The Beckoning of Beautiful Things (The Beckoning Series) (29 page)

At work, she avoided Daniel’s calls and text messages all day, and he’d had the good sense to not show up at her doorstep before she left for work. She would have brushed him off, anyway. She’d overslept and been late, late, late.

Crazy Betty had called in sick to do whatever funeral business she had to do for her dog
, and Cara had been occupied with Alexander Díaz so Marissa had managed to get a few more winks of sleep at her desk between tasks. When she stood up to leave at the end of the day, her grumpy co-worker a few cubes down had said, “Some of us come here to work, not to sleep.”

“Well, some of us are going through a lot of stuff right now,” she responded.
She didn’t know the guy very well.
The only thing she knew about him is that he huddled in his cube and complained a lot – about her.

“One of us is getting sick of the preferential treatment some of us are getting.”

“Which one of us is getting sick and which one of us is getting preferential treatment? I’d like to know what you have to do to get this so-called treatment because I haven’t seen any.” His whining annoyed the hell out of her. She marched over and stood in the doorway to his cubicle.

He gasped. “What happened to you?”

“Told you I was going through a rough patch.”

“It doesn’t look like it. You’re…you’re…you’re beautiful. Where did you get those gems?” He snapped his mouth closed, swiftly turned his head back to his monitor
, and studied something on his screen.

“They were a gift from my…from a friend of mine.” Right at this moment she didn’t want to acknowledge him as her boyfriend
, and she definitely didn’t want to acknowledge him with any sense of soul bound destiny.

“Some friend,” he said, eyes glued to his monitor. “Wish I had a friend like that. I’ve got work to finish up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She shook her head at him and made her departure.

Back at her house, Marissa’s heart felt completely bruised as she prepared for the dinner with Cara, Jason, and El Demonio, if
he really
was
the frigging sorcerer. She hadn’t experienced any creepy vibes or sinister sensations coming from Cara’s office. Maybe it was all a big made up story.
Who the hell can I trust? I’m supposed to be some Light Rebel truth teller, and I can’t even figure out who to trust.

She stood in the closet, trying to determine what to wear and wondering if she’d made a mistake by not giving Daniel a chance to explain. “Act first, think later,” she grumbled. “That’s my way.” Her heart ached as if it had gone through a meat grinder.

She’d received an email from Cara earlier, telling her that there was a change in plans, and they were dining at The Devil’s Lounge, a hip, upscale restaurant in Belltown, the north part of downtown Seattle, which all the trendy up and comers liked to frequent.
Perfect,
she thought sarcastically.
Going to meet the devil at his very lounge. That’s a little coincidental, don’t you think?

“Got any ideas, Sober?” The dog chewed a bone she’d bought him at the pet store on the way home. He thumped his tail but kept chewing. “I take it that’s your way of saying ‘you’re on your own,’ right?” She sighed and scanned her clothes. “Okay, off the shoulder striped crop top, flouncy, floral, high-waist skirt, put my hair up, boots
, and we’re done.” Satisfied, she pulled the garments out of her closet. “Hmm, what to wear for a coat?” She put her hands on her hips and thought. “Faux leather to the rescue!” She grabbed the coat and tossed it on the bed. Smooth and supple, it had all these little crystal fragments affixed to the wide collar. It always made her feel cool to wear it and it would remind her of the sparkles within.

Once she was dressed, she turned back and forth in the full length mirror, fingering the jewelry at her neck. Her ears seemed somehow naked. She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Do you even recognize me, Sober? I don’t.”

His tail indicated he’d heard her, but his attention was on his bone, his wings buzzing and quivering as if revealing his delight.

