Closer

by Aria Hawthorne

Sven silenced his cane and flashed her a smile. He waved his foot like an anxious dog. Ebony’s cheeks flushed pink, a sign that she wasn’t as tough and edgy as her dragon tattoo suggested. “Trust me though,” she mumbled under his breath. “He’s tried plenty of times. Sven always tries.”

  “Most men will,” Sven asserted, reminding both women that his hearing was impeccable.

  Ebony flipped her long braided pony tail over her lithe shoulder and exhaled a boys-will-be-boys sigh. Amused, Sven lifted his sharp chin, as if he was still calculating how to get his lesbian seamstress into his bed—someday.

  Inez rolled her eyes. How the hell did she get herself into these messes?

  “She will need a full wardrobe as soon as possible,” Sven directed Ebony. “Spend at least a hundred thousand, but if you need more, we can discuss it. And make sure you include Parisian fashions as well,” he added. “She needs to be…presentable if anyone is going to believe we’ve been dating more than twenty-four hours.”

  Inez felt like she should have been insulted, except she was too busy trying to keep her mouth from dropping open. A hundred thousand dollars? On clothes? She barely could bring herself to spend forty dollars on new underwear at Target.

  Absorbing the challenge, Ebony crossed her arms and pressed the point of her black high-heeled boot on the edge of the podium. “And what about for tonight?”

  “An evening dress,” Sven confirmed. “We have a cocktail engagement tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Inez repeated, as if she was a child being ignored by her parents.

  “Yes, you’re coming out of my cupboard,” he mused, twirling his cane. “You sound worried.” He said it to taunt her. She could hear the tease in the softened lilt of his accent.

  Inez scowled at the triple reflections of him in the mirror. Did she really agree to pretend to be the girlfriend of some arrogant bastard wearing a designer suit and a black pirate patch? Actually, yes…yes, she did.

  “Well, let’s see…what could I find for you to wear by tonight?” Ebony’s thoughts trailed off as she assessed Inez’s face and figure. “You know, I think we should try to do something to match your eyes,” she finally proposed, gazing at Inez with keen interest, as if she was an art student admiring a statue in a museum. “They’ve got this fiery red highlight in them, hard and glossy like cherrywood.”

  “Sven said I was average,” Inez replied.

  Ebony sighed. “Sven doesn’t always appreciate unconventional beauty.”

  “It’s true.” Sven nodded, adjusting his cufflinks. “My style is more classic.”

  “Which generally means blonde and boring.” Ebony tossed back.

  He smirked and wagged his foot again. He definitely enjoyed the negative attention.

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Ebony whispered to Inez. “His last girlfriend wasn’t blonde, and she certainly was far from boring. And I’m fairly certain she broke his heart.”

  Sven’s face hardened with severity. He stopped twirling his cane and slowly rose from the sofa.

  “Let’s focus more on her wardrobe, please,” Sven warned her. It was obvious she had struck a nerve and he wanted her to know not to repeat the offense.

  Inez watched him through the mirror. It was hard to imagine Billions with a shred of a sentimental heart, much less imagine the woman capable of breaking it.

  Ebony fell silent, but a glint of rebellion remained in her dark eyes. She gazed at Inez and hid her smile. “Very well, Sven…here’s my opinion about tonight’s wardrobe. You don’t normally let me dress your dates in striking color, but with Inez’s coloring—her hair, skin and those eyes—it would be a sin to make her wear black.”

  “Let’s not go overboard, Bee,” Sven cautioned her.

  “Do you want to make a statement or not?” she pushed back.

  “Always.”

  “Then, I’m thinking…scarlet.”

  “You mean, red,” he corrected her.

  “No, I mean scarlet,” she asserted. “Dark red with a hint of magenta. C’mon, Sven. You’re an architect. Close your eyes and imagine scarlet.”

  “I design buildings, Bee. Not pick out the curtains.”

  “Tsk,” Ebony clucked, ensuring that he would hear her displeasure even if he couldn’t see her expression of annoyance.

  “Bee,” he said sternly. “I want to make a statement, but I don’t need people thinking that I picked her up in the red light district.”

  “Well, you are Dutch,” Inez added with a zing.

  Ebony released a laugh. Sven cocked his jaw and pushed towards them with a tap, tap, tap of his cane until its tip struck the base of the pedestal with a firm whack. He edged himself into Inez’s space.

  “No,” he said, lowering his voice, controlled and steady. “You are not my whore. I can find plenty of whores. I expect you to present yourself as nothing less than my loyal and attentive girlfriend. Are we in agreement?”

