Chapter 8

The following day, at precisely seven o'clock in the evening's cool hours, Darius pulled up outside the Becker's restaurant. He cut the engine and got out of the car. He was wearing a Brioni tailored suit with Marwood tie and Italian suede loafers. He tossed the car keys to the service boy and allowed the doorman to usher him inside. He entered the restaurant and grimaced. The whole place was crowded, and the bar was filled with patrons waiting for tables. A smiling maitre d'hotel approached him.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked, showing a full set of white teeth.

“Yeah! I am supposed to meet someone here. A woman."

"Did she make any reservation?" The maitre d'hotel asked.

"Yes! Her name is Amber Curtis," he answered.

The maitre d'hotel checked the leather of sheets in his hand for a moment; then he lifted his head.

"I'm sorry, sir! But no one by that name is on our reservation list."

Darius lifted his left eyebrow.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive, sir," the maitre d'hotel answered. "If someone had made any reservation, it would be right here. In these sheets."

Darius grimaced, and he began to think hard and fast. Suppose she forgot about our meeting? he thought, or she's just fooling around with me? He shook his head. Eva would not do something like that. He dragged his eyes to the maitre d ' hotel and saw the man looking at him expectantly.

"Look! I think she forgot to make a reservation," he said. "But I believe she will soon join me here. Can I get a table?"

The maitre d'hotel looked around the crowded restaurant and shook his head.

"Sorry, sir! The whole place is crowded."

Darius drew in a long slow breath and grimaced, then he smiled.

"I'm Darius Martin Kane!" He said.

The maitre d'hotel looked nonplussed for a moment, then a look of registration appeared on his face.

"Jesus wept!" He exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, sir! So sorry! Please follow me, sir," the maitre d'hotel babbled as he led Darius to a short corridor. He opened a door and ushered him into a small private dining room containing a table set for two and two red and gilt plush chairs. The private room was meant for important clients.

The maitre d'hotel hastened to pull out a chair for Darius.

"What…can I get you…sir?" The maitre d'hotel chattered, his face beading with sweats.

"Two of your finest champagne and two glasses, please."

"Certainly, Mr. Darius," and the maitre d'hotel vanished.

Darius looked around the room, and he smiled despite himself. What he did not tell Eva the other day when she had mentioned the Becker's restaurant was that he was one of the co-owners of the restaurant. Who would have thought of that? Not even a woman like Eva, and that was what gave him pleasure the most. He loved the secrecy. The idea to have something without people knowing it. He knew he was not the loud type, and though he knew most people in Miami respected him, and his name had worked wonders for him, he only had to make use of his influence when he knows he was really in a fixed situation.

The maitre d'hotel returned bearing a tray of champagne cocktails. He settled it down and arranged the champagne on the table. Then he turned to look at Darius, who gave him the go-ahead. The maitre d' hotel opened one of the champagne and poured the sparkling liquid into a glass.

"Is there anything you need, sir?" He asked.

"Nothing for now. Just bring Miss Curtis here if she shows up," Darius said.

The maitre d ' hotel bowed and quietly withdrew.

As Darius sat on the chair, he had an odd feeling that Eva would not show up, but his mind kicked against it. To banish the wandering thoughts, he picked up the glass of wine and took a sip. It was cold and refreshing. He drained the glass, refilled it, drained it, and refilled it again. He knew he was drinking too much, but he could not stop. "When I see her, I'll stop drinking," he thought. He waited patiently inside the room for two hours, and it was only when the maitre d ' hotel came to check up on him that he realized time was far spent. As he stood up to go, he felt heady, and he noticed that one of the champagne bottles was empty, and the other was halfway down.

"I…drank 'll that…?" he asked, slurring "…that by… myself?"

The maitre d ' hotel who had taken in the whole situation, scurried away and later returned with a heavily built man. Together, they held Darius's hand and supported him through a corridor and a back exit door. Going through the back door was a way of avoiding the scene of onlookers seeing a drunk Darius being helped out. When they got outside, a limousine was patiently waiting for them. They helped him into the car, and a few minutes later, seated in the limousine, he was whisked down to his house in Millionaire’s row.

