tired. I promised to be there by eight.
I walked in to the smell of spaghetti. A pot of sauce was bubbling on a hot plate. Kristof was in the living room, reading a business magazine. He walked into the kitchen behind me.
“I thought you could use dinner,” he said.
“Where’d you pick this stuff up?” I asked.
“The grocery store.”
When I turned to gape, he arched his brows. “I have children. The ability to cook isn’t an option.”
I could point out that, for him, it
was
an option—one that came with being rich enough to hire chefs. I could also point out that, from what I’d heard about his wife, she wouldn’t have exactly been baking cookies for the kiddies either. It wouldn’t matter. To him, being a proper parent meant knowing how to cook.
“I’ll get the pasta going,” he said. “Go sit down. Get something from the minibar.”
I grabbed a beer and went to sit. There was nothing to read, so I picked up his magazine, which looked about as interesting as a dishwasher manual. When I picked it up, though, something fell out.
“
MAD
magazine?” I said as I walked back into the kitchen, waving it. “Are you planning to take over the company? Doing your background research?”
“It’s for my sons.”
“The seven-year-old? Or the four-year-old?”
“They’re very advanced for their ages.” He fixed me with that cool look he did so well. “I hope you aren’t suggesting that
I
was reading it.”
“And I hope, by stuffing it in
Fortune
, you aren’t suggesting that I’d give a rat’s ass
what
you’re reading.”
“True. Habit, I suppose.” He took the lid off a pot of boiling water. “Spaghetti or linguini?”
“Do you think I’d know the difference?”
“Linguini, then. Not appropriate with the sauce, but I prefer it.”
I stayed in the kitchenette, watching him cook and drinking my beer.
“So, are you going to talk to me about what happened today with Lavina?” he said after a minute. “This isn’t the first time she’s done this.”
“She’s punishing me for not helping her with Dhamphir. She said she was fine with my decision, but then she keeps pulling this shit.” I took a long draw on the beer. “I think the way she’s doing it bugs me more than what she’s doing. It’s sneaky. Underhanded.”
“As a master of the underhanded business maneuver, I beg to differ. It’s spiteful. Sneaky is the sign of a clever manipulator. Spiteful is the sign of a petty one.”
“Point taken.” I finished the beer.
“Grab another,” he said. “Dinner will be a couple of minutes.”
“Nope, one’s my limit.” I crushed the can and tossed it into the trash.
“She’s not going to give up on Dhamphir,” he said. “You know that. By associating with her, you’re setting yourself up for trouble, even if you stay out of the deal. And I suspect she won’t let you stay out of the deal.”
“I’m not budging on that. She knows it. Still, I think I’m going to have to break it off with her. Which I hate. I came to Chicago just for her.”
“Then maybe it’s time to leave Chicago.” He stirred the noodles. “Come to L.A. Work for me.”
When I didn’t respond, he looked over. “You knew that was coming eventually. Yes, I wanted to learn those spells for the boys, but as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’ve reached the limits of my talents in that regard. There are still a few things I’d like to work on, but …” That elegant shrug. He lifted a noodle and offered it to me to try.
“Not enough to keep coming by every month for a lesson,” I said. “So this is the big moment, then. Come work for you or bye-bye training—yours and mine.”
His lips pressed together, the old chill creeping into his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that, Eve. I’d think you’d know that by now.”
Did I? Not really. Kristof may have loosened up, but I never doubted that once I outlived my usefulness, he’d be gone.
When I didn’t answer, he turned his back and pulled
I walked in to the smell of spaghetti. A pot of sauce was bubbling on a hot plate. Kristof was in the living room, reading a business magazine. He walked into the kitchen behind me.
“I thought you could use dinner,” he said.
“Where’d you pick this stuff up?” I asked.
“The grocery store.”
When I turned to gape, he arched his brows. “I have children. The ability to cook isn’t an option.”
I could point out that, for him, it
was
an option—one that came with being rich enough to hire chefs. I could also point out that, from what I’d heard about his wife, she wouldn’t have exactly been baking cookies for the kiddies either. It wouldn’t matter. To him, being a proper parent meant knowing how to cook.
“I’ll get the pasta going,” he said. “Go sit down. Get something from the minibar.”
I grabbed a beer and went to sit. There was nothing to read, so I picked up his magazine, which looked about as interesting as a dishwasher manual. When I picked it up, though, something fell out.
“
MAD
magazine?” I said as I walked back into the kitchen, waving it. “Are you planning to take over the company? Doing your background research?”
“It’s for my sons.”
“The seven-year-old? Or the four-year-old?”
“They’re very advanced for their ages.” He fixed me with that cool look he did so well. “I hope you aren’t suggesting that
I
was reading it.”
“And I hope, by stuffing it in
Fortune
, you aren’t suggesting that I’d give a rat’s ass
what
you’re reading.”
“True. Habit, I suppose.” He took the lid off a pot of boiling water. “Spaghetti or linguini?”
“Do you think I’d know the difference?”
“Linguini, then. Not appropriate with the sauce, but I prefer it.”
I stayed in the kitchenette, watching him cook and drinking my beer.
“So, are you going to talk to me about what happened today with Lavina?” he said after a minute. “This isn’t the first time she’s done this.”
“She’s punishing me for not helping her with Dhamphir. She said she was fine with my decision, but then she keeps pulling this shit.” I took a long draw on the beer. “I think the way she’s doing it bugs me more than what she’s doing. It’s sneaky. Underhanded.”
“As a master of the underhanded business maneuver, I beg to differ. It’s spiteful. Sneaky is the sign of a clever manipulator. Spiteful is the sign of a petty one.”
“Point taken.” I finished the beer.
“Grab another,” he said. “Dinner will be a couple of minutes.”
“Nope, one’s my limit.” I crushed the can and tossed it into the trash.
“She’s not going to give up on Dhamphir,” he said. “You know that. By associating with her, you’re setting yourself up for trouble, even if you stay out of the deal. And I suspect she won’t let you stay out of the deal.”
“I’m not budging on that. She knows it. Still, I think I’m going to have to break it off with her. Which I hate. I came to Chicago just for her.”
“Then maybe it’s time to leave Chicago.” He stirred the noodles. “Come to L.A. Work for me.”
When I didn’t respond, he looked over. “You knew that was coming eventually. Yes, I wanted to learn those spells for the boys, but as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’ve reached the limits of my talents in that regard. There are still a few things I’d like to work on, but …” That elegant shrug. He lifted a noodle and offered it to me to try.
“Not enough to keep coming by every month for a lesson,” I said. “So this is the big moment, then. Come work for you or bye-bye training—yours and mine.”
His lips pressed together, the old chill creeping into his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that, Eve. I’d think you’d know that by now.”
Did I? Not really. Kristof may have loosened up, but I never doubted that once I outlived my usefulness, he’d be gone.
When I didn’t answer, he turned his back and pulled
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