by Gina Kincade
Dom stands up abruptly and walks toward the suite. He does it so quickly its starling, and even worse he doesn’t even look at me as he goes.
“Goodnight, Ilsa,” he says sharply, and I don’t know what to make of the edge in his tone. Maybe he came out and saw me in the pool with Isaac and all of this is all already ruined. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He disappears down the hallway and all I can think about is how Dom regrets nothing
and I’m at the top of the world in the tallest high-rise in all of Hong Kong.
Completely alone.
Chapter Six
Ilsa
My four-inch heels pinch the delicate skin below my ankle, rubbing the flesh and threatening to blister. My whole day has felt like that tender strip of skin, wedged into a space that’s too tight, and scraping with each painful step. The tension between Dom and me has felt like that exposed blister, raw and ready to erupt. From breakfast to the cab ride to our associate’s office, to sitting in the stuffy board room where Dom smoothed out his suit and started the negotiation. Every step, every breath, has felt rigid and stiff. That cushion of distance and professionalism that normally sits between us has had an uncanny sharpness all day; as if Dom saw me with my legs wrapped around his friend’s hips and now he wants me to pay for the fact that he can’t shake the image.
I turn down the convention center hallway that leads to the ballroom where our new associates are throwing a merger banquet to announce our deal to their employees. It’s a day to celebrate. A day to fist-pump the air and get drunk in honor of all the hard work we’ve done. Months of work leading up to this point. This is a brilliant career triumph that will result in the promotion I’ve been salivating over for years, and yet that’s not what I’m thinking about. No, instead every muscle in my body is knotted with fear, because something between Dom and me is off. And I can’t shake the dread that pools at the base of my heart.
I don’t know that Dom saw anything last night, but he’s spent the entire day eerily chipper and “on.” Over compensating and acting like the perfect lawyer with his smart suggestions that made it sound like he was giving our new associates everything they wanted while managing to stack the deck in his favor and getting everything he desired. Dom regrets nothing after all, and he brilliantly stands his ground. And I was there by his side the whole time, and yet it was the first time I’ve ever felt invisible next to Dom, as if I was a complete afterthought. He hardly acknowledged me all day. He didn’t ask my opinion. He didn’t give me the space to wield part of the negotiation. He cut me off when I started to interject. And because he’s Dom, each shut down was executed like a magician’s sleight of hand, practically imperceptible to our new partners and seemingly unaggressive. Not overtly. Our new partners had no clue it was happening.
A string quartet strikes a powerful chord as I walk into the dazzling ballroom. Silk and gold lanterns hang from the ceiling, casting a red glow over the decorated space. Tables shimmer with crystal sculptures of swirling dragons and koi fish with exotic fins. There are lady dancers twirling on a stage in the corner, adding a bit of pageantry to what feels like an enchanted den of opulence. The gold color of my dress is perfect for the occasion, the flowy fabric hugging my hips before floating out with a twirl of layered gauze at my thighs. My hair is pulled into a twist of loose curls that shows off the dress’ low-cut back and the long stretch of my spine. It’s the perfect balance of elegance and sin. At least, that’s what I thought when I bought it, hoping Dom would be mesmerized when he saw me in it. I’d imagined him smiling beautifully when he saw the modest front—perfect for a business colleague—but then caught off guard by the exposed back, sending a wave of naughty thoughts through his head. Of course, none of that matters now.
I walk to the buffet and peruse the spread—oysters, sushi, fine caviar—a hundred things that will only make my stomach feel worse than it already does. It’s stupid that I feel so unsettled. The deal is done. Negotiated and signed, with every detail outlined and double checked. It’s exactly as we planned. Perfect in fact. Our bosses are going to be beside themselves. And yet ... it doesn’t feel grand. There’s an emptiness in my stomach that’s rooted in whatever awkwardness is between Dom and me.
