CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) (11 page)

She let the softest of sighs to escape her,
confused by the strength of her curiosity. Maybe he was right calling her as
curious as a cat, she considered. That was the part of her that always caused
her to end up in trouble.

Catalina didn’t think she had in her what
it took to face the kind of trouble someone like Xan heralded.
“How could I forget?” She muttered a bit absentmindedly one more time evoking
his amusement.

The look he sent her suggested they shared
some kind of a secret.
“I don’t know how much of the conversation you’ve heard…”
“All of it.” He didn’t look embarrassed admitting to eavesdropping.
“I would like to schedule a session with you,” she told him.
“A nude one?”
“Of course not… oh, you were joking.” She felt flustered for allowing him to
bait her like that.
“Was I? But you should have seen your face.” He laughed openly and she knew
they started to draw gazes.
“I was serious though, thought this time I would go around it the right way and
ask your permission.” Cat smiled innocently at him.
“Maybe I wasn’t joking after all either? Why don’t you have dinner with me on
Tuesday night and tell me exactly what you mean by that?” Xan raised an eyebrow,
all but daring her to decline politely.

He wanted her to agree but didn’t think she
would. He knew he gained an upper hand when he offered her the camera as an
olive branch, but just because she accepted it didn’t mean she was going to see
past their earlier meetings and forgive his behavior.

He wouldn’t have.

For some reason he found her intriguing and
he liked puzzles of every kind. He liked to bring pieces together to see the
whole picture or… to remove them one by one, stripping bare the underbelly of
the matter. In this case he wouldn’t mind if the stripping part were quite
literal, he thought with a little quirk to his lips.

Catalina decided that he kept surprising
her tonight, time after time. Denial was on the tip of her tongue and she would
have uttered the words, but from the corner of her eye she saw Florence Bennett
making her way through the crowd toward the place she stood with Xan.

She knew her grandmother
wouldn’t
approve and maybe that was the very thing spurring Cat to do the opposite.

She looked back at him, trying to decipher
something from his eyes and judge the seriousness of his, oh-so-casual,
invitation. But they were reflecting her instead of what might be going on
inside of his head.

His attention never wavered from her, but
she had the strangest feeling he was well aware of his surroundings, quietly
assessing people and all that was taking place around them. It was a very good
quality to possess, Cat thought, but it also spoke volumes of the type of life
he led.

Always wary, always watchful.

She decided she wanted to catch this side
of his nature with her camera, see the elusive and try to freeze it in the
moment when he wouldn’t be so guarded.

That did it and she made the final
decision.
“Tuesday sounds good.” She took out one of her business cards and scribbled her
cell number on the back. “Call me.”
“I will.” Xan couldn’t believe she was actually agreeing and decided not to
push his luck by giving her a chance to change her mind, but before he could
make his exit an older woman stopped next to them, seizing Cat’s arm with a
hand adorned by a massive diamond ring. “There you are, Catalina, where have
you been hiding the whole evening?” Florence’s voice washed over them snapping
the moment between them in half. “Excuse me; there are people Catalina has to
meet.” She sent him a dismissive look and he felt challenged to protest just
for the hell of it but changed his mind rather opting to leave when he was
still holding a winning card.

He glanced at Catalina’s business card and
thought it to be quite literal.
“See you on Tuesday, Doll.” He told her and watched her being dragged away.

Xan had no idea who the woman was but the
moment she approached them Cat became as stiff as a wooden board, no matter the
smile plastered on her face.

He found it ironic that rich people never
cared how rude they were and always believed themselves on top anyway.

Then he shrugged and unhurriedly walked
toward the exit and freedom, deciding it was not his concern after all.

CHAPTER 11

Catalina was torn.

Torn
between wanting to remind Xan she had a name,
a name he kept forgetting to use, satisfying himself with calling her ‘Doll’
instead, which she had come to highly detest already.

Torn
between wanting to apologize for
Florence’s behavior although she was convinced her grandmother didn’t even
consider how dismissing and offensive she was.

Torn
between asking Xan to stay because despite
the fact she didn’t know him, she would have taken his company over the cold
discontentment she could see in Florence’s blue eyes now.

Finally
torn
between being amused
and confused at once after realizing she agreed to have dinner with the man
whom she didn’t want to see ever again until earlier tonight.

But Florence was already pulling her back
toward the crowd again, Xan was no longer in her sight and just like that matters
were simply taken out of her hands.

She sighed, deciding to go with inevitable,
especially after reminding herself she had promised Jonah she wouldn’t run away
from the sole member of her family if she came across her.

Catalina glanced at Florence from the
corner of her eye, noticing the other woman looked as glamorous as usual. She
had on a long dress in hues of azure, drawing out the color of her eyes,
fitting to the ashen blonde hair she had since Catalina was a little girl.

