Johnson Family 2: Perfect (6 page)

Their waiter hustled to the table, a ready-to-please expression on his face. “Mr. Johnson, may I get you a chair?”

“That would be nice, thank you. Right here would be fine.” He pointed to the spot on Daniella’s left, which meant she’d be sandwiched between the two men.

The waiter ran off and almost immediately returned with a chair, which he placed in the exact location Cyrus indicated. The young man never even bothered to ask Roland or her if it was okay to have Cyrus join their table. He assumed it would be, which grated on her nerves.

“The two of you back together now?” Cyrus sat in the chair and rested one shiny black shoe on his knee, patiently waiting for an answer.

She didn’t know how to respond. Part of her wanted to thrust a lie in his face and tell him she was romantically involved with Roland, but another part of her worried about the repercussions.

Roland sat down, too, and cleared his throat, no doubt as uncomfortable as she was in this awkward situation.

Cyrus followed up with another question, this time directed at Roland. “You know we’re still married, don’t you?”

Roland nodded. “I do. But I also know she wants a divorce.”

Cyrus’s eyes returned to Daniella. He pinned her with a dark stare and she fought the urge to squirm. “She’s not getting one. No matter what means she uses to try to get it.”

The way he looked at her sent a trickle of nervous energy down her spine. Did he know about the investigator?

“I was going to save this for another time, but since we’re all here together, why not do it now? I have to give you credit for trying, by the way.” That’s when she knew for sure he’d found out about the P.I. and her stomach dropped in dismay. “My driver noticed a dark sedan around more often than not. By the way, your investigator made a good choice, using a nondescript vehicle, but it wasn’t good enough. The driver I usually use is former special forces, so he pays attention to details in a way most people don’t.” He pulled an envelope from his breast pocket, set it on the table, and pushed it toward her. “I received these today and planned to send them to you, but why delay?”

Daniella stared at the envelope, the nervousness in her gut intensifying.

“Go ahead, open it,” Cyrus prodded.

Carefully, Daniella opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of photos. Regrettably, the investigator who’d been following Cyrus over the past week could be seen in each one sitting in his car or snapping photos through the long lens of a camera. While he’d been watching them, they’d been watching him.

“Funny thing happened,” Cyrus continued, obviously enjoying himself. “We found out who he was working for. I thought he was another low life paparazzi, but imagine my surprise when he mentioned Davis Williams. It was easy enough to figure out this had to do with our divorce, and with a few more questions we found out all the details of your plan. Then I made the problem go away.”

Daniella shoved the pictures back in the envelope and dropped it on the table. “You paid him off.”

“It’s amazing what people will do when you quadruple their fee. Sad, isn’t it? The lack of ethics in today’s society.”

“And you exploit it.”

“It’s not my fault people can be bought.” He looked pointedly at Roland, who shifted uneasily in his chair. “How are things with your little software company?”

His condescension didn’t stop Roland’s chest from swelling with pride. “We secured an injection of cash thanks to a generous investor. We’re on our way to bigger and better things, and our software will change the world.”

“Is that right? You made good use of the million dollars I gave you after all. I had my doubts.”

“Stop it,” Daniella said, embarrassed for Roland.

“It’s inventory tracking software, isn’t it?” Cyrus asked. Something about the tone of his voice gave Daniella the distinct impression Cyrus already knew the answers to his questions.

“Yes. It’ll aid manufacturers and retailers in communicating better than ever. We’re about to change Just-In-Time into In-The-Moment.” He sounded proud of his accomplishments, and he should be. He’d worked hard for years to get to this point.

“I’m happy for you, but I thought I told you to stay away from my wife.”

“That’s enough,” Daniella hissed. “Do you have to be so rude?”

“I paid him a million dollars. Despite my wealth, a million dollars is not a little bit of money.”

“That was more than four years ago,” Roland said.

Cyrus’s glaze slid to Roland, his eyes as black and hard as coal. “A deal is a deal, and I don’t like it when people renege on deals.”

Roland licked his lips. “Give me some time, and I’ll give you the money back.”

“I don’t want the money. I want you to stay away from my wife.”

“What I do, when I do it, and with whom, is none of your business,” Daniella interjected.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Cyrus said. “Everything you do is my business because it affects me and reflects on our marriage. Therefore, I forbid you to see this snake again.” He spoke in an imperious tone, as if he thought she’d simply fall in line with his dictate.

“Snake? Wait a damn minute,” Roland blustered.

“Roland, please.” Daniella could feel frustration course through her body. Back and forth, back and forth they went, and she was caught in the middle. She took a deep breath. “Cyrus, you can’t forbid me to see anyone, and even though you found out about the investigator, I’m not done. I won’t give up.”

“You’re wasting precious time. Neither of us is getting any younger.”

“We should leave,” Daniella murmured to Roland. She stood and both men promptly followed suit.

“Time is up, Dani,” Cyrus warned.

She looked up into his granite features. “You don’t scare me.”

His mouth twitched into a half-smile. He seldom smiled, and more often than not, when he did, he wore that damned half-smile. Which she hated. It reeked of arrogance and a superiority complex—fed by the way people danced around him, rushed to do his bidding, and damn near curtsied in his presence.

He leaned in close again and she stiffened her spine, forcing herself not to withdraw. He whispered in her ear, “There are consequences for your actions. I hope you can live with them.”

His scent surrounded her, and a mixture of fear and arousal caused a faint tremor to rattle through her system.

“I can live with them, as long as they get me away from you,” she whispered back. His mouth was inches away from hers, and her bottom lip tingled with the inexplicable urge to kiss him.

