Tahlia, tell me your story.” He drank a bit more of his scotch and regarded her with interest.
“You mean you haven’t researched the interloper who just burst into your life?”
He stared at her long and hard until she looked downward. “No, I haven’t. I was hoping to do that personally.”
“All right,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“That’s very vague. Hmm...” She paused. “I guess I can tell you that I was raised by my mother, Sophia Armstrong. It’s always been Mama, Kaitlynn—that’s my baby sister—and me. My mother is an RN at UCLA Medical Center, and my sister is an accountant.”
“And your father? You didn’t mention him. Where’s he in the picture?”
“He was mugged and shot one night coming home from work. He—he didn’t survive his injuries.”
Maximus noted how formal she sounded about losing her father so young. It had to have been devastating for her. “How old were you?”
“Ten years old,” Tahlia said. “Kaitlynn was only six. She barely remembers him, but I do. He was such a good dad. He taught me how to ride a bike, he helped me with my homework. He tucked me into bed at night and read us stories...” Her voice trailed off, and he could see the toll talking about it was having on her. Her eyes had become misty and wet with tears.
Maximus reached across the table, placed his hand over hers and squeezed. She didn’t move away. Instead, she let him comfort her, and he used his other hand to wipe away an errant tear that slid down her cheek. When she looked up at him, so soft and tender, all Maximus wanted was to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until the hurt went way. Instead, he just slid closer and wrapped his arm around her, and they sat silently for several minutes.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get emotional. I just get choked up talking about my dad sometimes.” Tahlia sniffed.
Maximus turned to her, offering her his handkerchief. “Don’t be, you loved him. And it shows. I don’t think I’ve even cried over my father since his death.”
She glanced up at him through lashes damp with tears as she dabbed at her eyes with the hanky. “You haven’t?”
“We didn’t have the sort of relationship that you and your father did.” He finished off the rest of his scotch and placed the empty glass on the table.
“You didn’t?” She sounded incredulous as she moved out of his embrace to look inquiringly at him.
“That surprises you?”
“If I’m honest?” she asked. “It does. Arthur was always so caring toward me. And I suppose losing my dad so young that having Arthur in my life was a godsend. We had a special relationship that went beyond a love of art, but was genuine.”
“Then I envy you,” Maximus said. “Because my father was never affectionate with me. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Whenever I seemed to be around, he was cold, distant and indifferent. Which is why I’m still boggled over why he stayed with my mother. And the only thing I’ve come up with is money. He stayed with her for money and the power that came with it.
“No.” Tahlia shook her head. “That can’t be. I can’t reconcile that with the Arthur I knew.”
“Then you didn’t know him at all. He was a master of lies.”
“But he loved you. He loved both his sons.”
“He did?” Now it was Maximus’s turn to be in disbelief. He’d shared so much with a stranger, but yet he hadn’t been able to tell his own sons those words? It didn’t make any sense. He was understanding Arthur Knight less and less with each passing day.
* * *
At the stunned look on Maximus’s face, Tahlia knew she’d said the wrong thing. She’d thought her words would give him comfort, but they were having the opposite effect. “I’m so sorry, Maximus. I don’t know why Arthur wasn’t honest with both his sons about his true feelings. I only know he wanted to claim his other son. But he never revealed it was Lucius. Just that it was his wish that both of you would run the business together one day.”
Maximus snorted. “For an outsider, you sure do know a lot about my family. Or should I say my father? It appears as if maybe you did know him better than any of us.” He signaled the waiter over.
“I’ll have another scotch.” He turned to Tahlia. “What would you like?”
“Nothing for me.”
The waiter departed, leaving them alone again. Tahlia noticed Maximus was silent as he pondered her words. Arthur Knight was a mix of contradictions. He was outwardly cold to Maximus and his mother, Charlotte, passionate with Jocelyn Turner and a father figure to her. And now Maximus would never know the answer to the burning questions he must have.
“Max,” Tahlia began. “What can I do?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure you can do anything, Tahlia. You’re in the middle of this mess, and we’ll have to navigate our way through it.”
Tahlia didn’t like his answer, and she wished she’d never told him just how much Arthur had shared with her. She hadn’t meant to hurt Maximus, but it was clear she had. His father had been open with her and not him. That had to sting.
She tried to change the subject. “I never got to finish my story,” she said. “You asked me about myself.”
“Hmm... I did, didn’t I?” Maximus sipped his scotch. “Why don’t you tell me how you got involved with the gallery?”
His question brought a smile to Tahlia’s face. “Actually, I’m an artist.”
He peered at her with intensity. “You are? Then why are you working at the gallery and not exhibiting?”
Tahlia shrugged. “I wasn’t very successful at getting my own art displayed, so I thought what better way to stay in the field than to help other struggling artists?”
“And your own art? What became of it?”
“I still dabble.”
“Would you show me your work sometime?” he inquired.
A smile of enchantment crossed Tahlia’s lips at the request. “Yes, I would like that.”
“It’s a date,” Maximus said. His look was so galvanizing it sent a tremor through Tahlia, and her heart began hammering loudly in her ears. She wanted to respond and tell him she’d love to go out with him again, but a knot rose in her throat and all Tahlia could do was nod.
The waiter brought their entrées and they both dug into their French meals. The food was rich and decadent, but delicious. Tahlia had no qualms about finishing the meal, and Maximus commented on it.
“You enjoyed your meal?” He inclined his head to her empty plate.
She blushed. “I’d think that was obvious.” She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“I love this place and come here often,” Maximus said. “It might be small and quaint, but I believe in quality over quantity, and the food is best—thus why I have a special table.”
“Thank you for the invite.”
“You’re welcome. Would you care for dessert? Coffee?”
She patted her stomach. “Oh, no, I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“All right, I’ll get the bill.” He motioned the waiter over.
Once the bill was settled, Maximus and Tahlia made their way back to the valet station. And once his Bugatti was procured, they were on their way back to