Chapter 51: Acceptance

"Hi," Elizabeth smiled politely at the hostess standing behind the podium of Altura, one of the finest Italian restaurants in Seattle.

Well, according to Red it was the finest, as she was sure to find out tonight.

When the woman looked up, Liz was very glad she'd spent forty-five minutes curling and teasing her dark hair into a mass of elegant waves...and for deciding on wearing the most costly and striking dress she owned.

If the hostess looked like she was ready to confidently strut out onto a fashion show's runway, what with her immaculate blonde updo, her shapely figure sheathed in an expensive black frock, and real diamonds sparkling in her ears and around her neck, Liz was quite certain that the other employees and most certainly the clientele of this establishment had to be just as gorgeous.

Her suddenly clammy hands clenched nervously around her leather clutch as she steeled herself, lifting her chin slightly. Despite her obvious youth, she wanted to look confident and appear like she belonged here amongst all these extremely sophisticated, wealthy, and self-assured socialites.

Red's people.

"I'm here to meet Red. I mean-" she stammered clumsily, seeing confusion sweep across the hostess's perfectly made-up face. "Sorry," she flushed hotly. So much for feigning-and feeling-like she belonged! "I'm part of the party of-"

"Ah, are you Elizabeth Scott?" boomed a man's friendly voice to the left of her.

Startled, Liz turned her head to look at a slightly portly yet classically handsome gentleman who seemed to be about in his mid-fifties. He wore a black vest and suit, minus the jacket, and carried close to his chest a slender leather-bound book with the restaurant's official crest etched in gold on it, signaling to her that he must work here.

His eyes were kind as he waited for her answer.

"I-um, yes... I am," Liz haltingly replied, still somewhat bewildered and striving desperately not to be embarrassed about it.

"Your party is waiting for you out on the patio," the man told Liz with an encouraging smile. "It's okay, Darlene," he reassured the blonde hostess. "I'll take her on back."

"Thanks, James!"

The man, James, jovially gestured for Liz to follow him inside, which she did, carefully stepping around the potted plants and occupied tables as gracefully as she could in the strappy high heels she wore.

"And how are you tonight, Miss Scott?" James asked graciously once they made it to the French glass doors on the side of the restaurant.

"I'm fine. Oh-thank you," she added belatedly as he considerately opened the door for her. "And you?"

"Never better," the man beamed once he closed the door behind them with a gentle click.

String music suddenly crescendoed in a romantic flourish, filling her ears and momentarily drowning out all other sounds. Surprised, she glanced to her left at the four musicians who were caressing their bows over their cellos and violins, creating a soft and rather poignant melody.

Hearing two glasses clink together in a toast, Liz's eyes flickered to the expansive, rather beautifully rustic courtyard stretching out in front of them. It instantly reminded her of photos of actual Tuscan homes she had seen on the Internet.

What a glowing and inviting enclosure!

Sparkling, iridescent glass lights that were reminiscent of bubbles were strung across the patio's trellis covering from end to end, warmly lighting a large, perfectly square section of smooth cement in the very center.

For dancing... she thought, impressed.

Twelve round tables carved from polished Italian oak fanned out in a perfect arc around the dancing area. They all were nestled on the bordering flagstones far enough apart from one other so that the parties sitting at each one wouldn't be able to easily eavesdrop on others' conversations.

Privacy, she was pleased to see, was all but guaranteed for intimate discussions here in this place.

Liz's eyes then flicked inquisitively beyond the center of the patio. Various species of ivy and blooming vines had been encouraged for years to not only climb but cover the surrounding three walls. Small, golden lights twinkled cheerfully amidst the thick, leafy foliage, reminding her of the fireflies she had used to laughingly chase in wonderment when she'd been a little girl.

The thoughtful layout and fine decor of Altura's stunning courtyard created a dazzling atmosphere that was at once both dreamily homey and exquisitely romantic.

"Mr. Brent Cartwright is waiting for you in the corner just there, next to the fountain," James informed her, bringing her out of her contemplative observations.

Brent Cartwright? She didn't know anyone by that name.

"I'm sorry," she said hesitantly, thin brows drawing together in confusion as James confidently lead her into the heart of the courtyard. "I think there's been a misund-"

"Ah, Elizabeth!"

