Ask Him

by M. Malone

  There are times when I question my belief in a higher power. Too many bad people prosper while good ones suffer. But tonight, I found my belief in the principle of karma reaffirmed.

  Because watching Milo Hamilton dance with Casey felt like it could only be a karmic punishment.

  I glance over at her. Now that I’ve gotten her to myself, I should feel better but somehow having her alone still doesn’t calm this irrational jealousy I feel. Maybe because I‘m still seeing Milo’s hands all over her bare back. Where the hell did she get that dress? Clumsy Girl wears jeans and T-shirts not satin that hugs every curve and displays an alarming amount of glowing skin.

  Or is that sweat? Is she sweating because it’s hot in here or because she liked dancing with Milo? Just the thought makes me crazy.

  Luckily someone stops by to say hello, saving me from asking her about her dress, her sweat, or anything else that might earn me a glass of champagne to the face. The man shaking my hand vigorously is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company but I can’t remember his name. My mind is a complete blank.

  Well, not a blank. My mind is occupied completely with the memory of how Casey looks sweaty and wearing nothing at all.

  The woman in question snorts, drawing the CEO’s attention. He eyes her appreciatively and suddenly I couldn’t care any less what his name is. Casey is inching to the left slowly, like she’s hoping I won’t notice her moving away. Time to end this conversation. I say a pointed goodbye and then turn to Casey.

  “Have you had anything to eat. Let me at least get you a drink.” I look around desperately for the food.

  “Oh no, you don’t need to.”

  Maybe she doesn’t need one, but I do. I grab two glasses from the tray of a passing waiter.

  “So you’ve been at the Mirage Agency this entire time.” I shake my head at the irony. “And to think, I kept blowing off those meetings. If I’d known, I would have been at the agency everyday.”

  “Why?” She takes a small sip of her champagne, avoiding my eyes.

  “What do you mean, why?”

  “Why would you have come to the agency if you’d known that I was there?”

  I scowl. “Because you ditched me!”

  She laughs and even though it’s at my expense, I’m happy to see it. At least she’s talking to me now. And no longer smiling at other men.

  “Don’t expect me to believe that you really care about that. I’m sure you’ve done the same many times. Besides, if I hadn’t left when I did, you would have just made up an excuse to get rid of me in the morning anyway.”

  “No. I wouldn’t have done that. I was planning on sharing breakfast with you. Taking you home. Asking for your number.”

  She looks skeptical and this probably isn’t the best place to discuss it anyway. Her concerns about being treated differently in a professional setting are valid. I know how people think and how the gossip mill runs. The last thing she needs is one of her coworkers overhearing this conversation.

  “Come. Let’s get away from the crowd. I need some air.” I motion for her to follow me up the stairs to the second level. There’s a small table at the top of the stairs where we place our empty glasses.

  Casey wanders over to the railing overlooking the floor below. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight. Aren’t you busy?”

  “Of course. But I am learning to make time for what’s important to me.” I hold her gaze, wanting her to see and know the truth in my words. “Life is for living, right?”

  This side of the building is in shadow, with only some muted illumination reflecting up from the main floor below. From this vantage point, we can observe all of the couples mingling and dancing below. Casey shivers and I immediately slip out of my jacket and hang it on her shoulders.

  “Thank you.” She glances up at me, uncertainly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to.”

  She’s about to say something else when the sound of clanking footsteps has us both turning. A woman, obviously inebriated, is coming up the stairs. Once she reaches the top, she stares at us before giggling. “Whaaaaat? Andre Lavin is here? Can I get a picture?”

  Internally, I curse her timing. While I’m always happy to take pictures with fans, Casey looked like she was about to say something. Now she’s retreated back into herself, her eyes shuttered.

  It’s going to be a real challenge to get her to open up again. Especially when evidence of how different we are keeps getting thrown in her face.

  “Of course,” I reply, moving to stand next to the young woman.

  The sound of her camera’s shutter echoes in the space around us as she takes selfie after selfie, making weird faces in some and duck lips in others.

  Finally she’s done. “Oh my god, this is awesome!” She grabs me in a sudden hug and instantly I’m back on that red carpet watching a knife coming through the air.

  I can’t breathe.

  By the time I’ve gained control of myself again, the young woman is gone. I take a shuddery breath. Panic attacks came fast and furious in the month after the incident but I thought I’d conquered those. But I’ve learned a hard lesson tonight. Anxiety can return at any time and in any situation.

  “That happens a lot, huh?”

  My heart starts pounding fast again. What does she mean? Did Casey notice my reaction? Then I realize she’s talking about the woman taking my picture.

  Slowly, I move back to the railing. “The fans have made me who I am.”

  Her eyes look down at the railing. Then I notice what has caught her attention. My hands are shaking. My fingers tighten around the balcony rail.

  “Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

  “Fine. Just tired.” The look on her face tells me that she doesn’t believe me. But I’m not ready to talk about what just happened or about what happened on the red carpet a few months before we met. So I give her the same explanation I usually give Philippe when he notices I’m not myself.