“Well, I guess I’ve been told. I should slink away with my tail between my legs, since I’ve been utterly defeated.” The corners of his mouth curved even higher. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

Before she guessed his intent, Cyrus placed a firm hand at her waist and pulled her into him. The impact with his hard body sent a shockwave of hunger straight to her core. Placing a hand on his arm, she leaned back from him.

“Cyrus.” Her voice should have been a firm dismissal. Instead it came out breathless and trembling.

He pressed his mouth to hers and she gasped, taken by surprise. Cyrus didn’t make public displays of affection. He’d never held her hand or even given her a peck on the cheek in the presence of others. The most he’d ever done was place a hand at the base of her spine, a comforting gesture meant to show they were together or to guide her in the direction he wanted so he could introduce her to so-and-so from such-and-such a company.

This was not about affection, though. The kiss informed her and Roland of his intentions toward her. It was nothing but a stamp, forcing her to accept to whom she belonged. His mouth pressed hard into hers, and then he swiped the tip of his tongue just inside her lips before lifting his head.

She barely noticed the other customers openly staring at them. Her swamped senses buzzed from the contact. The kiss was so short. It couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds, three at the most. Yet every single cell in her body screamed for more.

“How dare you,” she said, trying to save face. She lifted a hand to her throbbing mouth.

Cyrus let his hand slide along her waist and down her hip before letting her go. He didn’t take his gaze from her, and she saw the moment something shifted and unshakeable resolve entered his eyes. “Time’s up,” he repeated, his voice rough around the edges.

He walked away and left her standing there, a bit disoriented, a bit confused. He was out of sight before she realized she’d been holding her breath. What alarmed her even more was her own lack of action. Not once had she considered, much less tried, to pull away.

“Are you all right?”

She jumped when Roland touched her arm. She’d forgotten he was there, completely consumed by Cyrus’s presence. She could still feel the heat from his hand on the curve of her hip.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

He’d said her time was up. If she didn’t do as he demanded, he would retaliate against her. But how? What could he possibly do?

Now was a waiting game. One where she had to wait to see what the ramifications of her actions would be.

Chapter Seven

Daniella unlocked the doors to Beaux-Arts Galleries, located along a tree-lined street in downtown Ballard where historic storefronts remained intact. She had managed to carve out a popular showroom that over the past few years had emerged as a coveted venue for both new and established artists.

Walking down the avenue, a visitor easily gained an impression of what the area might have been like back in the late 1800’s when it was first settled and filled with lumber mills. The quaint neighborhood contained stylish boutiques, restaurants, coffee shops, and other galleries. Every second Saturday, a Chamber of Commerce-sponsored art walk brought visitors to the neighborhood and provided exceptional foot traffic which had helped her business grow. Beaux-Arts not only sold prints and original paintings to the general public, she and her two salespersons consulted with businesses that wanted to freshen their décor. They also worked with private collectors who viewed art as not only a decoration, but an investment as well.

Her business was couched between a glass-blowing studio on one side and a handmade jewelry store on the other. Across the street, an independent bookstore sat crammed full of books. She liked to go there sometimes on her break and browse the shelves. She’d found a gem once—an old edition of
Invisible Man
by Ralph Ellison. She hadn’t been able to resist adding it to her small collection of rare titles. Purchasing it had been a splurge for sure, back when she had money to spend on such things. Nowadays most of her disposable income went toward fighting Cyrus.

The gallery was closed today because she and her staff would be welcoming three groups of underprivileged kids at different times during the day to the gallery to learn more about the world of art and to create their own paintings. It was something they did once a year, but she’d love to do it more often.

All of her employees gladly participated. In addition to the three salespersons, she employed an office manager, a framer, and an in-house portrait painter. If her plans went well, she’d soon have Beaux-Arts Deux, a New York location, which would employ a gallery director, five salespersons, two framers, and an office manager. She had been tweaking her business plan for months but still hadn’t approached the bank. New York could make or break her business, and though she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, she worried about being able to succeed there.

While she waited for her staff to arrive to help her set up, Daniella looked at the contract from the Manhattan hotel owner who wanted her to provide artwork to complement their new color scheme in the next few months. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for to expand her business. With this contract in hand, she would be able to go to the bank and show she would have money coming in, which meant she could lease the Manhattan space she’d had her eye on. Last she’d checked, no one had taken over the lease, but it would only be a matter of time. Even in a down market, prime properties there didn’t last long.

She sat back in the chair. Why didn’t she feel more satisfaction at this accomplishment? There was a time when the idea of having a New York office had made her tingle from head to toe. While getting this contract was a victory for sure, the excitement she expected hadn’t manifested. Maybe because she didn’t have the space yet.

The front door bell rang, but she ignored it. It wasn’t unusual for prints to be delivered on the weekend, but she wasn’t expecting any today. When the person at the front leaned on the buzzer for a long time, though, she could no longer ignore the sound and left her office to walk up front.

Roland stood outside. She quickly opened the door to him, taking in the distress on his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Lines of strain bracketed his mouth. “I lost my position at BoldMine.”

Her eyes widened. “What? You’re the chief technology officer. Your work is invaluable, and they need you.”

She repeated what he’d told her in the past. He’d been with the start-up company from the beginning, working closely with the two brothers who made up the other chief officers. The injection of cash from their new private investor would help the company enhance the features of its inventory software and increase its business development partnerships with key players in the manufacturing industry. This was the chance he’d been waiting for.