“No backing out now: you’re the queen of the ball, and you owe your subjects a dance,” he whispered in my ear, and the sound of his deep voice made every part of my body tighten up. But I could neither free myself nor step away—his hold on me was too tight.
“I don’t even know how to waltz,” I said, but he started moving, anyway.
“That doesn’t matter. Just let me lead you,” he murmured, and I wished he wasn’t so close to my ear. His lips were just an inch away, and his warm breath swept softly across my skin. It felt good, too good for my liking, and I felt my hand tense up on his back. Then I realized in horror that he had almost certainly noticed my nails clawing into his back, and I immediately relaxed my fingers.
So we twirled across the dance floor, and the crowd soon joined in. I had to say that Luca had been right: even though I’d never danced the steps to a waltz, they weren’t hard at all. I just let him lead me across the parquet.
But as well as Luca danced—or maybe for that exact reason—I started getting dizzy as the song went on. I’d forgotten that waltzes like these sometimes went a good ten minutes. And either I’d had too much champagne, or there wasn’t enough fluid in my inner ear; whatever the reason, my head was starting to spin. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his chest. “Luca, I’m dizzy; we have to stop,” I said, digging my nails into his back again.
“No problem,” he said, and led me down the stairs. A few seconds later, he opened a door, and we stepped into the open-air courtyard, designed as a small park. He was still holding me by the arm as we approached a bench, but when he tried to sit me down, I shook my head.
“No, I’d rather stand,” I said, wiping my damp brow.
“Too much to drink?” he inquired, and I couldn’t tell whether he sounded amused or worried. Maybe a little of each.
“No, actually. I just think all that spinning around didn’t agree with me,” I murmured and took a step forward. Immediately the ground came rushing up toward me, but before I could fall, Luca stepped in front of me, and I landed against his chest instead. Normally, I’d only get that close to a boyfriend, so being pressed against him like that should have been unpleasant, but there was nothing I could do about it. If I’d stepped away, I’d have been lying on the ground a second later.
“Not again,” I mumbled into his suit, feeling the pounding of his heart against my cheek. “This is unbelievably embarrassing.”
“Not for me,” he said, wrapping his arm around my back. “I think it’s pretty nice, in fact.” I could just picture his wide grin.
“You’re impossible,” I said, shaking my head but laughing.
Then the door to the courtyard burst open, and Aileen’s mother’s voice rang out. “Oh, my goodness, what’s wrong, child? You’re so pale,” she said, pulling me back from Luca’s chest so that she could look at me more closely.
“She hardly ate a thing,” interjected Aileen, who had followed her mom out.
“I knew immediately that something wasn’t right,” her mother continued. “But then you two had already disappeared from the dance floor.” She turned to Luca. “What in the world did you do to this poor girl?”
“Nothing that isn’t a standard part of ballroom dancing,” he replied, and maybe I was just imagining it, but it sounded like he was slightly annoyed.
Aileen directed me to the empty bench and ordered her mother to keep an eye on me. “I’ll get you a glass of water . . . and you should go look after your guests,” she added, looking at Luca. “They’re all bewildered.” With that, she whirled off.
Glancing at me, he asked, “Will you be okay?”
“Sure, go ahead. I just need some water.” I smiled weakly.
He regarded me for another moment, then nodded and headed back inside.
I hardly saw Luca at all for the rest of the evening, mainly because Aileen and her mom had me under constant supervision. They probably thought I was going to collapse at any second because I was still wobbling a little, but I didn’t give it that much thought. The real issue was what had happened between Luca and me. Or was it normal for a manager to hold one of his employees tightly in his arms? And what was far worse: I’d enjoyed it! That should never have happened, none of it.
I had to admit that Luca was unbelievably attractive and charming. Yes, and nice, too, and courteous, and attentive . . . But weren’t all men in the beginning? Friends of mine in college had cried rivers on my shoulder, wishing their boyfriends would go back to being as attentive as they’d been at first. The guys who had once bought them flowers and little gifts turned into beer-drinking, football-watching couch potatoes who had paunches instead of six-packs and no longer found it necessary to shave.
Well, okay, I hardly believed that Luca would ever let himself go quite to that extent, but what I did believe was that he only wanted to win me over so that he could get me into bed. What else could he possibly be interested in? I had nothing in the world to offer him—at least, my ex had often said that about me, and things would be no different with Luca. Successful men expected their partners to have just as much ambition in life as they had, but some people were happy with just a roof over their heads and a set of wheels.
At the beginning of our relationship, for example, Toby had showered me with gifts and accessories without expecting anything in return, but not long after that he started to suggest I was sponging off him and didn’t have any loftier ambitions. I knew that he expected equally expensive presents from me, but I couldn’t afford them. He’d gotten me new phones, iPods, and designer purses for Christmas, whereas I’d usually have a maximum budget of a hundred euros, and even that had required a lot of scrimping and saving. I think that was exactly why he’d secretly resented me.
