Alessandra Torre - Masked Innocence

“Yes. Any other questions that pertain to your completion of those tasks?”

“How many people in your Cypress reservation?”

“Two.”

“Have you told your father about this?”

“I’m not going to dignify that question with a response.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? This is so far out of De Luca–ville that I don’t even know how to respond. You have rendered me fucking speechless.”

“Well, that is a first. Thank you for your help. Text me if you have any dire emergencies.”

“Don’t you hang up on me, Brad. We are not even half through—”

He hung up the phone as gently as he could, given it was a cell, and set it on the seat, his home coming into view. Pulling into the drive, he parked in front of the garage, got out and shut the door, turning to face his house, the exterior lights illuminating the large trees in his yard. Inside, various interior lights were on. It felt good, coming home to someone. He had appreciated his freedom for so long, embraced it with a passion almost desperate. It would take a while to fully release that, to get used to not doing whatever he wanted. But while he had once yearned for independence, now he saw the possibility of something different, and he wanted it badly. Marrying her felt right and he was an impulsive but decisive decision-maker. Plus, it would protect her. The one golden rule was that children and wives were untouchable. His family would have no choice. As his wife she would be guarded, part of the inner circle. He strode up the driveway and headed for the back door.

It was almost six when I heard sounds downstairs. I wore one of Brad’s T-shirts and had my hair pinned up, putting on mascara. I stopped, listening, then walked to the landing. “Brad?”

“Yeah. I’m coming up.”

Happiness flooded through me. I trotted down the stairs, meeting him halfway, a hand-wrapped bouquet in his hand. A huge smile broke out on my face at the sight of him, and I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him firmly, trying to keep the mascara stick away from his shirt. “Hey, baby,” I said.

“Hey, beautiful. These are for you.”

“They are gorgeous! Thank you.” I kissed his neck, then bounded up the stairs, screwing the mascara closed, meeting him at the top step. I took the bouquet from him and sank my face into them, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

“There are vases downstairs, I’m not sure where, but Martha uses them a lot.”

“I’ll find one. Come into the bathroom. You can talk to me while I put on makeup.”

He followed me into the master bath, stopping when he saw the mess of bubbles I had halfway cleaned up. I had hoped that most of them would evaporate, but that plan hadn’t worked out too well for me. He raised his eyebrows and looked at me.

“Sorry. Your bathtub attacked me with bubbles. I’ll clean it up later. You should probably know, I’m not very...tidy.”

“I could have guessed that.”

I raised my eyebrows at that, but turned back to the mirror, finishing up my mascara.

“You look beautiful.” His voice was soft, and I turned, facing him, studying his eyes. They were, as always, dark and unreadable, watchful, intelligent. I smiled tentatively at him and he stepped forward quickly, his hand stealing around to cup my neck, his eyes on my face. He kissed me, hard and possessive, then softer. My mouth opened and his kiss deepened. He released me and we parted. He grinned, his eyes on my mouth, and then on my eyes.

I turned back to the mirror and fished through the makeup bag, found the earrings I had worn the night of the party and started to put them on.

“Wait,” he said, reaching a hand out and stopping me. He walked into the closet, making noise for a few minutes, then returned, carrying a black velvet box. “Wear these.”

I took the box gingerly—it was old and worn on the edges. Larger than a ring box. I opened the lid, revealing a pair of diamond and sapphire earrings. Each earring had a large round diamond, with an oval sapphire dangling beneath it, surrounded by tiny diamonds. They were beautiful. I studied them, wondering about them, and looked up at Brad.

“They were my mother’s. The first, and only, piece of jewelry I ever bought her. My sister has all of her other pieces. It’s not a gift, just a loan.”

An unnecessary statement, but I understood him making it.

“I thought— I didn’t realize your mother had passed. When you said that you hadn’t spoken to her...” My words trailed off and I looked up, seeing the pain in his eyes.

“Three years ago,” he said, taking the box from me and removed an earring, handing it to me. I took it carefully, the weight of it surprising me. It was, by far, the most expensive thing I had ever touched. I put it on, and looked at myself in the mirror, Brad’s watchful face above mine. “I’ll take good care of them tonight.”

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck. “I’m not worried. I’m not letting either of you out of my sight.”

I smiled softly and fingered the remaining earring, bringing it up to my other ear. “Which one of us is more precious to you?”

He frowned at me. “I can replace the earrings. You, I cannot.”

I turned and looked up at him. “No?”

“No.”

He snuck a quick hand up my shirt and I flinched, knocking his hand back down and spinning back to the mirror, glaring at his reflection. He shot me a grin and smacked me hard on the ass, then turned to the shower, turning on all of the jets and then pulling his shirt over his head. Finished with my makeup, my ears brilliantly adorned, I left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom to dress.

Cypress was as opulent as I expected, but much smaller. We were greeted by a dignified older man who led us on a winding path through several candlelit tables. The room was pear-shaped, an illuminated pianist in the center of it, and the back, curved wall held four curtained alcoves. We were taken to the farthest one, and he pulled back the curtain to reveal a square table, set for two. We stepped up into the alcove, which turned out to be cozy but not claustrophobic. A window occupied the top half of the back wall and gave a stunning view of the downtown skyscrapers. Other than the view and a lone candle, the room was dark.

