The VIP Room(131)

She stepped off the curb and started to walk around his car. She could feel him watching her, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking.

“Did I hurt you?”

There was something in his voice. Hurt. Fear. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it successfully stopped her. “Would you care if you had?”

He pushed away from the car and approached, but he didn’t touch her. “Why do you do that?” he asked. “Why do you have to challenge everything I say?”

She turned toward him, facing him again. “Because you’re trying to ruin my life.”

“You were defiant before that.”

“Yeah, well, not all women are subordinate.”

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

He started to smile, but the smile died before it fully reached his lips. He touched her neck, his finger brushing one of five bruises that had appeared on her throat the morning after their last encounter. She pushed his hand away and tugged at the scarf that was supposed to be hiding the bruises.

“Emma…”

“Don’t do that.” She pushed him, shoved his chest harder than she intended to do. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t. I just—“

“I don’t need you to put your guilt on me. They’re just a couple of bruises. I’ve had worse.”

His expression tightened. “Yeah?”

Before she could answer, the city bus’ airbrakes hissed behind them. Emma turned, but could already see that by the time she got across the parking lot, it would be gone.

“Great,” she muttered.

“I’ll drive you home.”

She glanced at Dante. It wasn’t like she had much choice.

She let him open the door for her, but she wouldn’t take the arm he offered to help her inside. He closed the door, and she found herself struck by the wonder of such a luxurious car. There were buttons and gadgets she’d never seen before, things she wouldn’t even begin to know how to use even if she had her driver’s license. That was another thing on her to-do list, along with saving the money to buy a car.

It certainly wouldn’t be one like his.

He climbed into the car and started it with the push of a button. In seconds, they were speeding across the parking lot at a speed that she was pretty sure was too fast for the number of pedestrians crossing back and forth from the parking lot to the stores. And then they were on the interstate, barreling past all the other cars unfortunate enough to choose that moment to want to get to their planned destinations.

“Has anyone ever told you that you drive too fast?”

“Rainy. My personal assistant.”

“Rainy?”

He glanced at her. “The blond that was with me that day…at the diner.”

Emma nodded. “The name suits her.”

“I always thought so.”

There was something there, a kind of affection. Emma again found herself wondering if there was something more between him and his assistant.

“We’ve dropped the eviction case.”

“Oh?”

“We’ll let everyone live out their leases.”

“Generous of you.”

“I thought you’d be pleased with that.”

“I would be more pleased if you would drop the idea of demolishing the building and just let everyone remain in their homes as long as they wish.”

“That building was weeks from being condemned, Emma. By buying it, we saved you and all those families from living in a death trap.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

“I could show you the building inspector’s reports.”

“You could have had those faked.”

“Could have. But I didn’t.”

Emma glanced at him. He was holding the wheel with both hands, his knuckles white from his tight grip. She had a flash of memory, of those hands moving over her body, and she had to look away again.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to those people by evicting them.”

“To them? Or to you?”

“Both.”

“I noticed your picture wasn’t on any of those posters. It wasn’t on the banner, either.”

“It wasn’t about me.”

“It’s always been about you.”

He slowed the car as he took an exit, navigating the car down the few, long blocks that would take them to her apartment building. She stared out the side window, stared at the sad, lost people wandering the streets. She’d never really noticed just how rundown this part of town really was. She didn’t like it, this magnifying glass he’d put on her life.

“Why did you start this?”

He pulled to the curb and put the car in park. “You threw coffee in my face.”

“You were being an *.”

He was quiet for a minute. Then he nodded, his hands gripping and releasing the steering wheel in a manic pattern.

“I had my reasons,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well, life isn’t all about you. And it isn’t all about me.”

“That’s not the way it feels to me.”

She started to object, her hand on the door handle so that she could escape the moment she’d had the last word. But then his hands were no longer punishing the steering wheel. They were on her, his fingers burying themselves in her hair as his lips stole hers with the same determination he’d displayed earlier. Funny, how quickly the feel of him could become familiar.