Of course, I know that itch of tension is all mine. This was a huge deal and whatever distance I’m feeling is all in my mind. I’m the one who is mixed up and confused. Dom knows exactly what he wants and today he went out got it. The way Isaac goes after women, Dom goes after business, slick and put together and absolutely on point. You’d never know Dom drank the night before. There was no hint of a hangover. No awkward silences. No prickle of confusion running up his spine when Isaac came into the kitchen for breakfast. Nope, Dominick was one-hundred percent sharp this morning. He was all: “Good morning, sunshine” and mega-watt smiles; then negotiation, and brilliance, and sign on the dotted line.
I’m the one who’s standing in this banquet all by myself feeling lost and out of sorts. Me. Not him. This was the deal I’ve been working on for months, if not preparing for years, and ... I nibble on a cracker from the buffet table, but it’s dry and unsatisfying.
After the paperwork was signed, Dom mumbled something about calling the office and seeing me at the banquet later. His back was all I saw as he disappeared through the board room door hours ago. If this had been any other business trip, we’d have gone out for noodles or split a bizarre Hong Kong delicacy in a random restaurant near our hotel. But instead I went back to our giant presidential suite alone.
Isaac wasn’t there either, even though his suitcases were still in his room. I assume the two of them went out and celebrated together. I really don’t know. After a couple hours it became clear that Dom wasn’t going to come back before the party, so I got dressed and ... here I am.
I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and roll back my shoulders. Screw him. I’m not going to sulk. This was a great deal and if Dom wants to be ... whatever he’s being, then fine. I’ll represent the company. I can smile and dazzle and laugh at our new associate’s bad jokes and throw back wine. Clearly our previous “no-drinking rule” is off the table, and I ought to celebrate.
The bubbly burns as it goes down, I drink it so quickly. But who cares! I’ve been working this deal for months and now it’s done. It’s in the bag. This is the first time in ages that I don’t have to worry about budgets and quarterly earnings and what our next move is. It makes me want to get drunk and go back up to our high-rise and throw my four-inch heels off the side of the building. That’s right, chuck ‘em off the balcony and watch ‘em soar. I deserve to not have a care in the world.
I find the CEO of the company we’ve acquired and his business partners by the bar, and they raise a glass to welcome me. We congratulate each other and I expertly brush off the question of where my boss is. We chat politely and share stories and laugh, and before I know it I’ve been twirled around the dance floor by at least four of our new associates. I’m sure I’ve had far too many glasses of champagne when I suddenly feel sturdy hands on my waist.
I expect to see Dom, but when I turn, but it’s Isaac standing in front of me, dressed to the nines. He looks phenomenal, wearing a full tux that’s cut perfectly for him. His hair is styled and the rugged I-hang-out-in-my-pajamas man that’s been lounging around our suite shirtless is gone. This Isaac looks like he could own half of Hong Kong.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly, completely taken aback, and he smiles at me above his black bowtie.
“Mind if I have this dance?” he asks, never taking his eyes off me, and the business man who was dancing with me nods graciously. Isaac takes my arms and wraps them around his neck, pulling me onto the dance floor. “You look incredible,” he says, his hands dropping to my waist where he holds me firmly. “Though, I believe you wore this dress the other way around when we first met.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re such a putz!”
He smiles and twirls me, leaning into my ear. �
��You look great in both.”
“Yes, well, for the first time you don’t look like a homeless man, or some kind of beach bum who can’t help but walk around our suite without his shirt on.”
He smiles against my ear. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
I roll my eyes and ignore him. “You look nice in a tux. You might consider updating your wardrobe.”
“Suits and ballrooms are Dom’s thing,” he says, twirling me. “I’m a lie-on-a-beach-in-flip-flops kind of CEO.”
“Which reminds me, I have no clue what kind of business you’re in.”
“Not the glamorous high-rise kind,” he says, pulling me in close. “Dom is Mr. Big-Business-and-Mergers. I’m the forgettable entrepreneur with a laptop and an internet connection. Give me a glass of whiskey and I’m happy. I don’t need all this.” He nods to the glittering room.
“So, in your business, tuxes are optional?” I quip and he smiles against my ear again.
