Chapter One
I am not getting mixed up into anything that has to do with her. Ever. EJ DiMera vowed, knuckles white, gripping the thick cut tumbler. The two fingers of top shelf Macallan's he'd ordered on a whim when he arrived, swirled around cubes of ice. He stared down at the contents, dragging the bottom of the glass against the smooth gloss of the black lacquered bar. Rotating it in small circles, watching the amber color lighten by the minute, the melting water from ice diluting the alcohol. I am here to obtain information only. That's it. His shoulders were tight and he tossed his head back, bringing the whiskey to his mouth, swallowing a large gulp. It burned a scorching trail of liquid fire over his tongue, down into his gut, a warm sensation leeching out into his chest. He lowered his chin, reconcentrating his stare down into his drink, allowing his vision to fuzz while rolling his shoulders trying to ease some of the tension.
"EJ DiMera! You son of a bitch, what are you doing here?"
Yanked unceremoniously from his silent musings, EJ angled his chin to the side and swiveled slowly, not at all prepared for anything that this Friday evening seemed apt to deliver to him. His eyes first settled onto a shiny pair of black wing-tips. Philip Kiriakis. A shark with uncanny business instincts. Ruthless. EJ's lips tipped up just the smallest fraction of a bit at the corners. He wanted no spectators to the little tête-à-tête he had been summoned for. He especially didn't want his best friend serving as a witness to watch him tiptoe around the devil.
"Just having a drink." EJ lifted his glass, gesturing to the vacant bar stool next to him on his right.
Philip threw one charcoal grey trousered leg over the stool, hooking his foot around the bottom rung and pulling it toward him, then sat down. With practiced ease, he slipped his finger between the collar of his starched powder-blue shirt and the darker grey tie, and loosened the constriction around his neck. "A drink? Here?" A dubious expression greeted him when their eyes met.
"Been a long week." EJ held Philip's gaze, refusing to be the one to look away first.
"Why do I sense there's more to it, than that?" Philip's dark eyebrows were low on his forehead. A pair of piercingly blue eyes narrow as they visually searched EJ for the real rationale.
"Because you are a suspicious person by nature. You should really work on that, old chum, you'll give yourself an ulcer." EJ smirked, watching as Philip's hard and inspecting expression faded, a curious gaze blooming in its place.
"You don't come here." Philip waved the bartender over with the come hither motion of two fingers.
"And yet, here I am." EJ gave the cheeky explanation with a display of his glass and a flippant gesture of his hand.
"Cute." Philip scowled, finally breaking the staredown to give his drink order to the man hovering on the other side of the bar. EJ exhaled, an autonomic reflex bringing the glass back to his lips.
"Besides, how would you know that I don't frequent this bar all of the time? You're not my keeper. And more importantly," EJ grinned, "I'm sure your keeper doesn't let you frequent places like this anymore." He rolled the cuffs of his wrinkled, white dress shirt up, folding the linen until it rested against the inside of his elbows. "On that note, how is your wife?" The word stuck in his mouth like taffy, difficult to spit out.
Philip smiled, the expression slow and practiced. The straight line of white teeth gleaming in the dim light. "She's good. Would love to have you over for dinner, if you could pry yourself away from the office long enough to socialize. Oh, and that other part of your statement. How do I know that you're not a regular customer here?" He leaned in for the kill, plucking an invisible speck from EJ's shoulder. "Well that, my dear friend, is because I own this bar. And I make it my business to know all of the clientele that frequent it."
Shark. That little bombshell was not what he'd been expecting. "You own this bar?" EJ struggled to keep his face neutral, although his palms had begun to sweat and his stomach gave a precarious lurch.
"I do."
"Why?"
"Why not?" Philip dipped his head in acknowledgment as his drink of choice was placed in front of him.
"I can't imagine a smoky old bar being a profitable business venture." EJ flicked his hand to the side.
"Define profitable." Philip studied him with one arched eyebrow over the brim of his glass.
"Surely I don't need to explain the ins and outs of a successful business venture to you, Kiriakis."
"You don't need to explain the ins and outs of anything to me." Philip drawled, a lazy smirk punctuating the sentence as he sipped on the gin and tonic garnished with 2 slices of lime, that he was most fond of.
