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“Gangs?”
His laugh suggested slight annoyance. “I’ve never been in a gang. They’re for people who have no direction, requiring a sense of leadership, so thirsty for it they’ll follow a monster without question. Often art is a very personal experience, not related to any unit or group.”
“The skull?”
“Hmm…” He leaned forward, the flickering candlelight reminding me why I’d been so taken with him. “That was a dare from my brother. He created the design, thinking I didn’t have the guts. I was sixteen, the kid much younger. My mother almost freaked.”
We shared a laugh, his eyes never leaving me.
“And the rose?” I asked a few seconds later.
The same flash of uncertainty drifted across his face. He looked away but only for a brief second. “Sometimes there is a fine line between love and hate, the thread so thin that crossing back and forth becomes unhealthy. For some, a reminder is necessary.” He returned his gaze toward me, the settling twilight giving his eyes an obsidian coloration, the aura surrounding him darkening. His stare was as intent as it was profound. The subject was entirely off limits.
“I understand more than you know.”
“A woman so beautiful most certainly does.” The coldness of his tone was as enthralling as the man. He was complex, his multiple layers secured tightly. He trusted no one.
And there was a defining moment as a reason.
“What is a man of your obvious wealth doing taking a long train ride?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“We’re not keeping score, at least so I thought.” His eyes were hooded, watching me with amusement tethered by a splash of desire.
The combination was irresistible.
“No, we’re not. However, is it so wrong for me to crave discovering more about the man who fucked me?”
“Mmmm… Not in the least. Your observations are correct. I own two jets, both ready at a moment’s notice. However, the train will allow me to process a situation that occurred in my family. And, as I said before, I have business in Florida.”
“A situation. I hope it’s not a tragedy?” The waiter arrived with the bottle, cutting the conversation short, but I had no plans of letting it go.
“Not tragic, although it could have been.” He waited, barely acknowledging the waiter after he opened the bottle, the young man taking his time to fill our glasses. The entire time, Phoenix didn’t blink, keeping his eyes pointed on mine. It was almost as if he wanted me uncomfortable, acting on his formidable status.
I fingered the glass, offering a seductive smile. “Often tragedies reveal truths about ourselves.”
“Very true.” He waved the waiter away, immediately lifting his glass. “To truths.”
“Agreed.” As we clinked glasses, the urge to continue pressing him was stronger than before. “Has the situation been rectified?”
He took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, not yet, but I assure you that it will be. What I will not tolerate are those who betray me or my family.”
The fact he was reiterating a point already made meant whatever he was dealing with was bothering him significantly.
“You make it sound as if you have enemies.”
“Several of them in fact.” He waited until I’d taken a sip of the champagne before doing the same. The bubbles tickled my tongue, the taste extraordinary.
“I don’t recognize the vintage.”
He turned the bottle in the bucket full of ice, lifting it so I could read the label.
“Diamondis winery.” The name was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember why. The nagging inside my brain continued, insisting I figure out the mystery. Why did I have the distinct feeling Phoenix wanted me to recognize it as well? I had a sense he was continuing to test me, determining whether I could be trusted.
“I don’t know it.”
“Really? What a shame. They have several award-winning wines. I thought you’d enjoy this one.”
