Heart Doctor

by Melissa Silvey

  Boy, I guess I showed him.

  I set the satellite radio to a softer adult station. I don’t think the 80’s party music is a fitting soundtrack to the tension in the car. I expected that we would stop at his hotel, but we don’t. We keep driving, through the city, until we arrive at an airport. Or, more specifically, a heliport. So this must be how the rich and powerful get around the DC traffic.

  He parks my car near one of the hangers, and a pilot meets him when he exits the car. They speak for a few minutes, and the pilot walks toward a helicopter and starts it up, while Alexander walks to the passenger side of the car and opens the door.

  I’m not sure if I want to get in a helicopter with him. I shiver again, and this time it’s not from fear. This isn’t as sexy as some romance novels or movies make it out to be. It’s actually a bit scary to have a billionaire willing to do anything to spend the night with you, while also having a helicopter on standby. I have no idea where he’s planning to take me, or when he’ll return me, or if he’ll return me.

  “Trust me,” he says, and holds his hand out to me.

  I take it, and step out of my car. He takes off his jacket, and wraps it around my shoulders, before he leads me toward the helicopter.

  Here’s hoping I survive the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  May 21, 2016

  When we arrive at our destination, a limo is waiting for us. He helps me out of the helicopter, then guides me to the rear of the car, and helps me in.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I ask. I think the landing area looks familiar, but I’m not sure.

  “You’ll know when we arrive,” he says, cryptically. I snuggle into his jacket, which smells like him. Him now, not the younger him. The younger Lex smelled like sweat, and musk. The older Lex smells like designer cologne, probably something por homme. I can’t say I don’t like it.

  Soon the streets become more familiar. We pass the red brick and white columned buildings of the UVA campus. And when we finally pull into a parking lot, full of economy cars, I know where we are.

  “Welcome home,” Alexander growls, as he exits the limo, then holds his hand out to help me exit too.

  I gaze up at the all too familiar building, with ugly brown siding. He twines his fingers in mine, and holds on tight as if he knows I want to run. He walks up the steps, with me in tow, to the second-floor apartment we used to share. He puts a key in the door, and turns it.

  “No!” I exclaim. Is he breaking in to some poor student’s apartment?

  The knob turns, and the door opens. He flips on the lights, and the living room is almost empty, except for two cheap faux leather chairs, facing each other. I almost expected all of his furniture to still be here.

  “It was empty. I rented it for six months to get the key. Impressed?” he asks, as he shoves it back into his pocket, and locks it behind him.

  “Surprised,” I admit.

  “Sit,” he orders, as he waves his hand to one of the chairs. “I have champagne chilling in the fridge. This day was supposed to be a celebration.” He still looks angry, as angry as he did the last time I saw him in this apartment.

  He remembers. I don’t acknowledge his comment, but I do sit down. He steps into the tiny kitchen, and returns with an expensive bottle of champagne, and two glass flutes.

  He hands the flutes to me, as he opens the bottle. Then, he fills the flutes, sits the bottle on the floor, and takes one of the glasses before sitting in the seat across from mine.

  “Happy anniversary, my love,” he says, as he tips his glass at me. “This should have been our fifteenth wedding anniversary.”

  He takes a sip, but he’s staring at me the entire time. I hold the glass in both my hands, but don’t drink.

  “Are you comfortable? Are you warm enough?” he enquires, as if he’s worried about me.

  I nod. I have no idea what to say. This entire evening is beyond unbelievable.

  “Would you like to know what I want for my money, Liv?” He sits back in the chair, loosens his bow tie, and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt. He’s settling in. I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night. “Do you want to know what I expect in return for ten million dollars?” He takes another sip of champagne. His eyes are practically glowing bright green.

  “What?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

  “One small, simple, easy thing. The thing I wish you would have given me fifteen years ago.” His voice still has that gravelly tone, but he sounds a bit more sad than angry now.

  Fuck. What could he possibly want? A baby? A wedding ring? I’m not prepared to give him either.

  “I want the truth, Liv. I want you to be honest with me, and tell me why you left.”

  God, that’s even worse. I drink all of the champagne down in two gulps. I’m going to need more alcohol. A lot more.

  Should I tell him? I mean, I’ve already told his mother off. Maybe I should just tell him. I would say it’s water under the bridge, but he paid ten million dollars, and rented our old apartment, on the day that we were supposed to get married. There’s no water. Hell, there might not be a bridge.

  “You can’t handle the truth,” I reply flippantly, as I reach for the bottle.

  “I’m really not in the mood, Liv,” he chastises.

  I shrug as I refill my glass, and drink it down too. Why the fuck do I need a glass? I should just chug it straight from the bottle.

  “You stole the perfect life from me, the perfect love. The least you can do is tell me why.” That really does sounds lovely, and emotional. But not real.

  “I think you’re romanticizing it a little, don’t you?” I refill the glass. “How many of these bottles do you have? Only the best for the Astors,” I wonder aloud, as I stare at the label.

  “A couple. There’s wine, and vodka and orange juice too,” he informs me. I almost see a smile. But as quickly as it arrives it disappears, and his perfect square jaw is set in a firm hard line again. “Maybe you’ll tell me what I want to know if you’ve had enough alcohol.”

