doing.” Before she could respond he grabbed her chin and turned her head. “What the hell happened to your face?”
She jerked her head back, startled. “My face?”
“Haven’t you looked in a mirror?”
“I’ve been too busy working,” Amera said going to the bathroom, knowing she’d get no faint praise from him. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and gasped. She had a large bruise under her eye. She hadn’t seen it this morning because she’d been so busy. At least it explained why the hotel and wait staff had been looking at her strangely.
“So what did you do?” Curtis asked from behind her.
She spun around and saw him standing in the doorway, still in his overcoat, looking about as cuddly as a cactus. She did not want to tell him that she’d fallen on her face. She walked over to him and reached for his coat. “She’ll be here in a moment. You should get comfortable.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Amera draped his coat over her arm. “It’s not like you to care, sir,” she said, then made a move to walk past him.
He blocked her, making excellent use of his broad chest and height, but kept his voice low. “And it’s not like you to not answer me, Em.”
She raised her gaze and calmly held his intense dark eyes. “I don’t want to.”
“You have to.”
She lifted one of his hands and stared down at his knuckles. “It’s amazing how you’ve managed to walk upright for so long.”
Someone knocked on the door interrupting his reply. “That’s probably her. Now go sit down,” she ordered then opened the door. It was the jeweler. She ushered him in and gave him a few brief instructions before leading him to a small room. She hung up Curtis’ coat and again, adjusted the lighting.
She felt ashamed that she’d briefly wanted to trade places with Crystal. Organizing details and being in the background was what her life was about and what it would always be. She’d fallen short of her own rules. Rules she’d learned as a refugee. Don’t stand out. Don’t want what you can’t have. Don’t strive for mediocrity. Never fail. She didn’t stand out, she made sure of that, always wearing a handful of selected items to work, which she called her uniform. She was grateful for her job and her salary, which afforded her a comfortable living, but she had failed in getting funding for Peale House and taking care of Bill and his family and with each year she seemed to grow more restless. She couldn’t understand why. Since immigrating to America, she’d never had a cold hungry night, like what she had experienced when she was on her own in the refugee camp. Alone and afraid.
She turned to look at Curtis who stubbornly refused to sit, but instead stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the street traffic. He was the embodiment of power and wealth, but strangely she didn’t envy him. The image made her sad because all she saw was stark loneliness that made her heart twist. She turned away disgusted with herself. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for him. He didn’t deserve it. He liked his life exactly the way he designed it and soon--he’d have a fiancée and she’d never see him again. The jeweler sat quietly in the small room off to the side of the suite, looking out of place. He had wanted to show Curtis the collection of rings he had selected, but Curtis had brusquely said that he’d wait for his bride to arrive, before making a selection.
Amera pressed her hands together and did a final look around the room. Crystal will love this, she thought.
Unfortunately, Crystal didn’t show up.
Chapter Three
Amera sat in a far corner of the suite waiting to hear from the front desk, but the call never came. After an hour, she sent Curtis a glance. He looked bored, but not angry. Twice she’d had to calm the chef who had prepared a menu consisting of an assortment of dishes that needed to be served within a certain timeframe. Her
She jerked her head back, startled. “My face?”
“Haven’t you looked in a mirror?”
“I’ve been too busy working,” Amera said going to the bathroom, knowing she’d get no faint praise from him. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and gasped. She had a large bruise under her eye. She hadn’t seen it this morning because she’d been so busy. At least it explained why the hotel and wait staff had been looking at her strangely.
“So what did you do?” Curtis asked from behind her.
She spun around and saw him standing in the doorway, still in his overcoat, looking about as cuddly as a cactus. She did not want to tell him that she’d fallen on her face. She walked over to him and reached for his coat. “She’ll be here in a moment. You should get comfortable.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Amera draped his coat over her arm. “It’s not like you to care, sir,” she said, then made a move to walk past him.
He blocked her, making excellent use of his broad chest and height, but kept his voice low. “And it’s not like you to not answer me, Em.”
She raised her gaze and calmly held his intense dark eyes. “I don’t want to.”
“You have to.”
She lifted one of his hands and stared down at his knuckles. “It’s amazing how you’ve managed to walk upright for so long.”
Someone knocked on the door interrupting his reply. “That’s probably her. Now go sit down,” she ordered then opened the door. It was the jeweler. She ushered him in and gave him a few brief instructions before leading him to a small room. She hung up Curtis’ coat and again, adjusted the lighting.
She felt ashamed that she’d briefly wanted to trade places with Crystal. Organizing details and being in the background was what her life was about and what it would always be. She’d fallen short of her own rules. Rules she’d learned as a refugee. Don’t stand out. Don’t want what you can’t have. Don’t strive for mediocrity. Never fail. She didn’t stand out, she made sure of that, always wearing a handful of selected items to work, which she called her uniform. She was grateful for her job and her salary, which afforded her a comfortable living, but she had failed in getting funding for Peale House and taking care of Bill and his family and with each year she seemed to grow more restless. She couldn’t understand why. Since immigrating to America, she’d never had a cold hungry night, like what she had experienced when she was on her own in the refugee camp. Alone and afraid.
She turned to look at Curtis who stubbornly refused to sit, but instead stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the street traffic. He was the embodiment of power and wealth, but strangely she didn’t envy him. The image made her sad because all she saw was stark loneliness that made her heart twist. She turned away disgusted with herself. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for him. He didn’t deserve it. He liked his life exactly the way he designed it and soon--he’d have a fiancée and she’d never see him again. The jeweler sat quietly in the small room off to the side of the suite, looking out of place. He had wanted to show Curtis the collection of rings he had selected, but Curtis had brusquely said that he’d wait for his bride to arrive, before making a selection.
Amera pressed her hands together and did a final look around the room. Crystal will love this, she thought.
Unfortunately, Crystal didn’t show up.
Chapter Three
Amera sat in a far corner of the suite waiting to hear from the front desk, but the call never came. After an hour, she sent Curtis a glance. He looked bored, but not angry. Twice she’d had to calm the chef who had prepared a menu consisting of an assortment of dishes that needed to be served within a certain timeframe. Her
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