  “I think I’m experiencing burnout. I used to find inspiration in the people around me, the energy of each city I visited, the sights, the sounds. But for a long time nothing has inspired me. Everything looks the same. No mystery. No excitement.”

  “No mystery or excitement, huh? I didn’t realize I was that boring.”

  Fantastic. Now she thinks I’m insulting her company. “Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just this whole routine is so…routine.”

  We both laugh. I look out over the venue, noting the tasteful decorations and elegantly dressed people. My heart rate slows and the tightness in my chest eases. Observing the activity below is helping to calm me down. Then Casey’s arm brushes against mine and I realize that it’s not the room that’s soothing me.

  It’s her.

  “I can’t imagine considering champagne in a five-star hotel as routine,” Casey comments. “I suppose you come to a lot of parties like this. Poor baby, your life is so difficult.”

  Shock has me standing up straight before a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “I sound like a spoiled brat, huh?”

  “Maybe a little. But I really think you have it all wrong. People may seem predictable sometimes but they’re never boring. People are complicated and fascinating.”

  She gestures to the level below us. A couple is dancing off to the side in a darkened corner, oblivious to everything around them. “This is a perfect example. Tell me what you see.”

  I squint down at the couple. “I see a couple dancing. I see this at these parties quite often. People get bored and wander off. Growing up, my brother and I were forced to attend many social events. My mother is very concerned with appearances, you see.” Memories of those parties would shock my sweet Clumsy Girl right down to her toes. “If she only knew how many of her prim-and-proper friends we caught in compromising situations over the years, she probably wouldn’t have been so insistent that we attend those parties.”

  She nods toward the couple again. “You say they’re a couple but how do you know
? Just because they’re dancing together?”

  I lean close. “No, I assume because of the way he has his hand on her ass.”

  She peers over the railing again. The man has one hand firmly on the woman’s bottom while the other rubs slow circles on the skin exposed by the plunging back drape of her gown. The woman stands on tiptoe to press her mouth to her lover’s. They obviously don’t care that anyone can see them and I wouldn’t either. If you find someone who makes you feel that way, you shouldn’t care about anything but being together.

  “That doesn’t mean they’re a couple,” Casey continues, even though her face is now bright red. “Look at how they touch each other. They’re so desperate. So urgent. Perhaps they’re forbidden lovers. Maybe they haven’t seen each other in a long time and this is their only chance to be together.”

  “That’s very romantic.”

  She smiles. “But you don’t agree.”

  “It’s more likely that they’re just another bored married couple who got tired of socializing. But I like your version better.”

  We turn to face each other and she stumbles slightly and grabs onto me to avoid falling. Her cleavage is jammed against my chest and I’m afraid to breathe because I don’t want to do anything to make her move out of my arms.

  “I keep having to apologize to you. Maybe that’s a hint,” Casey stammers.

  “Haven’t I already told you there’s nothing to apologize for? Especially not for anything that puts you in my arms.” I lower my head and brush my lips against hers. And just like every other time we’ve touched, it’s like being engulfed in flame.

  She whimpers softly and her mouth relaxes under mine. I raise one hand and tentatively touch her face. Her fingers wrap around my wrist, holding me there as her little tongue sneaks out to flick over my lips.

  “Casey, sweet girl. Every time I touch you, I lose control.”

  Suddenly we’re not in a public place where anyone could walk up on us at any moment. We’re transported back to that hotel room where we were free to touch, taste, tease and tempt each other all night. Where we weren’t client and employee but just too people who didn’t want to be lonely for the night. Who wanted to be seen.

  Casey stands on tiptoe and that changes everything. Our bodies are perfectly aligned, her breasts brushing against my chest and her hips the perfect cradle for the hard length I know she can feel pressing against her stomach. It’ll be just as good this time, I can already tell. None of the fire and passion has diminished over the past few months. If anything it’s only gotten stronger.

  “Casey, we need to go back inside. We have to at least say goodbye to the others before we leave.”

  “Leave?” Her eyes fly open and dart around as if seeing things for the first time. “Oh no, we can’t leave.” She pushes away so quickly I’m startled into letting her go.

  “What is the matter, sweetheart?” I watch, bewildered, as Casey adjusts the straps of her dress on her shoulders and runs a hand over her mouth. I reach out to pull her back into my arms but she twists away, shaking her head furiously.

  “Why are you really here tonight?” Casey whispers, her voice tortured. “Mya told me that you never come to these parties. That you live in Milan.”

  Ah, no wonder she’s been keeping me at arm’s length.

  “For you. I had to see you again. And I know that you wanted to see me again, too.”

  “Of course. You are so arrogant! I bet you just can’t imagine any woman not wanting to ride your roller coaster for a second time, huh?”

  I don’t bother to suppress a dirty smile. “If I recall correctly, it was three times before we fell asleep and then you woke me with your lips all over–”

  Her hands flies up to cover my mouth. “Okay, I don’t need an instant replay.”

  “You do. And so do I. Can you really pretend that night meant nothing to you? That you want to go on with your life without experiencing it again?”

