by Radclyffe
Martin was the last person in the world she wanted to be like, and if that was how Emily saw her, a game player on the grandest of scales, then she’d been a fool to think Emily would want…anything…with her. She couldn’t even claim her tarnished reputation, deserved or not, was at fault for Emily’s impression of her. She’d revealed more of herself to Emily than to anyone in her life, even Aud, and that hadn’t been enough to matter. She slowed, let out a deep breath. She should have known she couldn’t change who she was like she changed her clothes, no matter how much she might’ve wanted to. She had been living off her inheritance and her name, she was a player, just as Emily had intimated, and wanting to be someone else didn’t erase that. Wanting Emily to see her as more than that wasn’t enough to make it so.
And feeling sorry for herself was just another form of self-indulgence. Emily had seen what she’d momentarily forgotten—she’d chosen her path a long time ago. She hadn’t wanted the Winfield legacy and had made herself into the woman everyone thought her to be.
Derian stopped at the corner and glanced around. Nothing looked familiar. She checked the street signs and couldn’t decipher which direction they were telling her to go. A cold sheet of panic sliced between her shoulder blades. She’d done this before. Countless times when she’d been very young. Found herself in a place she hadn’t expected to be where everything looked foreign, as if she had stepped through an invisible curtain into another universe. Alone, and unable to find the way home.
But she wasn’t ten anymore. She took a breath, pulled out her phone, and punched in a number.
“Hey, Dere,” Aud said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued when she answered. “Is this a friendly call or business? Because I’m wrapping up for the day and I’ve had business up to my a—”
“I’m a little bit lost.” Derian laughed wryly. In more ways than one. “Turned around. Street signs say…um, West Third and Mercer. And I could use a drink.”
A beat of silence. Then Aud’s brisk voice. “I’m closing my computer right now. I’ll grab a cab and be there in ten minutes. Is there a bar somewhere that you can see?”
Derian scanned the streets, stepping out of the way of a vendor pushing a cart full of T-shirts toward the open van pulled up to the curb. “There’s one on the corner, neighborhood-looking place. Tony D’s.”
“I’ll find it. Ten minutes. Okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The tavern, lit only by the neon beer signs hanging on the walls at irregular intervals, was a single room about the size of Derian’s living room at the Dakota. A big plate-glass window looked out on the sidewalk, a scarred bar down one side, a handful of small mismatched tables pushed against the opposite wall. A sign pointing to restrooms in an alcove at the back. A few men and women occupied stools at the bar, most hunched over their glasses in silent communion. Derian found a seat at the far end and ordered a draft. The sharp yeasty bite felt good going down. The last of the panic washed away as she finished it off and signaled for another. Right now, she was tired of thinking about who she was and how much of her father might be in her.
The barkeep slid a bowl of nuts in front of her.
“Thanks.” She wasn’t hungry, but she ate them automatically, the same way she drank the beer.
Aud slid onto the stool beside her. “How far ahead of me are you?”
Derian shot her a sideways glance. “Not very. This is my second.”
Aud waved to the bartender. “Dry martini, two olives.” She grabbed a handful of nuts, turned sideways until her knees rested against Derian’s thigh, and ran a hand down Derian’s back. “So, how the hell did you end up here?”
“Went for a walk.”
Aud laughed. “From where?”
Derian clenched her jaw. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“Okay, fine.”
Derian registered the hurt in Aud’s voice and shook her head. “Sorry. I dragged you down here and you came without a second thought, even though I haven’t been much of a friend.”
“Oh, Dere,” Aud said, “that’s not true. Just because I wanted you to stay here with me and you couldn’t doesn’t mean you weren’t a good friend. I haven’t reached out to you either. I’ve been too pissed at you for leaving me.”
“Running away, you mean.”
“Hey, sometimes we have to run in order to survive.”
“Maybe you can’t outrun who you are,” Derian said.
“Bullshit. Martin was poison to you.” Aud sipped her martini. “Wow, this place is a find. Best martini I’ve had in forever. So, why are you here? It’s not Henrietta, is it?”
“No, she’s fine. Making great progress.”
“What the hell happened?” Aud finished her cocktail and asked for another. “If it’s not Henrietta, and you haven’t had another run-in with Martin—”
Derian snorted. “Martin and I have nothing left to say to each other. We both know where we stand, and nothing will change that.”
“Then it has to be a woman, and that being the case, I’d say it’s Emily May.”
“What makes you think that?” Derian tensed at the mention of Emily, wanting to protect her even though Emily could do that perfectly well herself.
“I’ve seen you two together, more than once, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at a woman the way you look at her. Like she mattered.” Aud ran a fingertip around the wide-open mouth of the glass. “She looks the same way at you.”
“Apparently, looks are deceiving.” Derian laughed at the lie. She’d always wanted to use that excuse when others judged her on appearances, but in her case it wasn’t true. “We had a thing, and that’s over now.”
“A thing. A thing as in you’ve been sleeping together.”
“That’s generally part of a thing, yes.”
“Really, Derian, Henrietta’s protégé? Do you have to follow your clit everywhere it leads?”