“Do you want the curtain open or closed, sir?”

“Open, for now. And would you ask the waiter for bottled still, please?”

“Certainly. Enjoy your dinner.”

The man gave a slight bow and left. Brad smiled at me, reaching over and grabbing my hand on the white tablecloth. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself, though I am sure you are aware of that.”

“Have you been here before?”

I grinned at him over the candle. “I will save you useless questions on any future dates by informing you that I have not been to any local restaurants that have an à la carte menu.”

“That does save time.”

“How many times have you been here?”

“A few. This is probably my third time.”

I scrunched my forehead at him. “It’s quite a romantic place.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You don’t seem like a romantic type. Seems like you would avoid anything that hints of commitment.”

“You’re wrong on that logic. I am very romantic. It’s part of my whole Don Juan persona. It’s much easier to fuck women when you wine and dine them.”

I raised my eyebrows at him while a waiter arrived and poured us chilled glasses of bottled water. “You do seem to be good at the whole wine-and-dine act.”

We ordered drinks and a selection of appetizers, and once the waiter left, I turned back to Brad. “So, is this whole act to try and get lucky later?”

He looked wounded. “I thought part of the whole ‘girlfriend’ deal was that I was guaranteed to get lucky every night.”

“Oh no.” I shook my head at him. “That isn’t part of the deal at all. Mood swings, PMS, grouchiness, you are guaranteed that. But sex is a constantly negotiated perk.”

“That sucks. No wonder I’m a bachelor.”

“Of course, I was going to wait and spring the bad stuff on you later, so I’m thinking you do have a chance at getting lucky tonight.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.” The pianist started playing a Frank Sinatra tune and a peaceful lull fell over our table. I watched Brad across the table, his features strong and quiet, his eyes watching mine, his mouth twitching. He was in a good mood, but seemed jittery, nervous, which was very odd. He was normally confidently in control, reassuringly so. He checked his watch.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just wondering where our drinks are.”

I frowned. Impatience was also out of character, as much as nervousness. At that moment the waiter arrived with our drinks. After setting them in front of us, he bent over and whispered something in Brad’s ear. My eyes narrowed as I watched the exchange, watched Brad’s eyes lighten and his chair slide back as he stood.

“Julia, excuse me for one moment.”

“Wha—?” I didn’t get a chance to finish the question, since I was now alone in the alcove, the settling curtains the only sign that he had even been there. I watched their exit, two suits winding through the tables and disappearing down the hall we had originally entered through. Weird.

* * *

THE PALE LORENZI MANAGER stood by the host stand, with Rebecca’s large frame parked beside him, her arms crossed, expression stony. Shit. He had told her not to come. Brad didn’t stop, but nodded with his head to indicate that they should take this outside. He waited until their party of three passed through the heavy swinging doors, then nodded a greeting to them both. Rebecca didn’t allow the jeweler to speak before she launched into a whispered tirade at Brad.

“Do you know how much this ring costs? Jesus, Brad. I negotiated a chunk of it off, but we are still talking about serious cash. For some chick you started boning a few weeks ago?”

He ignored her and addressed the man. “How did it turn out? Let me see it.”

“It turned out fine. I was there, Brad—I made sure it was perfect—but we seriously need to discuss this!” Rebecca was pissed and getting even more worked up, pushing a blond tendril off her forehead and moving closer to him.

He turned to her, silencing her rant with his eyes. “Thank you for your help tonight. You can go now.” Her eyes blazed at his statement, and he knew she would make him pay for it later. She started to talk, but he held up his hand. “Now. Go. I have to go back inside. We’ll discuss this later.”

She threw up her hands and wheeled around, storming over to her car and yanking the door open. Brad focused back on the jeweler, who had a ring box and loupe out. Brad took the box, opened it and examined the ring closely. It was a platinum setting, two thin strips of small diamonds that arched together and held a brilliant three-carat princess-cut diamond. It looked like an estate piece that had been passed down for generations. It was just as he had envisioned and he clapped the pale man on the shoulder, almost knocking him over in his enthusiasm.

“It looks perfect. Thank you. Did Rebecca take care of the payment?”

“Yes, though I feel like I have been through a wood chipper.” The man sniffed disapprovingly.

Brad grinned. “Working with her can do that to you.” He shook the man’s hand and tucked the box into his suit jacket, then nodded goodbye and headed back into the restaurant.

* * *

OUR APPETIZERS ARRIVED while Brad was gone, so I snacked on lamb tenderloin, beef carpaccio and shrimp cocktail. I was on the verge of getting annoyed when he appeared again, ducking under the curtain and giving me a smile.

“Don’t smile at me,” I muttered, my mouth full of lamb.

“What?”

“You can’t just mysteriously disappear mid-romantic meal.”

He reached over and speared a piece of carpaccio with his fork. “No? That’s not part of a traditional romantic meal?”

“No, it’s not. And stop grinning at me. You’re supposed to look remorseful, apologetic.”

He shrugged, his mouth now full of shrimp. “I apparently suck at romantic dinners. It’s good that you’re finding this out early on so the bar can be set low.”

He was so damn disarming it was annoying. I watched as he polished off the rest of the appetizers, glad that I had gotten my portion while he was gone. “So? Where did you scamper off to?”