Perfect Harmony

by Lodge, Sarah P.

  How’d they’d judge this silly dumpy little girl who has nothing else going for her.

  Time and time again I told myself that it would be the last time I passed up such an opportunity, and that next time would be different - by then, I’d have my hair done, lose some weight, maybe even get a nose job and push myself to be outgoing and confident.

  But I never did any of those things. All I did was make excuses.

  I’m the reason my dreams are gone.

  Richard and Liz may have been wrong to lie to me and carry on an affair behind my back, but I should never have been a coward from the beginning.

  “You’re right,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I was never there for you, Richard. And I fucked up everything you did for me...probably ruined your business. God, I’m so sorry.”

  “Melody, it’s alright,” says Richard. The anger in his face drops instantly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. I was scared to death of the wonderful things you were offering me, about what could happen if I put myself out there. So I ran away. I’m so so sorry.”

  “Me too,” he says. “You didn’t deserve to find out about me and Liz the way you did.” He gives a halfhearted smile. “I did really like you, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “But things don’t always work out how you think.”

  “No, not they don’t.”

  Another awkward silence falls between us.

  Liz sighs then breaks the silence once again. “Okay, so we’re sorry, you’re sorry, the whole world is sorry. How about, get this: we just forget this entire mess and go back to how things were. Except obviously, me and Richard are a couple. But what I mean is...” Liz paused for a moment. “Friends?”

  I smile. “Sounds good to me.”

  “So, who is he, the lucky fella?” asks Liz.

  I dry swallow. “A friend.”

  “Well, it’s not me and it’s not Liz,” says Richard, “so I’m stumped.”

  “A new friend,” I say.

  “Good,” says Liz. “There’s always room for new people in our lives. I hope the two of you have a wonderful time.”

  My face lights up with a wide smile and I blush.

  “Would you look at that?” she says. “Come on, Richard, let’s get out of here.”

  Richard nods at me, and then he and Liz disappear into the crowd.

  And I feel suddenly lighter. Like a weight has been lifted.

  “Interesting,” says a deep acerbic voice behind me.

  I spin around. “Chase! How long have you been there.”

  “Don’t worry. Only long enough to see the pleasantries.” His thick arm juts out with a swimmer’s grace and offers me a flute filled with champagne. “You didn’t tell them.”

  “No, no I didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  I take the champagne flute from his grip. “Because I’ve caused him to suffer enough. I had my own part to play in this whole mess, and I may be too scared to chase what I want, but I can’t begrudge the people that do.”

  “But, irrelevant of your part, he still hurt you. You could have made him suffer.” His deep dark eyes are perplexed. “It makes no sense.”

  “I know.”

  I bring the flute to my mouth and the bubbles tickle my lips. I tilt my head back and gulp down the glass in one motion, desperate for the alcohol to go straight to my head.

  Maybe then I can forget this horrible feeling inside, this gnawing sense of fear that petrifies me every time I need to take a risk, deep in the knowledge that I’d fail, so what is the point.

  How ironic. I’m so afraid I’ll never amount to anything that I’m too scared to do anything. Avoiding was meant to keep me safe and stop myself from feeling hurt, but all it’s done is make me lose everything that actually matters.

  I sniff and wipe a small tear from my eye.

  “Are you crying?” asks Chase. He sounds unsure how to broach the situation.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You can still have him.”

  “What?”

  “That designer. The way he looked at you, he can be yours if you want him.”

  The image of Liz’s guilt stricken face fills my mind. And the way Richard held her close, longing to protect her.

  I’d never felt that spark, that lightning of passion and want and need for him. If was something I’d never even known existed.

  Not until I met Chase.

  “I don’t want him. He wants her and she wants him. They deserve to be happy.”

  Chase brushes my shoulder with his palm. His hand journeys down my arm, past my wrist and to my own hand. Our fingers interlock.

  “Aren’t you nice,” he says.