Red rose out out from the patio's shadows into the glow of the lights above as he came to his feet to greet her.

"Oh-" Mr. Cartwright? Liz slanted him a puzzled look. Why wasn't he using his real name? "Hi..." She winced slightly at how awkward she sounded as he took her slender hands in his, chastely lifting them to his lips to give them a gentlemanly kiss.

This wasn't at all how she had imagined their evening out on a fancy date would begin. She was thrown off-balance by his surprising act and she didn't much like it!

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," he told her softly, intimately, either unaware of or choosing to ignore her gracelessness.

Despite her discomfiture, her dimples appeared briefly at the sincere compliment before she glanced self-consciously at James.

"I recognized her immediately from your description, Mr. Cartwright," James told Red, smiling. "I've never seen such eyes before. I knew it had to be her."

"Their shape and lovely color are rather unique," Red smiled back before his warm gaze returned to Elizabeth's rather stunned one. "James is the maitre d' of this fine establishment," he smoothly informed her. "I asked him to keep watch for you and guide you back here to me when you arrived."

"Oh." That wasn't the reason for why she felt so perplexed right now. He had to know that.

Liz cleared her throat. Maybe Red was trying to aid her in covering her current social gauche by prompting her to acknowledge James.

God, and now both men were watching her closely. Obviously some kind of longer verbal response rather than a one syllable word was expected of her.

Get it together, Liz, she firmly berated herself, flushing. James will think you're rude!

There would be plenty of time to wrangle out of Red his answer for why he wasn't using his actual name soon enough.

Smothering her bemusement while plastering a politely composed expression on her face, she turned her head from Red to smile winningly at the maitre d'. "Thank you for leading me back here to Mr. Cartwright."

Red must have noticed the slight emphasis she intentionally put on the fake name, for she felt his fingers lightly tighten on hers. Was he warning her to drop her pert attitude? Or was it just an unconscious physical reaction of surprise to her wry tone?

Oblivious to the wide range of emotional undercurrents flowing around him, James's teeth flashed happily. "You're welcome, Miss Scott." He glanced at Red in hearty approval, man to man, and she wondered what exactly Red had said about her before she had arrived. "I'll be taking care of you both personally tonight. Your appetizers should be out momentarily."

"Thank you, James," Red nodded at the other man, who inclined his head and effortlessly extricated himself from their company and swiftly exited the courtyard, undoubtedly to check on the promised delicacies.

"How are you, Lizzy?" Red asked amiably as he solicitously pulled her chair out for her.

As if nothing were amiss.

"Brent Cartwright?" Ignoring his question completely, she fixed an intently curious stare on him as he took his seat across from her.

Unperturbed, he smiled serenely as he poured wine into her crystal glass. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Mentally kicking away the desire to roll her eyes at his blithe tone of voice, she pressed, "Why are you using a fake name, Red?"

"Brent Cartwright isn't a fake name, Lizzy," he chuckled. "I'm sure someone out there in the wide world is, in fact, named Brent Cartwright."

Liz bit the inside of her cheek as she gave him an exasperated look. "It's not yours. Why aren't you using your real name?"

"You mean, why aren't I using the name you call me?"

"Well, yeah," she frowned, accepting the glass he gently picked up and offered to her.

"Many people in this city know who I am and know what places I like to frequent." After lifting his own glass, his eyes steadily met hers. "Mainly my business associates. And since this is a Thursday night, which is technically a work night, I wanted to be able to enjoy an evening out with you without having to worry about someone interrupting us because of business they felt couldn't wait."

Business. Liz's nostrils flared slightly at the word before she glanced down to watch their glasses meet. A pretty little chime sounded as the rims kissed, confirming that they were indeed drinking from very expensive stemware.

The vintage was excellent. One of the best Altura had to offer. If it were possible to taste colors, Red imagined that this particular burgundy hue would always be dense. Silky. Bold.

Christ, it was definitely worth the money he plunked down for the entire bottle!

Red hummed his pleasure, watching Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye as she sipped on hers, probably turning what he had said carefully over in her mind as she savored the smooth and velvety flavor of the wine before swallowing.

He wondered if she would accept his explanation for why he was using the name Brent Cartwright tonight rather than the one she knew him as.