  “You don’t want to get me drunk. I’m a sloppy drunk,” I quip, as I slam back my third glass of champagne.

  “Still?” he murmurs.

  “This chair is not comfortable, and I’m not dressed for this. Do you know how much this dress cost?” I counter, with a little attitude.

  “That depends. Did you buy it second hand?” Boy, he’s really trying hard to bait me tonight.

  I smile though, and pour another glass. “That brings back memories.”

  “You seemed so happy. You really had me fooled with your second-hand clothes and your insistence that you didn’t want me to buy you anything. I actually believed your lies, because they were so damn sweet.” He takes another sip.

  I slam mine back, and refill my glass. Well, half-way. The bottle is empty. He stands up, and walks toward the kitchen. I follow him, out of curiosity. The cabinets are still the same fake wood, and the counter tops are still the same ugly green. I think that might also be the same fridge. Inside I see two more bottles of the expensive stuff, a bottle of expensive vodka, and a few bottles of wine. There’s a tiny table in here, and two chairs. I wonder if the previous renters left them.

  He opens another bottle of champagne, and fills my glass. I’m leaning against the counter, and I spontaneously laugh out loud. “How many dinners do you think I burnt on this very stove?”

  “All of them,” he replies, seriously.

  I smile wistfully as I rub my hand over the green stove. “I wasn’t that bad, after I started reading cookbooks.”

  “You could learn anything from a book.” He’s standing a little too close. I drink my glass of wine, and he pours another. “You just couldn’t learn how to love from a book, could you?”

  I arch my eyebrows, and fight a smile that’s tugging on the corners of my mouth. “We learned a few things from the Kama Sutra.”

  “I bet you still use them, don’t you?” I flash him a dirty
look, and he looks away and drinks his wine. He looks almost at home in the tiny kitchen, in his expensive clothes. But then, he’s always had expensive clothes, and cars. He’s always been rich.

  “I don’t really care about sex. I mean… it’s just a means to an end.” I shrug, and take another drink. “You know?”

  “No, I have no idea, Liv.” But he’s looking at me like he knows. He’s looking at me like he’s thinking about last Saturday. “Do all of those other men give you what you need?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then why do you do it?” He’s staring right at me as he asks it.

  “Because I can.” I shrug. “Because maybe one of them will eventually do it like…” I glance at him from under my fake eyelashes.

  “No one will ever do it like me, Liv. Because I love you with every fiber of my being, and I want you so bad it hurts.” He’s leaning casually against the counter, but his tone says he wants to reach out and take me, and never let me go.

  “Loved,” I correct him.

  “No, Liv. I said what I meant.”

  That makes my chest hurt, and my pussy muscles tighten so much they ache. I sit the glass down on the counter, and step away. I’ve had enough for now. I almost want to reach out and touch him. I was free to touch him whenever I wanted, once upon a time. When we lived here. When we were younger. Before his mother…

  “Does that turn you on? Do you get off on the idea that I’m still hung up on you?” He’s still looking at me, as if he can read my thoughts by gazing into my eyes.

  “I remember the first time I saw you when I returned to DC. You were with your wife.” I try not to say the word wife with all the anger I feel, but it doesn’t work.

  He chuckles deep in his throat. “That didn’t last long after I laid eyes on you. You walked into the ballroom, and it was like a floodlight followed you around. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You looked better than you did in your twenties. It tore me up.”

  “You rebounded,” I remind him.

  “That was another huge mistake. I was trying desperately to get your attention. I wanted you to be as jealous as I am. Every time I see another man touch you, I want to rip his hand off.” He grins as he says it. Is he buzzed too?

  I resist the urge to pour another glass. I lean against the table, facing him. He runs his hand through his thick hair, and messes it up just enough to show a bit of wave. I bite my lip when I see it. It reminds me of a younger, happier Lex. It reminds me of all the times I buried my hands in his thick dark hair while he made love to me, and how his unruly locks curled up afterward.

  “I wonder sometimes how many kids we would have had. What we would have named them. Would they have been boys or girls? I’m thinking five or six, all boys.”

  Five or six dark, curly haired boys with bright green eyes, who looked like their dad? I’d never survive it. “I never thought we’d have this conversation. I never thought I’d ever have a conversation with you again.” I admit. I want another glass, and the bottle is sitting there, with little droplets of water travelling down it, calling to me.

  He pours the wine, and pushes the glass toward the edge of the counter. “You touched your shoulder, and your gay nurse suddenly had a medical emergency at the hospital that could not wait. That happened too many times to be coincidence.”

  “Every time you got too close,” I admit, as I reach out for the glass.

  He takes my hand, and tugs on it until I stand up straight. He does too. “Like this?” he asks, and moves a step closer.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Yes to what, my love?” he murmurs. His other hand reaches out, and he gently brushes his fingertips against my cheek.

  “Yes, you’re too close,” I answer. But I’m not sure I mean it. I’m not sure of anything right at this moment. Except that I want to be this close to him. I want to be closer. I want him inside me. Right. Now.