And that was why I could never get involved with Luca, even if he actually was interested in something serious. I would always have the feeling that I didn’t have enough to offer him. So I’d have to be satisfied with somebody less spectacular. Wasn’t I modest?
“Hey, are you still with us?” Aileen asked me after a while. I wasn’t, really, and hadn’t been for some time. After the two of them had nursed me back to health, we’d all slunk off into a corner, where I’d gotten completely lost in thought.
“I think I’m going to head home now,” I announced, rising slowly from my seat. “Are you two coming?”
But they shook their heads. “No way,” Aileen said. “This is the party of the year, and I don’t want to miss it. Take a taxi home, though, okay?” She gave me a good-bye hug.
I nodded and left the festivities.
A HARMLESS RUN
Luca was away from the office for a few days after the party; of course, as his executive assistant, I’d known in advance he was going to be out. He was at a conference with the other fourth-floor managers, so we secretaries had nothing to do except apologize to their callers and schedule meetings for after their return—leaving us plenty of time to chat about the party and make fun of the people who’d had a few too many. Mary was remarkably quiet, content to simply ignore me rather than bombard me with snide comments, which was perfectly fine by me.
On the third day, Lisa picked me up from work so that we could go shopping together; just as we were driving home and I was thinking what a relaxing day it had been, my mother called.
“And now this?” I groaned, rejecting the call.
“What’s up?” Lisa asked, her eyes on the road.
“My mom! After three weeks she’s finally noticed that her daughter has disappeared,” I sneered as I put my phone away.
“Answer it! The sooner you talk to her, the sooner you have it over with.”
I gave her an admonishing look. “You just want to listen in,” I said in an accusatory tone.
She only nodded, grinning, and when my phone vibrated again, I reluctantly took the call. “Hello?” I asked, although I knew perfectly well who was ca
lling.
The line was silent for a moment, as though she was surprised that I’d even picked up the phone, but then she started barking at me. “How dare you run out on me like this? Do you know I had to lie to our neighbors to explain your sudden disappearance?”
“But lying is your specialty,” I replied, unmoved. Once upon a time, I would have shrunk in terror from her loud voice and stern tone, but those days were over. I wasn’t afraid of her anymore—which seemed strange somehow, so different from when I was a kid. Children see their parents as the highest authority figures, and I had done everything I could to avoid incurring her wrath. Now, I could finally see that she was just a person, too, and not nearly as terrifying as I’d thought.
My mother gasped in outrage, but then launched into her usual tirade. “What did I do to deserve such a thankless child? I get you an education and a secure job, and you just up and move to Berlin with no warning! What’s gotten into you?”
I knew she’d find out sooner or later. “We both know that you only did those things for yourself. I never wanted to study law, and you know it. And in case you’re interested, I’m working as a secretary at an event company now, and I’m having a fantastic time.”
“Bah! Secretaries! Everybody knows that their only job is to roll around on the desk with the boss. You might as well have become a stripper,” she snapped, but her words flowed off me like water off a stone. I couldn’t have cared less what she had to say. She couldn’t hurt me anymore, and it was driving her crazy.
“What else can I do for you?” I asked. “Otherwise, I’d like to go back to living my own life.”
There was a moment of silence. Then she said, “I want you to come back, Sophia. You are going to see reason and kindly do what I tell you. I will not permit you to dishonor our family and leave me here all alone. You get back here this instant!”
“It was nice talking to you. Bye.” I hung up. “She actually wanted me to come back.” I shook my head, pocketing my cell phone.
“She’s not going to take this lying down,” Lisa remarked as she parked in front of our door.
“Maybe not, but what is she going to do about it? Have me kidnapped and dragged back? She’s furious, but that’ll pass. Eventually she’ll forget that she ever had a daughter,” I predicted as I hopped out. I was glad that conversation had finally happened. Now I could focus on the future.
Luca and the other senior managers were back after three days, and as he walked past the secretaries with his morning greeting, I hurriedly grabbed my notebook and followed him. I would neither think about nor mention his embrace at the company party. Everything was the same as ever. Nothing had happened.
He left the door open so that I could slip in and close it behind me. As always, he started by opening the window. Then he set down a large gym bag and removed his jacket. “How are you? Did you get home all right that night?” he asked as he hung it over the back of his chair and sat down across from me.
I leaned in across the table to pour him some chamomile tea from the thermos I’d brought in half an hour before. “I did, thanks,” I said. “I don’t know what was wrong with me, either. It must have been from all that spinning around. Where did you learn to waltz, anyway?” I asked while sitting down. I’d wanted to ask him that evening, but I’d been a tiny bit distracted.
“My mother taught me. She loved it,” he said, and something about his nostalgic smile told me that she was no longer among the living.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I said timidly. I should have never asked.
“What, that she immigrated to Italy?” He furrowed his brow at me.
Italy? “Oh, so she’s still alive?” I asked, relieved.
“Of course.” He gave me a somewhat bewildered look. “Why do you ask?”
