by Geneva Lee
“We’re taught from a young age that they don’t exist,” Poppy says. “I’m not joking! You can marry into money if you’re a woman, but marry down and you’re out.”
“Really?” Kai turns to me for confirmation. “Is that where things went wrong for you and Sterling?” He winces when he realizes that he just brought up a painful topic.
Before he can apologize, I jump in, “I have no idea what happened with Sterling and me. I have no idea why he betrayed me.”
Kai opens his mouth again, another question in his eyes.
“Change of subject!” Poppy says. Her head tilts, and she grabs my hand. For an awkward minute, she studies it. I half expect her to start telling my fortune. When she finally looks up, she shakes her head with disapproval. “When do you start your new job?”
I bite my lip. So maybe Sterling isn’t the only call I’ve been avoiding. “I’m supposed to pop in to do paperwork, but after what Malcolm did…”
“Nope!” Kai interrupts loudly. “You aren’t letting your brother wreck this for you. She hired you. Do you think that offer is going to be around forever?”
“I doubt it’s around at all. I own the business. I’ll never be there because she wants me, not now,” I say, looking for some inkling of understanding. Instead, I’m met with tough love.
“I’m with Kai,” Poppy says in a firm voice. She pulls out her phone.
“Who are you calling?” I can’t help my suspicion. I can’t trust her not to intervene if she think’s she’s helping me.
“Elsi,” she says.
“No!” But I know it’s too late to stop her. She holds a finger and mouths: shush. “Are you available? It’s an absolute emergency.”
“Who’s Elsi?” Kai whispers.
But Poppy’s off the phone before I can answer. “She’s my miracle worker.”
“Her stylist,” I say to him.
“Miracle worker,” she says, “and she deserves the title. She’s on her way. We need to get you ready for your first job.”
“I don’t need to do any of that. It’s going to be awkward and terrible. I should probably just sell.”
“No!” Kai and Poppy yell in unison.
“I’ll take this one,” Kai says to her. He puts an arm around my shoulder. “They know you own the place. So what? Own it. Treat people well. Do the work how you think it should be done. People will think what you let them think—until you show them differently. Trust me.”
Kai would be an authority on the matter. I understand what they’re trying to tell me, but it doesn’t make me feel that I’m making the right choice. “The truth is that when Sterling showed back up, I was ready. Ready to claim my life. Ready to be on my own.”
“And that hasn’t changed! So, they know who you are. Go show them you deserve their respect,” he adds.
“Yeah?” He makes it sound so easy. “How?”
“I’ll tell you what Simon Cowell told me: fake it until you make it,” he says with a laugh.
“And that’s where Elsi comes in,” Poppy adds. “And while we’re on the subject, are you planning to… um… decorate?”
“Is there something wrong with this place?” I pretend to be offended.
“Not for a fifty year-old woman,” Kai says.
“You need someplace—”“Sexy,” Kai finishes.
“And chic,” Poppy says.
“And minimalist,” Kai adds.
“Bright and airy.”
“Okay! Okay!” I surrender. “I already told them to send the house decorator.”
“I’ll speak with her,” Poppy says seriously. “Now take that onesie off before Elsi gets here.”
“It’s not a onesie,” I argue as she shoves me into the attached bedroom.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, darling!”
* * *
When the familiar knock comes from the door there are cucumber slices on my eyes and my nails have just been painted a smokey purple-gray. Poppy darts off to answer it. She reappears holding a large box. “More gifts from Sterling.”
“Get rid of it,” I tell her, but she’s already opening the box.
She lets out a little moan when she sees what’s inside. “It’s chocolates from La Bonne Bouché.”
“Get rid of it,” I repeat.
She ignores me, dropping the box on the entry table before plucking a truffle from the pink tissue paper inside. “You can throw away flowers, but a girl never throws away chocolate.”
“I agree with her,” Kai calls through a sheet mask.
I shrug, pretending that I have no interest in them. The truth is, part of me enjoys torturing Sterling. I don’t want the gifts, but I don’t want them to stop coming. My stomach does a flip when I realize why.
“Has he called today?” Poppy asks.
“He will.”
She looks far too pleased at the prospect. Since I finally hooked up with Sterling, she is feeling either vindicated or hopeful. I’m not sure which is worse.
“Who do you think he was?” Poppy asks, popping another truffle into her mouth.
“Who?” I blink at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The guy Sterling didn’t want to run into in the lobby,” she says.
If we’re going to talk about Sterling, I might as well have some chocolate. It will soften the blow. I hold out a palm and she places a truffle in it. I pretend I’m not enjoying it. “I don’t know.” Whoever he was, Sterling totally freaked out when he saw him.
“Do you think he’s in trouble?” she asks.
One of the best things about Poppy is her beautiful naiveté. Poppy is innocent. She sees the good in everyone. This also means she overlooks the bad. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Sterling is involved in some questionable businesses. There’s no way he could’ve made the kind of money he’s flashing without doing a little dirty work. Somehow, this seems never to have occurred to Poppy.
“I think he is in trouble,” I say. “Which means trouble is going to follow him until he leaves town.”
“Don’t be pessimistic,” Kai advises.
