"Yes, Roberto. I promise I will," Kate assured him. "Either Lucern or I will check every hour to see if he's e-mailed the pictures, and we'll choose at once."
"Good, good." Roberto took a moment to expostulate again on what a terrible tragedy this all was before saying good-bye and hanging up.
"Well," Kate murmured once he'd gone.
"Yes, well, Bastien?" Lucern queried.
"Well, I'll be sure to send those photos to you the minute the arrangements arrive," Bastien said quickly. "Now, I'd better get going if I want to be ready in time to take Terri to the theater tonight. Bye." He hung up before either Kate or Lucern could protest, and grinned at the fact that he'd managed to avoid the grilling he would surely have got.
Whistling softly, Bastien stood and crossed the room to the bar in the corner of his office. There were two fridges behind it: one unlocked and a smaller locked one. He unlocked the smaller fridge, retrieved a bag of blood, and relocked it. He then opened his mouth, extended his teeth, and slammed the bag into them as he walked back across the room.
Bastien checked the messages on his desk while ingesting the blood. None of them seemed to be urgent, which meant either he had some damned fine people working for him who were capable of taking care of matters on their own, or he wasn't as indispensable as he'd always thought.
Perhaps that was a good thing, Bastien thought as he tossed the now empty blood bag in the wastebasket under his desk and left his office. He said good night to Meredith, who was gathering her things in preparation for leaving, then walked to the elevator to the penthouse.
Bastien considered the night ahead as he rode upstairs. He had about an hour to get ready for the play, which was plenty of time. And he'd made late reservations at a nice little Italian restaurant not far from the theater. He hoped Terri liked Italian. As he recalled, it had always been one of his favorites back… well… a long time ago, when he still used to find food interesting.
He was debating whether they should take a taxi to the theater, or go by car, when the elevator opened onto the penthouse. A taxi, he thought, would be the better option; he really didn't want to be bothered with finding parking.
"Do you like cheese on your salad?" Terri asked as she finished slicing celery. She'd decided that salad was the smart choice to snack on: healthy, quick, and light enough to tide her over until the meal after the play; and it wouldn't leave her uncomfortably full. "Whatever you like," was Vincent's answer. He was leaning back against the counter beside her, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles in a relaxed pose as he watched her work. They'd been chatting amicably about her stay so far. Vincent seemed curious to know where Bastien had been taking her, and if she was having a good time.
Terri had enthused about everything she'd seen and done, and how kind and amusing and smart Bastien was, and how he seemed to make everything more interesting, when she heard herself and realized she was gushing. She sounded pathetic—like a woman falling in love.
She'd quickly cut herself off and asked about the cheese to change the topic.
"I haven't seen Bastien like this in a long, long time."
Vincent's announcement drew Terri's curious gaze. "Like what?"
"Happy."
Terri felt a leap of hope and excitement, but quickly stifled it. Ducking her head, she turned her attention back to what she was doing. "Oh?"
"Yes. We were a lot younger then. Practically boys compared to now." There was an irony in his tone Terri didn't understand, but she forgot all about it when he added, "And he was in love."
Those words had the oddest effect on Terri. First she was hit by shock. That was followed by a twinge of pain in the vicinity of her heart. Stupid reactions, the both of them, she thought faintly. A man would hardly reach Bastien's age without falling in love at least once. Terri hadn't yet asked, but she was assuming he was her age or a little older. Besides, she didn't "love" him, she assured herself, so she had no right to feel anything about his having loved before.
"That woman broke his heart," Vincent announced. "I'd hate for you to do the same."
Terri was so startled by the comment, and the assumptions it made in regard to Bastien's feelings, that she jerked her head around to gape at him in the middle of slicing the last bit of celery.
Vincent's eyes didn't meet hers; they were on the celery she was cutting. Terri saw concern flash across his face as he called, "Be careful, you're going to cut your—"
"Ouch!" Terri jumped and dropped the knife as pain radiated up from the pointer finger of her left hand. Reacting instinctively, she caught the wounded digit in her right hand and pressed it close to her body, holding it tight in an effort to end the pain, not to mention cut off the blood that was probably coursing from it.