  Inez endured his proximity. His tall form and freshly shaved face met her eye-to-eye and she noted the trace of a menacing scar, peeking out beneath the rigid eyepatch.

  Holy hell. Giving him a blow job would be easier than this… “Whatever you say,” she replied. “Pookey.”

  “Don’t worry, Sven,” Ebony interjected. “She’s going to look stunning. I promise.” She guided Inez off the pedestal and away from Sven, breaking the tension between them.

  “Thank you,” Inez mouthed to her.

  “You’re welcome,” Ebony mouthed back to her before turning her attention to Sven. “Now stop being such an intimidating bulldog and get up here. It’s your turn now to be put on display like a little doll.”

  Sven resisted. “I already have more suits than I care to wear.”

  Ebony slipped behind him and ushered him towards the pedestal.

  “Trust me. You don’t have a suit that can compete with a chic scarlet cocktail dress.”

  Escaping with relief, Inez flopped down onto the leather sofa. It was her first moment of relaxation since arriving for the interview two hours ago. The future of her life had just been changed for the next four days and she barely had been granted a chance to even process it.

  She watched Ebony take Sven’s hand into her own as if she was preparing to remove a splinter from the paw of a roaring lion. He exhaled at her touch and allowed her to guide him by the hand up onto the pedestal. It was hard not to admire how Ebony handled Billions with confidence and grace. She removed his suit jacket and carefully hung it on the nickel-plated wall hook. He adjusted his diamond cufflinks while she rolled a lint brush along the seams of his tan pants. His broad shoulders accentuated his athletic build and tapered waist beneath his pin-striped white business shirt, tucked neatly into his slacks. With his rigid demeanor and threatening eyepatch, he had attempted to intimidate her like a ruthless bulldog. But now, his European mannerisms and Dutch facial features softened his appearance like a runaway model.

  “I think we will need to do something more contemporary,” Ebony offered.

  He eyed her with skepticism. “That sounds intimidating.”

  She smiled and measured his neckline. “I have something special in mind in the back. Imported today from Luxembourg. It’s going to make you feel like the admiral of a war ship.”

  “Luxembourg is a land-locked country. They have no business designing naval-inspired fashion.”

  “Which is why you’re the perfect man to pull it off, Sven. Trust me.”

  He fell silent, as if he was absorbing the sensuality of her husky voice and the scent of incense on the surface of her mocha skin. “Implicitly,” he whispered.

  Inez was certain he would be more than willing to kiss her if she would let him. “Ack, hmmm,” she cleared her throat, intentionally obnoxious. “So I need to get home—at least for a half an hour to pick up some of my personal things.”

  Sven barely acknowledged her presence. He didn’t appreciate the interruption.

  “Ebony will arrange for all of your clothes tonight, includi
ng your undergarments.”

  “My undergarments?” Inez mocked him, openly. She couldn’t help it.

  “Bra and panties,” Ebony clarified. “You’ll need the perfect match for the cocktail dress.”

  “She’ll need heels as well,” Sven cut in.

  “No heels,” Inez shot back. “And really, I need to go home to pick up a few… you know, personal items.”

  Sven finally shifted his full attention to her. “There’s no reason for you to leave. Our agreement was for you to start immediately, and so you’re committed to me until midnight. In the meantime, I’ll pay for any of your expenses today if you need to purchase something specific.”

  “No, really,” Inez insisted. “I need to go home for just a brief—”

  But Sven would not relent. “Ebony will send your entire wardrobe to my penthouse this afternoon and you will dress there.”

  Inez held her ground. “Tampons, Sven. And yes, a shower…but in my own home.”

  It was juvenile charade and a total lie. But it was also none-of-his-freaking business why she needed to go home and she wasn’t prepared to be his submissive prison bitch—yet.

  Sven fixed his gaze on her, as if he heard the tremor in her breath, but chose not to challenge it. “Then my driver will take you home. That will be the fastest way. I expect you back at my penthouse within the hour.”

  He pulled out his phone from his pocket and called in the request to his driver.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there—ready to wear all the necessary undergarments.”

  She let the sarcasm seep out of her voice while withholding her smile. He glared at her and she straightened her posture. Sure, it would have been a lot easier to follow Ebony’s lead and pretend to be a deferential employee. But being a cocky sly confrontational smartass was way more her skill set.

  “Good,” he confirmed. “Because plain little dolls usually need flashy accessories to make them look more impressive than they actually are. Heels, especially.” He said it with a click of his back teeth, reminding her who ultimately had the upper hand.

  But Inez didn’t need the reminder. She needed money—a lot of it—and he was the only prospect she had for getting it. She stared at him, mulling over the disparity between his smooth alluring complexion and his intimidating black eyepatch, and bit her tongue with subservient silence. Jackass.

