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He nods occasionally through breaks in the discussion. I’m fairly certain that he has lost interest in the topic. His attention sparks when I broach the topic of having a sample taken.
“You want to chip off a piece of the vase and send it in essentially…” he asks, not bothering to look up from his pasta.
“The sample would be taken by a professional and would be very minimal, but there would be evidence of the sample taken. Yes.”
He nods and seems to ponder the information. Not wanting to look as though I’m pressuring him, I turn my attention to the salad.
“I’m inclined to agree with you and let you perform the tests. I paid a lot of money for those vases. I want to know if it was worth it.” He looks at me from over the top of his glasses as he takes a sip of wine. “Fine,” he says, brushing his fingers towards me like he’s brushing a crumb. “Run the tests.”
“Great. I’ll set it up with the lab. I think only one of the vases really needs to be tested based on these results. It’s probably best to assume they both come from the same source,” I say, jotting down the information in my notebook.
Lennox’s hand falls to my wrist, stopping me.
“I look forward to the report. Oh, and one other thing…” He signs the check and hands it to the waitress. “I want to expand my collection. There’s an auction set up in a few days, and I’ve requested that you accompany me. I’ve been assured that you will be there.” His tone is a bit brash, but I smile nonetheless.
“Of course I’ll be there. Are you sure everything is okay?”
His shoulders rise on a deep inhale as he shakes his head.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He reaches across the table and taps my hand. “I’m just tired from trying to figure out everything with this new exhibit displaying some pieces from my collection.” My mind eases a little.
“If there’s anything I can do, please let me know, okay?” I gather my things and watch his brows furrow. The sight crumbles my heart.
Leaning down, I give him a half-hug, which causes him to smile and tap my forearm. Feeling better about his state of mind, I head home with a game plan for at least one of my problems needing to be solved.
17
The over-crowded bar reeks of stale beer and sweat. The noxious odor singes the corners of my eyes as I wait for my prey. Looking around this dark and dingy place, I can’t think of a place more fitting. Well, okay, I can think of one. I lift the pint beer to my lips and pause as I catch a glimpse of a smudge marring the lip of the glass.
Normally, a place like this would have me gagging and running for the nearest washroom to promptly scrub my skin raw. Not tonight, though. My mind has gone blissfully quiet. Honed and focused. Untouched by the unpleasantness and imperfections which surround me.
Holding Patience in my arms provided a peace to my ever-running thoughts. The feel of her soft body against mine—a silent promise. The faint floral scent of her hair washed over me, sending my cock into a frenzy and my mind into serenity. The look in her eyes as I tried to walk away from her in bed was more valuable than any other image in my mind—a crumb of her vulnerability shared just with me.
Pulling out my phone, I look at her name in my messages. I’ve been waiting for the right time to text her. Honestly, how long should I wait before texting the woman I’ve slept next to? A day? Three days? I swipe my fingers over the screen. I can’t wait that long.
Was the coffee strong enough?
Three dots appear at the bottom of the screen instantly. The thought of her waiting by her phone makes giddier than I would like to admit.
Yes. Thank you.
Find me a new location.
Seriously? You can’t do that on your own?
Yes seriously.
Spend less time stalking me and I’m sure you’ll find a place in no time.
It’s a full-time job.
It doesn’t have to be.
No, you’re right. It doesn’t.
But you make it so enjoyable.
She emphasizes the message with an exclamation point. I watch as the three dots blink across the bottom of the screen before disappearing again. Her response finally comes through and I can’t help but laugh at how she avoids the compliment.