  Is that scorn in his voice? Or is it surprise? Was it meant to be sarcastic? What does it matter - he called me nice. Just a synonym or two away from coward and scared. And wimp.

  I inhale sharply and the cold air hits my lungs like a sobering slap.

  “This dress,” I say to Chase, “it’s sexy, yes?”

  Chase is taken aback. “Very much so.”

  “”Pretty hot, you’d say? And these heels? Someone nice and quiet and scared wouldn’t wear them, would they?”

  Chase smiles. “No, my princess. No, they wouldn’t.”

  A waiter passes with a tray full of champagne flutes. I snatch one and down the entire glass instantly.

  “How’s that for nice?”

  Chase opens his mouth to speak, but he stops abruptly, his attention turning to a stunning young woman climbing on to the stage with the orchestra and whispering in the conductor’s ear.

  The crowd around us hushes to a quiet murmur, everyone’s eyes on this mysterious woman. She turns to look at the crowd and sees us. She waves.

  I’ve never seen this woman in my life. Why is she waving at me?

  Then it dawns on me - I’m not the one she’s waving at.

  I turn to Chase and see him give her a nod.

  Who is this woman? How does she enrapture the entire room? Why does Chase go quiet for her?

  “Who’s that?” I ask, trying to be coy.

  “She’s a new acquisition of mine.”

  “Acquisition?”

  He turns to me and brushes my cheek lightly with his fingers. “Relax, my princess. Her name’s Vanessa. A recent addition to my label. She’s a bright young thing, very friendly. In fact, you two must be about the same age. I imagine the two of you would get on very well.”

  “Oh. You think so?” I say, trying my hardest to shake any annoyance and bitterness from my voice, but I fail miserably.

  Chase arches his eyebrows. “Jealous, are we?”

  “No. Of course, not.”

  He grins. “You have nothing to be afraid of, my princess. My interest in her is purely professional. And it should be for the money I paid to grab her. Her contract cost me a fortune.”

  “She’s that good?” I say.

  “Not really. But she was ready to be snapped up by my biggest rival, that bastard Callaghan.”

  My eyes fly open and I pull the champagne flute from my lips. “Duncan?” I whisper.

  Chase grins in satisfaction. “He may have been kind to you, but he’s been a thorn in my side for too long. He was ready to promote Vanessa, had a whole image plan and album proof down, all ready to go into production. He had lots of money invested, but, in a show of good faith, the fool put off getting her to sign a contract. I swooped in offering her twice as much and now she’s mine.”

  “Oh,” I say. I’m not sure whether it’s the alcohol on an empty stomach or the lighting in the room, but I suddenly start to feel nauseous.

  I’d heard Duncan tell me of his woes over this only last week. He rang me up and let it all out, cursing and swearing and raging on and on, but I listened. A kind word here and there and then he’d listen to my worries. It’s a ritual we’ve performed every week, ever since we were kids.

  That’s what brothers and sisters
do.

  Duncan and Chase had competed with each other over acquisitions for years, ever since my brother had fought him over a small record company for next to nothing with a no name indie band on the label that Chase once managed. Chase considered the band his by right, but Duncan somehow found out about the deal and swooped in before Chase could make an offer, and absorbed the record company into his own. That band went on to top the charts and secure a platinum record, earning Duncan hundreds of millions in revenue.

  If Chase ever found out Duncan is my brother...

  Chase had already suspected me of corporate espionage when he caught me in his office. Alone. In the dark. With his files.

  If he found out the truth, he’ll think I’m a plant, someone to secure private information and insider knowledge and pass it along to his bitterest rival.

  I can’t let him find out. No way. It would ruin everything.

  My knees tremble and fall back a step. Chase catches me in his arms.

  “Melody? Damn it, you should have eaten something before downing all that champagne.”

  I nod.

  He’s concerned about me. It breaks my heart to know that I’ve lied to him, that I’m still lying. It seemed so easy when I applied for the job - I just left my family name off the application form and I was never worried any harm would come from it.

