by S. Ann Cole
“I’m not the waiter,” he snapped.
Taking a sip of my water, I chanced a quick glance at him. He seemed irritated. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I want to know why you’re upset with me.”
I sighed. “Natalio, will you stop playing dense? You know why. Why did you lie to me?”
He gazed at me, imploring me to look him in the eye, for my eyes were fixated on his chest. But I didn’t. That would be my undoing. “How did I lie to you, Sadie? I just didn’t tell you who I was.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to recognize me, dammit,” he said in a rising voice. “Not me, Natalio Nelson, proprietor of ENEN, but me.”
What the hell did that mean?
Because I wasn’t up for an angry Natalio tonight, I decided to ignore his building ire. With a shake of my head, I sipped at my water before speaking at a measured pace. “You are the most confusing, contorted, convoluted person I’ve ever met. I can’t understand you. What is it that you want from me?”
“Look at me, Sadie,” he prompted.
I did and immediately regretted it. His eyes blazed with passion, igniting my own.
“I want you. I want you to want me. I want you to see me,” he told me with the same pace and limpidity as I’d spoken.
The waiter returned, but Natalio held my gaze as if no one was there. Sighing, I tore my eyes away from his and addressed them at the waiter, placing my order.
He wanted me. Why didn’t he just say that from the night at the club? Sheesh.
Once the waiter had disappeared, I asked, “For someone of your status, how do you travel alone? Aren’t you afraid?”
Natalio chuckled. “Afraid?” He chuckled harder. “No, I’m not afraid. And no, I don’t travel alone. I’m always secured.”
“Where are they now?” I glanced around the restaurant searching for anyone in dark suits and dark eye shades. Cipher.
Natalio smirked. “That’s for me to know.”
My lips quirked in annoyance.”Why are you so withholding?”
“I’m not. Well, only…for now.”
“Why? You think I’d want you for your money? That I’d treat you differently if I knew? If you were looking for an un-rapacious, unselfish woman who’ll love you for you, then a strip should’ve been the last place you checked, buddy.” I was beyond exasperated. “But get this, if your money was your only attraction, well, for me, you wouldn’t be worth the goddamned trouble. Trust me. It’s like trying to find my way out of a maze with your complex ass.”
He lips twitched and before he could speak the waiter approached with our wine. Opening and pouring with grace and flourish.
When we were soon alone, Natalio spoke. “I’ve never thought that of you. As a matter of fact, everything I’ve ever done is for you. Everything that I have is also yours.”
Heaven help me, this dude must be suffering from some sort of illness. Dementia, maybe? Maybe he’s deluded?
In over my head I was with this man. Were his savoring looks and praiseworthy body really worth the trouble? Slowly, I rolled my head around on my shoulders, brought my palm to my forehead and whined, “Ohhh, pleeaaasssee, Natalio. Will you just be forthcoming and stop with all the riddles already?”
He tried to repress a smile and failed.
He found this funny? This man was giving me a headache and he thought it funny? I was infuriated. “Listen up, Sphinx. I’m no goddamn Oedipus Rex. I absolutely suck at solving riddles. So if you got something to say, then spit it out. You’re giving me a goddamn headache.”
“Your neck,” he whispered. And I noticed his breathing was slightly ragged. “Why didn’t you pin both sides of your long, bountiful hair? I love to see that graceful neck of yours.”
This man…
There I sat, baffled, bewildered with a tinge of anger and he was adoring my neck. Could he get any more frustrating? “Stop digressing,” I snapped. “Or I swear I’ll wear only turtleneck tops from now on.”
Natalio grinned and I almost melted. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, you obviously don’t know me very well.”
