Chapter 54

 

Dina struggled to keep a lid on her temper. She was enraged, wounded, bitter, humiliated, and boiling mad. How could Robert do this to her? And who the hell was that floozie?

Of course, Dina knew very well that Robert had a wandering eye— what healthy man didn't? But to ogle was one thing; keeping nookie stashed in a love nest was a monster of an entirely different sort.

No way was she going to put up with that.

"I want you and Darlene out of here," she told Julio in no uncertain terms as she and Robert returned to the Carlyle. "Stay down in your rooms until you are summoned." She raised an imperious eyebrow. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, madame."

"I do not wish to be interrupted."

"No, madame."

Seconds later, Julio and Darlene wisely made tracks.

While Dina ousted the help, Robert made a beeline to the living room and the bar, where he proceeded to top off a much-needed highball with fifty-year-old scotch.

Hearing the clink of crystal, Dina stalked into the living room and stood there, icing him through slitted lashes.

"You might as well bring the decanter," she said frostily. "You're going to need it."

Goddamn it! he thought peevishly. Trust her to rub it in! Aren't things bad enough as it is?

He wished he'd never had the bright idea of visiting Bambi. In fact, he wished he'd never taken up with her in the first place. He wished—

It's too late to wish, he told himself grimly. It's time to face the firing squad.

Dina headed regally for a straight-backed chair, took a seat, and clasped her hands primly in her lap. She waited, armored with heavy metal from Carrier, her spine erect and her chin raised, the ice queen preparing to pronounce sentence.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she told him quietly.

Robert cringed. Quickly he tossed back half the glass and waited for the fireball to sear his belly.

He expelled a scorching breath. Then, putting down the glass, he hunched over the bar, leaning on his hands and shutting his eyes.

Time to face the firing squad ...

Heaving a sigh, he pulled himself together, grabbed his glass, and trudged reluctantly over and plotzed down opposite her.

Dina looked him straight in the eye.

"I cannot pretend," she said with dignity, "that I'm not disappointed in you, Robert."

Oh, great. Just what I need. A lecture.

Tightening his lips, he shifted uncomfortably and looked away. What unsettled him most was that he'd fully expected her to blow a fuse. He'd been all prepared for rants and raves and identified flying objects.

Instead, she was surprisingly, alarmingly, cool and collected.

The quieter the species, he thought, the deadlier. I've got to watch every word.

"Do you," she asked, "have anything to say for yourself?"

He was tempted to say, It isn't what you think. He was tempted to say, Couldn't we just forget this and pretend it never happened? He was tempted to say, If you put out more, maybe then I wouldn't have to play around.

No, he thought. Talk about making a big mistake.

Besides, he knew it wasn't true. The truth was, he liked playing around. He liked having a Blow Job at his beck and call.

Was it his fault that he was led by his penis? Maybe it was a sickness. You couldn't be held responsible for your actions if it was a sickness, could you?

Better, he decided, to say nothing than to lie.

"Could you at least tell me how long this has been going on?" Dina asked, her chilly expression unwavering.

Oh, Christ!

He gulped down half of what remained in his glass, not about to return her gaze. How was he supposed to respond? Did she expect him to spill his guts? Maybe even go groveling around on his knees begging for forgiveness?

Fat chance.

Robert A. Goldsmith might be in the dog house, but he was damned if he was going to act like a fuckin' trained poodle!

"I take your silence to mean it's been going on for a while?"

Shit! Another loaded question. Better leave this one unanswered, too. If she found out, she'd really have a fit.

How long has it been? he wondered. Seven months? Eight? Something like that.

In all truth, he hadn't been keeping count.

"Look, Dina, I'm sorry," he whispered miserably, "aw right?"

"You're sorry ?" Dina widened steely eyes. "You've been keeping a mistress and now you're telling me you're sorry?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He was sweating profusely and fumbled a hankie out of his pants pocket, mopping his glistening brow.

"So," she said, "who is she?"

He shrugged. "Just some girl."

"Should I know her?"

He shrugged.

"She looked vaguely familiar. I could swear I've seen her around."

"She ... works."

Dina smiled icily, her expression saying: I bet she does.

"At Burghley's," he sighed.

She frowned, and then it suddenly dawned on her. "You're right," she said, "I have seen her there. And ... I've seen her elsewhere also, but where ... where ... ?"

Frowning slightly, she tapped her lips with a finger.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "Of course. At Heinzie's birthday party. She was the girl who was all over you!"

He sighed again, not at all pleased by Dina's mnemonic powers. Her memory was like an elephant's, something he kept forgetting and—unless it was too late—it would behoove him to start keeping in mind.

"Now let me see—" She smiled acidly "—that was back in October, and this is March. Good heavens. This must have been going on for at least six months! I would say that makes her more than just some girl, Robert."