His reasoning for why he used it was sound. His...associates...did know his favorite Seattle haunts, and he truly didn't want to be disturbed tonight...especially considering the very serious discussion that he knew was looming.

Once Elizabeth had left her self-defense lesson to go home, shower, dress, and then meet him here for the date they'd had planned for over a week now, Baz had immediately called Red to inform him of what had transpired.

"I couldn't very well lie to her, Red," the guard had defended himself into the heavy silence growing between them. "She knew I worked for you-as something else besides her instructor. Eavesdropping little sprite," he had grumbled under his breath.

Red had growled softly at that.

"You know I genuinely like her," the other man had quickly reminded him, to both placate his employer's growing surly mood and continue the line of defense for his actions. "When she looked at me with those fucking huge eyes of hers, I knew I wouldn't lie. And if I had, she would have seen through it."

Then Baz had sighed before continuing quietly, "I'm her instructor. She trusts me. And that's significant. You know how difficult it has been for her to...trust." Especially in regards to men. This had gone unspoken, but Red had understood this was what Baz had meant. "How could she continue to put her trust in me if she caught me lying?"

"She wouldn't." It would have permanently damaged their budding relationship, something that Red wanted to be nurtured...not destroyed.

"Right."

This time Red had sighed, making the mental effort to release his vexation with the air that left his lungs. It really wasn't Baz's fault Elizabeth now knew what she knew. If anyone were to blame, it was him. He knew better than to hint at important matters to Baz in her proximity, even if he thought her distracted. Perhaps especially if he thought her distracted.

Elizabeth had always had sharp ears.

In fact, her excellent hearing is what prompted their first chance encounter when she'd just turned four years old.

Red could see her all those years ago in his mind's eye, sitting there despondently on the backyard swing, clutching the rusting chains as she had wept, her tiny body trembling as she'd pressed her round, pink cheek to one of them.

How miserable she had been. And how desperately alone.

He could remember something he had tried to harden deep within reluctantly bending as he'd approached her. The emerald green grass, wet and slippery from the morning dew, had squeaked beneath the rubber soles of his priceless leather shoes as he'd come closer.

Even through her whimpers and loud sniffling she had heard the unusual noise and, startled, had lifted her face.

Her large eyes, bright and glittering with tears, had snapped fearlessly up to his.

While they'd seen one another many times before and certainly weren't strangers, Red had never been able to get this close to her...and he had been momentarily taken aback by just how blue those lovely eyes of hers were...like fine sapphires, dark and clear and shining.

Katarina's eyes.

"They're fighting again," she'd sobbed woefully as he had carefully closed the distance between them by leaning against the chilled metal of the swing's stand. He hadn't been sure if she'd been explaining why she had been crying, or if the words had burst from her because her young heart had been fiercely keening for someone-anyone-to comfort her.

Feelings of sympathy, of compassion, had insistently tugged at his yielding heart as Red had gazed silently down into her sorrowful eyes. His own had slowly begun to soften as he had regarded her, revealing the emotions he'd been allowing himself, perhaps unwisely, to feel.

The very last thing he had needed was an obstacle of attachment, however small, impeding his ability to carry out his assignment. But she had been just a child...an innocent who'd been caught up in the relentless turmoil of politics completely beyond her realm of understanding. Surely offering a small bit of comfort to a distraught little girl wouldn't threaten or derail his ultimate design?

Unable to stand her heartbreakingly crestfallen expression a moment longer, his fingers had slipped inside his jacket to retrieve a handkerchief. Then he had gingerly extended his hand, offering it to her with a gentleness that bordered on tenderness.

Red had remembered that she had studied his steady fingers and the crisp, white slip of linen for a moment before snatching it shyly from him to first squash it clumsily beneath her red, runny nose and then scrub it across both of her sticky cheeks.

Masha, with her keen ears and hyper-sensitivity to the moods of those around her, had always known when her parents were fighting...and such hostile strife in her home had often depressed her.

Abruptly tearing himself from that poignant memory before it could further consume him, Red had forced his thoughts back to the present as he'd rubbed his brow, contemplating how best to move forward. "You handled it as best you could, Baz, considering the circumstances. I'll handle it from here."

And handle it he would...if she brought it up.