During the week that followed, Darius lay awake in his bed all night, wondering if Eva had deceived him or something terrible had happened to her. He tried to think of ways to reach Eva but to no avail. The only person he could think of was John Roth, but his ego would not let him call the old man. He did not want Roth to believe he could not handle Eva. And so he punished himself by staying awake all night and sometimes killing time with bottles of whisky and gin. He hated himself for being so weak. He hated himself for allowing his emotions to get entangled with a woman so selfish and promiscuous as her. He denigrated Eva in every way he could think of. He told himself that if he could just leave the business scene for a while to focus on his personal life, he would find a woman who would not be so cheap, useless, and sexually starved like Eva. But in the end, it was no use. He had to have her. And so, he continued to drink himself to stupor to wash her memories away from his mind.

Two weeks after he had seen Eva at the cocktail party, he arrived home at thirty minutes past midnight. He was weak and tired, and his body felt lead. He entered his bedroom, and as he was about to flop on the bed, his cellphone on the nightstand started to life. He wanted to pick it, but his tired mind told him to ignore it, but out of curiosity, he staggered towards it and picked it up.

"Yeah?" He said

"I need to see you." The voice at the other end said.

Cold panic hit his body for a long moment, and he stood motionless, gripping the telephone receiver to his ear.

"Ev…Eva….?" He stammered.

"I don't have much time. Where can we see it?"

Sweats roll off him, and his unsteady hand was like a claw gripping the phone as he thought of the best answer to give to her.

"I……think.....Olympus hilltop. Yeah! The Olympus hilltop! It's easy to find," he stammered.

"Is it secured?" there was a warning note in her voice.

"Yes! Yes!" he replied hastily.

"I'll be there tomorrow evening. Your business card truly came in handy," and she was gone.

"Wait! Please wait!" he yelled into the phone, but the click at the other end told him she had hanged up. He placed the phone on the bed, his body trembling with mixed feelings. He thought about how her voice had sounded on the phone, and he had a foreboding premonition that something terrible had happened to her.

****************

A little after past eight the following day, In the air-conditioned top floor interior of the Olympus hilltop, Darius sat on a settee, fully dressed in a white shirt and navy blue pants. A glass of whisky was in his left hand and a cigar in the other. He sipped the whisky and drew the smoke into his lungs, then he exhaled and drew in more smoke. His mind was busy with thoughts. Knowing the kind of woman Eva was from past experiences, he had arrived at the penthouse in the early hours of the evening. He had been waiting patiently in one of the suites, and he only had a bottle of whisky and his cigar to kill time.

He dragged his eyes to the expensive wall clock in the room and grimaced. What's keeping her? I hope she's going to come, he thought, and he stood up from the settee, walked to a window, and looked down from the penthouse. Down below, he could hear the splashing sounds of the ocean, and up ahead of him, he could see the bright distant lights of Miami city, the harbor with its anchored yacht, and the rest of the Miami neighborhood.

He moved away from the window and thought of going into the bedroom when the front doorbell rang. He stiffened, thinking his ears were playing tricks on him. The doorbell rang again, and this time, he went to the door and peered in through the spy hole. Seeing Eva waiting outside, he unlocked and opened the door.

He stared at her, not recognizing her.

She was wearing a sheer sleeveless dress with heels and was clutching a purse, but it was her face that caught his attention. Her face and body were a mess of ugly bruises and puffy swellings. It was as if she had gotten into a fight with someone. He was aghast.

"My God!" He exclaimed. "What happened?"

Eva did not say anything. Instead, she pushed past him and entered the apartment. She moved towards one of the settees and slid down into it, resting herself in the cushion. Then she stared at Darius, who had closed the front door and walked towards her with a horrified expression on his face. He got to her and squatted in her front.

"Who did this, Eva?" He asked, looking intently into her face.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. And to her horror, she began to cry. Her body jerked and shuddered as she cried hysterically. Darius stared at her uncomprehendingly. All this was strange to him. How was he to console her? He had never been alone with a crying woman before. But at that moment, he knew she needed comforting. Following his instincts, he picked her up and sat her down on his knees. He cradled her head to his chest and held her close in his arms, stroking her soothingly, whispering words of love and affection into her ears. They were like this for a long moment before she moved in his arms and told him to let her sit on the settee.

"I'm sorry," she said as she sat down. "I'm not always like this."

"Don't worry," Darius said as he rose from the settee. "We all have our inner battles to deal with."

