Setzer absently tapped the top card of his yet unused deck of cards as he clicked the dice together in his other hand. Glancing up from his desk, his eyes met those of Marée’s within her portrait. The dare shone still as bright as the flame her touch brought to his skin. Yet it was different. It held a dare to choose any woman but her. A dare to try and find her spark of life in a cultured beauty who sang of unlived dramas of life.
That presence of a continued passion for Maria surprised him.
Setzer’s mind sputtered and stopped. He lowered his gaze back to the cards as he halted the tapping of his fingers. He picked up the topmost card and stared at the back, intensely scrutinizing the Esper design--Bahamut, he believed--as he tried to decide a path. Both held the promise of passion and intensity. Both held the promise of newness and adventure. Both women moved him.
Setzer tossed the card away and leaned roughly back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. He rubbed at his forehead as he released a deep and quick breath. Maria had said she would wait. So why couldn’t he have his adventure with Marée? Then, when his quality of distraction and amusement faded . . . Setzer scoffed and chucked his dice across the room. Am I a letch? An abuser of women? I am a gambler, yes, but not with the hearts of sensitive creatures such as Maria!
“Bah!”
A knock sounded.
“Enter!”
The Impresario did, surrounded by an air of uncertainty. “Mr. Gabbiani. Thank you again for the shipment.” He set a large bag of gil on the table. “And thank you also for your visit. Maria has never before sang with such . . . passion.”
Setzer nearly groaned. Instead, he stood and motioned back the way the Impresario had come. “I’m glad I could have such a positive influence, Impresario.” He closed the door to his office and led the man through the main room and to the exit.
“As long as you promise not to steal her away, you must visit again. I could reserve a box for you and a guest.”
Setzer fought back the urge to accept. “If my schedule brings me this way, I thank you for the invitation. Good night, Impresario.”
“Good night, Mr. Gabbiani.”
Setzer shut the door with a frown. Then he strode back through the main room to the flight deck. Once at the wheel, he clutched it and pushed the throttle forward. The engine whined, driving the Falcon into the wind in an attempt to appease her pilot. The wind was a double curse, though. It reminded him of both women. The wind in his hair evoking visions of Marée as the sound of the musical hum in his ears tortured him with thoughts of Maria. Two women. Two different lives. One passion. Enough to drive him mad.
Setzer dove the Falcon down, down, down until she skimmed the water of the sea, wetting his face, hair, and uniform with spray. Then he pulled up hard to soar with a wyvern, chasing and torturing it as the memories and ecstasies tortured him. Captain. Songstress. Command. Delicacy. Intensity in each. Setzer clenched his jaw, abandoning the wyvern to a need for speed as he coaxed every morsel of energy from the Falcon’s engines. She gave it, doing her best to soothe his heart and quiet his soul.
As usual, the Falcon succeeded.
Setzer eased back on the throttle and caressed a spoke of the wheel. “I’m sorry, love. I’m in a bit of a mood tonight.”
He sighed with a shake of his head as he leaned into the wind. I’m sorry, Maria . . . She resided in his past. It had been a pleasant one, but it was still the past. He had long ago promised not to look back, but always to the future. To the next adventure. To the next turn of the card . . .
Setzer anchored the Falcon and went below, entering his office with a purposeful step as he made way to his desk. He took up the cards and stared down at them, gauging his intent and what it could mean. Finally, he shuffled them and took the top card. But Setzer couldn’t turn it. He couldn’t let the card decide his future. Not this one. He lowered the card to the deck and purposefully placed the deck on his desk.