So you can waltz back in after-hours and spend quality time with the files.
Tarrant smiled. "So dedicated. And a body like Marilyn Monroe."
Dominic glanced at Bella, who stared at Tarrant with her lips pressed together. He cleared his throat. "I believe that's called sexual harassment, Dad."
"Oh, everyone around here knows I'm incorrigible." Tarrant winked. "If I didn't own the joint I'd have been fired years ago." The suited executives shared his chuckle. He put his arm around Dominic and marched him out the door on a cloud of testosterone.
Dominic resisted the urge to shake his head. No wonder Tarrant thought he walked on water. No one had the balls to tell him it was Plexiglass.
But why did it suddenly bother him that Bella was cheating his father?
Bella's hand shook as she added cream to her coffee in the deli.
Dominic's nod of acknowledgement in the elevator had been so cool. What did she expect? Their torrid lovemaking hadn't been followed by vows of love, or even affectionate cuddling.
He'd rolled aside and strode off to remove the condom. Came back dressed, his tie done up tight, and a dark, closed expression on his face.
The fun was over. Though fun wasn't the right word. There had been nothing playful about their lovemaking.
Some of the stinging, urgent desperation still clung to her. She'd been such easy prey. She deserved his scorn.
He'd used her to prove a point. That she'd do anything to keep her secret. No doubt he thought she'd just slept with him to keep him quiet. Shame tightened her muscles, compounded by the pathetic reality that his opportunistic embrace had meant so much to her.
Yes, apparently she was that starved for affection.
She'd better get a grip on herself because Dominic Hardcastle-or whatever name he usually went by-would never love her.
He'd love someone though, with the force and passion evident in the way he did everything. She admired the way he'd stood up to his father in the elevator. If everyone were more honest with Tarrant, maybe he wouldn't be so insufferable.
Bella tried to tear her thoughts from Dominic. Thinking about the impossible only intensified her loneliness. It was especially hard and strange feeling so alone as bodies pushed and jostled by her on the crowded sidewalk-everyone in a big rush to get home for the weekend.
She was in no hurry to go back to a house full of memories but empty of the people who once brought it to life.
Week by week, the life energy of the place seemed to slip away. Bella fought to keep alive the vision of her mother back in her beloved garden, complaining about tomato hornworms and Japanese beetles, and exclaiming over the size of her David Austin roses.
It would happen. It had to.
And because it had to, she needed to complete her search tonight.
Now that he'd had her, Dominic could tire of her and expose her at any minute. Shame pinched her skin as she realized she had nothing left to bargain with. Such an easy mark.
She'd been foolish enough to tell him about her plans, and now she'd better find those papers.
Just before ten o'clock, she yanked open a drawer she'd checked before. She'd already copied all the obviously important documentation in the drawer, but now an empty hanging folder caught her eye. Had she forgotten to put something back? Or filed it in the wrong place?
Bella peered into the green depths and spotted a small manila envelope.
She plucked it out. On the front of the envelope was the address of Hardcastle Enterprises, and in the return address slot was …
Her parents' address. Scrawled in her father's familiar ball-point chicken scratch.
Heart in her mouth, she fished into the envelope and plucked out several small folded sheets of writing paper.
She opened one up and saw that it was typed on the ridiculous old manual typewriter her father used for his personal correspondence with colleagues all over the world. God forbid there should be a computer record of anything he ever sent anywhere.
Her pulse rattled so fast that she couldn't concentrate and her hands began to shake, blurring the closely written letters.
Too impatient for the copy machine, she shoved the letters into her briefcase, fastened it shut, and headed for the door.
As the evening wore on, Dominic's animosity toward his colorful father seemed to get sucked into the vents at El Cubano, along with the expensive cigar smoke. Flamboyant and egocentric as he was, Tarrant Hardcastle did everything with a passion that was infectious.
"I still miss the old cash registers. I loved the sound of the drawer slamming shut and the change jingling. Stirs my blood just thinking about it." Tarrant lifted his whiskey glass to the light. "Simple pleasures, dear boy, it's the simple pleasures that count."
Dominic shifted in his leather armchair. Curiosity pricked him. "Is there anything you want to accomplish that you haven't done yet?"
"See you take over the helm." Tarrant shot him a winning smile.
"Apart from that." Dominic ignored the nagging sensation in his gut. "What about something you wish you'd done differently?"
"Oh … " Tarrant paused for a deep puff on his cigar. Blew out a long stream of smoke. "You mean aside from becoming hooked on these babies? Yes. I've been thinking a lot lately. Didn't do too much of that when I was younger. Thought it was a waste of time." He contemplated the ash on the end of his cigar. "I was a man of action, and sometimes reaction. I'm ashamed to admit the amount of times I've done something out of simple revenge." He took a slug of his whiskey.
"I like to win. If someone wants something, then I want it more, and damn it, I'll get it. I thought it was the natural way to do things. Now it seems rather petty and shallow. If I'd grown this business without paying any attention to who I wanted to outsell or outclass, who knows where I'd be today? Don't ever let malice drive your bottom line."
Dominic swallowed. His whiskey glass sweated in his hand. Full. He didn't want to start drinking and maybe get emotional. Too much at stake.
Tarrant leaned forward. "But I can see you'd never act out of something so petty as revenge." He patted Dominic's knee. "Or the first thing you'd have done was tell me where to get off. Either that or agree to take over my stores and laugh all the way to the bank." Tarrant let out a laugh.
His blue-green eyes twinkled. "Nope. You're a class act all the way, Dominic. You're polite to the old man, kind even, but you don't want a single thing I have to offer." He shook his head, a smile lifting his thin mouth. "If you weren't my son I'd wish you were."
Dominic took a hasty swig of his whiskey. How could he let this line of bullshit choke him up? He knew better than anyone Tarrant Hardcastle was a master manipulator who always had an agenda. Was he still kidding himself that he planned to get revenge on the man? He needed to stop beating around the bush and get out of here before Tarrant suckered him into running the show.
"You do have something I want." Dominic heard his own voice, cool as steel.
"Oh?" A silver eyebrow lifted.
Dominic leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "You remember the Lester chain of pharmacies?"
"Oh yes. Out in the Midwest somewhere." He waved his cigar dismissively. "Did we buy those? I can't recall."
"Yes." Dominic kept a straight face. "You did. Though I can't figure out how, since I bid twelve million for them and you bought them for eleven."
Tarrant stared at him for a moment, his tanned brow furrowed. Then a smile snuck over his face and lit up his eyes. He burst into a loud guffaw. "That was you?"
"That was me." Dominic had a hard time not joining Tarrant in a smile. That damned infectious enthusiasm again.
"It's all about contacts. Who you know, dear boy, who you know." He held up his whiskey glass. "They're yours."
Dominic held his glass still. "I don't want them as a gift."
"Then give me fifty bucks for 'em." Tarrant narrowed his sharp eyes. "Not worth much more if you ask me. Who the hell wants real estate in Trisket Falls, Iowa?" He broke into the laugh again. "Only bought 'em so Stan Richards over at Federal couldn't get his damn hands on them for more of those dreadful discount stores. Revenge again! I'm not proud of myself, honestly I'm not. There're a lot of people out there who think I deserve to die." Tarrant sat back in his leather chair, suddenly small against the broad leather back and plush arms.
"You're not going to die." Dominic spoke with conviction. How could someone this full of spit and vinegar be on the brink of death?