by C. L. Donley
Amara didn’t look like a mistress anymore he noticed on the plane ride or even a girlfriend.
She looked like a billionaire’s long-suffering wife.
No doubt she was suffering because of his jealous, drunken stupor from the night before.
He wished he could get the kind of drunk where he could forget the things he said, but he never could. To say it was spitting in the wind was not a powerful enough metaphor to describe how much insulting her had backfired on him.
It had been equal parts jealousy, stupidity, powerlessness, and self-sabotage. A dreadful combination he never wanted to feel again. He should’ve never agreed to go to Dale’s with her. It was excruciating to him, a nauseating reminder that he should’ve left her alone from the beginning.
He had to find a way to make it up to her, but short of proposing to her, which he was positive she didn’t want, he couldn’t think of anything he hadn’t already done. He was already having ominous premonitions that his efforts to end their affair on a positive note would crash and burn.
“I had no idea Montenegro was in the Balkans,” Amara suddenly volunteered, dissipating his thoughts.
“It is,” he lamely offered.
He didn’t want to talk about last night.
She was right of course, about Dale.
And then he had said… what he said.
But she’d served it right back to him, and he almost told her right then and there that he loved her.
Did he?
Maybe. Probably. He was drunk at the time.
But it felt true.
So there it was, he thought.
Not as cataclysmic as he believed it would be. It actually seemed quite rational to him. Too bad he had given Amara her fill of rational.
He’d discovered last week that she was looking into investing. She didn’t hide it, but she apparently didn’t want to discuss it with him.
Who was giving her the advice then?
More than likely Dale, her pal, and confidante, her bridge over the troubled water that was Grayson Davis. Grayson’s mind drifted to the way she and Dale had looked at each other at the party like they shared a mutual burden in him.
Enough of this, he thought. He wanted to feel better and only Amara’s come face would do.
“When we land we’re going to Van Cleef’s,” he said.
“Jewelry?”
“Diamonds.”
“You know those things are worthless, Grayson. Don’t you watch movies?”
“It’s my money,” he protested.
“So you’ve mentioned,” she sighed.
“You’re not even curious?” he looked at her.
Her body went through a now familiar series of reactions to his gaze.
He wanted her. On this plane.
Should she let him off the hook?
What hook? This wasn’t a relationship, she repeated in her head as if successfully brainwashed.
The real question was, was she in the mood to become a platinum card carrying member of the mile high club right now or not.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” she smiled unconsciously.
Contract aside, she didn’t want him to think everything was okay when it wasn’t. But she couldn’t retract her smile now.
She was rewarded with a wolfish grin.
Shit. He thought he was okay.
At least she knew he would be on his best behavior all day.
She shuddered.
Yep, that was definitely her mom she just heard.
Ridiculous. He’d never lay a hand on me, she thought.
There she was again!
“I’m going to buy a giant bag of loose diamonds,” he began.
“Uh huh,” she urged, sounding disinterested.
“Then I’m going to take off all your clothes.”
“I’m listening.”
“Then I’m going to turn off all the lights and drape your brown skin in them.”
Her mom probably never heard that one though, she thought. She can’t be doing all bad.
“And then what?”
“And then…nothing. That’s it. And then I’m gonna look at you.”
She licked her bottom lip, stifling a smile. Her sunglasses gave nothing away of her eyes, giving them an air of aloofness. The combination was a complete turn on.
“Wasteful,” she simply said.
“No waste. Merely an exchange,” he corrected her. Wanna talk to me about investments now? He thought.
“Still…”
“You love it,” he teased.
Her smile was enough to adequately lift his spirits, so he let her alone. For the moment.
True to his word, he indeed bought a giant bag of loose diamonds when they landed. They had a free day before the summit tomorrow, and he was clearly determined to show her a good time. He pranked her no less than five times on the way to the hotel from the jewelry store, pretending to either have lost the bag or nearly spilled the contents down a random drain or out a window. Now it was his turn to laugh at her humorless face. He wanted to wait until evening to cover her in the diamonds, but he gave up on the illusions of his slowly dwindling restraint. He found drawing the thick drapes in the hotel’s penthouse suite were perfectly adequate.
They had a late lunch at the hotel’s restaurant and then did some “lazy sightseeing,” as Amara called it, where you don’t plan anything you just walk around the city until you don’t want to anymore. The city was like an untouched fairy tale in its golden earthy old world colors, and it stretched up and around them like a pop-up book. It was surrounded by water the color of his eyes, which was surrounded further by mountains. The sunny day was perfect, though it would’ve been enchanting in any weather. They took a boat ride. She reclined in his arms, and he sang her a song that she’d never before heard. She wondered what other things he knew that he would never divulge to her. She wanted to use the jaws of life to crack him open and climb in. A solitary tear flowed down her cheek, and he wiped it away.