“According to popular opinion, yes.” Derian didn’t even mind the verbal assault. She didn’t feel it, really. She was strangely numb.
Aud rolled her eyes. “So…what? You broke it off and things got messy?”
“Actually, that’s not the way it went. Emily changed the game.”
“She put you on the street? Well, that must be a first.”
“Thanks,” Derian said dryly.
Aud sighed. “Hey, all right, I’m being bitchy. I’m sorry. What happened, exactly?”
“I told her I thought we ought to get married, that that would solve her visa problem and take care of the agency going forward.” Derian finished her beer and thought about another. She wasn’t driving anywhere, hell, she couldn’t really even walk anywhere. She pointed a finger at her glass and the bartender magically whisked it away and set a fresh, foaming draft in front of her. “Apparently, my offering to help her out with something we both knew she wanted was manipulative. She suggested that my motivation was to piss off my father.”
“Well, wasn’t it? Sort of? Because it certainly would make Martin crazy.”
“No,” Derian said. “Sure, anytime I manage to get to him is a good day, but that’s not why I said it.”
“Then why in the world did you? Marriage is a serious thing, Dere. It’s a legal commitment, at the very least, and usually a lot more. Honestly, what were you thinking?”
The numbness dropped away like ice shattering under a too-heavy tread. Anger came roaring back, scalding and indiscriminate. “I was thinking that Henrietta needs Emily not just now, but to pass on her life’s work. I was thinking Emily loves this place, deserves her job, and needs to know she’s not going to be sent back to Singapore after everything she’s put into getting where she is now because of a bureaucracy that doesn’t deal with individuals, only quotas and categories and groundless prejudices. I thought I was offering help.”
“What about you, Dere? What were you thinking about you in all of this?”
Derian stared, the heat dissipating as fast as it had flared.
“How many women have you slept with?”
“What?” Derian might have trouble navigating in new places, especially when she was emotionally unsteady the way she had been earlier, but the rest of her mind worked perfectly, and she wasn’t following Aud. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Go ahead, answer the question.”
Derian laughed despite herself. “I don’t know. A lot. Why?”
“Because you don’t know anything about women at all. I’m sure you’re fabulous in bed, but do you have any idea what makes a woman tick?”
“Well I should, I am one.” Derian stopped, admitting she rarely thought about why she did what she did, beyond the one primal motivating force in her life. Escaping Martin. Escaping the constant rejection. Getting away from the thousand cuts that were bleeding her to death. “You’re saying I’m insensitive and self-centered.”
“No,” Aud said softly, “I’m not, because I know you’re not. But has it occurred to you that marriage is something that most women—hell, maybe most people, I don’t know, I can’t speak for guys—think about, maybe even dream about, their whole lives? It’s not a business decision, Derian.”
“It often is, and you know it,” Derian said. “Besides, Emily is all about her profession. She’s not looking for a romantic relationship. We talked about it.”
Aud’s eyes widened. “The two of you talked about getting married?”
“Not exactly,” Derian said, exasperated. “We talked about the future, you know, what we wanted and didn’t want. We both pretty much said marriage wasn’t for us.”
“Pretty much…” Aud laughed wryly. “Oh, Dere. You mean marriage isn’t for you. I bet Emily is all about her job right now. I get that. Me too. But that doesn’t mean that somewhere down the road she didn’t see that for herself.”
“Well, there won’t be any down the road at Winfield’s if she’s back in Singapore.”
Aud gave her a long look. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it. You don’t want her to leave.”
“That hardly makes any difference, since I’m leaving myself.”
Aud stiffened. “Are you? When?”
“Soon.” As soon as she could.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know how long, a couple weeks probably. Henrietta is doing really well, and as long as she keeps to her regimen, she’ll be back before too long.”
“And does Emily know this?”
“I mentioned it, yes.”
“So you announced you were leaving in the same breath as you suggested the two of you get married?” Aud said dryly.
Derian flushed. “Not quite like that, no. I don’t know. We didn’t actually get to the planning part. What are you getting at?”
“That maybe you don’t know the woman you’re sleeping with as well as you think.”
Derian rubbed her face. “Well, she certainly knows me.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Aud leaned over to kiss Derian on the cheek. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know you.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Derian landed in Rio in the late afternoon. She hadn’t slept the night before or on the plane, and the buzz of being beyond tired ran through her. She wasn’t looking forward to navigating another unfamiliar place—but then it looked like she wouldn’t have to. An Asian woman bearing a sign with her name on it waited near baggage claim. She didn’t look like anyone from the hotel or travel agency, unless their reps were wearing Prada and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds these days.
Derian held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Derian Winfield.”
The woman, somewhere in the range of thirty, extended a manicured hand. “I’m Mingzhu Tan, from Beijing Aerotech. Please call me Ming.”
“Ah,” Derian said, putting the pieces together. She’d met with the tech’s CEO six months before when the rising tycoon first showed interest in investing in American sports teams. “And how is Mr. Yee?”
“Very well, thank you. We’re so happy to have this opportunity to meet with you.”