He thought it prudent to keep mum.

"I think," she murmured, "that I could also use a stiff drink."

Dina stood up, walked to the bar, quietly poured a little cognac into a glass, and returned to her chair. She took a tiny sip and put the glass down on the end table, the faceted crystal catching the light and refracting blue fire. Then once again she folded her hands in her lap.

"There are two questions I need to ask you, Robert. Just two. Please consider them carefully and answer truthfully."

"What are they?" he rasped guardedly.

"Do you love her?" Dina's voice carried a vibrato of unease.

He shook his head.

And shook it some more.

"I'd like to hear you say it, Robert. With your lips."

He looked at her, as if drawn by the intensity of her stare.

"No!" he expelled, his voice a strangled growl. "I don't love her!"

She held his gaze. "And do you love ... me?"

"Goddamn it, Dina! What kinduva stoopid question is that?"

"It is not stupid in the least," she replied softly. "It is, perhaps, one of the most important questions I've ever posed."

His chin went up pugnaciously and he retained eye contact with her.

"Yeah, Dina," he said, soughing a deep breath. "Yeah, I love ya, for cryin' out loud. God help me, but I do. What I did ..."

He lifted his hands in a futile gesture and let them drop. "Well, what I did hasn't changed the way I feel about ya. Ya know?"

He shot her an appealing look, which her Teflon armor deflected.

"Look, I made a mistake," he pleaded. "I admit it—okay?"

She pursed her lips and looked down, studying her clasped hands.

"I won't pretend I didn't screw her. I did. But I wasn't emotionally involved with her."

"A fine distinction," Dina murmured dryly.

"Yeah. But it is one. Right?"

"Robert," she sighed, "tell me something. Do the names Michael Kennedy, Raoul Felder, and Marvin Mitchelson ring a bell?"

Ring a bell! Christ almighty, just their names set alarms clanging, sirens screeching, and lights flashing. What wealthy married man didn't know Husband Enemy Number One? He felt a chill terror, like a physical stab, reach all the way to the marrow of his bones.

Holy shit! he thought in disbelief. She's talkin' divorce lawyers! She's talkin' New York's top three divorce lawyers—the best carcass pickers a woman could buy.

"Aw, come on, Dina!" he cajoled. "You're not gonna divorce me over this?"

She raised her eyes slowly. "I very well may. It all depends."

"On what?"

"Robert, Robert," she sighed despairingly. "Will you stop pretending to be so dense? You know very well it depends upon you."

"An' you," he pointed out.

"And me," she agreed, nodding. "Yes."

He contemplated ways to sweet talk her, ascertained that this was one situation where no amount of words would help. Beneath the ice queen demeanor, she was mad as all hell.

Not that I can blame her, he thought, feeling a wave of guilt.

"Is there any way I can make this up to ya?" he asked.

"No, Robert, I'm afraid there isn't. There are, however, several... er, things you might do which could influence my eventual decision."

He went into desperate overdrive: "You name 'em. Jewels, yacht, paintings ... a new jet? They're all the same to me."

"Truly, Robert. Do you take me to be that mercenary?"

He shrugged. "Just tell me what ya want."

"First of all, I want this young lady ... she does have a name ... ?"

"Bambi Parker."

"Bambi? Why, how sweet. How adorable." Her face hardened. "I expect Bambi to be given the ax at Burghley's—immediately."

"If I see she gets a pink slip," he promised, "she can be outta there Monday mornin'. What else?"

"I want her to be evicted from Auction Towers. Forthwith."

"Okay."

"And, I expect you to never, ever, see or speak to her again."

"And if I do that?" he said hopefully. "This mean you won't consider a divorce?"

"It means nothing of the kind. I am not promising anything."

Fuck! Just his bad luck to have shit happen the one day Dina wasn't bent on wheedling somethin' out of him.

"This isn't," she continued, "the type of thing one decides lightly. I shall have to sleep on it for a few days first. As soon as I've come to a decision, I'll let you know."

He sighed but nodded.

"In the meantime, I need time to myself. I'd appreciate it if you called downstairs and secured yourself another suite."

Robert's mouth gaped. "You're throwin' me out?" he exclaimed.

"Under the circumstances, a short separation is not inappropriate."

"You gotta be kiddin'!"

"On the contrary, Robert," she said coldly. "I am quite serious."

His mouth gaped some more.

Son of a bitch! he thought, wondering whatever happened to a man's home being his castle. Like I need this!

"Aw right, aw right," he wheezed. "You want me out, I'm outta here!"

He struggled to his feet and trudged heavily over to the house phone.

One call secured a suite. Another summoned Julio.

Fifteen minutes later, Robert's necessities were wheeled out on a chrome trolley and he was gone.

Dina had the suite to herself.