Page 52 of Always

She dropped her gaze to the table—she shouldn’t stare at his lips. But, irresistibly, she looked up again. His mouth was curved in a slight smile, he was looking at her. She looked back into his blue eyes beneath their straight, dark brows—his eyes in which she could read almost any expression, as though he was speaking his thoughts directly to her.

What was he thinking right now? She would know if she kept looking in those eyes.

But at that moment, someone sank into the seat next to her. Marco had arrived at last, looking flushed and hot, and not in the best of moods. He wasn’t made more cheerful by the sight of their dinner companion.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said rudely to James.

“Neither did I,” James said, his tone easy. “Liam asked me last minute.”

“Oh is that Liam Doyle?” Marco asked, glancing over. “He has your house now, doesn’t he Anika? My father told me about that.”

“Liam is a friend of James as well,” Anika said. “They knew each other in California.”

Marco nodded, distracted. Anika had made sure the waiters left a salad for him, and he set to work eating it.

“I’m starving,” he said. “I missed lunch. And I couldn’t get away any earlier than this.”

“It’s fine,” Anika said. “Dinner just started.”

“What was all that today?” Bennet asked, breaking away from his conversation with Liam.

“Pardon?” Marco said, eating his salad.

“What was that group you had in the studio today? Wandering around everywhere?”

“They’re an investment group out of Asia,” Marco said shortly.

“Why were they there so long? It’s very distracting you know. And you really shouldn’t have so many people in without proper clearance. Plagiarism is rampant in our industry. At the very least, you have to confiscate everyone’s phones. They take pictures of the materials and the design boards, and the next thing you know some two-bit hack has ripped off half your ideas and sent some Frankenstein version walking down the spring runway.”

“Why don’t you let me handle our visitors,” Marco said through gritted teeth. “You can focus on those fabric samples you’re so concerned about, so maybe next time we’re not paying twice as much for materials as our competitors down the block.”

Bennet looked furious at this rebuke, but he didn’t dare argue. He swigged his champagne, muttering under his breath, “‘Axiom Investing’—sounds made-up to me. Bunch of corporate saboteurs most likely. Those Asian groups have more spies than legitimate employees. There’s no intellectual property laws over there, you know.”

Anika saw James glance up sharply at her father’s muttered complaint, but he didn’t say anything out loud. A moment later she saw him take out his phone, typing and scrolling quickly under the table. He might have been bored because Stella had tried to change the subject by launching into a debate about horse racing with Liam.

“Stallions are faster because they’re bigger and they have a longer stride!” she insisted.

“They’re bigger, sure,” said Liam, “but they don’t have any better stamina. The only reason you don’t see more fillies win the Triple Crown is because there’s less in the sport to begin with. Look at Black Caviar who just retired, she was one of the biggest winners the sport ever saw. No horse could beat her for consistency—twenty-five consecutive wins!”

“Then why are there more males at all?” Stella said, with the smugness of someone who has made an unarguable point.

“You know why,” Liam said. “Think about it—where’s the real money to be made? Not in prize money.”

Stella didn’t seem to see what he was getting at.

“The stud fees!” Liam said, “Three hundred thousand dollars per shot for Tapit. Once your winning horse retires, you can stud out a male horse as many times as you please. A female can only have so many colts.”

The waiters removed the empty salad plates and brought out the entree—filet with glazed carrots and goat cheese mashed potatoes.

Across the table, Stella and Liam were still at it. Stymied for statistics, Stella tried to argue intangibles like temperament. Liam, clearly enjoying himself, entreated Stella to consider the similarity between ability ratings.

Now that he had gotten some food in him, Marco seemed to chirk up as well.

“So these are all your protégés,” he said, glancing around the room at the students. “The ones who keep you away from me all week long.”

“These are the ones that graduated this year, yes,” Anika said.

“Do you keep tabs on them?” Marco said. “Do you make them pay your investment back if they become, say, Republican senators or garbage men?”

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