  I can see the turmoil playing out all over her face. She wants this but she’s scared. And I wish I could calm those fears but I just don’t know how.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want,” Casey finally says, taking a step back and putting her hand up to stop me from coming closer. “And since I’m sure you’ll be back in Milan by tomorrow anyway, it’s for the best. Good night, Andre.”

  A few months ago, I would have pushed for me, tried to explain that chemistry like ours cannot be denied. But I’ve learned that you have to fight fire with a flame thrower and that timing is everything.

  “Good night, Casey.”

  She races to the steps and clatters down so quickly I’m worried she might fall. She looks back only once, her eyes huge. Something like regret flashes across her face before she turns and continues down to the first floor.

  “What the hell just happened?” I rake my hands through my hair. Up until a few minutes ago, she was right there with me. I can still taste her and feel her soft curves torturing me. But considering that I just mauled her in a semipublic place where any of her coworkers could have walked by, I’m lucky she didn’t slap me.

  I deserve it.

  I let out a long, slow breath. I pushed her too hard and scared her off. I just keep getting it wrong.

  Footsteps clang on the staircase behind me and I whip around, hoping maybe Casey came back. Milo Hamilton stands there smirking.

  He glances down at my obviously aroused state. “Things not going so well?”

  “Apparently not.” His knowing laugh follows me as I push past and walk down the stairs to the main level.

  She thinks this is the end of it and that we’ve cleared the air. She’s expecting to show up to work on Monday and have her life continue exactly as it did before, our little tryst a thing of the past.

  It’s almost enough to make me feel guilty for what I’m planning.

  Almost.

  Casey

  I struggle up the steps to my apartment building, my heels getting caught in the grooves of the concrete staircase. After my mad dash from the balcony I ran directly into Anya, who took one look at my wild eyes, tousled hair and swollen lips and offered to drive me home. Anya was tactful enough not to ask me what I’d been doing. I can only hope no one else noticed my hasty departure.

  Or saw me getting up close and very personal with a client.

  I unlock the door and toss my keys on the entry table where they land with a clatter next to the mail. My shoes are next and then at last, my bra.

  Now that feels better.

  When I open my eyes, Ariana is standing in the kitchen. “Rough night?”

  I shrug and swipe a hand over my hair self-consciously. Even though I looked fine when I checked my reflection in the car, I just feel disheveled. Like everyone else can tell that I’ve been making out with someone I shouldn’t be.

  “How was your first big company event? Fun? Boring?” Ariana leans down to inspect the contents of the refrigerator.

  “It was nice. Lots of food and free champagne.”

  Ariana stands suddenly. “Free booze? Mya didn’t tell me that! Damn, I should have gone.”

  “Yeah, I probably had a little too much.”

  All of a sudden I just want to tell someone. Keeping this secret is going to be really hard and I can’t tell Anya or anyone else I work with. I just need one person that I can vent to who will understand and can give me some advice. Ariana is out there but she also seems like she knows a lot about dating and all the bullshit that comes with that. I need someone to tell me what I’m supposed to do in this situation because I have no idea.

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  She folds her hands over her mouth. “Does the secret have anything to do with why you came home from a company party with just-fucked hair?”

  “Damn it!” I rush over to the mirror next to the entryway and then swipe at the lock of hair that’s falling waywardly over my ear. “That means I left the event looking like this!”

  Ariana plops down on the couch.
“Trust me, no one probably noticed. It could have been from too much dancing or maybe you fell because you drank too much. As long as no one saw you do anything, it didn’t happen.”

  I turn slowly. “That’s the part I’m not sure about.”

  “Tell me. You know you want to.”

  With a sigh I drop down onto the couch next to her, the purple satin of my dress bunching beneath me. “First, you have to promise that you tell no one. What’s revealed on this couch has to stay on the couch. No one, Ariana. Not even Mya. Especially not Mya.”

  “Wait, why especially not Mya? Oh no, you don’t mean that Milo…”

  “No, no, no. Definitely not.” Oh damn, now I’ve got her questioning whether her best friend’s husband is a scumbag. “Not him. But someone else that Mya knows. Do you know who Andre Lavin is? He’s one of the agency’s clients.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Wait, the hot, Italian designer guy? I remember when Mya was trying to land that account. It was a big deal.”

  “Yes! It’s a big, huge deal. And maybe no one saw what happened but if they did, I’m going to get fired. I don’t want to be fired, Ari. I can’t go back to being broke and living in that scary motel!” I’m not even sure I can make sense of my ramblings at this point but hopefully Ariana gets the point.

  “Okay, let’s just calm down.” Ariana is talking in that delicate voice you use when you’re trying to keep a rabid animal from attacking.

  Not that it’s far off the mark. The enormity of how messed up this all is has finally hit me and I am panicking.

  “I can’t calm down. The people at work are just getting to know me and I’m starting to make friends. I don’t want to start over somewhere else.”

  “That’s not going to happen. It was just…” she looks at me expectantly.

  “A kiss. He kissed me on the balcony upstairs. Then I ran off.”

  “Okay, a kiss is not that bad.” She lets out a sudden laugh. “Damn, you had me worried for a second. I thought you were going to say you boned in a closet or something.”

  I let out a soft whine before I can stop it.