Florence’s simple diamond ring and discreet
earrings with the same stone drew more attention than another woman’s tons of
jewel. At the age of sixty-five, she looked at least a decade younger and it
was due to a rigorous diet and her personal merciless trainer.
“You look magnificent, Grandmother,” Cat told her truthfully.

She had never been allowed to address her
differently than ‘Grandmother’. What didn’t make sense to Catalina when she was
a child made perfect sense now–Florence was simply too dignified to be called
anything else than that. She wasn’t one of those cookie-baking, fuzzy-feeling-evoking
grandmas. She was a cool and unruffled product of society and expected nothing
less from Catalina.
“Thank you, my dear. You look good yourself, although I wouldn’t go with black
if I were you. It makes you look too pale, unless of course this dramatic
contrast was exactly what you aimed for.”
“I will take it under consideration the next time. Thank you.” Cat smiled
politely pretending she didn’t notice the jab. “What do you think about the
exhibition?”
“You know I prefer more grateful subjects on pictures. I find the topic quite…
unfortunate.”

She waved her hand dismissively, with one
gesture disregarding long weeks of Catalina’s hard work.

Every tiny bit of excitement Catalina might
have felt after meeting with Xan evaporated as if never there. As little as two
sentences were able to reduce her to someone incompetent and devoid of any
trace of taste whatsoever, Cat thought.

She shouldn’t be surprised after finding herself
on the receiving end of similar treatment over the years. Yet there was still a
part of her awaiting her grandmother’s approval. A part of her striving to be
better though their ideas of this
better
were nowhere close.
“The purpose is noble. Money goes to charity and is supposed to help all those
people living in the shadow of Santa Monica’s greatness. I know how much you
approve of charity, Grandmother.” Catalina told her.
“There are other ways to achieve the same and so many worthy cases, Catalina.”
“I realize that, I thought those pictures would have a stronger impact than
another ball dance.” She smiled with as much warmth as Florence had.
“Is aggressiveness really what you are after? I would hope class always
prevails. In any case, I don’t like the risks you are undertaking. It has to
stop. Gabriel agrees with me.” She pinned Cat to the spot with her sharp gaze.
“It’s my job and Gabriel should understand that. Would you tell him to stop
endangering himself while danger is his occupational hazard?” She wanted to know.
“Don’t be ridiculous. While I find his work vulgar, it is a necessity and shows
his strength. You are just bored, Catalina and searching for something to fill
your time. Unfortunately you chose the wrong thing in your childish attempt to
prove something.” Florence’s voice was quiet enough but the coldness of her
tone and words themselves took Catalina’s breath away.
“Is this really how little you think of me?” She stopped and Florence was
forced to do the same.
“Don’t make a scene my dear.” The displeased line of her grandmother’s lips was
unambiguous but it was yet another grimace Catalina knew intimately, acquainted
with it during all the years she spent with her father’s mother.
“Cat! Spectacular work!” Chloé hugged her, kissing her on the cheek. “You must
be very proud of her, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Catalina knows what I expect of her.” Florence said tentatively. “Excuse me
girls, I see an old friend of mine.” She walked away, not waiting for their
reaction.

But the only thing Cat was capable of
feeling at the moment was relief, although she knew it was only postponing the
inevitable.
“Thank you.” She looked at Chloé, grateful for the intervention.
“The temperature between you two increased dangerously and I think your
granny’s absolute record could reach around thirty-two degrees, so that was all
you. No, it wasn’t visible, but I’ve known you for a while now, Sweetie,
remember? And I meant what I said. Great job Cat, and from bits and pieces I’ve
managed to eavesdrop, I am not the only one who thinks so. Forget about
Florence and enjoy your success!” She demanded.

‘
Granny’
Catalina thought, nearly choking.
If only.

The concept was so unfathomable to anyone
who had ever come in contact with her grandmother it was laughable.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she admitted.
“I would hope you found a way to end this unpleasant conversation with her.
Preferably, by throwing the remains of your champagne in her perfect, impassive
face.” Chloé suggested.

Catalina laughed, not able to smother the
need any longer, knowing that was her friend’s intent all along. Maybe she
didn’t have many friends, but those she considered close were priceless to her.
“That is highly unlikely, but imagining it might help me next time,” she said
because they both knew the next time was going to happen soon enough.
“Better tell me who
that
was!” Chloé leaned in closer and Cat thought
they must look like conspirators.

The way she said it made it perfectly clear
who she meant, yet Catalina decided to tease her about it. Chloé used this tone
of voice only when she was talking about men.
“You have to be a tad more specific darling; there are so many people in here
after all.” She smiled innocently at her, but Chloé snorted, knowing better
than to believe in her guilelessness.
“Please. As true as that is, you have to admit nobody here looks quite like
him
.”
She pointed out and Cat had to agree.

Xan’s watchfulness was just one of the
qualities picking him out of the crowd along with tension rolling off his body.
She could recognize restlessness in someone else, often experiencing the
sensation herself, even though she suspected they had quite different reasons
for the state.

