Free Cold Gold by Victoria Chatham

sign of recognizing her barb. She raised her glass, took a small sip of wine and rolled it around on her tongue before letting it slide down her throat. It was surprisingly good and she said so.
    “ You might be used to European wines, but this is from the Napa Valley and competes quite respectably. I like home-grown.”
    He didn’t enlarge on exactly what he liked home-grown, but Serena had a fairly good idea. She watched from beneath her lashes as a smirk spread across his face. He obviously had little respect for women, and she wanted to be sure how she could play him. Irritate him a little, but not too much. Please him with a placating comment or inane remark.
    “So, Mr. King,” she began but he flashed a look of annoyance at her and she immediately lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, I meant Douglas. You must understand this informality is somewhat new for me.”
    “You’re forgiven. ” He reached over and clinked the side of his glass against hers. “It took me a while to learn the ropes in North America, too, but here we are, talking as equals.”
    Never, ever, as long as I live will we be equals . Serena corralled her thoughts and smiled at him. “So, what was it that you fetched from your office that I am to appreciate?” she asked.
    King reached into his pocket. “This.”
    He held out his closed hand but Serena could see a length of chain dangling from beneath his thumb.
    She extended her own hand over the table, holding King’s gaze as she did so. A small smile played over his thin lips as he opened his hand and dropped what he was holding into hers.
    She felt the blood drain from her face as she looked at Randolph’s silver pocket watch.
    “Where did you get this?” she whispered . She closed her fingers around the treasured timepiece, holding it tightly in her hand. It was still warm from being in King’s pocket.
    “Randolph left it in his desk drawer,” King told her with a smile. “I thought you should have it.”
    She clasped both hands around the watch, lowering her head, not wanting King to see any expression of doubt on her face. The watch was a gift from his father and Randolph carried it everywhere. He would never have left it in a drawer. The only way for the watch to be anywhere but on his person, was if it had been taken from him. And for that to happen, he must have had his pocket picked or been asleep. Or had King murdered him and pocketed the watch? If so, she would have to be more on her guard than ever.
    “Thank you,” Serena whispered. “You must know this means a great deal to me.”
    “I hoped it would,” King replied, satisfaction clear in his voice. “Now, here is our first course. I do hope you enjoy chicken and mushroom tarts.”
    The pastry was light and fluffy, the chicken moist and the mushrooms finely minced, but it might have been sawdust for all Serena tasted of it. King’s conversation buzzed in her ears and she hoped her responses were appropriate, for she could barely think of anything but Randolph.
    Her glum demeano r finally registered on King and he laid down his fork with a sigh. “I appear to have distressed you where I only meant to give comfort.”
    “No, the fault is mine,” Serena conceded. “I am still fatigued from tr aveling and worried that Randolph is not here.”
    “Well, perhaps we should call it a night?” King offered. “I promise I won’t hold it against you. We can arrange another evening.”
    “Thank you for being so considerate.” Serena pushed back her chair and stood up , sensing King’s fury with her but doing his best not to show it. Their waiter immediately appeared.
    “Is something wrong, sir?” he asked King.
    “No, not at all. The lady is simply tired.”
    Serena walked ahead of him, head down. She waited for him to catch up with her and apologized as profusely as her conscience would allow.
    “Think nothing of it, Serena,” he said. “Perhaps I was hasty in inviting you to dinner. Am I