Solomon's Secrets Chapter 12

I've enjoyed posting chapters here over the past couple of weeks and finding appropriate images to share with you, so this week for

Operation Author: 365 Actions to Becoming a Successful Author 

I'm going to continue to serialize chapters from Solomon's Secrets. 

Today I'm sharing Chapter 12. In this chapter we're inside Jon's head...

Bloomsbury Street, London

“So tell me more about yourself, Jon?”

He didn’t like where this was going. What was he comfortable telling her? How much of the mask would he allow her to peer around? He had to stay one step ahead of her if he was going to pull this off.

“There’s not much to tell really. What would you like to know?”

“OK, well let’s see. We’ll start with something not too personal – work. Why silk?” she cupped her hands around her cheeks, leaned on her elbows and looked at him. He enjoyed the attention she was lavishing on him. He wanted her to know him, but this wasn’t the time. He had it all planned, things came in the right order. Patience. He cast his eyes down and laughed to himself, “How long have you got?”

“So give me the quick version – give me the ‘tell me about yourself’ job interview pitch.”

He considered it for a moment, “I’ve never even had a job interview.” He hadn’t thought about it before.

“What? Never? Really?” she looked disproportionally shocked.

Was she flirting with him?

He could be honest, but edited, if it led to her opening up and offering more of herself to him. If she would start to trust him enough to take him to what he wanted.

“I’ve never needed to. I’ve always either worked for the family or myself.”

“Family. Hmm. Let’s do that then. Did Solomon’s Silks start off as a family business?”

How could he distil it into something acceptable?

“No, no. My father owned a Butchers shop in Hackney. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth though. Our grandparents had money. From about the age of fifteen I used to help my father out. But I learned a lot about running a business and building up relationships with regular customers.”

“I bet you did, with that silver tongue of yours.”

He smiled, flattered. She was growing increasingly fond of him, he could tell. She’d come so close to letting him in at her apartment. Patience. It wouldn’t be long now before she would give herself to him.

He continued his story, “It was the eighties and everyone was out from themselves. Maggie was in power and everyone wanted to make a fast buck. I used to acquire things for my dad’s regulars.”

“Acquire things? Like what?”

He smiled, they were interesting memories but not all of them could be shared.

“Cheap tobacco, knock off Walkman's, copied tapes, stuff like that. I made quite a bit of money and financed my way through university, doing various jobs for people. The silk came later. A business opportunity opened up and I took it. I spent much of the nineties traveling the world trading with Sheiks and Oligarchs. It suited me. I never was one to put down roots.”

“And you’re parents?”

“Both dead now. Dad sold his shop and retired but died just a few weeks after giving up work. We always said he’d die of boredom. As I got older I never had much to do with them, I was always independent.”

“Brothers? Sisters?”

What should he tell her?

He hesitated. Took a sip of wine. Glanced at the menu again.

“A twin brother. Jack.”

He left it at that. No sense in saying anymore. It was none of her business. Not yet.

“So where’s Jack now?”

“He’s gone.”

“Dead?”

He nodded. That would do.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, avoiding eye contact with her.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Go on. Ask me something else?” he offered her a smile, hoping she could be encouraged to change the subject. It was too soon for Jack. He wasn’t ready to talk about that part of his life.

“OK,” she said, her voice uncertain. Her eyes drifted away in thought. He could tell she had many more questions. It was in her nature. Always asking questions. Always probing. Living for the pleasure of discovery.

That’s what he liked about her. Everything was interesting to her. Even things most people would step over in the dirt. Her enquiring mind was always open. It invited him in. He enjoyed that. He was usually on the periphery. Rarely invited in. The aloof millionaire in the corner people were afraid to get involved with. He never quite understood why. He could be generous, welcoming.

He’d been generous and welcoming to Cécile, but she’d thrown it back in his face.

Sasha wouldn’t be like that – would she?

Whatever role she was to play for him, his space was his own.

Should he let her in?

“Have you ever been married?” she asked.

That was an unexpected question. His cheeks felt hot. This was too personal. It needed to stop.

“Never. Never met the right woman and never had the time. I had a business partner once, but I don’t think it counts!”

“Too busy working and making money?” she flashed him a smile and he watched, fascinated as she sipped at her wine.

He laughed to himself, a contented laugh. More an expression of comfort than humour. She seemed to get that. Seemed to get him. It was refreshing. He wanted this to go further. Wanted to bring her into his life. At least he felt ready. Yes, he should let her in.

“So what do we do next then Dr Blake?” He folded his arms on the table top and grinned at her.

“Dr Blake? Well, that’s very serious,” she smiled. He liked the way she did that. The way her smile meant something, “Mister Solomon. We need to be in Paris in a couple of days if we’re going to try to find any trace of Assim’s ring at his apartment. Should I get some Eurostar tickets? I need to pop into town and run some errands anyway.”

He laughed. She was so sweet. Eurostar tickets indeed – “I have our transport covered.”

She pinched her eyebrows together, a small smile fixed on her lips. Suspicious, but not wanting him to know it. She was always suspicious. It quietly infuriated him, he’d given her no reason to distrust him. He kept it to himself and explained.

“My plane is at the City Airport. I’m planning to head back to Nice tomorrow morning. I have a seat for you. And a place you can stay.”

The smile fell away and her brows knitted.

“A plane? Wait a minute – you have your own plane, or am I missing something?”

“I have my own plane.” He sighed.

Why all the questions? couldn’t she just accept the suggestion without forever asking questions?

“OK?” she nodded, uncertain, “So then what? Where are we staying?”

“At the house.”

“What house?”

“My house of course. For someone so clever, sometimes you’re a bit slow, Sasha.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. Was he amused, or annoyed? He wasn’t sure, so he laughed.

“My main home is just outside Cannes, up in the hills. My little retreat. I have several guest rooms and have already had the housekeeper make up a suite for you. Don’t worry. I have everything covered.”

“You don’t need to do that, Jon. I wouldn’t want to cause you any inconvenience. I’m happy to make my own arrangements.”

Why would she do that? What did he need to do to earn her trust? Her respect? He shook the thought away.

“Nonsense. It’s a big house and I rattle around in it most of the time. I’m looking forward to having a guest. I insist. And don’t give me that guilt filled look. We have a lot in common you and I. You’ll rigorously defend your own independence, I get that. Think of this as a job and accept all the associated benefits as part of your payment. Trust me.”

She lifted her glass and he tapped his to it.

“Fine. And thank you,” she said.

Kate Winslet as Sasha Blake (image from: http://images.teamsugar.com)

Tom Hiddleston as Jon Solomon (image from: http://resources1.atgtickets.com)

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