“What? What is it?” I asked again, growing impatient.
“It’s just that I’m not that kind of girl,” she said, her eyes held downwards towards the stack of papers on her desk. I was waiting for her to spew disgust at me, to yell at me for taking advantage of her. “I don’t do casual.”
I pursed my lips and tried to think of a way to remedy that for her. “Okay, then, Mirabelle. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
Her eye flew up to meet mine, and for the first time since I entered her room, they were relit with a bit of a twinkle. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said. “My treat.”
“Like a…date?” she asked with a hesitation, as if the word date was taboo.
“If you want to call it that, then sure,” I said. The instant relief that washed over her face told me I’d made the right call. “Meet me down in the lobby in a half hour.”
“Okay,” she said, flashing a killer smile. God, I loved it when she smiled. Her whole face lit up, just like it did when she was in the zone and giving her killer marketing spiels.
THIRTEEN
MIRABELLE
I’d never dined in such a fancy restaurant before. White marble floors, huge, plaster columns, sky-high ceilings, fresh flowers and candles everywhere. It was nothing short of romantic and unabashed elegance.
“I feel underdressed,” I wallowed to Preston as we entered the place.
“Nonsense,” he replied. “You look fine.”
Even if he was just trying to make me feel better, it was still appreciated. He fit in with his navy suit and Italian leather shoes and Rolex-donning wrist, but me? I was in tan slacks and someone else’s blouse.
The maître d seated us in a cozy booth in the corner, next to a wood burning fireplace. A single candle flickered and lit up the space between us, casting a warm glow on his face. He shot me a half smile revealing a set of dimples I’d never seen before. I realized just then how rarely he ever smiled. Perhaps getting him out of his element, the office, brought out a different side of him?
I flipped open my menu and did my best to try to find something that wasn’t so fancy that it was gross. I refused to eat duck liver or anything I couldn’t pronounce. My eyes danced around the menu, looking for familiar options, as my hand reached up to my neck. When I got nervous, I tended to play with my jewelry.
“My necklace,” I said as I clutched my bare neck. “It’s gone.”
“Your necklace?”
“Yes,” I said, instantly feeling panicked. “My diamond pendant. I was wearing it this morning when we…”
I remembered him pulling on it while we were in the throes of ecstasy. He had to have broken the chain. I could only hope it was lying on the floor in my office, safely waiting for me to retrieve it the next morning.
“I’ll get you a new one, Mirabelle,” he said, like it was no big deal.
“The stone,” I said. I lowered my head. “It was from my grandmother’s wedding ring.”
The server arrived just in time to distract me and prevent me from ruining a perfectly good date, and I sat back while Preston ordered us a bottle of some very expensive-sounding red wine.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I asked as I scooted my chair back. Preston stood as I walked away from the table. I felt so frumpy sitting there in that fancy restaurant in my used clothes with most of my makeup having disappeared from my face. I wanted to at least freshen up for the rest of the dinner.
I stepped into the bathroom, which was spotless and immaculate with sweeping ceilings, polished, ceramic fittings, and pale, painted murals along the walls. I sat my purse up next to the sink and began pulling out tubes of lipstick and mascara and tiny bottles of perfume. Every little bit counted.
As I got to work on my face, the door swung open and in sauntered a stunning beauty. She was tall and curvaceous, standing at about a couple inches taller than me. Our features were nearly identical, right down to the shade of our fair complexions. The only difference between us was that I had long hair and she had a Charlize Theron-esque pixie cut. Her eyes honed in on me and took me in from head to toe before she made her way to the sink next to mine. A row of ten sinks and she just had to stand next to me.
“That blouse looks awfully familiar,” she said, drawing out her words with intention as she whipped out a tube of red lipstick from her purse. She faced the mirror, but her eyes were on me.
“Sorry?” I replied. “Do I know you?”
“You’re like a freaking mini me,” she huffed, her eyes slightly sad and slightly amused all at the same time. “Figures.”
“Who are you?” I asked, turning away from the mirror and towards her.
“Sapphire,” she said with one hand on her curved hip. “Sapphire Hart.”
A sharp shot of adrenaline coursed through my chest. “I don’t believe I know you.” I lied.
“Of course you don’t,” she said with a snicker. “You must be my replacement.”
“Your replacement?”
“Look at you,” she sneered with a slight hint of jealousy. “You’re the spitting image of me five years ago. You’re even wearing my old blouse. And Preston brought you to Giatta’s. This used to be our restaurant you know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, holding my chest high and my shoulders back. I threw my things back into my purse and flung it over my shoulder. “Preston’s never mentioned you before, so…?”