“Okay,” he sighed, straightening himself in his chair. His expression grew determined and serious. “Sadie, it might sound crazy to you now, but you mean everything to me. It’s been a long wait but you have no idea the contentment it brings me have you in my grasp. I won’t tell you straight up what you want me to tell you because, as I have told you time and time again, I’d prefer you to find out on your own, because I’m not sure how you’ll react. I want nothing to be forced. Nothing to be fake. I want you to want me—no, need me. I want you to love me. Fall helplessly in love with me just like—” he stopped abruptly, and leaned back in his chair. “You see? I’m getting carried away.”
I blinked at him, blanked. What in the world was he saying? This barmy, mourning billionaire wanted me to fall helplessly in love with him? Why?
Palming my forehead again, I took a long sip of my wine. There was no understanding this man, because all he did was talk in parables instead of coming straight with me. What did he want me to find out on my own? Had he known me before? Or was he just a complete stranger trying to take disadvantage of my illness? But then, if that was the case, he would’ve been telling me all kinds of tales about my so-called past. Maybe he was from my past and wanted me to remember him on my own. In truth, there were times, like whenever he laughed and relaxed his facial features, that I thought him familiar. But that was just it, he was reminding me of someone that I couldn’t remember. At that moment, I was highly frustrated.
Shaking my head, I took another sip of my wine, placed the glass down, then immediately reached for it again and gulped it all.
“Look, Sadie,” he began. “I don’t want to scare you away. I want to keep you in my life. I could tell you, but only if I was sure that once you knew, you’d take my hand and skip gleefully away with me.” He gave a childish smile at the latter—knowing that such was childish jabber. “But I’m worried you might run. And I don’t want you to run from me. Only to love me.”
Refilling my wineglass, I crinkled my brows, asking, “Have you known me before? Assuming you know about my amnesia, are you from my past?”
Natalio closed his eyes for several heartbeats before opening them again and saying, “Yes.”
“Then why don’t you just tell me who you were to me instead of starting over? You don’t think that’s easier?”
“I could. But how would you know if anything I tell you is true? How would you know that I’m not just making things up to make you be with me? I don’t want to tell you stuff and then you start embellishing it with your imagination. If I try to remind you of the past, you will force yourself to remember, and what you remember wouldn’t really be your memory. It would be what I told you along with your own imagination.” On a heavy sigh, he ran a hand over his face. “Look, Sadie, it’s not just about who I was to you. It’s about how things…I can’t…I can’t tell you. I want you to remember. And you will. I have faith. Even though I shouldn’t.” He made an anxious chortle. “Of all the doctors I’ve spoken with, only one gave me hope that if you’re around me often, you might remember fragments of your past with me. And I’ve spoken to a lot of doctors. That doctor’s daughter had been in a car accident and suffered the same fate. He said that four years after the accident she began having scattered memories of events leading up to the very accident. However, he did label it ‘a miracle’.” Natalio laughed at his last words.
Just like all the doubtful doctors have ever told me about my memories not being real, Natalio was doing the same and it angered me. But then, anything about this situation tended to anger me, which is why I hated talking about my past. My amnesia wasn’t so severe that I’d forgotten my entire past. The only memories that I’d lost were the memories two years prior to my head injury. So I wasn’t that bad. I wished people would stop making me feel like a damn freak.
My mood was now as bi
tter as gall, so much that I was uninterested in continuing this conversation with Natalio. He must have taken note of such when I picked up my wineglass and turned my attention to the Jazz players on-stage, because he breathed an audible sigh and reached across the table to take my hand in his.
“Sadie, this is what I didn’t want, for you start over thinking things or feeling sorry for your situation. If there are no wonders with your memory returning, then we can just start over—well, we’re already doing that. Don’t worry about it and just forget this conversation. I never knew you, you never knew me. We’re just two new people trying to get to know each other. Please, can we just get back to where we were before your roommate opened her beak?” he pleaded.