I pull up the edge of a cucumber slice to make sure I aim my glare at him.
Poppy senses my anxiety and switches the subject. “Have you thought any more about what patterns you want to use?”
In the time it took Elsi to arrive, she called down to the front desk and had the house interior designer drop off fabric samples. If I had half her determination, I might be running MacLaine Media.
“Honestly, I don’t care.” I drop into a chair, wishing it would swallow me up and give me a break from my new life.
“You were so excited to have your own place,” she reminds me.
“I know.” I hold a throw pillow to my chest. “It just doesn’t seem important now.”
“That will happen when you’re lovesick,” Kai says. He strolls over, adjusting his hotel robe and sits next to me on the bed.
“Love–what?” I splutter.
“You know what he said. What about these?” She asks and I flip up the cumber slices to see her rifling through a stack of fabrics before pulling two and setting them side-by-side. She peers down at them, seeing some special difference that eludes me.
“Those are fine,” I say dismissively, and return the cucumbers to their mission. I’m not sure this place can ever feel like home. It’s somehow both full of my mother and lifeless at the same time.
Poppy plucks the cucumbers off and tosses them on the table. I hear Elsi cluck with disapproval from the bathroom, but Poppy ignores her. “This is your first place. I don’t want fine. I want spectacular. When Sterling comes banging down your door, I want to know that he’s going to find a strong, confident, worldly woman.”
“You have an apartment of your own,” I say to her, “I don’t know how you can manage to be here all the time.”
“I’m not talking about me.” She huffs and drops onto the foot of the bed. “You told him that you didn’t want a man to con
trol you anymore. Show him that. But don’t let everyone make choices for you, either. Pick one.” She points to the samples.
I’m not entirely certain this proves what she thinks it does, but I can’t argue with her logic. I can’t keep saying I want a life of my own without making any progress towards it, without working on making my own choices. I grab a stack, toss aside her choices, and rifle through until I land on a bottle-green velvet. “This one.”
Poppy raises one perfectly lined eyebrow. “Oh.”
I can’t tell what she thinks of my choice, but honestly it doesn’t matter.
“I love it,” I tell her.
“Excellent. Now let’s decide on—” she is cut off by the ring of the suite’s phone.
“Let’s see what excuse he came up with for today,” I grumble as I accept the call from the front desk. Part of taking control means not avoiding my problems either. I listened to the messages he left but avoided answering. That ends now.“Hello?”
“I’m so glad you answered,” he says in a rush.
“Oh yeah?” I lounge back in the chair and check my watch. Actually, he’s calling a little later today. Probably part of his plan.
“It’s Zeus,” he says.
I sit bolt upright. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. He’s acting oddly,” Sterling says, his voice coated with worry. “I can barely get him to go out on a walk.”
“What?” I knew his adopted dog for months before Sterling adopted him from the shelter, so I know exactly how odd that is. Zeus loves his walks.
“Look, I know you’re avoiding me, but could you come over here and see what you think? You know him better than I do,” he says.
“I’m on my way.” I don’t bother to say goodbye. I wipe the creamy mask off my face and begin searching for my purse. “I need to go.”
“How did he finally hook you?” Kai’s tone sparkles with laughter.
“Something is wrong with Zeus,” I explain to them. I grab a pair of jeans and a shirt from the dresser drawer and dash into the bathroom to get dressed.
“I hope everything will be okay,” Poppy calls after me as I run toward the door.
“Me, too,” I say as I leave.
I can almost swear I hear her whisper to Kai as the door swings closed, “He used the dog. Brilliant.”
* * *
Poppy’s theory has me thinking. By the time I arrive at Twelve and South, I’m sure she’s right. I’m already prepping my lecture for him on using an innocent animal when I reach the penthouse. Sterling opens the door before I can knock. “He’s in here.”
He doesn’t bother to linger. He barely looks at me. Instead, he heads straight back to the living room. Sterling disappears, and a few steps later I realize he has laid down on the floor next to the dog, his dark head resting on him like he’s listening to his heartbeat. Zeus is in the middle of the floor, barely moving. He lifts his head when he sees me and lets out a small whimper.
“How long has he been like this?” I ask, dropping to the floor beside him. Something shifts in Zeus’s demeanor when I reach to scratch behind his ears. He’s not his usual playful self, but he moves closer, almost climbing into my lap to kiss me on the face. After a few seconds, he practically vibrates with joy. Maybe Poppy was right. “Did you train him to do this?”
“Honestly, I would have shamelessly used the dog if I had known it would work,” he says, exhaling in relief. He props his head on his elbow and watches us. “He just misses you.”
“What’s up, Zeus?” I continue scratching behind his ears before leaning down to whisper. “Did he talk you into this?”
“I can still hear you.” He sounds happy, and my heart skips.
“Okay,” I whisper, “nothing is wrong with your dog.”
When I glance over, Sterling is studying him with concern. “I still want to take him to the vet.”
“Hey, I really do think he’s okay,” I say, finding myself wanting to reassure him.
“I’m supposed to take care of him.” The statement is loaded with self-recrimination.
“And you are,” I promise him. Something sticking out from the seam of the couch catches my eye. I point to it. “Is that my phone?”
