His chest rises and falls, expanding with delicious perfection. He closes the space between us, his stride long, graceful. He stands above me. I want to touch him but I don’t. I need some control. I need him to touch me first, but he always wants to be first anyway. I know this. He shrugs out of his jacket and removes his tie, tossing both to the center of the bed. And then he surprises me by setting the card aside and taking me down on the mattress with him, rolling to face me. “I’m not going to spank you, Faith,” he says, sliding his leg between mine. “Not now. Maybe not even this weekend. I want you to see and feel me. I want you to remember me this weekend, not my hand.”
Inhaling, I return to the present with the certainty that he’s achieved that goal. I see him and feel him in every possible way. And maybe he knew I didn’t really want to read the card. Because I don’t. I turn away from it now, rejecting its content, and walking toward the bathroom. I don’t need my father’s input on my career right before my show. Once I’m inside, I move my suitcase back into the closet, where I strip down. I’m about to pull on a sleep shirt I’ve brought with me when I spy Nick’s row of t-shirts, the idea of wearing one of them winning me over and quickly. I search through the various graphic designs, and smile as I find a Batman shirt of all things. Oh how Nick it is.
I pull it on, letting it fall to my knees and then grab my pink fluffy slippers from my suitcase. Shoving my feet in them, I return to the bedroom at the same moment Nick returns as well, bags in his hand. “The Dark Knight?” I say, pointing at the shirt. “Really?”
“I told you, sweetheart,” he says, walking around the opposite side of the bed. “I’m not a nice guy and neither are my idols.”
“Batman is your idol?” I ask, settling onto the bed, and accepting one of the bags.
“That one should have your egg salad sandwich, and a bottle of water,” he says, before answering me. “And I don’t have an idol, but I like Batman a hell of a lot more than Superman. Better outfit, more money, no rules.” He sits down and checks his bag, then takes off his boots.
We do some shuffling of bags and drinks and soon we are sitting facing each other with our bags as plates. “What about you, Faith?” Nick asks, unwrapping his sandwich. “Apparently, my club sandwich is a Philly cheesesteak.”
“Do you like Philly cheesesteak?”
“It’s greasy and unhealthy,” he says. “Who doesn’t like a Philly cheesesteak?” he asks, not waiting for a reply. “Back to more important things. Who’s your idol?”
“At one point it was my father, but that ended. You know that. Aside from him, I have many artists that I admire. I think I told you that I really look up to Chris Merit. Aside from his talent, his family owed a winery here in Sonoma and became so famous that it felt within my reach.”
“In reality, I happen to know that he lived in Paris when he started painting and was always filthy rich, so you two aren’t much of a comparison.”
“True,” I say. “And it feels weird that I kind of idolized him now since I know him personally. But I did and I still admire him.”
“He’s a good guy,” Nick says. “And talented. I have one of his paintings in my office.”
“I need to see that,” I say, about to take a bite of my sandwich when a thought hits me. “I haven’t even told Kasey I’m not going to be there tomorrow. I should text him.”
“I’d like us to take him to dinner Thursday night,” Nick replies. “We need to make him believe that I’m a co-owner, just like we do the bank.”
“Kasey too?”
“Everyone. It’s the only way we make the bank buy into this. Is that a problem?”
“No. Whatever we have to do.”
“On a positive note and another topic to discuss with Kasey,” he says. “While you were painting I heard from my assistant. She’s lined up a team to do the assessment at the winery, starting tomorrow.”
“Oh. Great. That was fast, but I need to warn Kasey about that too. I need to grab my phone.” I scoot off the bed and walk into the bathroom, where I find it in my purse. Once I rejoin Nick, I text Kasey. “How soon will we get the assessment results?”
“It’s a big place. I expect it will take a few days.”
My phone buzzes and I glance at Kasey’s reply. “All set. Dinner Thursday night and he knows about the assessment.”
“While we’re on the topic of business,” Nick says. “One more thing. Beck, the private investigator I told you I hired, wants to install cameras at your house and the winery. And he’d rather the staff not know.”
My brow furrows. “Is there a problem I need to know about with the staff?”
“He didn’t express a specific concern, but did stress that he absolutely doesn’t want the staff to know. It’s his job to trust no one.”
“Right. That makes sense. When does he want to do it and how should I coordinate getting him into the locations?”
“He can get into both locations on his own.”
“Okay well, the fact that he can get into both locations on his own says I need a new security system. But yes. Whatever he needs to do. Tell him to do it.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text message before snatching up a few chips. He is about to set his phone down when it buzzes with a reply already. He reads the message and glances at me. “He’s going to get it done tonight.” He takes a drink of water and sets it on the nightstand, while I manage another bite of my sandwich.
“And he’s had no other luck on anything?” I ask, before taking another bite of my sandwich.