“Whatever you want is optional.” His breath is hot, rolling down my neck, and the tickle of his five-o-clock shadow brushes my face.
“You’re such a tease,” I jab, and his hands grip my sides intently, followed by his fingers wrapping around my back to cover my open skin.
“I think we established last night that a tease is the last thing I am.” His hands cradle my spine and my skin heats with how true that statement is. His palms burn into me as his fingers tickle my shoulder blades. The touch is a promise, telling me all the pleasure my body craves could be mine. “Have you seen Dominick this evening?” Isaac asks, continuing the conversation as if his hands aren’t teasing my spine and he didn’t just imply that he’d rather remove my dress and spend the rest of the evening in nothing but flip-flops.
I shake my head. “I haven’t, no,” I say, taking a moment to smell the salt of his neck. It’s a musky-dirt smell made of sweat. The kind I want to taste on every inch of him. “Dom disappeared after we signed the paperwork this afternoon,” I admit. “I haven’t seen him since. And frankly, I could care less.” That comes out harsher than I expect, anger prickling in me.
“You don’t mean that,” Isaac says softly, and I press my cheek into his neck, wanting the heat of this connection.
“Maybe true,” I admit. “But I don’t want to think about Dom when your hands are on me.”
Isaac’s grip flutters, his fingers tracing down my spine. “Now who’s being the tease,” he says in a dark voice, before pulling me so close and crushing my body against him. The fabric of my dress feels too thin and shocking for the public place we’re in, or maybe that’s the thought of the two of us being back at our high-rise with this dress pooled below my knees. “Have you decided what you want then?” Isaac asks, his breath on my neck, and I lay my head on his shoulder. We fit together so perfectly like this—swaying back and forth, man and woman, arm in arms. And we could fit together in all the other ways my body wants as well, I just have to nibble on his ear and say: I choose you. I want to. Instead, I hold him tight and say nothing, dancing in a sway that feels like a hug. The kind of hug you don’t ever want to walk away from because at least for this one moment you feel like you’re somebody’s entire world, even if you don’t belong to them, even if you only get this one moment and its fleeting connection.
His fingers trace my back as the violins play a sad melody that makes me realize that saying yes to Isaac is saying no to something I thought I wanted for so long.
“I hardly know you,” I say finally, which makes him smile against my cheek.
“Are you the kind of woman who needs that? For us to have a history?” he asks, his hands dropping to small of my back. I lift my head and look at him, searching his brown eyes and unsure what I’m looking for.
“Not exactly,” I say cautiously. “The weird part is I feel like I already know you. Even though I know I don’t. And—” I swallow hard, trying to sort through the embarrassment of this truth. “I suppose that reveals an unspoken desperation in me.” I admit, looking down at his chin for a moment. “I’m well aware that I’m projecting onto you.” I take a breath and look up. “Wanting you to mean something, to be something that—”
“Makes you forget what you really want instead?” he finishes for me, and my mouth is dry, not sure what to say to that. But then I shake my head.
“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. It’s really ...” He waits, watching me, and I search his eyes, not sure if there’s a way to articulate the familiarity that comes from sharing this moment—the touch of his hands, the confusion of something new in me waking, and how my heart brays with its uncertainty. “You make me hopeful,” I say finally.
His grip tightens and his eyes narrow. That’s not what he expected.
“It’s different than history,” I continue. “And there’s this weight that makes it feel important. You make me see someone else—someone new—another person I could become.”
Isaac slides his cheek up against mine, pressing his rough stubble into my cheekbone. It’s a hug again, but something more, something where we’re tucked into each other and wondering who we are.
“Your hesitation ...” he says softly. “You’re not sure who you’d leave behind?”
“Are you speaking of him or me?”
“Both.”
The word rings against my ear. Both. Choosing Isaac means walking way from two parts of my life. “We have a history,” I say. “Dom and I ...”
But Isaac shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean the possibility. The person you’ve wanted to become all this time. The life you’ve dreamed of having with him.”
