The Lady Vanishes (28 page)

“All right, boss,” Shane replied.

“Does he always talk so much?”

Milton nodded. “He grew up in South Boston. Nick knew him growing up.”

“So why does he work as a chauffer? I would have thought he’d work at Accendo, or something. Good ol’ boy network.”

“He doesn’t like computers. He likes to read.”

“Ahh.” Regina guessed a chauffer would get the chance to read quite a bit. It didn’t sound like a bad job, actually. “Does he get dental?”

“Hey, Shane, you get dental?”

“Yes, boss. Full coverage. Medical. 401(k).”

Milton raised a hand. “There you go.”

Regina rolled her eyes.

Milton laughed and kissed her, letting it linger, before pulling away and tucking her more firmly against him.

“So what are we buying at the grocery store? I’m starving. Running around all day with those kids wears me out.”

“I was thinking grilled cheese and soup.”

Milton’s phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Sounds good,” he said absently, reading the text.

He frowned, his face tightening.

“Everything okay?”

He shrugged. “Just Roland asking me to take a look at the security on a couple of our other software programs. The team has a few questions for me.”

“You have to do that now?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Morning is soon enough.”

He put away the phone and gathered her in his lap again. “I stopped by Saint George’s room before I left. His mom said you popped in as well.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to check on him. He’s going to be pretty tired.”

“We’ll go easy.”

“I can’t spend time on the show tomorrow,” she explained. “I traded a shift to spend the afternoon there today.”

“That’s all right. We’ll practice your part at my house.”

Thinking about the “practice” session they’d had yesterday, Regina didn’t think they were going to get a hell of a lot of work done, but she nodded. “You really don’t mind grocery shopping?”

His fingers tightened around her waist, and she knew he was thinking about last night as well.

He stroked a finger down her nose. “Why would I?”

Regina shrugged. “It just seems so normal.”

“That’s what I like about it.”

They went grocery shopping—well,
Regina
shopped for groceries while Milton touched everything in the store, made oranges disappear to the delight of a four-year-old girl and her mom, and generally made a spectacle of himself. Regina wasn’t too worried about him attracting attention in her neighborhood. It was unlikely that anyone would recognize him as Milton Shaw, billionaire.

When they arrived at Regina’s apartment, Celeste was there, sitting on the couch in full makeup, a tight black top, designer jeans, and four-inch heels, texting someone. El Greco was perched on the back of the couch next to her, looking as if he was contemplating attacking the top of her head.

Regina raised an eyebrow at her. “Celeste, are you going somewhere?”

“No, why?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Milton isn’t an idiot, you know. He’s aware that you don’t sit around the house dressed like that.”

“Actually, I invited someone over for dinner.”

“You had me pick up groceries so you could invite someone to dinner?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and stood. “Don’t look so irritated, Reggie. I’ll cook it.”

“That’s all right. I’ll cook. But we’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Grilled cheese?” Celeste wrinkled her nose and looked at Milton accusingly. “A billionaire and you let her make grilled cheese for dinner?”

“It’s Gruyère and brioche grilled cheese.”

“Hmm . . . yum. That could work.”

The bell rang on the door downstairs, scaring El Greco off the couch. “That’s my date. Be right back.”

While Celeste went to get her date, Milton and Regina carried the groceries into the kitchen. Regina began putting them away while Milton watched. El Greco began twining himself eagerly around her legs, so she opened his bag of cat food and poured some into his bowl.

“Sorry about that,” Regina said, referring to Celeste inviting someone else for dinner.

“I’m not upset,” he laughed. “She’s funny. I’m just glad we bought enough.”

“Well, I’m irritated,” Regina muttered. “I didn’t want to share the wine.”

Milton had insisted on making an additional stop on the way home from the grocery store, a high-end liquor store named Marty’s. He’d walked out with two bottles of wine. Regina hadn’t even ventured to guess how much they’d cost.

“You know I’d be happy with a ten-dollar bottle from the grocery store,” she’d said.

“That’s why I like buying you this,” he’d explained.

Regina smiled, thinking about it, and pulled the bottle opener out of a drawer. “Would you do the honors?”

“Sure.”

While he opened the wine, Regina located two wineglasses—Celeste could get her own—and set them down on the counter.

The door opened again to the sound of Celeste laughing, and then she was walking through the door with Corbin Gould, her arm linked through his.

Regina froze, her mouth falling open.

Celeste walked up to the bar between the kitchen and the living room. “Reggie, you know Corbin already. Milton, this is Professor Corbin Gould.”

Milton set down the open bottle of wine and walked into the living room to shake Corbin’s hand.

“Milton Shaw.”

Corbin shook his hand, a puzzled frown between his brows. “Milton Shaw. The software designer?”

“Milton Shaw, the genius software billionaire,” Celeste chimed in. “He’s also a magician.”

Milton grinned at her. “I should hire you to introduce me to people. When I say all that, it sounds like bragging.”

Regina rolled her eyes, but then she cut Celeste a sideways look.
The professor?
Celeste ignored the unspoken question.

Celeste and Corbin took a seat on the red stools at the bar while Milton poured wine in two glasses and handed one to Corbin and one to Celeste. Regina shook her head, but he nudged her with his shoulder, silently telling her to relax.

Regina sighed and fetched two more glasses. Milton poured again, nearly emptying the bottle, though most of it went into her glass.

