Gloria had almost lost her job that night. Sabina had fought for her to keep it. She had won. She rarely won, but when she did, there was always a price. And James had taken his fee for his concession from her that night, once they were alone.
So she and Gloria no longer spoke Spanish together. Ever.
This morning, she’d only taken about three bites of her delicious breakfast when the terrace door opened, and James entered, soaked with sweat and breathless. He was smiling—a real smile, making his eyes light in a way that still gave her a small pang, but now one of loss rather than love. He was in an honestly good mood. That was good, as long as he stayed there. But if he lost it, that could portend a very difficult day. The higher his mood, the harder its fall.
He met her eyes, and his smile broadened. “Good morning, darling. You look rested.”
“I feel rested, thank you. A good run for you, yes?”
Coming over to stand behind her chair, he brushed her ponytail to the side and bent down to kiss the side of her neck. It was a tender, sweet gesture; there was a time, long past, when it would have made her moan. Now, she only made sure she didn’t flinch.
He reeked from his run, and the smear of his sweat on her skin turned her stomach. “Thank you for last night,” he purred in her ear. That was his way, the way he thought he balanced the scale. He did what he wanted to her, and then thanked her for it.
Bastard.
She inclined her head to acknowledge his thanks. Then he turned and washed his hands at the vegetable sink. “You have yoga today, right? And then, what? The hospital board meeting?”
“It’s Saturday. I have yoga, then the docents’ luncheon at one, and then the fitting.”
He froze and turned to glare at her over his shoulder. He hated to be corrected. But he’d been wrong. The hospital board meeting wasn’t until Tuesday. He worked seven days a week, and sometimes he forgot that people had weekends. No one who worked for him had a weekend, not if he was paying attention to them. And this was a holiday weekend. Three days. Once he figured that out, his mood would probably crash.
He processed his error and nodded. He really was in a good mood. He opened the door in a credenza under the breakfast nook window and pulled out a stack of work, his tablet on top. Setting the stack on the table, he took a seat just as Gloria brought his plate and coffee over and set it before him.
“Looks wonderful, Gloria. You’re an artist.”
“Thank you, Mr. James.” Gloria nodded and stepped back to the safer side of the kitchen.
“I’m cancelling the fitting. You needn’t attend next weekend.”
“What? But—” A storm cloud moved into his eyes at her questioning, and she silenced herself. As soon as she did, his sky brightened again. She wasn’t even sure why she’d challenged him. The chance not to go to yet another ball in yet another gown was a beautiful dream. Yet her brain began to churn over the possible snares he might be setting for her.
“I was thinking. You should go to the cottage. Spend a week. We need to get it open for the season anyway, and I won’t have time myself until the clambake.” He forked a piece of his breakfast and put it in his mouth.
Sabina’s head was very loud, now. Something was up. Fifteen years of marriage, and she had never been alone for more than an overnight. When he had to travel longer, she came with him. He was maniacally possessive and trusted no one with anything. If he wanted her to go off alone for a week, then…what? Was he finally wearying of his game with her? If so, that could be very, very good. Or it could be very, very bad. Depending on what he meant to do with her when he was finished.
The “cottage” was their beach house near Narragansett. By most people’s standards, it was hardly a cottage. More like a manse. It was her favorite place in her world. Even with James there, she found some peace. To be on her own there for a week? A whole week? If he was going to kill her, she hoped he’d wait to do it until after that.
Now to indicate that she thought it was a good idea without expressing so much enthusiasm that it either made him suspicious and decide that she was up to no good, or, worse, perverse, and decide that he didn’t want her quite so happy. “That’s a good idea. I could get a head start on planning for the clambake.”
The clambake, on the Fourth of July, was their big event of the summer. All of James’s associates came. It was really a massive business meeting dressed up like a beach party. James might occasionally take on the trappings of leisure, but truly, the only ‘playing’ he ever did was the kind he’d done to her last night. And whatever it was he did with other women. She assumed that he treated his casual women differently; his reputation wouldn’t have survived otherwise, no matter how powerful he was.