“As am I,” Derian said automatically. She’d danced this dance dozens of times in the past and wondered if she hadn’t inherited far more of Martin’s business shrewdness than she wanted to admit. Right now, the last thing she wanted to be thinking about was Martin. Every time she thought about him, she heard Emily’s subtle accusation that she was motivated by her need to best him. She shook off the memory. “I appreciate you meeting me.”
Ming smiled slowly. “Of course, we are pleased to offer you any courtesy we can.”
Derian had a feeling those courtesies might extend far beyond a ride from the airport, and felt not the slightest twinge of interest. What she wanted was a long shower, a longer drink, and something, anything, to occupy her mind. A liaison with a strange woman, however, was not on that list.
She collected her luggage and carried it out to the waiting car. The trip to the hotel was mercifully short and she didn’t have to do more than make casual passing conversation with Ming. When the limo pulled up in front of the Copa, she shook Ming’s hand and bowed. “You were very gracious to take the time to meet me.”
“We are staying here as well,” Ming said, again with a smile that could be an invitation but stopped short of being insistent. If she was disappointed that Derian didn’t request to meet at another time, she didn’t show it. “My suite is 407. Please ring me if I may be of service.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you again, and please give my regards to Mr. Yee.”
Derian picked up her key from the express check-in wall and headed directly upstairs. The hotel bar would undoubtedly be filled with people she wasn’t in the mood to talk to just yet. Her suite was another large, fully appointed trio of rooms with the requisite balcony, this one overlooking the Copa beach. A cool ocean breeze cut the shimmering heat enough to make sitting outside look inviting. Still jittery, like a car with the idle revving too high, Derian took a shower and ordered up a bottle of champagne. In briefs and a short-sleeved shirt, she settled on a lounger on the balcony and let the alcohol slowly dull her nerves. Watching couples amble across the white glittering sand, she glanced at the empty recliner beside her. Loneliness was not a sensation she generally dwelled upon, but she couldn’t help wishing Emily was there with her. An evening spent over a quiet dinner and a late-night stroll on a moonlit beach, Emily’s hand in hers and Emily’s warm laughter washing over her, struck her as more satisfying than anything she’d ever done. She’d never wanted that with any other woman, and she wouldn’t be finding it anywhere she went tonight.
Derian dropped her head back and closed her eyes.
When she woke, the last red-gold rays of a brilliant sunset slanted across the ocean and draped her body in fiery shadows. She had to be at the sponsor’s reception in half an hour. She took another shower and, after the cold water drove the alcohol fumes from her brain, dressed and joined the familiar crowd in the ballroom on the mezzanine. The room was exactly like a hundred others she’d been in—huge gleaming chandeliers, tall columns flanking both sides, ornately painted ceilings, and an army of waiters with silver trays and a thousand flutes of champagne. Plus the bars discreetly spaced at intervals around the perimeter.
Derian took a glass of champagne she wasn’t interested in drinking and made a mental note of the time. An hour was about all she could take. Ming nodded to her from across the room. Derian made the rounds, shook all the right hands, and made her business manager happy by wooing potential new partners. As soon as she could, she slipped away and ordered a car to take her to a hotel in a less popular part of the city. Gambling was illegal in Brazil, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. You just needed to know where. She settled at the baccarat table and played all night.
When she returned to the Copa at noon the next day and finally fell asleep, she still couldn’t leave Emily behind. Her dreams were a dark chaotic tangle of lost opportunity and fruitless searching for something just beyond reach.
*
“Okay, thank you, everybody.” Emily grabbed her iPad, quickly rose as the rest of the staff gathered up their things, and escaped into the hall. She’d barely reached her desk when Ron slipped in behind her and closed her office door.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a ghost,” he said in way of greeting.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“How about you’ve been hiding out here for the last week, and avoiding me.”
“I haven’t been hiding or avoiding,” Emily said, although she doubted she sounded convincing. She was terrible at lying.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s too bad,” Ron said. “Because whatever it is, I can tell you’re miserable.”
“I’m not miserable,” Emily lied again. She dropped into her chair and tried to ignore her iPad and the picture she’d seen just that morning on Flipboard of Derian and a beautiful woman getting into a limo outside the Copacabana Palace. A minute passed and she straightened up. Ron was still in the same place, hands on his hips, the look on his face suggesting he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
“You might as well sit down if you’re not going to leave.”
He took his customary seat and regarded her with a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes it helps to talk.”
“And sometimes there’s nothing to say.”
“It’s Derian, I already know that. You’ve been miserable since the day she left.”
“Coincidence.”
“Really, and I look like I was born under a mushroom?”
“Ron,” Emily said gently, “I don’t want to talk about Derian.”
“Fair enough, then how about talking about you? We can pretend that the other party is…Woman X.”
“Oh, and that’s going to work well.”
“All right, you don’t talk about her, and I’ll just guess.” Ron took a deep breath and tapped his chin. “Okay, you’re harboring a secret crush on Woman X, and now that she’s gone, you regret that you didn’t jump her the way I told you to.”