  Chase never would have hired me otherwise. But telling him now would be catastrophic - he’d fire me for sure. Worse, I’d have to return home to my father, conclusive proof of what he always believed - that I’m an utter failure. He always told me that I’d never get anywhere with my dream - that I wasn’t pretty enough to be a singer. And if I return home now with my tail between my legs, he’d shake his head in the admonishing way he always does, full in the knowledge that he was right all along.

  I might even have to consider my father’s demand to marry that arrogant and lecherous old man he’d employed as director of his Asia office. The way he looked at me when my father introduced us...

  It was like a coyote slobbering over his meal.

  “I’m not hungry,” I say.

  “Nonsense,” he says. “You said yourself, you haven’t eaten all day, and you’re practically falling over. While I wished you would fall into my arms, I didn’t mean it quite so literally.”

  I give him a weak smile.

  “In fact, I have an idea.” He beckons over a waiter and whispers in his ear. The waiter gives Chase a perfunctory nod and speeds off towards the kitchen.

  “What was that about?” I ask.

  “I requested that a selection of the food be taken to my limo, so we may dine in peace. Plus, you could do with the fresh air.”

  “A private dinner in your limo?” I look back at the dazzling ballroom and sigh cheerlessly. “All this? Is it over already?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re taking me home, aren’t you?”

  He nods.

  I sigh again.

  He holds out his hand. “Come.”

  I reluctantly take it and he leads me for the last time through the dense crowd of admirers. They’re all so glamorous and alluring, and they all wish us the best as we leave. It felt like hours passed when Chase first had to personally address these people, but now it feels more like minutes. I wish this evening wouldn’t end so quickly, but before I know it, the cold September mist in the foyer slaps my cheeks.

  We leave through the giant double doors and stand underneath the towering Wiltshire skyscraper, the rain sheeting down like thick shards of ice.

  The limo pulls up in front of us and glides to a stop.

  “It’s really over, isn’t it?” I look up at Chase. He stands there so majestically, that I’m without words. How can I possibly tell him how grateful I am for tonight - really truly grateful for everything he’s given me? That it has meant so much to me that any regret I have that the night is over is drowned out by the pure bliss I feel for having experienced it. “Thank you,” I say. “This has been the best night of my life.”

  He smirks then grabs me with one arm and thrusts me to him, our bodies hot against one another.

  “I think you misunderstand.”

  My breath is thick and fast. “You said you were taking me home,” I whisper.

  “I never said whose home.”

  My heart thunders against my chest, his hot breath brushing against my skin. His gaze pierces my own, his dark eyes wild with fire. Droplets of rain drip down his hair, glistening in the silver of the moonlight.

  “But... you’re my boss,” I stutter through muted breaths. “I thought you wanted to...”

  He brings my face to his own and strokes a tendril of wet hair away from my eyes. His eyes dart to my lips and then he leans in and I close my eyes, feeling the warm brush of his lips against my ear.

  “There is only one thing that I want,” he whispers.

  I freeze, my body alight with the feeling of his own pressed against me. The heat of his finger tips running through my hair. His powerful arm pulling me close, warm against the bare skin of my back. And the feel of his chest muscles, rippling beneath his tuxedo, pushing into my breasts.

  He pulls his head away and cups my cheek with his hand, tilting my head up. I open my eyes and he’s staring straight at my lips, his thumb lightly stroking my chin.

  I want to form words, to say something. Anything. But it’s impossible. All I can hear is the sound of my beating heart and my thick breaths and the rain pouring down around us. It’s like we’re in our own little world, a small section of space removed from reality, possessed by nothing but our two bodies, entwined and embraced and together. So right and free and perfect.

  The way Chase looks at me...

  I part my lips, his own merely inches away. He moves in closer, and closer, our hot breath mingling in the ever decreasing space between us.

  His lips are almost on my own. Just one more second and...