"Touché." EJ lifted his glass and offered a silent toast with his glass. Pulling the pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket, he fumbled for a lighter remembering too late that he'd left it on his desk. A wisp of thought flit through his mind as he briefly pondered what else he may have left out in the open in his haste to get here.
"Hey mate," he called to the bartender sliding a glass to another patron a few feet away. EJ studied the man as he continued his work, he was balding on his crown, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. EJ guessed his age around 55, a lifer. A lifer who apparently worked for Philip. Shit, he breathed through his nose as the man turned, pinning him with his eyes. "Could I trouble you for a light?"
"Of course, sir." The man plucked a packet from a counter below the bar and held it out between his stubby thumb and forefinger.
EJ accepted with a nod of thanks and turned as Philip got to his feet. "Where are you going?"
"Got to see a man about a horse." Philip grinned, tapping his hand flat, gaining the attention of the bartender.
"A man about a horse? Or is this code for..."
"Take care of my friend here, on the house." Philip interrupted, deep dimples carving into his cheeks.
"Philip, you don't need to do that." EJ's neck went hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out along his collar. He slid his hand into his pocket, pulling the silver money clip out and flipping it onto the bar. He hated being indebted to anyone, for any reason.
"His money is no good here." Philip smirked at EJ's expression, as he tucked the EJ's cash back into the breast pocket of his shirt. "I'll be back. We can eat. Catch up. Maybe plan that dinner that we've spoken about so many times, make my wife happy, yeah?"
Fuck. EJ nodded without conscious intent as he watched Philip cut his way through the smoke-hazed lounge without a backward glance. The relatively empty bar had begun to fill since his arrival. Small tables covered in black fabric were now more occupied than not. Glass-topped hurricane lamps, illuminating the tables they sat on and little else. At the opposite end of the room was a small stage, a baby grand piano flush against one side. It sat empty, the stage still dark. Glancing down at the Rolex on his wrist, he bit back an epithet at the time. So much for privacy. This place will be packed soon. The air vibrated around him, a tingle of electricity raising the hair on his forearms as his body felt the change in his surroundings before his mind was conscious of it.
"I need to get out of here." He murmured to himself. Tense, his fingers curled around the pack of cigarettes that he still held, the wrapper crinkling in his fist. Forcing himself to relax, he pulled one out and held it between his lips, tossing the rest onto the bar behind him. Separating a match from the packet, he pinched it between his fingers and struck it across the igniter strip. As always, he caught himself watching the chemical reaction. The friction of phosphorus being oxidated against powdered glass as it sparked. That first catch, the bigger flare as combustion occurred. It was remarkable, really. He cupped the lit match in his hands, bending his head as he brought the tiny flame to the end of his cigarette. Sucking in through the filter, he took a long, deep drag, letting the nicotine fill his lungs and settle his nerves. Flicking his wrist, he extinguished the match and looked toward the bar for an ashtray, which he found, discarding the cardboard match.
With closed eyes, he enjoyed the first draws off his smoke and gave himself the mother of all peptalks, deciding that with this latest development, that this was more than just a bad idea. Now it was spiraling into the equivalent of a nuclear explosion on several different levels.
"You shouldn't smoke, that stuff will kill you."
The precise words she'd spoken some years ago, the first time they'd met. It wasn't a coincidence, of that, he was sure. The irony of the statement being that she was far more dangerous to him than the carcinogens he inhaled. Gritting his teeth, his entire body went stock still and stiff. Cursing under his breath that she'd arrived before he could make his escape. That once again, she held the upper hand and had stolen the element of surprise.
He kept his eyes closed. A feeble attempt to avoid the situation, maybe. A figment of his imagination, not bloody likely. Any figments that had anything to do with her were generally more of the R or X rated variety.
The tinkle of her laugh abraded his senses as he felt a small hand slide below the dark suspenders clipped onto the waistband of his trousers. "I said, you shouldn't smoke, that stuff will kill you." Inch by painful inch, she moved her palm up his chest. His skin felt singed, like the mere touch from her was branding him through his clothes. His eyes snapped open and locked onto the brilliant blue irises that haunted his very soul. Pursing his lips, he blew the mouthful of smoke he'd been holding, directly into her face.