That night she wore a dress that made them late to dinner.
It was floor length, white and had a daringly open back. When he saw her he told her she looked beautiful. Then he saw her from behind, and he said a curse. She laughed. They were just about to leave as he went to help her with her coat, and when he hesitated, he knew that she knew what he was thinking. He also noticed her eyes looked heavy in the hallway mirror. Her breathing became labored, and he could see her pulse quickening in her neck.
They hadn’t had sex since… he tried to remember.
They’d fought the night before, and then he’d left her hanging on the plane. Then he draped her in diamonds, and that truly was it. He’d just looked at her. Then the boat ride…
Holy crap. He had inadvertently seduced her to within an inch of her life.
His luck had changed.
Should he make her wait until after dinner?
A quick gesture to the straps and the dress slumped dramatically to the floor.
Not a chance. He’d definitely screw it up between now and then.
When they eventually made it to dinner, every single eye was on her, and he swelled with pride.
She’d certainly made quite the journey from 2nd tier assistant to the project manager, now nearly a month ago. He would take credit, but he wasn’t sure he’d done anything.
She was the single black face perhaps in the whole city, and they garnered much attention because of her. They didn’t seem to know who he was.
And now she was unbelievably radiant and poised in her $3000 gown, ordering wine and handing off her coat graciously as if she were born to it. A dainty hand was holding up her chin, and her bottomless eyes glittered with a faraway look. Her hair was in a french twist. Her skin was smooth and flawless. She could’ve been 25, 100, or 1,000 years old. She caught his eye and his heart rate accelerated.
“What,” she smiled, confidently.
He shrugged. What could he say?
“You’re a vision,” he answer
ed.
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m a mess,” she muttered.
He laughed. He knew what she meant.
Not everything about her had changed.
After dinner, they walked hand in hand on the boardwalk. Hand holding meant a lot to her, he could tell. After a while, she was crying again.
“Don’t do that, I hate it,” he said.
“Why are you being wonderful right now?” she said.
“Why do I need a reason?” he asked.
“Is this your way of sending me off?” she questioned.
“Maybe,” he conceded. “I don’t want you to have a bad memory of me.”
“Is that really for my benefit? Or yours?” she theorized rhetorically.
The luck had run its course, it seemed.
For the first time in his life, Grayson thought it best to keep his mouth shut.
* * *
At 5 am he was already awake, staring at Amara in the bluish black light of the early morning.
The phone rang, and he whispered so he wouldn’t wake her, “I’m awake already, thank you.”
He definitely should’ve canceled his appearance at the G21 Leadership Summit.
Four weeks ago, there would’ve been no way he would’ve missed it.
Now, the idea of spending three of his last five days with Amara, holed up in hours of symposiums and panels and glad-handing and trying not to doze off in front of C-SPAN was just… stupid.
Like they were really going to eradicate 3rd world epidemics, nuclear weapons, and world hunger this weekend.
Just because he was a successful billionaire didn’t mean he had the answers. He started to feel a familiar old fatigue.
Once this summit was over, he was going to crash.
No part of him wanted to see Amara leave, but he was glad to have the incentive to send her away.
He didn’t want her to see him like that.
It’d been a long time since the last one, right before Webster went public.
And then Christmas had happened.
He hadn’t been serious about killing himself. He was just… tired.
Of course, he didn’t know that until immediately afterward. Until the vicious strangulation of his belt was so harsh, more unforgiving than anything he’d ever experienced. It felt as though that inanimate object was not only alive but evil and triumphant that its day had finally come.
Death would’ve likely been even more barbaric. And if Dale hadn’t shown up, hadn’t somehow known, Grayson would’ve found out first hand.
No. He didn’t want to die.
It was a valuable piece of information, strenuously attained.
He was just… tired.
He’d taken it easy after that, or so he thought. But maybe the stress had slowly gotten past his radar and crept back up again.
Pressures of success made life harder in some ways, but easier in the ways that used to plague him.
He thought maybe that part of his life was truly behind him, but it seemed he just couldn’t outrun it. And now it had been simmering longer than it had ever simmered.
Had Amara sent it over the edge?
Probably. She was the most powerful kryptonite he’d ever encountered.
But he would have his last five days.
He needed Amara more than he needed to be okay right now, more than he needed to be strong. More than he needed to save the world.
The first day of the summit was a lot.
He spent the morning at a daily briefing, then all afternoon in a session on education in Myanmar, finally a grand symposium held in a formidable auditorium in the round, with stadium seats on all sides of the attendees. Grayson lounged at a distinguished, horseshoe-shaped conference table equipped with a microphone, and a laptop recessed in the surface for each seated member. Bono was there, so that was a big shocker. The founder of Magellan and his former boss, Daryl Jacobs was also there, a relationship once strained that he now enjoyed since he was a colleague and not his employer.
