Chapter 3
Hurting Truth
Arielle Nygard
The drive to the restaurant doesn’t take long. For some reason, Sam’s opted to take a cab, and I guess he’s planning to have a couple of drinks. Maybe there’ll be something to celebrate – but I catch that thought because it’s too early for big milestone moments. Whatever the case, Sam seems rather jittery, and we travel in silence, which amplifies the tension and jangles my nerves. By the time we sit down at our reserved table, I’m practically vibrating.
The restaurant is softly lit, and candles flicker at each table and in sconces on the walls. Large, gold-framed mirrors reflect the candlelight, enhancing the romantic atmosphere. Tables are dressed with crisp white linen tablecloths and nestled inside tall booths, giving diners maximum privacy during their meal.
A waiter brings over a wine list and hands it to Sam. “Good evening. My name’s Michael and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” After checking that I like red wine, Sam orders a bottle of Pinot Noir.
“Sam, is everything okay? You seem distracted,” I say, only slightly concerned.
Sam shakes his head, like he trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought. The action sets his thick dark hair in motion, and a wave of it falls across his forehead. I almost have to stop myself from reaching over and tucking it behind his ear. Instead, he covers my hand with his. His touch instantly warms the back of my hand and sends a delightful shiver up my arm.
“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
I feel myself blush. “You have. But I don’t think I’ve told you how gorgeousyoulook. That color really suits you.” I’m not exaggerating – the rich navy blue really complements his deep golden skin, and his teeth shine out almost unnaturally. I guess it’s a part of the show; the man must get his smile professionally whitened. Although, having spent a little more time with my boss, it’s becoming clear to me that there’s nothing fake about this man.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says with a smile. “I’m so used to being stuck in some sort of costume that I’ve almost forgotten what ‘Sam’ likes to wear aside from sweats. Atticus Colt definitely doesn’t do dates.”
“Yeah, his performances don’t really lend themselves to being a regular guy.” We both laugh at the thought.
Although Sam relaxes slightly, he still seems distracted and nervous. By the time we order dessert, I can hold out no longer. “Please tell me what’s on your mind,” I say. “I can see that something’s bugging you.”
He takes a deep breath and is about to speak when Michael delivers our order; tiramisu for me, and a chocolate brownie for Sam. I’m momentarily engrossed in a spoonful of creamy coffee perfection but put my spoon down as he starts to speak again.
“Arielle, I need to confess something to you,” he says hesitantly.
I fight down the panic that is rising in my throat; those are not comforting words.
“I’m not just a magician. I’m also a thief.” His words tumble out in a rush now.
My mouth drops open in shock. I shake my head in disbelief. “Sam, what are you talking about? You’re making this up, right?”
“Fraid not,” he says and hangs his head in embarrassment. “But it’s not for me. I don’t keep anything. It all goes to the needy.”
He looks up and I frown.What the hell is he up to?I start to wonder if this is some kind of joke.
“You’re not making sense,” I say.
“I only steal from the rich…the corrupt. They have so much, and they can afford to lose a little bit every now and then. I lift jewelry from my audiences. They flaunt it so carelessly; it means nothing to them. Then I pawn it and donate the money to charity.” I’m still confused, but he continues. “When I was in the Ukraine a few months ago, I stole a load of precious gems from a guy who turned out to be a head honcho for the Russian mafia. I didn’t know it at the time. I don’t mess with the mafia, but by then it was too late. The guy I sold the gems to was killed. That’s why I cut the trip short.”
I remember the conversation we had a few weeks earlier. He’d texted from the plane and then I’d surprised him with homemade cheeseburgers. It had also been our first meeting, when I’d learned his true identity. Then I remember the evening Sam asked me out for our first date.
“The diamond,” I say quietly, afraid someone might be listening. “The one in your pocket that night. That you were holding for a friend. There was no friend, was there?”
“No.” He looks sheepish. “I’m sorry I lied. You were never supposed to see that.”
“Is that why you’re telling me now? So that you’re not caught out later on?”
He’s emphatic. “No. I wanted to come clean because you deserve to know. I don’t want to lie to you, and I don’t want to have any secrets.” His dark eyes meet mine, beseeching me to understand, to accept him.
A lead weight has settled in my stomach. I push the dessert away practically untouched. “Sam, I...” I stop short. I have no idea what to say.
“Please say that you’re okay with it.” There’s a hint of pleading in his voice and it breaks my heart.
I want to be okay with it, I really do. Because not being okay with it means that I can’t ever see him again. And the thought of losing Sam from my life is devastating. We haven’t known each other for long, but I know I’m falling in love with him. Falling hard.
