“Yes, the gentiles favor certain Jews over others, especially ones with romantic notions about our ancestors, who they want to claim without having to abide real, living Jews, but I have found, at least from reading history, that as long as their pockets are lined and their rules are followed in their presence, in the end, for most, one of us is as good as the other. Or as bad, when they decide they want us gone. Or need a monster to slay.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “Weiss is a fast learner. And the fact the Berabs dislike him so much is a point in his favor in my book.” She wrinkled her nose. “Even though it won’t bring about peace within the company easily.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished. She raised a single finger.
“Still, he’s clever and ruthless, and they will not want a war with him, because he will fight to win.” Her dimple appeared on her cheek. “David should understand that.”
Oy.
Just. Oy.
So many plots. So many manipulations and machinations. How had these two families, who used to be so close, become like this?
It hurt to watch these clever people, who did care about the community, even if they all were not particularly . . . good, engage in a way that was sure to bring no one happiness. Least of all her.
But that wasn’t for him to say. He was just the henchman.
“Though . . . ,” she said, frowning again as she interrupted his thoughts. “As I said before, I just wish my grandmother and Pena were more enthusiastic about the match.” She pursed her lips.
“And there’s no one else?” he asked. Not that it mattered to him. Not that itcouldmatter to him.
“I don’t know.” She turned up her palms on her lap. “I’m running out of time, aren’t I?” Her voice hitched.
“Do you even want to marry?” he blurted out before tugging at his hair. “I mean, if it wasn’t for the business? If your father was still alive?”
“I don’t have a choice now, so it doesn’t matter.” She pulled herself farther onto the table, moving toward him so her skirts blanketed his legs. “But I don’t know. In theory, I suppose?”
“In theory?” He snorted. She either did or she didn’t.
“I like the idea of it. The building of a family, the partnership, but . . .” She rubbed circles with her thumb on her wrist, like he had at the last festival, though much more frenetic.
“But . . . ,” he prompted, snapping his fingers and indicating her arm. With a small sigh, she offered it up to him.
“I just can’t imagine having that level of trust with anyone. Even if my circumstances were different. Even if I could afford the consequences of not listening to my head. And without trust, there could never be real love, and in this dream world we’re speaking of, a world in which my father was alive and I couldn’t lose him or anyone else, I’d want—” Her eyes grew wide for a moment before she ducked her head.
A lump swelled in his throat. He never should’ve asked. Not after all she’d shared. She might be strong, but . . . Aaron bit his lip. What could he do to make it better—to help her put back on the armor she clung to so hard? That clearly made her feel safe and powerful in a world that wanted to strip her of both feelings?
He rubbed her gloved wrist with his thumb. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”
And her chin was up faster than lightning, a proud, determined glint in her eye. “I didn’t ask you to.” She placed her free hand on her hip. “Anyway, that is neither here nor there, because we live in this world. A world where anything gained can easily be taken away. And you can only protect so much. Everything else needs to be useful but disposable. Meant to serve a purpose but its loss survivable.”
He indicated the buttons holding her glove on, and she gave him a nod. “So speaking of uses you are keen on, are you attracted to Weiss?” Aaron popped open the first, exposing her skin as her breath quickened.
Or was that his? It was becoming hard to distinguish, they were so close.
“I—” She wet her lips with her tongue as he slid off the glove and deposited it on the table. “He’s fine to look at, and I could willingly touch him. Same with probably a dozen or so men I’ve seen. Even Roger and Louis, ignoring their personalities, of course.”
“Of course.” He snorted to himself but cut off the biting remark on the tip of his tongue when she released a soft little sigh as the pad of his thumb hit flesh. He inhaled, the citrus already lighting his senses. “And yet with me . . .”
“You’re different.” She gave a soft moan as he stroked in lazy, easy, smooth circles.
“How?” he asked, his senses warring as he worked to keep up the conversation even as the heat of lust coursed through his body. “Because you already have control over me in one area?”
And this is meaningless. It feels good, like those stolen moments in the garden, yes, but it’s meaningless.Because if it wasn’t, if he let it form into something else, into a full dream, a wish, well, he’d be lost.
Perhaps America was really the best course of action. Because he couldn’t stop and, worse, was already bending down to brush the same spot with his lips.
“You know it isn’t about that.” She closed her eyes for a moment and shivered at his kiss. “As I said before, just because you listen to the elders at the synagogue and don’t demand much more doesn’t make you weak or malleable. I see you—you’re your own man, who does what he thinks needs to be done for the community, just quietly.” She shook her head. “No, I believe it’s what you said the other day, ‘lust.’”
And the word, from her lips, was like a stab. Was her wanting him for merely that any better than just needing him for a job?
