.
“Do you think me so easily charmed, Patrick?” he says, and the danger in it would be obvious to even the most oblivious now.
The judge pauses.
“Of course not,” Patrick says, a bit flustered. He tries to recover smoothly. “I only meant Julia can be very persuasive when she wants something.”
“She was not hired because she was persuasive,” Mario says. “She was hired because she was qualified.”
I notice Suzanne stiffen somewhat.
“Of course.” Patrick’s expression remains pleasant, but there’s panic in his eyes. “I only meant that she has always known how to make an impression.”
“She has,” Victoria says. “She has become invaluable.”
I take another sip of my drink to hide my amusement.
Patrick looks between the three of us and seems to realize, perhaps too late, that Julia has more defenders in this little circle than he expected.
Suzanne steps in with a small smile. “We are relieved she is keeping busy. After Harrison, we worried she might make too much of a temporary hurt.”
“Temporary?” I repeat, no longer amused.
“Yes.” Suzanne sighs softly, obviously oblivious to my tone. “Young people can be very dramatic when they are hurt.”
I feel the old, familiar cold move through me.
There are many kinds of anger. The loud kind is easiest. It burns through a room and leaves damage behind. It has its uses.
This anger is quieter.
It takes stock. Every word. Every glance. Every phrase meant to make disrespect palatable.
Temporary hurt. Dramatic.
As if Julia is a girl who slammed a bedroom door and will come downstairs once she is hungry enough.
Mario sets his glass on the tray of a nearby roving server.
“The engagement ended,” he says. “That seems clear.”
Patrick makes a small gesture with his hand. “For now.”
I turn my head toward him.
There are moments when diplomacy becomes an insult to the person absent from the room.
“For now?” Victoria repeats.
Patrick either misses the warning or chooses to step over it. “Harrison is an impressive young man. Ambitious, certainly, but that is hardly a flaw in politics. Their lives suit each other. They have a future that makes sense.”
Have. Present tense.
I think of Julia on the floor, her suit creased, her heels off, saying she became one of his assets.
I think of the way her voice got small when she spoke of the way Dante helped her get away.
I think of the way she had looked when she admitted she was tired of everyone acting like her life was a piece of property they had a stake in.
My opinion of Patrick O’Brien becomes very clear.
Unfortunately, clarity does not free me from strategy decisions.
Mario wants access. The family may need the judge’s goodwill one day. A public argument in a ballroom benefits no one.
So I do what we were raised to do.
I put the blade inside velvet.
“Many futures make sense from the outside,” I say. “The person expected to live them often has better information.”
Patrick’s gaze comes to me, sharp now.
Suzanne gives another gentle laugh, though this one is less steady. “Julia has always been fortunate to have people invested in her future.”
“Invested,” Victoria says, almost to herself.
Patrick hears it, judging by the way his attention cuts toward her.
Victoria smiles. “Forgive me. It’s an interesting word.”
Suzanne’s chin lifts a fraction, almost defensive. “Parents are invested in their children.”
“Of course,” Victoria says. “Some investments mature into independence.”
Mario’s mouth barely moves, clearly enjoying the way Victoria cut her down.
I would enjoy this far more if Julia were not the subject.
Patrick takes another drink, then lowers the glass. “I hope Julia is not finding the work too demanding.”
“She is finding it demanding,” Mario says. “I am a demanding man. But she is thriving.”
Patrick pauses.
This time, he cannot immediately turn the sentence into something else.
Mario continues, voice calm. “Julia is organized, discreet, intelligent, and very difficult to fluster. Those qualities are rare. I value them.”
There is no way to mistake the last sentence.
Patrick seems determined to do it anyway.
“I’m glad she is useful to you,” he says.
My teeth come together.
Mario’s eyes turn colder.
“My desk is useful,” he says. “Julia is invaluable.”
A beat passes.
The judge’s smile remains, but the man behind it has gone still.
“Of course,” Patrick says smoothly. “I meant only that I’m pleased she is contributing.”
Suzanne laughs nervously. “Julia seems to have found strong advocates at Conti Enterprises,” she says.
“She earned them,” Mario replies.
There is something final in his voice.
This time, Patrick recognizes it.
He nods. “Then we are grateful she is in capable hands.”
I do not like that phrasing either.
As if Julia had been transferred between caretakers.
As if Mario owns what Patrick cannot currently manage himself.
As if her life is a file passed from one desk to another.
I look at him and wonder how long he has spoken this way without going unchecked.
Beside me, Mario’s patience thins to the last thread.