Just One Night, Part 2_ Exposed(32)

“You want me to be inconspicuous?” he asks; there’s an undertone of humor to his question. I doubt Robert has ever been inconspicuous in his life.

“No, I just want you to be close by but at a different table. I won’t be long. I should be leaving within fifteen minutes of your arrival, alone. I just need Dave to know you’re there as . . . as backup.” As a perceived threat.

Robert nods, warming to the idea quickly. “Six o’clock, I’ll be there. But, Kasie, if he so much as raises his voice to you, I won’t stay at my table. He will have to deal with me. It won’t end well for him.”

I hesitate. Coming from the lips of another man, that statement would imply that a physical fight was possible—a barroom brawl as it were.

But I don’t think that’s what Robert means. I am anxious to win this war with Dave but I don’t want to completely annihilate him. I want him to rebuild a life without me. It’s easier for the victor when the vanquished sees a path out.

But if Robert gets involved, if he handles things his way, I don’t think Dave will get the chance to do that. I don’t think Robert fights with a gentleman’s grace, following civilized rules of engagement. I suspect he fights like a colonial power, decimating those who hold the territory he hopes to claim. If I win this war my way, Dave will lose me. If we fight Robert’s way, Dave will lose everything.

“He won’t raise his voice to me,” I say carefully. “If he sees you’re there, it’ll be enough.”

Robert nods and I lift his hand to my mouth, kissing his palm. “Thank you,” I say.

His eyes roam over my features, my hair, my neck . . . I feel an unwelcome shudder of excitement as I wonder where this will lead. I don’t have time for romance and yet something inside me knows that if he insisted, if he tried to take me right here, in his car, in front of my house, in view of all my neighbors and friends, I might not refuse even though part of me would want to.

It scares me and yet the thought is exhilarating. Why is that? How can I fight so hard for freedom only to be enticed by captivity?

“Go in the house, get yourself ready,” he says before leaning forward, gently kissing my lips. After a moment he pulls away. “I’ll see you tonight at six.”

I feel him watch me as I walk to my door, hear his car pull away as I go inside.

As I head upstairs my mind idly goes back to my undergraduate philosophy class. The professor’s favorite quote was from Lao Tzu:

Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is power.

A little part of me worries that Robert Dade has the strength to take away my power.





CHAPTER 11





AFTER A QUICK taxi ride I walk into my office with renewed confidence; I’ve tucked concerns about Robert and me into my back pocket and I’ve almost forgotten they’re there. Things are going my way, I’ve chosen my weapons, selected my target. I have a plan. I’m ready for the day.

My team has sent me all their individual reports. Barbara has printed them and left them on my desk. I can see they’ve been working hard. Their reports are more thorough and precise than they were before. Our goal is to help Robert position his company for a public option and now as I study the numbers and strategies of his various divisions laid out in neat detail, I can see how it all fits together. The trick of my job is to know what to focus on. There are always more numbers than you need, problems that don’t need an immediate answer, others that demand attention. But once you know what’s important and what can wait, when you can see with the kind of tunnel vision that allows you to block out the background noise and zero in on the one instrument that needs to be tuned, that’s when your job is practically done. I see it now: the marketing plan that would be best; I can see the path.

I can see the path. Surely that will be the mantra for the day.

I spend the first half of the day bringing it all together in a single report that will be submitted to Robert.

Tom walks into the office. As usual he didn’t knock or give Barbara a chance to announce him. Barbara stands behind him now, a look of defeat weighing down her features. As usual I wave my hand in a gesture of casual forgiveness and she leaves us, quietly closing the door so we’re alone.

He sits opposite me, his eyes flickering to my outfit. I’m dressed more conservatively than I have been for a while. Beige trousers made of a gentle fabric, a cropped blazer of a similar color closed over a long satin top that’s the shade of platinum. I’ve accessorized with a long silk scarf that I’ve strategically draped and tied around my neck. The only skin that is showing is on my hands and face. But I can tell that’s not what Tom’s seeing. He’s seeing the dress from last night and everything it exposed.