  “Hey! He’s over here!

  Chase spins round and glares over my shoulder. I turn to look.

  “Fucking paparazzi,” growls Chase.

  A short man with a camera swinging below his neck rushes up and bombards us with questions, but I can’t hear any of them over the cataclysmic howl of the wind.

  Chase pulls me away from the man and leads us to the limo. He thrusts the door open and takes my wrist as I step into the backseat.

  A flashbulbs rhythmically pounds against Chase’s face like white lightning, his face turned into a twisted scowl, hard edged and ready to snap.

  “Mr. Strong! Come on. Just one statement.”

  Chase bats the man away.

  But he doesn’t let up.

  “Just one. Jesus. It’s hardly that hard, moneybags. You guys think you’re so special being born into all this shit. You’re just lucky.”

  Chase snaps and spins around.

  “You want a statement?”

  Suddenly, Chase swings with his fist, smacking the guy straight in the jaw. He topples over the curb and tumbles on to the pavement.

  Chase loosens his tie. “And they say my speeches lack a punch.”

  He climbs into the limo and slams the door.

  “Drive,” he says to the chauffeur.

  The driver’s foot hits the pedal and guns the engine. The limo roars into action and we shoot off down the street.

  I turn to look out the window behind us. I can’t see anything over the mob of flashbulbs sparking in the distance.

  “Are you alright?” I say to Chase.

  He rubs his fist with his fingers. “Never felt better.” He sits back against the soft leather. “Take the back streets, Miller. I don’t want them following.”

  “Right away, Sir,” says his driver. “The penthouse?”

  Chase nods and presses a button on the door. The privacy divider rolls up.

  We are completely alone.

  “You’re penthouse?” My mouth is dry. I swallow.

  “Yes, it’s in Manhattan. It’s like a castle in
the sky. You can see the whole of New York stretched out into the horizon.”

  “Oh.”

  He takes my hand. “It’ll give us total privacy.”

  “Chase, this is happening so fast. One minute we were talking and drinking, and then we almost... I can’t process it all.”

  “Don’t. Forget over-thinking and rationalising. There is only you and me, nothing else.”

  Shit. If it was that easy to turn my brain off I would have done it years ago.

  But maybe he has a point - maybe I should just let go.

  I swallow again and my stomach gurgles.

  Hunger. I completely forgot how hungry I was.

  I see a platter of delicious food opposite us, and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice on the seat.

  But sitting there and staring at that array of delicacies, the hunger seemed trivial. There was only one thing I was hungry for, and it wasn’t dinner.

  I turn to Chase and smile. He brushes my cheek softly with his hand and I get lost once again in those fathomless eyes.

  “I never thought I’d meet someone like you, Melody. Someone so...”

  “Interesting?” I say. I smile wanly.

  “...Incredible.” His fingers trace the back of my neck, slowly trickling down and setting my body on edge; a sensitive stroking tickle that excites me at the deepest level. “You’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Oh?” I whisper.

  “I want you — fuck that - I need you in my bed.”

  His bottomless gaze burns me, his thumb brushing my bottom lip, so slowly and sensitively, my skin lights up and a thrill rushes through every inch of my body. His fingers are over my hair, massaging and kneading, and I feel a hum between my legs. A desperate craving that’s begging for him.

  “I want to touch you, Melody,” he says, his breath like fire against my ear. “I want to suck on your nipples, and taste this mouth, to lick every inch of your sweat dripped skin until you beg me to fill you.”

  I tremble. Breath seems impossible. His words drip like honey and I’m paralysed by his touch.

  “Your body will press against mine, naked and burning with desire, and I’ll taste you and you’ll taste me and I’ll take you, filling you deep inside until you quiver and cry out in ecstasy and beg me for more, and our bodies buck against each other as the rest of the world fades to nothing, and when you think it couldn’t go on any more - that it’s impossible to feel so much blinding pleasure, you’ll pop like a bottle of warm champagne.”