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Noah frowned. “I hope she doesn’t expect too much from me. I’ll probably disappoint her.”
“Your effort alone will make her happy.”
“I’d like to get in a few hours of effort tonight.” Noah set his empty tumbler on the end table and stood up.
“Stay and have dinner with me. We’ll play chess afterward.”
“Tempting, Daniel. But I should use this time that Maris is away to crank out a few pages. There’s only one way to write, and that’s to write,” he said with a smile. “Can I refresh your drink before I go?”
“Thanks, no. Maxine will be measuring the amount left in the decanter as it is.”
“Then I for sure want to clear out before the fireworks start.” Noah pulled on his suit jacket and retrieved his briefcase. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Daniel said. “The next time someone approaches you with an offer to buy my publishing house, tell him to fuck off.”
Noah laughed. “Shall I quote you?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I would prefer it.”
* * *
Two vodka martinis hadn’t dulled the edges of Nadia’s nerves. They seemed to be on red alert and had been since Noah had recounted for her his conversation with Daniel.
For half an hour she’d been pacing the hardwood floor of her Chelsea apartment, which was used strictly for romantic trysts. The apartment she owned in Trump Tower was her official address. Not even her accountant knew about this apartment.
“No matter how blasé he seems, I don’t trust the old codger,” she said. “How do you know he can’t see through your act?”
“Because he isn’t looking.” Noah’s voice conveyed his impatience.
“I don’t mean to question your perception, Noah.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. I’m just afraid that something might go wrong. I want this deal so badly for you.”
“I want it for us.”
Her anxiety dissolving, she stopped pacing and moved to where he stood. Coming close, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Damn you,” she said softly. “By saying that, you’ve completely disarmed me.”
Their kiss was passionate and deep. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hand inside. When they pulled apart, she continued to tweak his chest hairs. “It’s just that Daniel Matherly has been overseeing that publishing house for… how long?”
“He’s seventy-eight. His father died when he was twenty-nine. Daniel’s been in control since then.”
“So almost fifty years.”
“I can subtract, Nadia.”
“All I’m saying is this: He hasn’t made himself into a living legend by being a dimwit. He didn’t become successful by misreading people. He’s smart. He’s savvy. He’s—”
“Not as sharp as he used to be.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he just wants you to think so.”
Noah disliked being second-guessed and resented even a hint of criticism. Pushing her away, he moved into the kitchen, where he refilled his highball glass with ice cubes and splashed scotch over them. “I think I know my father-in-law at least as well as you do, Nadia.”
“I’m sure—”
“If you were sure of me, you wouldn’t be nagging me about this.” He treated his drink like a shot, then set his glass on the countertop and took a moment to contain his temper before turning back to her. “Your job is to keep Blume and company pacified and reassured.”