He seemed wound up on the inside but she
was used to recognizing divergence between what was on the surface and what
happened underneath it on a level where eyes couldn’t reach.
“He was somebody I will work on convincing to become my model.” Catalina told
her.
“I am sure I will speak in the name of all women when I say I hope you will
achieve it. Just imagine how his body looks without the suit.” Chloé sighed and
Cat wanted to do the same, but for different reasons because she
knew
exactly how.

She remembered well how her camera
translated the sinew, the tattoos and wished to get his consent this time, able
to imagine what more she could obtain if the cooperation between them would
take place.
“I will do my best.” She promised.
“And Cat… I hope you will take me with you the next time you go to watch his
fight.” Chloé purred and Catalina nearly choked.

Then she saw her friend’s gaze sliding down
to the small gift bag she still held in her hand and it became obvious Chloé
connected all the dots.

Luckily nobody else knew what had occurred
between her and Xan so far, so his identity was still intact, she thought.
Besides, she knew exactly nothing when it came to him so his secret was safe.
“I will,” she winked at Chloé, deciding to find a waiter and help herself to
another glass of champagne.

It felt well deserved tonight.

***

It was a few hours later when she finally
found herself alone back at her apartment, although it felt like forever,
Catalina admitted.

Silence overfilling her home was so
complete at first it felt more painful than relaxing. She slipped off the heels
and her feet nearly sighed in relief.

It was another aspect of life in a
spotlight she was not fond of.

She much preferred a pair of comfortable
sneakers and being on the other side of a camera. People always assumed that
someone who stayed on the outskirts of the real life was either faint-hearted
or dim.

She was neither, calling it wariness and
the right to privacy instead. It gave a person a great opportunity to observe
and learn. A camera was her way of communicating with the outside world where
words too often felt useless and incapable of expressing reality properly. No
matter how little her reasons meant to her grandmother. Catalina shook her head,
not wanting Florence’s hurtful words to haunt her again in her own home and
after as exhausting an evening as she had tonight.

She let the dress pool around her ankles
and stepped out of it, leaving it where it lay. It was an indulgence on her
part, a small manifestation of her riot; after all she had been taught since
childhood that everything had its place.

Everything and everybody.

Then where was hers? She wanted to know.

According to Florence, she should have
found a suitable man some time ago already, married him and limited herself to
chair a committee like her grandmother had, and apparently a long list of women
in their family before that.

The problem was Catalina didn’t feel any
kind of kinship with them, didn’t want to follow in somebody’s footsteps. She
wanted to take her own path since she was but a girl, even though to Florence
it equaled going astray. She sighed, frustrated to no end.

Her gaze landed on the Nikon that Xan had
given her and her thoughts returned to him one more time.

His presence in the gallery was still
puzzling to her. Maybe even more so when she thought about all the implications
she was unable to spot right away, too astounded to see things clearly.

No matter from which angle she kept looking
at it, Catalina couldn’t perceive any way in which he could gain anything from
making an appearance at the event. Perhaps it was yet another confirmation of
his devil-may-care attitude, since he chanced a possibility of someone guessing
his identity the way Chloé did.

For some reason, she couldn’t picture him
being so selfless and so completely at odds with the face he had presented to
her that night at the Cul-de-sac or in the café few days after that.

It was thumping all that she thought about
him so far and she hated to be wrong about people since so many of them had
false assumptions about her.

She was convinced he resented her for taking
pictures of him, his fight and his… world. He didn’t say anything to deny or
confirm that, which confused her anew.

Catalina’s life hadn’t forced her to
participate in many confrontations so far. Her world oscillated between telling
half lies to people’s faces or omitting the truth altogether.

Which basically was one and the same.

But she didn’t think Xan was the kind to
allow many things to slip without a final solution. Now why did she find it
refreshing?

She wondered was he as much surprised as
she was when she agreed to have dinner with him. It sounded to her like his
question was dictated by the spur-of-the-moment and not something planned
earlier but she could only guess. One way or another it didn’t make a
difference to her. She really hoped she could convince him to a session or two.

Chloé was right, she thought.

There was not even one man in the gallery
tonight who looked quite like him. It was not that he didn’t fit in there; his
suit was perfectly tailored and on the surface he seemed just like any other
polished male might.

The difference was in the way he moved, in
his eyes.

The watchfulness, the readiness to face
whatever might come next, as if the exhibition was as much of a danger zone as
his ring was. She couldn’t imagine life on the edge but supposed it could be
addicting.

The way he turned his back on the
photograph portraying him without any further preamble made it perfectly clear
he hadn’t come there to admire her work and wasn’t particularly worried about the
aftermath of them being displayed like that.

Their past…
rendezvous
were a far
cry from typical or even friendly for that matter, but he did seek her out
tonight. He apologized and tried to replace something close to her heart. And
she could as well be honest with herself and admit she was curious about him.

She wanted to learn what the shadows in his
eyes concealed.