That was a good proposition, I thought. Because, in all candidness, my brain was weary from trying to assimilate this intricate conversation. What I did know, with utter certainty, was that I wanted him—physically. His hard frame against my melting flesh. His lips on mine again, and hopefully, other places. And what I also knew, inauspiciously, was that I was incapable of granting his wishes. I couldn’t fall helplessly in love with him, or need him for any other reason beyond bed-mating. I found him fiendishly attractive, yes. And I’d been longing to be knotted in the sheets with him from the very outset. But now, he was talking about forever. And I wanted none of that. He was right, all that love and forever talk will scare me. I will run.
Ergo, I would grant Natalio his last wish and forget about it. As long as it didn’t stymie us from sharing our bodies sexually, then with no further bedevilment, I would allow him the reservations of his secrets.
“Agreed.”
“Are you here on business?” I asked Natalio once we were on the move again. I’d powered back the car seat and was lying relaxed, gazing longingly at the gorgeous chunk of man who handled the steering wheel with easy grace. Replete, content, and boosted by wine, I was once again enjoying my man in black.
“Yes and no.”
“Where do you stay when you’re here?” I queried, knowing exactly where I wanted this conversation to take me.
His cell phone chimed and he snatched it from its holder and attended to his received email or whatever it was, while maneuvering the vehicle single-handedly and answering my question.”Depends. I have a loft here in west. My brother, Trevillo, owns a hotel in south where I have a penthouse suite reserved. And I’m fond of Roosevelt.”
“Your brother owns a hotel?” Of course he does.
“Yes.”
“Which hotel?”
A tic jumped in his jaw as he read his phone screen, intermittently glancing up at the road. Like granite, his face hardened and he threw the phone down in the cup holder, evoking a loud clang. “Viscas.”
“Wow. That’s a freakin’ five-star hotel. Affordable only to the moneyed.”
“Yes.”
Monosyllabic he was. Pensive he seemed. What was his problem now? His mood tended to change at the snap of a finger. But I wasn’t about to let his mood ruin mine.
In the sultriest voice I could afford, I asked, “Where are we heading now? Your loft?”
Natalio side-eyed me. “That’s where you want me to take you?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Nope,” I said coolly. “See, I can be monosyllabic, too.”
He didn’t laugh as I’d expected him to. Something obviously had him peeved. After a long while, he struck. “Why did you disregard my order?”
“Excuse me?”
As if trying to repress his anger, Natalio gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Tight. “Sadie, I told you to stay away from Devon. To stay away from him. That means you don’t get to go on a goddamn movie date with him! It was a simple frigging order. Was it that hard to follow?”
How on earth did he know that? Was he having me watched? Nevertheless…”Are you kidding me? You don’t get to give me ‘orders’, Natalio. This is my life, not yours. And I can do whatever I bloody well please.”
Natalio slammed the brakes, jolting the vehicle to sharp halt. It was good that I’d been lying back in the seat, or I’m pretty sure I would’ve gone straight through that windshield. He rammed the gear in Park while the drivers behind blew their horns in exasperation. “No, you will not! I can’t protect you if you don’t listen to me.”
“I don’t need your—”
I almost swallowed my tongue when he launched towards me, gripping my shoulders to keep me still…and silent. “Sadie, listen to me. Devon. Is. Deleterious. Stay away from him. He’s seeking some sort of information that he thinks you might have. And if he can’t get it, he’ll resort to extensive measures. That’s how he works. But I’m going to find out what the hell it is before he gets it.”
The harsh, cold demeanor that he wore had me fearing. Fear. An emotion I almost never employ. “Are you going to hurt me?”
Natalio’s eyes widened a fraction. Passing car lights made intermittent glides over his face, revealing his pained expression as he eyed his large, aggressive hands that were gripping my slender and innocent shoulders. He then he swore beneath his breath and released me. “No, baby. Never. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He traced the pad of his thumb tenderly across my lips, and I sighed into his touch, believing every word as he said them. “Will I hurt someone who tries to harm you? Yes. Cruelly. Will I hurt you? Never. Never, Sadie. Forgive me. Forgive my anger.”