“I guess as long as I smell the same, you don’t care what I look like.” She continued to stare at her reflection. “
Do
I smell the same?” she asked, but the dog ignored her. The woman who stood before her was a goddess, same as last night - trendy and fashionable - but a goddess nonetheless. Thinking of last night, she took a shaky breath. The tendrils of connection reached out with longing, seeking their beloved. “Where’s a pair of garden shears to snip these when you need them?” She wondered if Daniel felt the same and tears pricked her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no! No more tears!” She raced to the bedside, grabbed a handful of tissue, and dabbed at her betraying eyes. “He’s a wicked man. I don’t trust him at all. Evil as El Demonio…”

Betty’s dead dog and his so-called communication to her leaked into her brain.
“Beware the dark to seize the light. Beware the light to blind the night.” She pitched the damp tissue in the waste basket.
It probably means just because you think something is good, doesn’t mean that it is. Conversely, just because you think something is dark, doesn’t mean it is. Did this refer to Daniel?
“Stop it! Stop thinking about him!” As bolts of lightning erupted from her palms, she flung her hands into the air and stomped into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Jewels in place, clothes in place, keys in hand, she made her way out to the garage, feeling like a semi-superhero. “A semi-superhero with a broken heart,” she said dejectedly. “But a semi-superhero, nonetheless.”

She arrived at the restaurant, scanning the streets looking for signs of Daniel’s car. Nothing. No BMW anywhere.
He doesn’t know where the dinner is, you dummy.
She plucked her phone out of her purse, fingers poised over the text messaging window.
Uhhh! He can’t be trusted.
She dropped the device back in her purse and opened the restaurant door.

A guy in black pants, a black sleeveless vest, and a black and white bow-tie greeted her at the entrance. His muscled arms looked like they were sculpted out of granite. His wavy brown hair was combed back revealing a far too handsome for his own good face. A bright diamond glinted in his earlobe. His smile widened as he took in her appearance
, and his eyes made a leisurely sweep up and down her body. “Hello, beautiful. Are you here to meet anyone or will you be dining alone? I’ll be free in 40,” he said, his eyebrows pumping up and down. A predatory leer accompanied his statement.

She frowned.
Not on the menu, dude. What is with all these guys, anyway?
She’d never received this kind of attention before. Not that she’d noticed anyway. “I’m with the PS Publishing group - Cara Giannola.”

“Right this way. Your party has already arrived.” He strode through the restaurant doorway and led her between tables.

Dining patrons stopped whatever they were doing, forks poised between plate and lips, glasses of soda, wine, and beer frozen in space, and stared at her as she followed the host.
This is too weird
. She turned and glared at one, a man who clearly ignoring his date. “Really? You want to stare at me when you already have a date? Get a grip.”

His face flushed crimson
, and he pivoted back to his meal.

The host chuckled. “Right back here.”

As she approached the table, Cara, Jason, and Mr. Díaz stared as well. Cara’s expression was one of simmering rage at Marissa getting so much attention, no doubt. Jason looked like he could pounce at any minute. And Mr. Díaz was completely unreadable.

He stood as she got closer and leaned over to Jason. “When a beautiful woman enters the room, it’s customary to rise.”

“Right-o,” Jason said, standing up abruptly. He had on a sandy-colored jacket that looked like he’d fished it off the floor of his closet, Levi’s, and a scoop-necked blue sweater. The sweater made his eyes look even bluer.

She pressed her lips together and scowled at him.

“Hey, baby-doll. You look ravishing. Is that for me?”

“Is what for you?”

“Your attire. I’ve never seen you look so good, and I thought you might want to kiss and make up.”

She scoffed and pressed her lips together.

Mr. Díaz extended his hand. “Ms. Engles. I’m so glad you chose to join us.” A light, blue-gray jacket hung from his strong, compact body over a gray men’s dress shirt, open at the black-accented collar. His hair was slicked back from his face as before. His caramel-colored skin looked slick and shiny as well, as if he’d used the same product that he used on his hair to moisturize his skin. He smiled a cool, disturbing smile.

Should I even touch him? Does the soul binding still work if I’m furious at my soul bound lover?
Not wanting to appear impolite, she took his proffered hand.
He seems so kind. I must be making the whole creepazoid thing up
. Same as last time, a spine-chilling sensation swirled through her palm and stopped at the elbow. She shook her head.
Stop being so imaginative.

