“How do you know I’m wealthy?”
“It’s sort of obvious.”
He smiled. “Okay, so why does that warrant a laugh?”
“Because I always read about rich characters owning their own jet and flying helicopters on the helipad sitting on their roof.”
He laughed with me. “Actually, I’m going to really disappoint you right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I fly those Ultralight planes instead. The one seaters, and sometimes two if some unfortunate soul is daring enough to ride with me. Nowhere near the sphere of flying a bloody helicopter or jet.”
Oh, my God, I adored him. He was fucking perfect. My heart… gone. Just gone. I wanted to just tear it out of my bleeding chest and give it to him and say, “Keep it! It’s all yours, man.”
“That is actually very disappointing,” I remarked, feigning that disappointment.
“Sorry, little lady.”
“It’s alright, I guess. Not everyone’s perfect.”
“I can think of someone,” he muttered, obviously referring to me.
I blushed and rolled my eyes. “Smooth, Ben.”
“I know. I saw the opportunity and I took it.”
“Nicely done.”
“I’ve got more cheap lines in store for later.”
I laughed again. God, I was going to get abs by tomorrow at this rate.
The dinner went by perfectly. There was never a quiet moment. Never any awkward pauses. We hit it off, and I was floating like a cloud with happiness.
It was while we were finishing up our meals when a deep voice sounded out.
“Costigan!”
I watched a familiar looking man approach our table. Middle-aged in a black suit and greying hair slicked back. He smiled broadly at Ben and extended his hand while I stared hard at his face, wondering where the hell I’d seen him before.
Ben took it in a hard grip and a sudden frown on his face. “Macht,” he snipped back.
Macht?
Oh, shit.
John Macht.
All that happiness from before burst. My mouth parted in shock as I continued gazing at the rich man that had just walked away scot-free from murdering his wife. And he was talking to my man – er, my dinner date, that is.
If Mom knew about this…
“So nice to see you eating at my place, and what a pleasure it is bumping into you too. I’ve been trying to get into contact with you recently, but haven’t had any luck.”
“Well, you should probably keep trying,” Ben retorted icily. “At the moment, I’m unavailable.”
“But I have a proposition I think you’d be interested in –”
“Not now –”
“You will benefit from it greatly –”
“When I tell you I’m unavailable, John,” Ben cut in harshly, “that means you stop talking and move on. When I’m engaged in personal matters, I don’t care if you’re the fucking pope, you move on.”
The silence that followed was brutally thick, but not in the way I thought it would be. John Macht looked genuinely frightened, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d never seen Ben act so intimidating before, and it made my body acutely aware of the underlying danger that was working beneath the surface here. Like a flip of a switch, he went from being a flame to an icicle.
I clasped my hands together, unable to look away from both Macht and Ben as they faced off.
“I apologize, Costigan,” Macht then said with a hesitant step back. “I meant absolutely no disrespect. I will make up for my rudeness. I promise. Good night.”
Without waiting for a response, Macht took off in haste, leaving us alone.
Leaving me to wonder why a man that got away with murder was terrified of the man I was having dinner with.
Chapter Eleven
In a car
“You’re asking yourself too many questions again.”
I shook the thoughts away and looked at Ben. He was back to being his soft self, no longer clouded in darkness that had made my bones rigid.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he told me.
“He owns the restaurant,” I stated.
“Yes.”
“That’s who you know.”
He was quick to understand what I was getting at. “Like I said, he isn’t my friend.”
“But you know him. A murderer.”
He looked around us, making sure we were out of earshot. “I’m not involved with him in any way, Claire.”
“He said he needed to discuss a proposition to you –”
“I worked with him a little before,” he interrupted in a low voice, “but when the charges came to light, I, along with others, cut him out.”
My eyes narrowed. Why would a rich businessman want to work with a furniture store owner? If only I could look inside that mind and get the answers I needed. It wasn’t fair my feelings were easily discernible to him and not the other way around. He could be so damn reserved. The only giveaway to his soul were his eyes, but even then he closed himself off in difficult situations.
Like now.
“You don’t really own a furniture business, do you?”
“I do,” he replied. “I can take you there if you don’t believe me.”
“But that’s not all you do, is it?”
He exhaled. “It’s the only business I own.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “If you think I’m going to sit back in ignorance and play stupid, then we might as well end this right now.”
With a fleeting look of irritation, his jaw clenched and his hand closed into a tight fist. He gritted out, “Parts of my life will remain private, Claire. That’s just how it is.”
I leaned over the table and shot him a seething glare. “So what makes you think I want to stick around?”
“Don’t play stupid. You knew exactly what it is you were getting yourself into when you came here tonight. The thought was already there.”
“Yeah,” I agreed on a nod. “And now I’m wondering why I’m sitting here.”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip before he leaned forward and said, “Because you love the way I make you feel. Because when I’m with you, you see how genuine I am. You see the way you make me feel. I’m entranced by you, and I’m not used to having someone hold that sort of power over me.”