Her face twisted as my comment had rendered her speechless. Satisfied and tired of the conversation, I turned on my heel and headed back out to join Preston.
FOURTEEN
PRESTON
“No, no, you can’t go in there,” I heard Ruthie’s voice trail from down the hall. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
I looked up from my computer desk and sat back in my chair. I knew who it was. I didn’t even have to think twice about it.
The door flung open and there stood Sapphire Hart, all five foot seven of her, in a curve hugging Herve Leger bandage dress and sky high, nude Loubotins. Her shiny, platinum hair was cropped and perfectly coifed, and her dark blue eyes burned into mine.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Woodfield,” Ruthie mumbled from behind Sapphire.
“It’s fine, Ruthie,” I said, my eyes locked in Sapphire’s. I stood up and walked around my desk. “Go back to your desk. I’ve got this.”
“Do you want me to call security, sir?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I replied. “Go on, Ruthie.”
Sometimes she was a little too loyal.
“What do you need, Sapphire?” I asked, arms folded. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I saw her, Preston,” she said with narrowed eyes. “God, I’m not even out of your life three months and you’ve already lined up a replacement? She’s practically a clone of me! I find that really disturbing.”
I cocked my head to the side. How did she know about Mirabelle?
“It’s actually pretty creepy, Preston,” she said with a snicker. “I mean, I knew you were obsessed with me, but that just sort of blows everything out of the water.”
“I wasn’t obsessed with you,” I seethed through gritted teeth. “I loved you.”
She tossed her head back and a maniacal laugh fell from her full, red lips. “You don’t love anyone but yourself, Preston. Who are you kidding?”
I shook my head, my blood beginning to boil. “I loved you, Sapphire. You were the first woman I ever said those words to. And you lied. Everything about you was a lie.”
She sauntered up to me and wrapped one manicured hand around my tie, pulling me closer to her. “Not everything.”
She slipped her hand down and cupped my cock. We had an amazing sexual chemistry, almost inexplicable, but that was it. Everything else I thought we had was all an illusion and Sapphire was the greatest illusionist who ever lived.
“Don’t touch me,” I growled. “What do you want, Sapphire?”
“I want to know wha
t you’re doing with that girl,” she said, her eyes glowing with jealousy.
“What does it matter to you all of a sudden?” I asked. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said with a half-smirk. “You’re not grooming her to be the next big thing? Your cute little protégé? Someone to help you fly high in the world of advertising? Someone to please your little fantasies every time the mood strikes you?”
“Get out,” I said in a low tone. “Now.”
She wouldn’t budge. She stood, Louboutins planted, and locked horns with me.
“I mean it, Sapphire,” I threatened. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.”
“I made a mistake, Preston,” she said, her eyes looking defeated for the first time ever. “I picked the wrong guy.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “Now leave.”
I placed my hand on her lower back and ushered her towards my office door, which I’d then realized had been open the entire time. Sapphire turned, flashing me a seriously phony apologetic look, and stepped down the hall, heels clicking behind her. My eyes glanced over to my right, where Mirabelle was seated at her desk. Both our doors were wide open. She’d heard everything.
FIFTEEN
MIRABELLE
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I wasn’t usually so nosy, but when the ex-girlfriend and former employee of the man who’d just fucked me on my desk the day before was screaming at him in his office, I couldn’t help it.
“Miri,” Preston said as he stood in my doorway. He knew I’d been listening. He walked into my room and shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I bit my lip and looked down at my computer.
“It’s not how it sounds,” he said. “I’m not…interested in you because you look like my ex.”
I shrugged my shoulders and looked up at him with my big, blue eyes. “The resemblance is rather uncanny, wouldn’t you say?”
He sighed. “I know it seems that way.”
“She was in the bathroom at Giatta’s last night,” I said. “She recognized the blouse.”
“Oh, geez,” he huffed.
“She said Giatta’s was your restaurant. You used to take her there on dates,” I continued.
He ruffled his fingers through his thick hair, leaving a disheveled mess in its place. It was so unlike him to ever have a single hair out of place.
“It does seem bad,” he admitted. “But it’s not like that at all.”
I wanted to believe him. I did. But I couldn’t.
“Look,” I sighed. “We’re both adults here. We can move forward from this and pretend it didn’t happen. We’re professionals. Let’s keep our relationship that way from now on.”
Preston looked like I’d just run over his dog. His normally straight posture slumped down as he stuck one hand in his pocket and stared at the ground.
“What if I don’t want to?” he said in a low voice, his eyes still averted.
I laughed. Was he joking?
