Burned by Passion(3)
It was just a shoulder shot, but Kira could see his broad frame wore the graduation garb quite well, and the hat sat rakishly on his head, matching the daring glint in his beautiful eyes. He was definitely something special, at least in the looks department and just looking at him brought the strangest twitching in her hidden folds.
Kira swallowed tightly before she could speak. “You said he was cute, sir?” She managed to say with a light laugh. “I’d say you slightly understated. He’s very handsome.”
Kira hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. Calm yourself down girl, she chided silently, practically swooning over his photo. But damn he looked hot, like one of those sexy models you’d see in those pricey cologne ads.
“Thanks,” her boss said, chuckling at her candidness. And then he sobered as he carefully placed the framed photograph on his desk, close by him. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with putting it there now where I can see it.”
“Not at all,” Kira assured him. It shows you really cared, she added silently. You cared all along.
“Well, I’d better finish up here then,” Mr. Carter said briskly, breaking the sentimental mood. “I’ll soon be heading home to meet my son. We’ll have dinner; maybe catch up on all we’ve missed.”
“Yes sir,” Kira said, tone deferential as usual. Picking up the tray, she glanced at her boss one more time before leaving the office, hoping in her heart that all would go well.
Chapter Two
Blake emerged from the shower, feeling refreshed. He’d arisen from his reviving nap half an hour ago, and now he felt sure he’d got rid of the faint jet lag he’d been suffering earlier.
As he dried his hair, the intercom on the bedside chest buzzed, and he went to answer it.
“Hello?” he said.
“Blake?”
Blake paused, holding his breath at the sound of that unmistakable voice reaching him in its gravelly, well-modulated baritone. He replied tentatively, “Hi...Dad.”
Blake thought he heard a sigh that sounded like relief, before his father spoke again.
“Hello son. And welcome back. Chase informed me that your trip was hitch-free, and I understand you were napping earlier.”
“Yeah. Jet lag caught up to me. I’m just in from the shower,” he answered. Blake couldn’t help thinking how much they sounded like strangers. Which they were. The last time they’d spoken, he’d been a mere boy.
“Great, I just came in myself and I’m up in my own room. I hope you wouldn’t mind us dining together this evening – say seven? I told the private chef Marcello to fix something special for us.”
“Of course, I’ll be down promptly,” Blake replied.
“Great,” his father said again, and next came a heavy silence. Both seemed to be listening to the other’s breathing – almost as if hoping to find answers within.
At last, moments later Blake said, “Well, I’ll see you in a little bit then,” before hanging up. He let out a ‘whoosh’ and then muttered to the large, sumptuously furnished bedroom, “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Blake figured they’d jumped one hurdle – at least they’d shared their first civil conversation even if it was over the phone. They might not get along so well face to face. But Blake decided to cross that bridge when he got there.
Opening his closet, he picked out what to wear from the newly unpacked clothes hanging there.
***
It was a ten minutes to seven when Blake descended the circling stairway to the living room which matched the lavish vastness of the whole villa. It was grandly furnished and stately. In the middle stood a tall, broad shouldered man dressed in an open-necked dress shirt and trousers, his hair a distinguishing grey at the corners. Blake recognized him instantly.
“Evening, Dad,” he said and his father turned fully to face him. They both regarded each other from the distance separating them. For several moments they simply stood and studied each other. Blake didn’t know what his father saw, but as for him what he saw was the same man he’d known eighteen years ago – except this one had more grey in his hair, a few lines etched into his still-handsome face...and perhaps a little more waist. He still had that self-contained, aristocratic bearing Blake remembered him for.
Sometimes it amazed Blake that he remembered anything at all.
“What would you like to drink before dinner?” asked his father at last. He turned to the drinks bar. “How about some scotch?”
“Thanks; that sounds fine,” Blake replied; unbuttoning the jacket he’d worn over his shirt and slacks. Moments later his father handed him his drink.
“We’ll go in to dinner in a minute,” said Bretton. “I thought we’d talk a while. Take a seat, son.”
“Sure,” Blake said dryly, feeling more like a guest than a son in his own father’s home. Settling into one of the plush leather seats, he watched his father silently as the older man took the chair opposite.
“So, what is it you do now?” His father asked, sitting back.
“I’m into IT consulting and software development.”
“I should have guessed. You always were good with computers and all that stuff even at a young age. Would’ve been surprised if you got into anything else.”