Free Mikalo's Flame by Syndra K. Shaw Page B

her best
to suppress a satisfied smile.
    “But there will be no other woman for me. I
can not see a life without Ronan. Without my Grace.
    “So attack her if you must,” he then said,
his eyes back on Mara. “But it will mean nothing to her because
you, even if you are a big client for the Firm and think you are
some important thing, you are nothing to her.”
    He stood to go, his hand reaching for
mine.
    I rose apologetically, a brief nod to
Richardson, a small smile to Mara’s father.
    They both nodded in return, my early
departure immediately forgiven.
    Mara looked up, her eyes blinking as the
reality of Mikalo leaving suddenly dawned on her.
    “Wait, what?” she asked, turning to him and
then to me.
    “Papa,” she called out over the table. “Do
something!”
    Her father caught the eye of the waiter,
signaling he was to take Mara’s glass.
    She barely noticed, focused as she was on not
tripping in her spindle-thin stiletto heels as she struggled to
stand.
    “You can’t go,” she said to Mikalo as he
turned to do just that, his hand in mine.
    “Let go of her,” she then hissed, pulling my
hand from his. “Don’t touch him. Just don’t, don’t touch him.”
    Mikalo pulled close to Mara, his hands
gripping her shoulders.
    “Stop it,” he said, his nose to hers, his
voice low and ominous. “Stop it. Relax. And please be more
sober.”
    He gently but firmly pushed her back into her
chair.
    “Come, my Grace,” he said as he grabbed my
hand and pulled me from the table.
    We walked.
    At the door as my coat was slipped over my
shoulders, I glanced back at the table.
    Rainier and Papa Byzan sat as before, deep in
conversation. Marcus looking glumly into space, a glass of wine
still clutched in his sweaty palm.
    And Abby and Mara sat close, leaning into
each other, Mara spitting and spewing, Abby nodding her head in
agreement and patting her shoulder.
    As I turned to go, Mikalo’s hand on the small
of my back, I looked back.
    Abby and Mara were watching us, Mara’s face
stained with drunken tears, Abby’s lips lifted in a small red, evil
grin.
     
     
     

Chapter Twenty
     
    There was nothing better than holding
Mikalo’s hand.
    We angled our way through the crowds choking
Columbus Circle and, escaping to the relative calm of Central Park
West, started our way home.
    “I did not speak,” he continued, “Because
Mara, she was humiliated already. To take my arm from her or push
her away or, I do not know, be unkind would hurt her even more.
    “There was no harm. I knew she had much to
drink and I knew that the others knew, so I did not worry.”
    I nodded.
    “What made me worry, my Grace, was when you
did not arrive,” he then said.
    “I had no idea it was even happening,” I
said.
    “You were not told?”
    I shook my head.
    “No.”
    “Ah,” he said, sighing. “Then there was a
lie.”
    “Abby? Marcus?”
    He laughed.
    “They said you were very busy and that I was
to enjoy myself and not worry. And then they seat me next to Mara.
I try to sit next to Mr. Byzan, who I know and have not seen for
some time, but, no. This Abby, this wrinkled woman with the white
face, she says I am to sit next to Mara.
    “This I did not understand until there is
talk of how she and I, Mara and I, of how we look so wonderful
together and so happy together and how it is some great surprise
that we are not together.
    “I knew she knew about us and it was at this
time when I knew that this woman, this Abby, she is no friend of
yours and should not be trusted.”
    “Oh, I know,” I quickly said. “And she’s
really pissed I’m with you.”
    “And why would this be?” he asked as we
walked.
    “Your looks, your money, how wonderful you
are. She doesn’t believe, oh, I don’t know ... She just doesn’t
think I should have it, or something.”
    “But is this a thing for her to decide?” he
asked, truly confused.
    “No, of course not. But it won’t stop her
from trying to destroy it or weaken it.”
    He