Jacobs incessantly took credit for birthing both Webster and MeTv at his company. Magellan had become a hydra in the years that passed, a slow development of which Grayson didn’t much approve. But they supported Webster and made it seem as ubiquitous as Magellan itself. It would be years before he’d need to worry about competition.
The way he felt now, he could care less about the next five minutes of Webster. Not the best attitude to have at the G21 Leadership Summit. It was a good thing they didn’t ask him to be a keynote speaker this year, or he would’ve absolutely had a breakdown.
“If sex trafficking isn’t somewhere on this itinerary, then this whole thing is a giant, rich people circle jerk,” Amara said when they were at dinner.
There was a flock of cameramen outside their window. The word eventually got out that “Gramara” was at the Summit. Thankfully the press was a lot more respectful in Montenegro.
Grayson sighed. “Don’t, Amy. It’s hard enough as it is to sit through this thing.”
“So don’t.”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” he retorted between sips.
Amara in a strapless green number made a lewd gesture with her metaphoric penis.
“The cameras are right there, genius,” he said.
“Since when do you even care about that?”
“I don’t,” he answered.
“So… stay home,” she urged, somewhat selfishly. “You look spent.”
“I don’t have the luxury of just quitting my job when I get bored.”
Amara casually looked up from her bite of food.
Grayson was finished, nursing a drink and engrossed with work on his phone.
“Like me,” she prompted.
“Like you,” he confirmed.
It wasn’t even one of the bad ones. He didn’t even bother to feel remorseful, she noticed.
But Amara was reaching her limit.
“So are you wiring me this money or what, because I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the States just yet.”
“Where are you going?” asked Grayson.
“I did a study abroad in Italy a few years ago. I kinda wanna see my old street. Eat crazy amazing food. Catch a movie even. There’s a beautifully preserved old theater there.”
No invite.
Did she even care that he was fluent in Italian?
“Want some company?” he ventured smoothly.
“Other than you? Yes.” she curtly answered, taking a sip of their expensive Sauvignon Blanc.
Oh.
He knew he’d more than deserved it, but it hurt. Like hell.
They finished up in silence. Grayson left some crumpled notes on the table, and they braved the paparazzi as they were driven the short distance back to their hotel.
The next morning there was a press conference. Grayson tried to focus, but all he could think about was Amara the millionaire, alone in Florence being ogled by about a thousand good-looking Italian men.
What did she mean by company other than him?
Shit.
His insides were hollow.
The flash of the cameras was enough to trigger a seizure.
He just needed to get out of there.
He graciously bowed out of the world leaders’ luncheon and raced back to the room, but Amara was nowhere to be found.
Of course, he thought. She hadn’t expected him back for hours. Obviously she wouldn’t have sat around waiting for him to come back that evening so he could sneak attack her with insults.
He lay on the edge of the bed, relishing the quiet, letting the ceiling fan alleviate his humming mind. 60 hours left. If he could make Amara smile today, all day, he would surely make it through the summit. And afterward, maybe he wouldn’t return to the States either. He could find a jungle or a desert somewhere and just… scream. For a week. Maybe fight a bear or something. And then come back on a white horse and rescue Amara from her quality of life that would instantly plummet once he was gone.
Just apologize to her you doofus, he heard a voice in his head that sounded conspicuously like hers. It was worth considering. Maybe if he just apologized to her, his world could go back to normal. Amara was forgiving. But only to a point, and he had pushed that point. Maybe if he swallowed his pride, it would keep all this bile from coming up so frequently.
But to apologize would be a profound change in his convictions, and he was unwilling to do that. Amara could never be a permanent part of his life, so what would be the point?
Yes, he could see that he might love her, but she needed a better man— a belief that only grew over time since their conversation on the beach.
But he couldn’t conceive of never seeing her again. Not yet. Yes, she’d become a habit by now, but she achieved that within the first week.
He simply would release her from this God-forsaken contract, maybe even put in a little extra for pain and suffering. Recharge, come back and start again.
He relaxed. He had high hopes for his plan.
He just needed to be on his best behavior for the next 60 hours.
Fourteen
Chapter 14
For the second morning in a row, Amara woke up in bed alone. And for the second morning in a row, she cried.
Technically it was the third 3 am counted as “morning.”
The first was the night before the trip, the night of Dale’s party, where he’d been so unbelievably hurtful. The second morning she cried because he’d been so heartbreakingly dreamy and wonderful, and she woke up to a cold bed, realizing that the fleeting glimpse of bliss was over. The third morning was the worst, because for the first time it was because of something she had done.
He’d been a dick it was true. But something snapped in her. Right at the exact moment he was giving her what she’d wanted since that night on the beach. Since her first day at Webster. Hell, since her first school book report about him.
Want some company, he’d said.