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against mine, and just when I was opening my mouth to charge my tongue inside his, there was a knock on the window. It was then I remembered that we were parked in the middle of the street.
Natalio muttered something inaudible and powered down the windows, revealing a burly, shaved head man dressed in a black suit and gripping a handgun in one hand, his sharp eyes searching everywhere in the vehicle. “Just checking if you’re okay, boss,” his heavy voice rumbled.
Natalio waved him off. “We’re good, Ruddy.”
The man nodded and backed away as Natalio powered up the window. Well, there’s proof to support his claim that he’s always secured. How did his men stay out of sight, though? Until now, I’d never seen any of his people.
Natalio slid back the gear in Drive and resumed our journey, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as his mind seemed to have left the earth.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I only went out with Devon last night because I was upset with you.”
There was no reply. He just kept his eyes on the road, the drumming of his fingers against the wheel being the only sound between us.
“He inquires a lot about Tevin,” I added, hoping that would make him speak to me again. “Maybe Tevin’s who he’s trying to get info on?”
“Ah,” Natalio drew out, nodding on a frown. “Tevin. That makes sense.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it, Sadie. Just…don’t defy me again and steer clear of Devon, okay?”
As much as I wanted to argue with his terms ‘defy’ and ‘order’, terms that made it seem as if I were some sort of slave to him, I didn’t. Natalio Nelson wasn’t quite the ambrosia when he was angry; that tasteful, edifying treat that I always saw him as, eager to lick and devour every bit of his immortalizing nectar. An angry Natalio, I’d just learnt, was a scary, unpalatable one. Leaning forward, I upped the volume of the car stereo, refusing to further this conversation. Etta James’ mesmerizing voice filled the confined space of the vehicle as she crooned ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’.
Elevator doors slid open and I was led directly into a cold, high-ceilinged, glass-walled penthouse. And I inwardly snorted. Were all affluents the same? Always preferring cold glass boxes to comfortable homes?
As I walked further into the suite, I found myself slanting my head to assess an intriguing painting that sat in isolation on the center of a wall adjacent the elevator. A black, oil-painted vortex on a white background, with a semblance of shadowed
hands reaching out. I found that I was pulling closer towards it, wanting to climb in. It was quasi-hypnotic. Beckoning. The strangest painting I’d ever seen.
“Explains me,” I heard Natalio say from behind me.
“It’s…eerie,” I whispered, fascinated.
“I know. Can I get you a drink?”
“Merlot.”
His footsteps sounded across the wooden floor. For several moments I stared at the painting, before the feat of ripping my gaze away from the curst thing came. Turning, I let my eyes wander idly around the rest of the room which was open floor plan. What wasn’t glass was either black or white. Black furniture. White walls. Black and white paintings. I glanced over to the kitchen where Natalio stood pouring a glass of wine and noted that it was all stainless steel.
Would I want to live in an all glass, sterile, pallid home if I were wealthy? Maybe it was just a way to say, ‘Hey, I’m rich!’
My sight rested on a bubble chair that hung from the ceiling, and I walked over to it and ensconced myself there. A huge, fluffy, white pelt was spread obediently beneath it. Closing my eyes, I swung the bubble chair back as I heard Natalio’s footsteps approaching.
“You don’t want to look around?” He handed me the glass of wine.
“No.” I’d like to look down your pants.
“Are you comfortable in this thing?” He sunk to his knees before me on the pelt.
“Yes.” And I’d be even more comfortable naked, with my legs on your shoulders.
Natalio sat back on his heels, lifted my feet onto his lap, slid off my heels and commenced massaging my feet; his thumbs kneading my soles.
It felt really good. My head fell back as I closed my eyes and emitted a soft moan. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d received such treatment. Years.
Natalio spoke. “If it was anyone else, they would’ve been from basement to balcony, wandering from room to room gushing about how amazing this place is.”
“It’s cold and lifeless. And I’ve only been in the main room.”