Page 43 of Finding Jacob
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’tthinkso?”
He paused, staring at me. “The person who killed my wife, lost his life.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that it sent a shiver down my spine. Did that mean he had killed someone? I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
“As much as you should feel free to talk about your wife, and I’d like to know about her, I don’t want to know any more right now.” I thought that was fair and he nodded.
“So, my house is too small for you?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
He chuckled. “Yep. I need an office, a secure room, and I like space and greenery.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then we compromise, obviously.”
I lived close to my offices, it was handy, he could work anywhere, but it didn’t seem that he’d be the London type. I wasn’t sure what kind of a compromise we’d be able to have.
“But we don’t need to think about that just yet,” he added.
Plates of food were laid on the table and an explanation, even if the dish was obvious, was given. In addition, I learned which dish was from which region of Italy and what recipe was a family secret. I laughed, assuming some, at least, to be bullshit. We then had a couple of hours of just general chit-chat, a ‘getting to know each other’ conversation.
“Why did the card you gave me say Jacob Daniel?” I asked.
“Easy name to use. I don’t use my full name very often. I don’t want people to know too much about me. Other than Nathan, and now you, of course.” I felt he’d added his second sentence because he had to, rather than wanted to.
“The guy here, he just called you Mr. Santiago,” I added.
“Yes, for reasons I’ve just explained.”
“Okay, one last question. You said you’d be in London in June, but it was end of May when I came to your place.”
He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “End of May, beginning of June. Did it really matter? And, just for full disclosure, I wasn’t in London when you visited me, I was in Hampshire. Now, I know I’m not from this country, but I have lived here for a while, and I know Hampshire isn’t London. I also have an apartment in London, but I allow colleagues to use that.”
I laughed. “So, your main residence is in Hampshire?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve lived in England, mostly, for about twenty years. Although I’m sure I could find the actual date if you require it of me.” He smirked at me. “You know, we’re asking all the questions we should have before we produced a child,” he said, I paused, my fork of pasta halfway to my mouth.
I shrugged one shoulder. “I guess, I’ve never been conventional.”
He chuckled. “I like that about you.”
I laid my fork down. “What else do you like about me?”
“Fishing for compliments, huh?” he jested, also laying his fork down. “I like how, even if you thought I was an escort, you allowed me to fuck you that first night.”
My face reddened and I cringed, looking around quickly, and hoping no one else heard.
“Jesus, Jacob,” I hissed. “I don’t like that. I mean, Ilikedit, but not how I fell at your feet so quickly.”
“I like that you fell at my feet and sucked my cock,” he replied. He then proceeded to detail how much he liked my body and every single thing we’d done over our past few times of meeting. By the end of his ‘speech’ I was scarlet and hot, and not just in the face. I picked up my napkin and fanned my face.
“Phew, suddenly, it’s rather hot in here,” I said.
Without words, he stood. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it down on the table. He stepped from his chair and held out his hand. When I was slow to respond, he picked up my hand and pulled me to my feet. He led me from the restaurant without a word to any member of staff. I strained to look over my shoulder, wanting to apologise or call for the bill. Instead, I saw the owner simply clearing the table as if this wasn’t unusual of Jacob.
His driver was leaning against the bonnet of the car and Jacob asked for the keys, they were thrown to him with a wink.
