Page 8 of Landen
Her tapered browslifted.
“Perhaps whereyou come from, women are viewed as properties, but here in the goodold US of A, we are considered to be people.”
He grimaced at that.“I just fell a notch down in your admiration of me.”
She laughed, whiteflashing against the coral lipstick she was wearing. “You dohave an elevated opinion of yourself.”
“Dare I term itas an attraction?”
“You may termit whatever you want.” Handing him the painting, she steppedtowards the door. “As entertaining as this is, I have work todo.”
“I just spent afortune with you so that you can receive a hefty commission.”
“And for that,I thank you.” She stepped outside and forced him to do thesame.
“What will ittake for you to take me up on my offer?”
“Nothing.”Smiling at him, she turned and walked away. “Goodbye, Mr.Chapman.”
“I will beback.” He called after her.
He had lingered alittle more, pretending to look at more paintings, but some peoplehad taken her up, and he had reluctantly left.
Now, he was insidethe flat or loft as the flirtatious realtor had called the place. Itwas very pricey in the middle of the business district, but he didnot mind. And now that he had met the woman he was going to have afling with, it was proving very convenient.
Putting the paintingin the corner of the sunken living room with the sweeping andspectacular view of the entire city, he went to a recessed bar topour himself a drink. The smile faded from his lips as he recalledthe events of the last week.
He had dropped thebomb on his family about his leaving over the phone, and they wereunderstandably upset.
Taking the drink backwith him, he sank on the tan leather sofa and stretched his legs out,crossing them at the ankles.
“You are aChapman, and we have meetings that need your attention. You cannotjust up and leave Landen. You have responsibilities.”
“And we haveexcellent managers to take care of all of that. I just need to getaway.”
“You were awaya month ago; before that, you went away for two weeks in Italy.”
“That wasbusiness. This is personal. You and my mother want me to settle down.I am saying that I need this break to forget that I am LandenChapman.”
“Where are yougoing this time?” The question had been rigidly phrased, andLanden had imagined the forbidding expression on his father’sface.
“Somewhere inthe US. I am not sure where yet.” He had lied.
“I hope yourealize that the private jet will not be available for this whim ofyours.”
“I amaware. I am taking a commercial flight.”
“How long willyou be gone?”
He had hesitatedbefore responding, knowing the fireworks or the cold war that wouldaccompany his response. “Likely for a month. It could beless.”
He had waited as thesilence stretched into minutes. He knew the trick, which had beenused on him and his sister for years. Elizabeth could not withstandthe pressure, but Landen had mastered just waiting it out.
“You are beingunreasonable.”
“I am lookingout for myself, Father, and you cannot fault me for doing so.”
They hung up on him.After that, he received several more calls from people trying topersuade him to change his mind.