“Sorry,” I said with an apologetic wave of my hand. “It just sounded like she died.” Almost immediately, I started wondering just what the hell we were doing here. I mean, was this conversation really appropriate? I was his assistant, so I knew a few details about his private life, but I didn’t want things to get quite this personal.
He, however, did not seem to share that sentiment. “No, she’s not dead,” he said, “but she’s been in a wheelchair for five years. She always loved to dance, and she went dancing quite a lot before her accident. She even took part in competitions regularly, though she never won.” He smiled dreamily, as though recalling an amusing situation. “Then she had the accident, and my father . . . Well, she ended up moving in with her sister in Italy,” he finished hurriedly, as though he had suddenly realized that the conversation was getting a little too personal.
“Did you work out before you came to the office?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I’ve been looking for a gym to join.” That was true. Lisa, who worked out regularly, had been nagging me for over a week about finally doing something good for my body. Not that I thought I was overweight or anything, but nobody was getting any younger here, and it was important to keep up my fitness and stamina.
He followed my eyes to his gym bag. “I go running every Wednesday and Sunday; I shower when I get to the office on Wednesdays,” he told me. “On Sundays my dog joins me.”
“You have a dog?” I pricked up my ears. “What kind?”
“A sheepdog. Kira,” he said, surprised at my sudden interest. And possibly misinterpreting it, because after a moment of consideration, he suggested, “You can come with us this Sunday. We start at ten o’clock.”
Uh, what? Me, go jogging with him? “Isn’t that sort of . . . inappropriate?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sophia, you’re acting like I’m asking you on a date! We’re talking about running here. You sweat, you pant like crazy, and you get ridiculously sore muscles. Does that sound in any way romantic to you?”
I had to laugh. It occurred to me that, somehow, this guy always knew just what to say to clear up my doubts.
“So can my girl and I count on you?” he asked.
“Your girl?” I echoed in surprise, feeling a slight pang. Had I misunderstood him or something? Surely he didn’t want me to watch him jog around happily with his girlfriend while I, his assistant, traipsed along behind them? Not that it bothered me that he had a girlfriend. It didn’t, right?
“My dog, Kira,” he reminded me with an amused twinkle in his eye. Crap, he’d seen my reaction.
I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play down the awkward moment. “Sure, why not.” Why not? Because he’s your boss, goddammit! I chided myself. Surely you don’t want to see him in skintight running clothes! But I wanted to show him—and above all, show myself—that it didn’t bother me to meet up with him. It was a harmless little run, nothing more. And he was right: there wasn’t anything inappropriate about working out together.
“Okay, let’s get down to business,” he said, flipping his laptop open.
Half an hour later, once I’d gone through every appointment and inquiry with him, I said, “I absolutely need Wednesday off next week. My roommate has an important doctor’s appointment, and I have to stay home, because they’re laying new pipes in our building.”
“Next Wednesday?” he echoed.
“I know the shift schedule’s already finished, but it’s a really urgent appointment that she can’t change, and someone has to be home for the pipe maintenance.”
He regarded me appraisingly, massaging his chin with one hand. “What are you offering in exchange?”
I shrugged. “I’ll work an extra shift?”
“Hmm . . . What if, instead of that, you started calling me Luca?” he suggested.
“Two extra shifts,” I countered.
That drew a laugh out of him. “You would actually rather work overtime than call me Luca? That’s pretty hurtful, you know that?” When I only shrugged in reply, he went on, “What about the other department heads? Yo
u call them by their first names.”
I had to laugh, because he sounded like an insulted child. Even so, I replied, “But you’re my boss, Mr. Marcs.”
He gazed at me for a long moment, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. He was determined to find a way to change my mind, and I was flattered that he was racking his brain so hard. What he said next, however, nipped my growing appreciation in the bud: “Well, Sophia, in that case, I have no choice but to transfer you to another department.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re bluffing.”
“Not at all,” he replied, pulling out a folder full of paperwork. “There are still plenty of managers on the sixth floor who could use a good secretary like you.”
“And what are you going to tell them when they ask why you’re transferring me?” I felt my knees going weak. He was just bluffing, wasn’t he? I didn’t want to leave. I’d settled in so nicely, and working for him wasn’t exactly the most horrible fate. To be honest, in fact, he was the nicest, most easygoing person I’d ever worked for—apart from his occasional attempts at flirting, but so far they’d been harmless and didn’t really bother me, anyway. No, I definitely had zero interest in moving to another department.
“I’m a senior manager, in case you’ve forgotten,” he reminded me with a devilish smile. “I don’t have to tell anyone anything. So, how do you want to do this?” He gave me a self-satisfied grin because he knew I would cave in. He was the best boss there by a mile; even the other secretaries envied my position—and not just because Luca was good-looking, as I’d learned over the past few weeks. Mary’s boss, for example, was a mega-bitch if she hadn’t had her morning coffee, and the guy Anne worked for apparently couldn’t stand women. So I was going to accept Luca’s offer, and he knew it.
Next Stop: Love Page 8