Envy(93)

Like her, he kept his smile in place, but his voice had an edge. “Are you threatening me?”

“Being the cold, heartless bastard you are, I think you recognize a threat when you hear one.”

“Isn’t it because I’m a cold, heartless bastard that you can’t resist me?”

Seeing that the awaited writer had arrived and was being escorted to their table by the ma?tre d’, Nadia flashed him a brilliant smile and spoke for his ears alone. “Do yourself a favor, Noah, and remember that I could give you lessons on how to be heartless.”

Following the tedious lunch, he escorted her out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. A chauffeured car was waiting for them, but Nadia politely declined his invitation of a lift back to her office.

He took her hand in what he hoped looked like a friendly handshake between two professionals, but he addressed her with a confidential pitch he knew she would understand.

“If it seems like I’m dragging my feet on this divorce issue, it’s because I don’t want to make an error that could cost us this deal. I want it for us, Nadia. But in order to get it, we must be willing to make a few sacrifices. I can’t dissolve my marriage to Maris now. It’s out of the question. You understand that, don’t you?”

To his immense relief, she smiled up at him and looked appropriately contrite. “Of course I understand. I’m just impatient to be with you.”

“No more than I. In fact,” he said, moving a half step nearer to her, “I want to be inside you right now.”

She closed her eyes and swayed slightly toward him, then glanced around to make certain no one had noticed or could overhear. “Naughty you. You’ve made me wet.”

“Then six o’clock can’t come soon enough.”

He squeezed her hand quickly, then climbed into the backseat of the waiting car, smiling to himself. The secret to keeping Nadia content was to keep her agitated between her legs. That was the mainspring of her self-worth. Her self-image revolved around it. If she was happy there, she was happy.

He disliked her constant nagging, but his argument with her had been stimulating and had geared him up for his showdown with Maris. Call it a rehearsal, he thought as he stepped off the elevator and pushed through the glass doors leading into the executive offices of Matherly Press.

He went into Maris’s office straightaway, but she wasn’t there. On his way out, he bumped into her assistant. “Can I help you, Mr. Reed?”

“I’m looking for Maris.”

Her eyes were magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses as she looked at him quizzically. “She’s not coming in today, Mr. Reed. Remember, she’s going back to Georgia.”

Going back to Georgia? Since when? Shit! This didn’t fit into his timetable at all.

It required all his acting skills not to give his ignorance away to the secretary. “Right, right. I know she’s leaving today, but she said she was stopping here briefly before going to the airport.”

“She did? That’s not what she told me.”

“Hmm, I guess she changed her mind.” He forced a smile and hoped it looked more natural than it felt. “I’ll catch her on her cell phone.”

He called no less than a dozen times but kept getting Maris’s voice mail. It was obvious that she did not want to be reached. He cursed her throughout the remainder of the workday. If she had suddenly appeared, he could well have killed her with his bare hands.

This was the worst possible time for her to play the betrayed wife and run away. Hadn’t he made it plain to her that he wasn’t going to stand for any crap from her, and that if he told her to roll over and play dead that’s what she was to do? Her pouting could ruin this whole thing.

On second thought, f*ck her.

He had the document that Howard Bancroft had drawn up for him. Unless he was given no other choice, he would rather not use it. From a legal standpoint, that document could make things sticky, and he would rather avoid any legal stickiness. But it was there in his safe-deposit box, an insurance policy, an emergency measure to be used if it became necessary.

Feeling confident and unconquerable again, he arrived at Nadia’s Chelsea apartment shortly after six o’clock. He was in the mood for a cold drink and a cool shower, topped off by hot, aggressive sex.

He was whistling as he jogged up the staircase. But when he let himself into the apartment, his whistling abruptly died.

A beefy young man dressed in a tight-fitting black T-shirt and black slacks was emerging from the bedroom, strapping on his wristwatch. He then shouldered his gym bag and casually eased past Noah on his way out the door. His only acknowledgment of Noah was a negligent nod.

For minutes after the young man left, Noah remained on the threshold in a slow burn. A burn so hot that he was a combustion chamber, well decked out in Hugo Boss. He shot his monogrammed cuffs, smoothed down his hair, wiped the perspiration from his upper lip. These were conscious gestures, activities for his hands so he wouldn’t use them to rip, bash, or otherwise destroy something, animate or otherwise, he wasn’t particular at the moment.

When he was finally under moderate control, he moved toward the bedroom and gave the door a gentle push. It swung back on silent hinges. Nadia was sprawled naked on the wide bed amid rumpled silk sheets. Her hair was damp and tangled. Her skin merely damp.

Seeing him, she stirred and smiled drowsily. “Noah, darling, is it six o’clock already? I lost all track of time.”