I’m quiet for a moment, realizing there are three parts to this. There’s the man I respect and adore and let steal my heart—the man with whom I have two years of past with. Then there’s the team we are now, the two of us unstoppable and brilliant. Yet, I’ve clouded that with all the things I’ve imagined and wished for. Isaac’s right, there’s a third part to this. There’s the future, the life I thought I always wanted. The future I imagined and—
“It’s just a dream,” I say quietly, and Isaac’s hand runs up my spine again.
“So is this one, if you think about it.”
A shiver runs through me and I pull back to look at him, realizing how unpredictable this all is, how there’s no certainty in the future. Any future. Dreams are nothing but projections, beautiful illusions made of little more than faith and air. I look around us at the shimmering ballroom, sparkling with lanterns and tiny crystals refracting the light into a thousand tiny pieces—made of nothing solid—a thousand tiny rainbows that swirl and mesmerize me, but I cannot catch.
I look at Isaac and wonder what I’ve been chasing all this time.
“Maybe I didn’t realize who else I could be,” I say, realizing there’s only one thing I can rely on and that’s myself—who I choose to be. “Maybe I’ve been so singularly focused, I didn’t know what else I could have.”
He looks at me deeply, something torn in his eyes, and it’s the first time I’m unsure if he wants to do this. “Ilsa, I have to be clear,” he says. “I’m not offering—”
“And I’m not asking,” I interrupt him, shaking my head. “I know exactly what you’re offering, and I’m not expecting anything more than ...” I lick my lips and look at him squarely, spreading my hands over his broad shoulders. “This isn’t about yesterday, or tomorrow. It’s about today and who I choose to be. And what I want.”
Isaac’s hands slide over my shoulder blades and a mist of desire breaks across my skin. The edge of his thumbs tuck under my spaghetti straps and this dress feels erotically sexy. It feels like I’ll soon be un-wearing it and shedding it along with this girl that I’ve been. A balloon of excitement surges through me. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be filled with the possibility of something new, to be wild and young and acting recklessly. It makes me realize how tired I am of waiting and calculating the risk, of keeping things lined up so perfectly. Suddenly, all I want is this sp
ark of heat that is raw and rejuvenating.
“May I cut in?”
His words shock me.
His voice—the one voice I don’t want to hear, not right now—Dom’s voice.
I pull away from Isaac to see Dominick a few feet away. He’s perfect—always perfect, in his tux, with his red hair brushed and gorgeous. His green eyes lit on us.
I look at Isaac quickly, realizing I want to leave the banquet with him. That this is a choice I can make, that I want to make, and yet—
Isaac doesn’t miss a beat. He turns to his friend smoothly. “Of course, Dom,” he says, smiling broadly. “It’s a big day for the two of you. Congratulations on the deal. Please ...” Isaac twirls me away from him and I immediately miss the connection of his body. I land directly in front of Dom, weak and uneasy on my feet and staring into the eyes of the man I was ready to walk away from. My boss, my fantasy, the man I was certain I needed.
And do I?
I don’t think so, except ...
Dom’s eyes are dark and brooding in a way I’m not used to seeing, making my throat tighten. How long has he been here watching us? How close was he standing? What did he hear me say?
“I’ve been looking for you all evening,” I say softly, and the charm I’m used to seeing in Dom’s gaze isn’t there. It’s replaced by a steely-green glare. I swallow hard, my skin tightening with a fear I don’t understand. Not sure why I’m excited by the fact that he’s angry with me. Only, I know the assertiveness blustering in my chest won’t be silenced.
“You don’t mind?” Dom asks me pointedly, referring to my dance with Isaac, and I shake my head to cut the heat of his glare.
“Of course not,” I say. “Why would I mind?”
Dom’s eyes darken, making my heart stutter, his gaze laced with jealousy. It’s almost refreshing from Dom, though I can’t deny the flush that heats my cheeks knowing he must have watched the intimate way Isaac’s hands slid over my back. Anyone with two eyes would assume Isaac and I were lovers, or at least, soon to be.