"Does the maitre d'...James...does he know your real name?" Elizabeth asked after a moment, setting down her glass.

"We go back quite a few years, Lizzy."

A dark, slender brow arched. "And he doesn't think it's...odd...for you to use a different name when you come here?"

"Odd?" Red laughed lightly. "Oh, no. He's used to my eccentricities by now!"

"Being duplicitous is an eccentricity?"

Duplicitous? That was a rather strong word...and he didn't much like it being attached to him.

"No." He smiled, hiding the brief pang of guilt he felt behind an air of unconcerned, good humor as he shook his head amusedly. "Being duplicitous is being duplicitous. Going incognito...which is what this is...well, that's commonplace for a wealthy eccentric like me who prefers his privacy when he's out with someone special on a work night."

Elizabeth's eyes flickered to his and he held them composedly. Had this happened under other circumstances, he would have teasingly asked why this seemed to upset her so much. But, come to think of it, had this been any other night, it wouldn't have upset her. In fact, she probably would have found his using a false name amusing...maybe even charming, since he was doing it so they were guaranteed a romantic evening all to themselves.

But Lizzy was taking his going incognito and lining it up in that sharp mind of hers with what Baz had told her earlier. Her intuition was telling her something was off.

And compared to normal people living normal lives, her intuition about him was right.

Red wasn't a normal man living a normal life. And while she was leading a more normal life than he was, hers wasn't exactly like most other young womens' lives either.

Before Elizabeth could fire back a retort, James appeared with their appetizers.

"Stuzzichini!" the maitre d' proclaimed proudly, setting down two plates of the rather beautifully tossed vegetables and other Italian specialities in front of them.

Red leaned over his, inhaling the intoxicating aroma. "Gorgeous, James!" he praised enthusiastically before tilting his head slightly at Elizabeth, wordlessly telling her to bolster the man's ego.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" she quickly agreed, flashing a distracted smile up at James. "Thank you."

"Enjoy!"

Once the man had melted back into the night's shadows, Red picked up his fork and immediately cut into the quail's egg and parsley root cannoli. "Make sure you dip this into whipped foie gras there," he advised, gesturing with his fork to one of the delicacies on their plates.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Red wished he could say it was an easy and companionable silence, but it wasn't.

Elizabeth was mulling, and she was doing her best to artfully hide the fact she was doing so behind delicately eating forkfuls of the food in front of her.

A part of him wished she would just come out and ask him the questions that were undoubtedly whirling ceaselessly around in her mind, but another part of him certainly wasn't too keen to travel down the slippery slope of how much truth he'd be able to tell her.

You knew this would happen, Red grimly reminded himself. The deeper the romantic entanglement, the closer she edges toward the truth of matters...

"Tell me about your day," he finally requested, his light-hearted tone cajoling as he picked up his wine glass to take a sip, hoping to distract her and shake her from this mood.

"You want to hear about the interesting part of my day?" Elizabeth asked quickly, shooting him a piercingly triumphant look.

He comprehended then that he had given her the opening she had desired. Christ, she'd been waiting for him to pave the way for this conversation!

"Naturally," he replied cheerfully, though quite unable to keep the dryness from slightly coloring his tone. He was both nettled and proud of her ability to manipulate the conversation to following the direction she wanted.

The sly minx.

"I had an...interesting...talk with Baz today," she began, eying him. "During our session."

"Oh?" Red took another sip of wine, schooling his face to courteous attentiveness.

"He told me you hired him to be a guard. For you."

"I did."

She blinked, taken aback by his easy forthrightness. Then she frowned at him, setting down her fork. "He said you're wealthy."

"Need I comment on that?" he queried, eyes glinting with amusement.

"I know you're wealthy," she huffed impatiently. "I didn't know your wealth made you a target!"

"Baz said that?"

"Not in those exact words," she muttered. Then she lifted her chin and met his gaze unwaveringly. "But, basically, yes." Her eyes were hard, like chips of ice. "Why didn't you tell me you have guards watching you? And yeah," she flicked restless fingers, "I know you hired more than just Baz."

Red slowly set down his glass and leaned back in his chair, regarding her steadily. "I didn't inform you because I didn't want to concern you."

She sucked in an outraged breath.