She moved her hand from his chest, turning her face to the side, waving at the grey cloud between them. Coughing, she stepped back and he took the opportunity to study her. His jaw clamped, grinding his molars together, as his gaze swept her from the top of her blonde head to the tips of her pink polished nails, peeking out from her peep-toed pumps. He couldn't lie to himself, or he couldn't lie to himself in that particular moment, because even though she was modestly covered from neck to shins by a café au lait hued, designer trenchcoat. It was cinched tight at her waist, the shapeless garment hiding more than it showcased, but nonetheless his perusal did linger on certain curved areas of her figure longer than others. Still not trusting himself to say a word, he merely took another deep inhale from his cigarette and waited.
When she'd finished coughing, her narrowed eyes locked in on him and she took another step into his personal space. "Nice."
EJ shrugged, pursing his lips and angling his neck away from her this time, exhaling with exaggerated slowness before flicking the collection of ash into the ashtray the bartender had the foresight to provide him with.
"Is that it then? You've nothing to say to me?" She bunched one fist, propping it on her hip. With a scowl, she tipped her head to the side as if he was a foreign species she just couldn't figure out.
He gestured to her, still without making an attempt at conversation. Using the cigarette that was burning much faster than he wanted as a ploy to avoid speaking.
"Right." She sniped, the temper in her eyes visible with a volatile swirling of indigo. Dropping her fist, she linked the fingers of her hands together and held them at her middle. Breaking their visual connection, she appeared to succumb to the same affliction he was struggling with. Her chin low, eyes focused on her hands. "I came to say I'm sorry."
She could have told him that she was the Queen of England in that moment and it would have been more believable than what she'd just spouted off with.
"Did you hear me?" Their thread once more activated, she blinked several times, wondering what it was that she wasn't seeing. His eyes flashed with an amber fire before regaling her with a flat glaze of cool disinterest. "I said, I came to say I'm sorry."
Swallowing, he attempted to clear the lump in his throat, as she began to approach him, with one hand reaching toward him. "That's far enough."
"Well, I'll be damned, you can speak." Though she did stop stepping toward him, she continued to hold her hand out, making the few feet separating them, seem much less.
"I was just leaving." EJ tossed back the rest of the drink that had been courtesy of Philip, stubbing out the rest of his cigarette as he made to bolt.
"Leaving? I just got here!"
"And?" EJ paused, glancing down at his watch, before giving her a look of utter distaste. "You're late."
"Look, I said I was sorry! And I'm not late, it's just six o'clock now." She interrupted, her cheeks flushed with indignation.
"You could have just apologized over the phone, sparing both of us from whatever this is." He gestured to the room at large. "Now, I'm afraid I have to leave, I have some rather pressing business to get back to." EJ snatched his suit coat from the back of his stool, turning his back to her as he began to shrug it on. "I wish I could say it's been a pleasure."
"Of course. Work." Her whisper much closer as her next words struck with impeccable accuracy. He could feel the heat radiating off from her, warming his back. He called on every vestige of strength he possessed, not to let his guard down, even for a moment. "You have a business meeting with Mathasan Darby, scheduled at seven pm, right?"
EJ whipped around, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he took a menacing step toward her, one of his arms successfully jammed into his coat sleeve, the other sleeve and rest of the coat, dangling behind his back. "I don't know what your game is. But a woman with your skill set would do well to remember that trespassing is a crime."
She laughed again, covering her mouth with her fingertips to stifle the sound. "Skill set? Trespassing? Give me a little credit here." She scoffed, lifting up and situating herself onto Philip's vacated stool. She crossed one knee over the other and her coat flaps parted a bit, exposing a patch of pale smooth skin at the bottom of her thigh. EJ's eyes lingered for the briefest of seconds as he walked behind the back of her stool and stopped, pulling on the rest of his jacket.
"I don't have time for your little games. And furthermore, I couldn't care less about your apology." Jaw set, anger pouring off him in waves. EJ moved in closer, until he could stoop down and put his mouth beside her ear. "Don't call me again, Mrs. Horton." He strode toward the exit, refusing to look back, even as the lilt of her laughter followed him to the door.