She was trying to get lost in the story she was reading, but her thoughts kept wandering. It was a common occurrence lately; she was distracted all the time. So she didn't even notice someone was sitting down at her table till the man was making himself at home in a chair. She was startled and jumped a little, dropping her book. She went to pick it up, but the stranger beat her to it.
“Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you,” the man said, his voice friendly. She gave him a tight smile.
“No worries. Can I help you?” she asked, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to encourage his little visit. She'd come to the outdoor cafe to sit and wait and read. Not to pick up random dudes.
“I just saw you sitting here, thought I'd introduce myself,” he explained.
“Oh. Well, thanks, but I'm reading,” Mischa informed him, holding up her book for emphasis.
“I'd love to hear about your book. Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, peeking at her cover before giving her a big smile.
“No, thank you, I'm fine, I'd just like to read,” she replied, holding her book in front of her face.
It's too fucking hot out for this.
“How about dinner? It's just about dinner time, you must be hungry,” he pointed out.
“Nope, not hungry,” she replied, refusing to return his smile.
“Maybe we could go for dinner some other time, then,” he suggested.
“I don't think so. It was really nice meeting you.”
“But we haven't met. I'm Conrad.”
“Hi, Conrad. I think I have to go now,” Mischa sighed, giving up. He wasn't going away, so she decided she would go somewhere else. She slowly climbed to her feet, shoving her book into her tote bag.
“What about lunch?”
“No, but thank you.”
“Breakfast.”
“Seriously?”
“Coffee, then. Let me take you to coffee. I live near here, we must be on the same schedule – I've seen you eating here before,” he told her, standing up as well.
Not creepy at all.
“I don't drink coffee. Just wine. Bye!” she tried to cut him off and edge away from the table. But he gently grabbed her wrist, stopping her as he moved to her side.
“Then maybe we could go to a wine bar I know. If you'd give me a chance, I think you'd like -,”
“Hey, fucker, beat it, it's not gonna happen – you're hitting on a married woman.”
Misch's left hand was grabbed and practically shoved into the overzealous admirer's face. Conrad turned a deep red and he nodded curtly before walking off down the street.
“You know,” Misch sighed, “that trick only works when there's a ring on my finger, you idiot.”
“I work all day in this fucking heat, and then I save your ass, again, and what do I get? Hassled about marriage. Women.”
Eight Months Earlier …
Oh, Mischa didn't give up.
Fuck that. Tal wouldn't have given up, so she didn't.
When they'd been together, he'd asked her to believe in them, to have faith in them. So she clung to that fact. She put all her faith in him, and went with her gut.
She bought a plane ticket to Rome.
Tal had lived in a lot of places, all over the globe. Rome was a long shot, really – he'd only been there for a job, just to follow her boss. Why would he go back?
Because that's where we became ourselves. That's where we found each other.
Ansuz was not always an easy company to track down, and they didn't exactly have an office building in Rome, the way they did in New York. It took a lot of digging to find out what kind of contracts they had in Europe, and then if any of those were even in Italy at all.
But she had faith.
As it turned out, they had a contract with the Vatican. The frickin' Vatican. She couldn't imagine Tal in a church. He was far too sinful.
It was a long shot, but she was willing to try anything that might lead to him. Mischa lurked around the cathedral for days. She toured it so much, she was pretty sure the security guards were starting to get suspicious. She considered finding a nun costume, but figured that was going too far. She was already a cheater. She didn't need more points to fast track her to hell.
Why would he even be here? Maybe he guards the Pope. Maybe he guards a bishop. Maybe he's in Tahiti with some pearl farm heiress-slash-supermodel and I'm wasting my time and money.
He was there, though.
The first time she saw Tal again, she felt like her heart stopped. She was in a crowd of people, waiting their turn to enter the cathedral, when he came outside. He was with a bunch of guys, all a lot younger than him, and he was barking what sounded like orders, all in Italian.
He looked so different. It was like dreaming about something for so long, then seeing it in real life. Had it all been a dream? Had she just imagined him as the smooth talking, long fingered, dirty man that she'd fallen in love with?
He was wearing a very fitted suit – she wouldn't be surprised to find out it had been tailor made for him. He was clean shaven, his hair neatly styled, and he had a radio piece in his ear, a curly wire trailing down the back of his neck. He looked so prim and proper.
Two words she never, ever would have used to describe a man like Tal Canaan.
A few seconds was all she got, then he breezed right past her. It took her heart a lot longer to start beating again, and by then she was shuffled inside by the crowd.
Tal would have been proud of her, she became an excellent stalker. “Recon”, she told herself. That's what Tal would've called it. She staked out the church. It took her about a week, but she finally learned his schedule, knew when he got off work, what door he left from, things like that.