"And before you start accusing me of being condescending, hear me out, Elizabeth."

Her nostrils flared angrily but she set her mouth into a thin line and watched him warily.

"Yes, I hired men as guards," he told her quietly, tone serious. "But it's just a precaution. I've never had to call on them here in Seattle. But it gives me peace of mind knowing I have someone out there watching my back."

"Are they watching us now?" she asked, darting a surreptitious glance self-consciously behind her.

"No, honey."

Elizabeth's eyes flickered back to his as the endearment slid off his tongue.

"They're not watching us right now. I don't always need a guard," he explained with a reassuring smile. "Again, it's just a precaution."

"You still should have told me," she told him, eyes flashing with irritation.

"And if anything like this ever arises, I will be sure to do so." Not that he planned for a situation like that developing anytime soon. He had all the men he needed on retainer.

The promise seemed to mollify her somewhat, but an air of resentment still emanated from her.

Perhaps she wanted an apology. But he couldn't very well express contrition for something he wasn't sorry about. If he'd had his way, she never would have known Baz's true occupation, or that he, Red, had to be on his guard against dangerous people.

Or perhaps something about the truth that had been revealed tonight was still disconcerting her, despite his attempts to reassure her.

Perhaps she was resentful because of both of these things.

Even though she was trying hard to conceal it, her unsettled demeanor was quite obvious to Red, who knew her physical tells as well as he knew his own: her nostrils flaring as certain, rattling thoughts passed through her mind, her jaw loosening and tightening in emotional reactions to those thoughts, her stubborn unwillingness to actually meet his eyes... And while she was clearly uncomfortable, he also knew she wasn't ready drop this line of conversation.

Mentally bracing himself, he patiently waited for her to speak.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You said you haven't had to call on your guards here in Seattle."

It wasn't a question, but Red answered her anyway, "Yes...that's right." He watched as she unconsciously poked at what remained of her appetizer with her fork, recognizing that she was gathering her courage to verbally approach whatever was troubling her.

"You've been in danger before." Elizabeth's voice had deepened considerably and was husky with the conflicting emotions roiling within as she slowly lifted her eyes to his. Her simmering vexation was apparent, but genuine concern now shone there as well

He regarded her gravely as a heavy silence began to stretch between them, growing tauter the longer they gazed at one another across the candlelit table.

Finally Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at his unwillingness to speak even as he let out a quietly resigned breath. "I won't insult your intelligence by lying to you, Lizzy," he told her softly.

She looked away from him then, furious with herself as well as with him. What had she wanted, him to tell her an untruth? Baz had already explained to her, albeit reluctantly, that Red had gone "toe-to-toe with competitors" before, implying that, yes, he had been in danger.

But having Red himself confirm what she already knew...the alarming words were now solidified into an irrefutable fact that she couldn't shy away from.

If she had wanted to remain in ignorance, she shouldn't have questioned Baz, and she certainly shouldn't have brought it up to Red. Obviously a large part of her didn't want to stick its head naively in the sand. Why else had she insisted on having this extremely difficult discussion with him tonight during what was supposed to be a romantic date?

However...there was another part of her that wished she had just kept quiet, for this knowledge shattered an illusion of him that she'd built up in her mind for years: that Red was...invincible; that he was immune to danger that could threaten his person...even his very life.

Did that make her shallow? To not want to acknowledge the truth? Did it make her a coward?

The very thought of Red getting hurt-of dying-was heartrendingly inconceivable.

Liz shuddered, her fury bleeding out from her heart as she bravely lifted her eyes back to his. "You're being safe, aren't you?" she demanded fiercely.

A faint smile flickered over his lips at the vehemence in her tone. He reached a hand across the table, wordlessly asking for hers.

She placed her small palm in his large one, gripping it tightly as they gazed at one another searchingly.

"I work to ensure it, Elizabeth."

Seeing the honesty in his steady gaze alleviated some of the swirling anxiety she felt, but not all of it. Liz exhaled sharply, trying to sidestep her agitation...so she said the first thing that popped into her head to turn the tide of the conversation.

"Is there anything else I should be aware of?" she asked, her forcibly light tone sounding discordant after such a weighty conversation, which was why she hadn't been able to cover the slightly sardonic lilt.