Eva looked at him, searching his face for any sign of bitterness or anger, but all she saw was his strong, lean, handsome face filled with love and compassion. It was now she fully understood why she had the illusion she had about him on the night Lance had wanted to make love to her. Inexplicably, her body had formed a kind of bond with him ever since that day he had kissed her at the birthday party. She had told herself it was nothing and had fought against it, and yet this night, the moment she had seen him standing at the doorway, she had felt a surge of excitement move through her body despite the pain she was passing through. She knew she wanted to love him back. She tried to give her heart to him, and yet she was scared. The thought of falling in love with the wrong man frightened her more than anything.

"What can I get you?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Whisky and a good smoke," she answered.

Darius nodded and crossed the room to a bar that was stocked with varieties of expensive wines. He fixed the drink and carried it to her. Then he brought out a platinum case from his pocket, took out a cigar, lit it, and gave it to Eva. He fixed himself another drink, moved over to a lounging chair, and slid into it.

"Now, do you mind telling me who did this to you?"

Eva drew in a long slow breath; then, she sipped the drink.

" Vince!" She said in a shaky voice, "Vince did this."

A sudden rage flooded through Darius's body.

"Vince!" He growled. "How could he have hurt you like this? Is he planning to kill you or what? Where is he now?"

Eva felt blood rush to her face

"He went on a trip to Las Vegas this morning," she answered in a shaky voice. "He wants to open another casino over there. That's why I was able to make it here. If he were to be around, I wouldn't be here right now."

He drew in a long, slow breath.

"That man is a real psycho," He said, "Anyways, what did you do to him this time?"

Eva jerked her eyes to his face.

"What gave you the impression that I did something to him?" She asked in a belligerent tone.

"C'mon Eva don't play me this way! For Vince to beat you like this, then you must have done something wrong."

"Please mind your business. I did not do anything," she said, suddenly angry, and she turned her head so that she did not need to look at him.

"You see!" He glowered at her. "You can't even look at him. The guilt is on your face."

"Let's say I did something bad to him," she said, her tears forgotten. "Does that mean he should beat me this way?"

"No!" he returned. "But I think we are getting somewhere. Now that you've admitted you did something, what did you do to him?"

"Stop badgering me with questions, alright?" She seethed out, her eyes flashing. "You are just like Vince."

Darius sprang up from the chair as if he had been goosed with a hot iron.

"Don't you ever compare me with that lunatic!" He snarled, wagging his finger at her. "I'm not Vince, and I can never be him!"

Eva picked up her bag.

"I'm going," she said. "I can't let you talk to me this way."

"Listen, Eva," He said in a calm tone. "Running away won't solve this. You need help. Let me help you."

Those eyes! Those eyes of his were boring into her, and it made her feel weak.

"Alright!" She said, "What do you want me to tell you?"

"I want to know how you got those marks and bruises."

Eva studied him for a long moment and nodded. Then she opened her bag, took out a cigarette, lit it, and drew in the smoke. Then she told him everything that took place on the night she had left the party with Lance. When she was through, she noticed he was staring hard at her, a mixed expression on his face. He studied her for a long moment and sighed.

"What made you do it, Eva?" He finally asked.

"What made me do what?" She retorted.

"What made you follow Lance home that night?"

"I don't know!" she said as she stubbed out the cigarette. "I was looking for someone to take my mind of somethings; that's all."

"I was there at the cocktail party. Why didn't you go with me?"

Eva did not reply to him. She only stared at him.

"Where is Lance Morgan now?" He asked.

"I can't say I know where he is right now. I mean, for the past two fucking weeks, have not seen the living daylight."

Darius drew in a long, slow breath.

"Don't you even think about something before you do it?" he asked.

"I don't get you," she returned.

"You told me that you followed Lance home. You planned to have a one night stand with him, and then you'll leave?"

"Yeah! So what are you driving at?" She asked.

"All I'm saying is that you know the kind of husband you have, and yet you still do things that will not only drag you into trouble but others too."

"Hold it right there, hotshot," she seethed out. "my problem is mine! Mine alone to bear! I don't make a problem for others."

"Is that so? " Darius said and scoffed. "Alright! I think your husband might have killed Lance Morgan."

The word killed resounded in Eva's head, and she was hit with a blind panic as she stared hard at him.