Page 40 of For Wrath and Redemption
“Um,the jobis fine,” I say slowly. “I don’t need anything. I just called to talk.”
“I see.” There’s a brief pause, and when he speaks again, the sound is far away. “I’ll be right back. I have to take this. Work.”
He’s with someone, I realize. I check the time on my computer and do quick math.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “Are you busy? I can call back.”
“Just a work dinner. It’s not important.”
I feel the creases in my forehead deepen as I frown into my lap. The restaurant sounds seem so much louder now. And the classical music...
My stomach cramps.
“Awfully late for a work dinner,” I say carefully. “Where are you?”
“Le Château.” He says a muffled thank you, probably to a doorman or a host, and then the sounds are replaced with street noise and breeze. He’s outside. “Is my son behaving?”
I ignore his question and focus on the statement.Le Châteauis a Michelin star French restaurant in Manhattan. He took me there on our first real date. I’d never been somewhere so fancy, and I left with stars in my eyes.
“Le Château? For work?” I force a laugh. “Isn’t that a little intimate of an atmosphere for business?”
“It’s close to the office.”
“There are hundreds of places close to the office.”
He doesn’t respond, and I can practically feel his stern eyes on me, silently commanding me to back down. It’s easier to ignore when he’s not right in front of me. The distance makes me bolder. It makes me sit up straighter. I force myself to smile again.
“Who’s the client?”
He sighs. “Claire, my love, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“You know what.” He sighs. “How is Paris?”
“I’m in Stockholm.”
“Ah, it’s been years since I’ve been to Stockholm. Are you enjoying it?”
“I’m here for work. It’s not a vacation.”
He chuckles. “Of course. I picked the right person for the job. I knew I could trust you with this.”
The sentence does what he intended. Teases that thing inside me that yearns for praise. To be appreciated. Even though part of me knows I’mbeing manipulated, I still smile. I do my best to ignore how much that disappointments me.
“I miss you,” I say on a sigh.
“I miss you, too, my love. How about I?—"
“Conrad,” a woman’s voice interrupts. “They brought out the food.”
I know that voice.
“Ms. Davis, I’m going to have to let you go. We’ll discuss the job later."
His tone has changed. He’s no longer warm. No longer affectionate. He’s business again. Cold. It makes me wince, and then it makes me angry.
“Is that Dierdre?” He doesn’t answer, so I speak again. “I thought this was a business dinner. Why is Dierdre attending a business dinner with you? She never attends business dinners.”