He gave her fingers a compassionate squeeze. "Not at this time."

Choosing to ignore the flash of a pained smile that ghosted across Red's face before he swiftly masked it behind one that was more understandingly tender, she looked down.

It was a lot to take in...and it was a lot to accept. Red comprehended that. Her glancing restively away from him was her way of retreating. She desired to put distance between them as she sorted through all the information that had been laid before her and the undoubtedly conflicting emotions it conjured up within her. And if they had been at his place, or even hers, she probably would have physically removed herself from his presence, at least for a little while...to process what he'd said and come to terms with it. That tended to be her way.

But Lizzy couldn't do that now. They were in the middle of dinner, in public. There were social protocols to be followed, and the obligation to propriety trapped her.

So she hid those lovely eyes from him instead.

If Red were to be quite frank with himself, he didn't want her to be reticent. In this particular case, he didn't think it would be good for either of them to be alone just now. In order to keep her from withdrawing into herself, he needed to distract her with something diverting. If he threw more words at her while this particular mood was riding her, they certainly wouldn't have the desired effect. So he immediately tossed out the idea of regaling her with amusing stories.

Hearing movement further up the courtyard, he glanced away from Elizabeth. A few more musicians were just finishing setting up beside the violinists and cellists.

Ah...perfect.

As the music began in an enthusiastic flourish, a slow smile spread across his lips and he lifted her hand in his, rising gracefully to his feet.

Her eyes darted immediately to his face in confusion. "What-"

"Come with me," he purred.

Looking a bit baffled, she obeyed. But when he began to lead her to the smoothly paved area of the courtyard, she balked.

"Oh no, Red," she whispered, bashfully resisting his gently insistent pull.

"Oh yes, Lizzy," he smiled confidently. "Come on."

"But...I don't know how to dance," she demurred as they stepped into the entrancing glow of golden light.

He arched a brow in teasing disbelief at her shy claim as he wrapped one muscled arm around her back while the other lifted hers in place. "Says the woman who knows hip-hop."

She wrinkled her nose at him as he drew her closer, pressing her lithe body lightly up against his.

"And," he swiftly added before she could protest, "I seem to recall one rainy night not too long ago when you actually showed me firsthand, in a club full of people, that you do possess an excellent sense of rhythm," he murmured, lips just brushing the shell of her ear as he began to sway.

"I mean," she blushed, fingers clenching nervously in his jacket as she hesitantly moved with him, "dance like this."

His white teeth flashed in an affectionate grin. "There's nothing to it. Just follow my lead, sweetheart."

And so, as the evening wore on, Red was able to keep her from withdrawing inward and away from him by teaching her the simple box step and then the foxtrot in between eating their fine dinner and delectable dessert. She took to ballroom dancing like she took to anything that was both new to her and diverting, with sparkling eyes and breathless laughter.

Toward the end of the night, when all the other couples had joined them on the dance floor and he knew for a fact that no one else happened to be idly watching, he allowed his hands the freedom to tenderly wander and suggestively press against her a little more. To his delight, he felt her respond to his subtle overtures with affectionate caresses of her own. And at one point, when she leaned back to gaze up at him, he momentarily forgot that they weren't completely alone and was quite unable to keep the tips of his fingers from briefly tracing the sweet curve of her smooth cheek.

"Would you like to come back with me to my place tonight?" he asked softly.

The expression in her dazzling eyes sharpened thoughtfully for a brief second before they darkened with an intimacy that thrilled him. "Yes."

And as they came together beneath the silken sheets of his bed, as he caressed and teased her lissome body, kissing and stroking and pleasuring her even while he strongly and steadily thrusted into her, groaning and taking his own pleasure as she mewled and gasped beneath him, the cerebral part of him was aware that she seemed to be coming to some kind of decision about him...about herself.

There was something different in her movements tonight as they neared their climaxes, in the confident way she grasped him, bringing him even closer against her, breathlessly urging him to move faster, accepting that he'd have to go harder as well...

And when she finally crested, taking him with her...

Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around him, lifting her head up and off the pillows to rub her cheek against the broad curve between his neck and shoulder, pressing a long and rather ardent kiss there.

It was a passionate kiss. A fierce kiss. A kiss, Red thought, of acceptance.