Seven
Calista's cell phone rang just as she was finishing her work for the day. She glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was her P.I. friend, Rob. "Hi. Did you find something already?"
"I need to ask you a few more questions. Meet me for drinks," he said."I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said.
"Why? Afraid your meal ticket hubby will complain?" he asked.
Calista didn't like his attitude. "You know about my situation with my sisters. I don't appreciate you mocking it."
"Okay, okay. I was just trying to keep things light. Meet me at The Mark in thirty minutes," he said.
"Thirty minutes," she complained, but he'd already hung up. Rob was an excellent investigator, but lacking in social skills. She closed down her computer and got her car from the underground garage then drove to The Mark, which was more of a joint than a restaurant or a bar. There was no valet service, so she squeezed into a parking spot behind the building and walked swiftly to the entrance.
Stepping inside, she glanced around and caught sight of him waving from the bar.
"Hey, Princess," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Looks like married life agrees with you." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you haven't quit your job."
"Then you don't know me well at all," she said, perching on the stool opposite his.
"Not as well as I'd like to," he said as a bartender nodded toward them. "What do you want to drink?"
"Ice water," she said.
He made a face. "You're such a buzz killer. Loosen up, it's happy hour."
"I'm not going home with liquor on my breath," she said.
"Check," he said. "Don't want to piss off Mr. Mega-Bucks before you get his donation. What kind of prenup did you sign?"
She shook her head. "None of your business. You said you had some questions."
He nodded. "What kind of accident was your rich little grifter in? What year was it? How old was he?"
She shrugged as the bartender gave her a glass of water. "He was eight," she said, taking a long drink.
"But you don't know for certain," he said.
"No, I don't."
"Okay, well find out everything you can about the accident, how old he was, what kind of injuries he sustained … "
"He must have had a severe concussion. He said he can't remember anything before the accident. He doesn't even remember the accident itself," she said, thinking back to the discussion she'd had with Leo. "He has scars. His skin on his back is rough."
Rob gave a low whistle. "Sounds like you're getting to know him very well."
She sighed and met his gaze. "Do you have to turn everything into either an insult or a double entendre?"
"I do my best," he said. "Okay, okay," he said at her expression. "Just find out as much as you can about the accident and how old Mr. Money was when it happened."
"Okay," she said and took another sip of water. "I'll be in touch."
"You're going already?" he asked.
"Yes," she said firmly and slid off her stool. Just as she approached the door, two policemen burst inside with a dog.
"Don't anybody move. We're here for an inspection," one of the officers said.
"Excuse me," she said. "I was on my way out."
"Not now you aren't," the officer said.
Calista waited impatiently as the officers led the dog around to sniff at various people. They found marijuana on three men and unregistered guns on five. That knowledge unsettled her.
Suddenly someone yelled, "Fire!"
She joined the stampede for the door, nearly being trampled by the people behind her. She felt a rush of something cold and wet over her dress and winced. Rushing into the parking lot, she gulped in breaths of air as she ran through the graveled parking lot toward the back of the building. A bouncer blocked her from proceeding.
"But my car," she protested. "My car is back there."
"There's been a fire in the kitchen," he said. "We can't allow you any closer."
"How am I supposed to get home?"
He shrugged his huge, overdeveloped shoulders. "Get a ride or call a cab."
Calista groaned to herself. This had been a disaster. Even though she had George's cell number, she refused to call it. How could she explain where she was? She gave the host a big tip and asked him to get a cab for her. Ten minutes later, she sat in a smelly taxi heading for Leo's condo. She remembered he'd said something about working late tonight. She could only hope that she beat him home.
Thirty minutes later, she rode the elevator up to the penthouse and walked inside, feeling a rush of relief. There's no place like home, she thought, even though this really wasn't her home. At least she felt safe here. She headed for the refrigerator and filled a glass with water then turned toward the stairs.
Out of nowhere, George appeared. "You're home late, Mrs. Grant."
She covered her chest with her hand. "You frightened me," she said.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said and twitched his nostrils. "If I do say so, ma'am, you smell a bit like booze and cigarettes."
"I met a client at a bar. I neither smoked nor drank alcohol tonight." she said. "I was glad to get out of there."
"You need to be careful. A woman who looks like you. You need to be safe," he said.
"I am," she said.
"Good," he said, studying her again. "Philly has its dark places."
She nodded. "I know. Do you know when Leo will arrive home?"
"Oh, he's already home. Upstairs," he said.
Her stomach sank. "Thank you,' she said and climbed the stairs. She walked into his suite and found him dressed in casual clothes, working on his laptop. He glanced up. "Late workday?" he asked.
She made a face. "I had a drink with a client. Next time, I'll just be rude."
He lifted an eyebrow. "You could always quit … ."
"Later. I have bills to pay," she muttered.
He frowned. "What bills?"
"College tuition, medical bills," she said, distracted.
He nodded, saying, "Why isn't my accountant handling that? I can cover that."
He said it the same way he could cover gas or a meal at a fast-food restaurant.
She shook her head. "They're not your sisters."
"My sisters-in-law," he said.
She felt herself weaken. Temptation slid through her. Wouldn't it be nice not to have to worry about money? Wouldn't it be nice to know her sisters were taken care of? That was her eventual goal, anyway. What would it hurt if he took over her expenses now?
"Quit your job and I'll cover tuition," he said.
Calista snapped out of her fantasy world. If Leo started covering her expenses now what if their marriage fell apart before six months? She would be unemployed and scrounging to take care of her sisters. "No, thank you," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because while it may be fine with me to stop working right now, and I'm not saying it is," she added, "what happens when I change my mind and decide I want to work again?"
"That's fine," he said with a shrug of his powerful shoulders. "You'll just need to work around-"
"There's the problem," she interjected. "I may not be able to work around your travel schedule. Surprisingly enough, many companies prefer their employees not to take off at the whim of their husbands."
"Damn," he said, striding toward her. "And I was so hoping I could tempt you into a life of slothful, indulgence." He pulled her into his arms and frowned. "You smell like cigarette smoke and-" He broke off. "Is that cheap whiskey?"
"Probably," she said, trying not to feel nervous. "At the last minute, some clients insisted I meet them at a bar. I had water," she said. "There was a fire, so the whole place was evacuated. I couldn't even get my car because it was too close to the fire."
"Hmm," he said. "Why didn't you call George?"
"I didn't want to bother him," she said. "So I called a cab. I'll get my car tomorrow."
"What was the name of this place you went tonight?"
"The Mark?" she said.
His eyes widened and he swore. "Who in hell wanted you to go to that dump?"
"They'd heard it was authentic Philly. I suggested something classier, but-"
"Don't go there again," he said. "It's a wonder a gang fight didn't break out. If you must go, then call George or me. Preferably me." He paused. "Promise."