Mr.
Díaz gave no indication that he’d noticed. Instead, he drew her fingers up to his lips and kissed the top of her hand. He inhaled deeply when her hand was touching his face and moved his head almost imperceptibly right and left making tiny sniffs.

She wrinkled her nose and tugged at her hand.
Definitely creepy.
“My hand?” she said. “I’d like it back, please.”

“Of course. I was just inhaling your beauty. As Mr. Brown has indicated, you look ravishing.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Cara. “Hello, Cara.”

“Hello, Marissa.” Cara wore a sleek red, low
-cut dress. Her chest sparkled as if she’d drenched it with one of those glittery moisturizers. Her angular face appeared pinched as she regarded Marissa.

If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under,
Marissa thought. She stood up taller, enjoying her boss’s disdain for once.

“Where’s your date?” Cara asked.

“Um, he’s not…”

“Here yet,” a masculine voice said from behind her. “He got caught in traffic.”

Marissa’s head whipped about. “Daniel!”

“My love,” Daniel said impassively. He came up and stood next to her, placing a hand possessively on her back. “I’ve missed you. It’s been hours.” He planted a kiss on her cheek.

Marissa stood stiffly by his side, her brain swirling with conflicted emotion.
Oh, God. Do I run for my life or pin him to the table for make-up sex?
“Uh, yes, it has. Daniel, this is Cara.”

Cara stood and pushed her chest toward Daniel. Her eyes glittered as if she’d found her entertainment for the night. “Daniel!” she gushed. “What a pleasure to meet you! Marissa’s told me so much about you.”

“No, I haven’t,” Marissa blurted, frowning. “You’ve met Jason already and this is Mr. Díaz.

“I think we’ve met before.”

“No, I’m certain you’re mistaken,” Mr. Díaz said smoothly. He stood up to shake Daniel’s hand.

“I don’t think so. Did you have dealings with Armando Navid? He’s invested some money in coffee growing.”

Mr. Díaz’ eyes widened and then quickly became a slit. “No, that name isn’t ringing a bell.”

“Isn’t it? I must be the one who’s mistaken. My apologies.” Daniel reached out to take the man’s hand. The two clasped hands, holding each other’s hands a little longer than normal.

Cara interrupted. “Daniel, I’d love if it you sat next to me. Right here.” She patted the chair next to her. “I’ll sit between you and Jason. Marissa can sit between Jason and Alexander. And you and Alexander can explore whether you know one another or not.”

Marissa’s lip curled. She could practically hear her boss purring. She sought Daniel’s eyes.

He gave her a cool, steady stare, and then turned to Cara. “That will be fine.”

I see the Marine is back,
Marissa thought, rolling her eyes.

Dinner proceeded with
out incident, unless you counted Cara’s incessant flirting with all three men and Jason’s groping hands. When he wasn’t speaking with Cara, Mr. Díaz was polite and friendly, asking Marissa all kinds of questions about her upbringing, her current life, and her plans for the future. He pointedly kept from chatting with Daniel, not that anyone could get an edge in on Cara’s desire for adoration. Marissa answered politely and vaguely. She asked him questions about his coffee plantations and noticed that she never got the sense that he lied about anything. He even made her laugh a couple of times. When asked about her parents, she merely said, “They died.” She kept trying to catch Daniel’s eyes, and he kept avoiding hers. Her insides felt hollow and empty. She reached for her phone, checked the time under the table, and dropped it back in her lap.

Jason was another matter. His hand kept finding his way to her thigh. She brushed him away over and over, trying to not make a scene. Finally, she had enough. She placed her hand on top of his, mustered up her sweetest voice
, and said, “How are you getting on, Jason, since we broke up?” The others were absorbed in conversation, Cara focused on Daniel and Mr. Díaz trying to get a word in with Cara.