Page 55 of Seasons of Sin

A long, cold month.

“Have a seat,” she gestured across from her after several silent, sizzling beats. He didn’t, but she sat back in her own chair with apparent unconcern. Her eyes locked on a point to the side of his hip.

“This place is … a little more casual than I had expected.”

She surveyed the room with a tight smile. “It’s charming, isn’t it?”

He settled himself finally, his knees brushing hers beneath the small table. She jerked away without caring that it was such an obvious gesture. He sent her an answering look of derision.

His hand curled around hers and lifted it into the air. “No wedding ring.”

“I told you. I’m divorcing him.”

“Yes, you did tell me.”

Her eyes were different to how he remembered. They didn’t sparkle. They were flat. He studied her carefully. There was a reservation and anxiety in her that he hadn’t seen before. Had he done that?

“How are you?” He asked, something shifting inside of him as he looked at her properly.

“Fine,” she sipped her water, dipping her head forward. Her fingers slid a folder towards him. “This is some information on the organization.”

“I know about the organization,” he said quietly. “How areyou?”

“I told you. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Her eyes flashed to his. She spoke more firmly. “I’m fine.”

“No. What’s happened?”

Her brow furrowed. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do this,” she said firmly.

“Don’t be polite?”

“You’renotpolite,” she said simply. “What amount were you thinking of contributing toward our cause?”

“Let’s do business later,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lifting a finger to attract the attention of the waiter.

Tony, the same handsome young man who’d been in the restaurant every time Saphire had visited, appeared almostinstantly. His eyes landed on Saphire with pleasure. “This is your fourth night this week. You must really love our lasagna, eh?”

And when she looked at the waiter, she relaxed completely. Her smile was breath taking. Thaddeus stared at her with a feeling of complete loss; it was how she had looked at him at one time. The ache in his gut was compounded when the waiter’s eyes dropped appreciatively to her cleavage.

The reaction was swift and immediate. Jealousy, envy, anger and hot possession all flared inside of him.

“Do you have a wine list?” He spoke a little louder than he’d intended in an attempt to draw the waiter’s attention.

Instead, Saphire shot him a sharp look. “Tony’s uncle is the family wine maker. They serve only his bottles.”

“I see. Why don’t you order, seeing as you know the family so intimately?”

She understood his censure but it was unwarranted. She fixed Tony with a calm smile. “Prosecco,” she said simply.

He nodded. “Your favorite.” It was accompanied with a wink.