Sterling tears his eyes from us, rolls to the side, and pulls it out. “You mean, this whole time you haven’t been answering because your phone was here? I thought you were avoiding me.”
“Trust me, I was.” I reach and grab it from him.
He just stares dumbly at his empty hand. “You really were,” he says quietly. “You didn’t even come for your phone.”
“I didn’t need it.” I do my best to sound casual.
“What about your job?” He looks up, concern deepening the blue of his eyes.
“It’s fine. I haven’t started yet.” I console myself that it’s not really a lie. I scratch Zeus on the chin before pushing to my feet. “I should go.”
Sterling gets up and blocks my clean getaway. “Let me buy you dinner.”
“It’s two o’clock,” I say, crossing my arms and trying to look disinterested in the offer. “That’s hours away.”
He stalks a few steps closer. “If only we could think of something to do until then…”
“Like talk about your mysterious friend Noah?” I ask pointedly, trying to ignore the tingles breaking over my body.
“I already told you it’s complicated,” Sterling says, pulling up a half step before crashing into me.
My body responds to his proximity, longing for the release only he can give me. But I won’t repeat my past mistakes, even if all I do is make new ones. “And I already told you it isn’t. Either I matter to you or I don’t.”
He flinches as if I slapped him. “Of course you matter to me.”
“Not enough to tell me about the last five years of your life. Not enough to tell me who Noah is and why he scared you.”
“That’s not fair,” Sterling insists. “It’s not like—”
“Well, I won’t really know until you tell me, will I?”
It’s an excellent point, and he knows it.
“Lucky…” he trails off, his eyes wild, like a cornered animal’s. “I won’t lose you.”
He reaches for me, and I don’t stop him.
I tell myself I could, that I’m the one steering this runaway train of a relationship—but as soon as his hands are on me, I know it’s a lie. He leans down to kiss me, and it takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to keep the train on the tracks.
“I’m not going anywhere.” His face is inches from mine, and his eyes, beginning to close, snap open. It’s like I’ve breathed life back into him. “But I’m also not waiting around for you to get your shit together.”
“So where does that leave us?” His sense of relief fades, replaced by a sly, hopeful look. His hands, wrapped around my shoulders, begin to slide down my back.
That’s exactly what I’d like to know.
When I don’t answer, he moves his face closer to mine—close enough to kiss me, but he doesn’t. “Is this the part where you break my heart?”
Is it? In order to survive Sterling Ford, I told myself I had to slam the door in his face. And it was easy enough to believe when we were apart. But in the same room? With his hands on me? We’re both powerless. We hurtle forward, faster than we can see the way ahead, because this thing we have—whatever it is—is better than the darkness of our lives. Our passion throws sparks to light the way, but sparks only last so long. There’s always another bend in the tracks ahead, too far for the light to reach, and once we round it, the darkness swallows us again.
I know this and it doesn’t matter.
“Just put your fucking hands on me, already,” I breathe. Sometimes a girl needs freedom from the dark, even if it’s a stolen thing. Even if it’s all I can rely on Sterling to provide.
He doesn’t hesitate. Pulling his t-shirt off with one hand, he uses the other to force open my jeans. He doesn’t bother helping me take them of
f, instead shoving his hand between my legs to find his prize.
My own hand slides to his jeans, unbuttoning them to free his swelling cock. It falls heavy and hot into my palm, and his vocal cords spasm, collapsing his sharp grunt into a deep moan. He pushes them down and steps out of them. Sterling spins me the opposite direction, his left arm under my ribcage, bracing me tightly, his right hand buried in my panties.
He slides one finger into my gushing sex, then two. I can feel my clit between his knuckles, like a vise there’s no hope of escaping. The pressure is so intense that, for a moment, I’m afraid I might pass out. My head rolls back onto his chest as he lifts me off the ground and starts to carry me to the bedroom? The wall? I can’t think well enough to process the particulars, and I care even less as long as he doesn’t stop. I lose my sandals along the way and possibly my mind.
I give my body completely to him, not knowing what the future will bring besides the escape I so desperately need.
When he lowers me to my feet, he doesn’t release me. His hand slides away, but only so he can grab the waistband of my jeans and frantically jerk them off me. He moves closer, angling his body until my seam rests against the shaft of his cock. My body responds, my hips swiveling and twitching, trying to get him inside me.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, drawing his crown across my aching cleft until it throbs with expectation.
My eyes have been closed since the moment he first put his hands on me: I wanted to lose myself from the real world, to escape to somewhere else, to be consumed by him. But I can’t help my eyelids fluttering as some distant part of my brain tries to discover the reason for my denial.
We’re in the bathroom, facing the mirror. I’m naked from the waist down, my t-shirt pulled halfway up my stomach under his strong arm—and Sterling? Every inch of him is naked, but I can only enjoy the parts not hidden behind me: the massive swell of his biceps, the strong slope of his shoulders, the slab of abs peeking from the curve of my waist.
Sterling’s face is waiting for my eyes to open, for me to process where we are. He counterbalances in order to kick the door closed, and I distantly register Zeus’s skittering nails on the tiles outside.