  “Tell me why you left me, and we’ll play that game you like.” His voice, his breath, is right against my ear.

  My entire body shakes from it, and the anticipation of our game. “The game where you touch my body until you find a spot that makes me moan?”

  “Tell me the truth, Liv, and I’ll touch you like that for the rest of your life.” He’s stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist with one hand, and the spot under my ear with the other.

  I sigh loudly. He remembers exactly where to touch me. It’s almost unfair. My nipples are getting hard, aching for his touch. “Do you play that game with anyone else?”

  “Just with you, Liv. Only ever with you. Tell me why you left me.” His voice and his body are so fucking seductive. I couldn’t resist him when I was twenty-one, and I can’t resist him now.

  “Your mother gave me money to leave you, and go to Stanford.” I never thought I’d say that out loud, especially not to him.

  His hand tightens around my wrist, and his other hand buries itself in my hair. He tips my head back, and glares into my eyes. “So it was always about the money.”

  I shake my head. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said it. “You wanted a baby, Lex. And I wanted to be a doctor.” I’m returning his gaze as I say it. The truth. I breathe deeply. “I knew that I wouldn’t finish medical school if I got pregnant. And then I’d just be Alexander Astor’s wife, his poor orphan wife with no parents and no family.”

  “I wanted to give you a family, Liv. I wanted to make a family with you,” he grinds the words out through gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

  So, I tell him the entire story. “And your mother said she would withhold your trust fund if we got married. You would have resented me, Lex. You couldn’t live like a normal person. I’d be barefoot and pregnant, and you’d work overtime, and we’d never see each other, and we would drift apart.” He’s silent, but he can’t look away. “That’s the truth, Lex. I was afraid. I was afraid of that perfect future you had planned, because I was afraid that it wouldn’t work the way you wanted it, that it would all fall apart, and it would be my fault.” He continues to stare at me. He doesn’t want to believe me. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That the girlfriend you thought was perfect was afraid of our perfect love?”

  “You were afraid of disappointing me?” I nod. I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. “You were afraid you weren’t good enough for me?” I nod again. “But my love, you were. I was so proud of you, my darling, that you could never have disappointed me.” He kisses my cheeks softly, and then leans his forehead against mine. “And my mother didn’t have that kind of power over my trust fund. My father did.”

  “He didn’t like me either.” I whisper it, because my voice is choked with tears.

  “You didn’t trust me enough to share your fears with me. And that hurts, Liv.” He releases me, and I stumble into the table. “I was your man, Olivia. I was your lover, and your protector. You should have told me what you were feeling, what you were thinking.” He drinks my glass of champagne, and pours another.

  “I did, that day at the picnic, but you didn’t listen.” He turns away from me. “It was never about money. I was just a scared young woman.”

  “And look at you now. You have everything you always wanted. You have dukes chasing after you, for Christ’s sake.”

  “And you have pop stars and models chasing after you,” I point out. I move away, and grab the bottle. It’s about half full. I start swigging it down like it’s bottled water.

  “You’re jealous. I’m jealous. Why don’t we both just admit that we’re crazy about each other?” His voice is still seductive, but he steps back too.

  “Maybe we’re both just crazy,” I point out, and drop the now empty bottle on the counter. It rattles a little, but neither of us looks back. “Is there a bed in this apartment someplace?”

  He smiles so big his cheeks turn bright pink. Then he leans right up against me again. “If I didn’t think you’d regret it in the morning, I’d already have you in there,” he mutters, right against my ear.

/>   I undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. I mean, damn it he’s standing right there, whispering in my ear. He might as well be begging me to undress him. But he gasps, as if he doesn’t expect it from his sweet little Liv. I’m a different woman now.

  I look up at him, lick my top lip, and say, “Make sure I don’t regret it then.”

  His eyes get wide, and he picks me up to carry me into the bedroom. As he does, he kisses me. The kiss is insistent, but also warm and full of emotion. I could almost believe we were still that young couple in love.

  Chapter Fourteen

  May 21, 2016

  “Your skin is so soft. I love the way you feel, and the way you smell. I love everything about you,” he murmurs, as he lays me down onto the bed. He climbs up onto his knees above me, as he almost always did. He supports his weight, making sure I don’t get crushed under it.

  I should be shying away right now. The word love usually makes me run for the hills. Even if the guy says he loves the way my shampoo smells, I’m ready to move on. Lex told me he loves me earlier, and I didn’t freak out. But it’s Lex. I almost feel like he’s supposed to tell me he loves me, and he should say it often.

  Is it the champagne? Probably. But I want to hear it. “Say it again, Lex,” I demand, as I’m pulling his shirt off his broad shoulders.

  He moves to help me with his clothes, and he looks deep into my eyes as he states, “I love you baby. I never stopped, and I never will.” He doesn’t seem sad. Saying the words isn’t hard for him. He almost looks relieved to be able to say them. He smiles at me, then leans forward to kiss my lips gently.

  My hands move over his body, his perfect, gorgeous body. “How the hell did you get so jacked?” I ask against his lips. I leave off the end of the sentence, at your age.