“I have to have you, Miri,” he said. He stepped closer to my desk and came around to my side. His hand reached down and pulled me up to a standing position, face to face with him. “I always get what I want. It’s what I do.”
“Why me?” I asked. “You barely know me. I’m just some girl who looks like your ex-girlfriend. I’m just some thirteen year old girl who used to daydream about kissing you.”
He shook his head, frustrated, and probably trying to figure out how to dig himself out of that giant crater of a hole he’d made.
“You put me in her old office, you dress me in her clothes, you take me to your special restaurant…” my voice trailed down to nothing. “What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re not her,” he said. His hands slipped down around my hips. “And thank God for that.”
“We’re walking a fine line here,” I replied. I felt safe in his space, but at the same time blurring those lines was dangerous and potentially lethal to my career. “I don’t want to be another Sapphire Hart.”
“Just don’t lie to me and you won’t be,” he replied, pressing his lips hard onto mine.
SIXTEEN
PRESTON
“Here you are, sir,” the older man in the gray suit behind the jewelry case said as he handed me a small envelope.
I unfastened the envelope and dumped the contents into my hand: Mirabelle’s diamond pendant on a brand new, 14k gold chain.
“Perfect,” I said to the man. I pulled out my wallet and slid him my Amex.
That night, after dinner at Giatta’s, I’d sent Mirabelle home in a cab and headed back to the office. I crawled around on my hands and knees for hours looking for that pendant, her grandmother’s diamond, until I found it wedged into some dark crevice underneath her desk. I almost missed it until I caught a glint of the reflection of the moon that poured in through the window.
I signed the receipt and shoved the envelope in the interior pocket of my suit jacket and imagined the look on her face when I’d give it to her. I loved seeing her smile, and the way her face lit up was nothing short of magical.
I stepped out to the sidewalk, leaving the jewelry store in the distance, and rounded the next corner. Up ahead, a woman with long, ash blonde hair was strutting along the sidewalk. I squinted my eyes. I’d recognize those curves anywhere. I picked up my pace, trying to inch closer to her, when she stopped dead in her tracks at a garbage can. As she moved to the side, I saw a little girl with her. The girl couldn’t have been much older than three, and she clung onto Mirabelle’s hand tightly, staring up at her adoringly as Mirabelle unwrapped some sort of food item and broke off a piece for the little girl. I didn’t have to be any closer to see they shared identical smiles and the same big, doe eyes.
She fucking lied to me. I told her not to lie and she did. She never mentioned she had a kid.
I thought about all those long nights she spent holed up in the office with me. She was always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave, well, besides me. The thought of Mirabelle neglecting her child in the name of her career left me disgusted. I’d been that kid. I’d experienced that first hand, and in more ways than one…
I slipped back behind the cover of an awning and hoped she wouldn’t see me. She and the little girl carried on and went about their way. I waited until I could barely see them again before emerging and heading to the office.
My feet stomped the pavement, angrily, as memories of Sapphire Hart replaced the vision of Mirabelle and her daughter. It was happening all over again.
“What’s this?” I asked Sapphire one night after dinner. She’d left her phone out on the table and someone named “Bryan” had sent her a picture message of a man holding a little girl who was the spitting image of her.
“Nothing,” Sapphire said, her cheeks slightly red and her words quick and distracting. She shut her phone off and threw it in her purse. “What are we ordering tonight?”
“That little girl looked just like you,” I said. “And who was that man holding her?”
Sapphire flashed her fakest smile. “I said nothing.”
“I don’t believe you,” I told her, my voice raised.
“Keep your voice down,” Sapphire said in a hushed tone. People in the restaurant around us were beginning to stare. “This is not the time nor the place.”
A sickened, nauseous feeling flooded my body in that moment and a bitter taste filled my mouth. The feeling that my entire world, everything I thought I knew, was crumbling down. And I never even saw it coming.
I stood up, tossed my napkin on the table, and left the restaurant.
“Preston!” Sapphire called after me as she chased me down outside. It was December and paper thin, white snowflakes were falling gently from the starry sky. It was supposed to be our Christmas dinner. I was going to propose. A five-carat diamond sparkler had been burning a hole in my pocket for months as I waited for j
ust the right moment to ask her.
I stopped and turned around to face her. I wanted her to see my face, to see the pain she’d inflicted on me. I didn’t want her to ever forget it.
“Look,” she said with a sigh. “I’m married. I live in Jersey. I have a three year old daughter.”
Her words weighed heavy as they hit me with one blow to the chest, and I couldn’t breathe. A year of fucking her brains out every night over my desk. Vacations. Late nights lying in hotel beds spouting out plans for the future and how we were going to take over the world together. How did it never occur to me that she was married?
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