She took a long sip, and knew that no ten-dollar bottle of wine would taste quite as good. She pulled out the cast-iron pan that had been her grandmother’s and a saucepan for the soup.

“Can you handle the soup?” she asked Milton.

He gave her a look. “It’s not exactly from scratch. Heating up soup is one of the limited kitchen skills I possess.”

Regina wasn’t sure she trusted him. “Don’t make it levitate or anything.”

He put his hand over his heart. “I promise.”

Pulling out the cutting board for the bread, Regina set it on the counter, and started looking for the big bread knife.

“So, Milton, I saw the article about your magic show at the hospital on the
Globe
website.”

Regina, about to slice the bread, paused to give her sister an annoyed look. Milton turned around from where he was opening the containers of soup they’d bought from the small deli at the grocery store.

He glanced at Regina with a worried frown. “I didn’t know.”

Regina shrugged. “I saw it. That’s why I thought we could eat here,” she confessed.

“Ah,” he said, his voice completely lacking inflection. His fingers twitched restlessly before he went back to the soup. “Professor, what do you teach?”

“Medieval literature.”

“Really?” He nudged Regina. “Did you know the medieval era was one of the most innovative, despite its reputation as being the Dark Ages? Many modern inventions began then, including computing.”

“That’s true,” Corbin agreed. “Medicine, philosophy, fashion, all have their roots in the work of medieval scholars.”

Milton nodded. “I’ve used medieval philosophy and garden design in building security around our software programs.”

“Really?” Corbin sounded fascinated. “I would love to hear about it sometime.”

“Sure,” Milton agreed. “It was actually something my father taught me. He was a professor of literature at Harvard.”

“Not Burton Shaw? His name is on a plaque outside the antique book room in the library.”

Milton nodded. “That was my father.”

Regina would bet anything that Milton had donated extensively to that library, like millions. And here he was standing in her kitchen looking extraordinarily hot in a gray shirt and black jeans, his chin scruffy and his hair a mess.

“How extraordinary.”

Celeste groaned, “Am I the only one here who is not a complete nerd?”

“I’m afraid so.” Corbin laughed at her and patted her hand. “But we like you, anyway.”

Regina gave Celeste a pointed look as she prepared the cheese. “You could have finished school. No one was stopping you.”

Celeste waved her off. “Don’t start that, Reggie. Not tonight. I like my job.”

“Uh-huh.” Regina wondered if she’d explained to Corbin why she’d chosen it. Not likely.

“So, how is work at the hospital?” Corbin asked Regina.

She smiled at him. “As good as it can be, I guess. Milton is putting on a show for the kids and asked me to help.”

“Really?”

“Only now half the hospital staff has volunteered along with a good number of the patients—the ones that are up for it, so we have quite a production on our hands.”

“Are outsiders invited?”

“Some,” Milton chimed in. “It’s actually a benefit of sorts, only we won’t be able to fit too many people. The entertainment room at the hospital isn’t that big.”

“I’d love to attend.”

Milton glanced at Regina. They’d talked about charging to attend, somewhere in the one to two thousand range. “That sounds great,” Milton answered without hesitation.

“Are you bringing me?” Celeste asked sweetly, taking her seat next to Corbin again.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “If you’re lucky.”

“Actually, Celeste, I was thinking of asking for your help,” Milton said.

Regina looked at him. He was?

“A friend of mine is helping with the costumes, but we need to have invitations made, donors contacted. We probably need some additional decorations. Would you be interested?”

“Sure, but why me?”

“You’re used to handling the events at Hotel Commonwealth. Your manager speaks highly of you.”

“You talked to Jim about me?” Her voice squeaked.

He nodded. “Gave him a call a few days ago.”

“That would be awesome. I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll give you Blake’s number. You two can coordinate.”

“I like him,” Celeste said to Regina, pointing the wineglass in Milton’s direction. “You should keep him.”

Regina made a noncommittal noise and took a long sip of her wine. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She did. More every day. But keep him? Even if she wanted to take that step, how would that work? She didn’t want newspapers writing articles about her, about her father. Would Milton’s reputation suffer because he was dating her? Would hers, because she was in the newspapers again? She knew she wasn’t acting like a woman who wanted to keep her distance, but she was going to have to start, probably soon, if she was going to keep from hurting him.

NEARLY A WEEK LATER,
Milton sat in his office brooding at an email he’d just received. Ever since the night he’d stayed at her apartment, he’d been careful to keep her from the eyes of the media. Instead of going out that night, they’d played Monopoly and watched
Alien
in the women’s apartment. By the time Sigourney Weaver had sent the alien tumbling into space from the airlock, Regina had fallen asleep against his shoulder, her dark hair falling over his chest.

Instead of having sex with Regina in her bed, which he’d been looking forward to, Milton had carried her to her room and tucked her in. He supposed that staying up late fucking him, getting up at the crack of dawn, and a couple glasses of wine was all it took to knock her unconscious.

He’d called a cab to take him home, locking the door behind him. He’d also called a cop friend of his and asked him about crime in the neighborhood. It wasn’t high, but she didn’t have a security system. He’d asked her if he could put one in, but she’d refused. He’d discreetly put a camera on the building aimed at the exterior staircase and hired a security company to monitor it. He hadn’t mentioned it to her yet, but it made him feel better.