  Chapter Three

  An hour, an hour, an hour, she chanted as she jogged up the dingy stairwell within the apartment building. She felt like a fugitive escaping from her captor, except with a twist—he had placed a ticking time bomb on her life and threatened to detonate it unless she returned to him within an hour. Hyperventilating, she stopped on the top landing in front of the door and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. God, just blow her up now.

  She clicked open the locked door and pushed into the one-bedroom apartment of her best friend.

  “Sarah?” She barely called out, in case she was napping. Inez surveyed the messy heap of dank clothes dangling across the blinds and strewn across the couch. Clearly, the basement dryer was broken again.

  She stepped over the two crushed soda cans and an empty pizza box, still on the floor exactly in the same place as when Inez had been there earlier that morning. Bar boys, Inez thought, knowing Sarah’s weakness for picking up stray men during her night shift as a bartender and bringing them back to feed and pet them like alley cats. She tried not to judge. At least one of them was getting some.

  Inez crept down the corridor and into the bathroom where she had left her personal belongings—hairbrush, toothbrush, perfume, make-up bag. What the hell else did she need to get her through an uptight fancy schmancy dinner with a bunch of rich arrogant snobs? Hello Kitty Pez Dispenser? Check.

  She glanced at herself in the mirror. Billions had been right. She did look like an uptight Northwestern graduate. She quickly stripped off her interview clothes and slipped into her favorite jeans and off-the-shoulder T-shirt before stuffing everything she owned into her oversized crochet purse.

  “You’re back already? That can only mean failure.”

  Inez turned towards the whimper in the doorway. Weary and exhausted, Sarah rubbed her eyes while cradling a baby in her arms. She noted Inez’s purse stuffed to its brim. “Correction—you look like you’re leaving and never coming back?”

  “Actually, I got the job,” Inez confirmed.

  “Really?” Sarah yawned through her surprise. “Do they know that you got fired from your last two jobs?”

  “Three. And no, I’m absolutely certain they’ve hired the wrong girl but apparently I was the only one who could talk and walk at the same time. They expect me to start immediately…Can you keep Luna until dinner time? Nana usually naps in the afternoon and it’s getting harder and harder for her to care for Luna the whole day.”

  Sarah handed off Luna to Inez who embraced her daughter like she hadn’t seen her for weeks.

  “Sure…I don’t go to work until nine. What else am I going to do here during the day besides cat nap and experiment with non-dairy kale smoothie recipes?”

  Inez kissed her daughter’s soft black hair and savored her baby scent—fresh diapers and baby shampoo. Her fuzzy flannel onesie made her whole body soft to cuddle. Her black jelly eyes fixed on Inez, as if she recognized her mother’s voice. It had been only three months since Luna’s birth, but already Inez couldn’t imagine her life without her. Luna had become her guiding light. No matter how angry she was at the world for all the injustices in her life—her parents’ unexpected deaths, her embittered years in foster care, her grandmother’s debilitating illness—she could simply cradle Luna and remember that nothing mattered except the well-being of her daughter.

  “Is she hungry?” Inez lowered herself onto the covered toilet seat, testing whether Luna wanted to nurse.

  “Maybe.” Sarah nodded, yawning again. “I gave her a bottle right after you left, then we hung out and listened to Broadway show tunes while I painted my fingernails.” Sarah held up her hands, proudly displaying the vibrant neon blue nail polish.

  “Bitchlicious,” Inez agreed. “Oh, and one more thing. Can you please tell my grandmother not to wait up for me because I won’t be home until midnight?”

  Sarah arched her brow. “Please tell me you didn’t take a job as a lap dancer.”

  “Yes, definitely…because you know how much experience I have looking sexy while dangling from a pole.”

  Sarah eyed Luna sucking from her breast. “Well, you are a triple D these days. And pretty shameless about it.”

  “Ugh, that reminds me. My pump.”

  “Here—” Sarah said, disappearing and reappearing with the heavy black bag slung over her shoulder. “You left it on the kitchen counter next to the half-eaten carton of Oreos.”

  Inez shrugged. “Naturally.”

  “Naturally.” Sarah shrugged back.

  “So c’mon on. What is it?” Sarah pressed her to dish. “More practicing English over dinner with wealthy Japanese businessmen?”

  “No,” Inez shivered. “And I’ll never look at butter the same way again.”

  “One pat or two,” Sarah joked, repeating the phrase Inez was forced to pronounce over and over.

  They both laughed. It had been one of many horrible jobs that Inez had endured and it seemed that there was no end in sight. “No butter etiquette, but it does involve spending the next four nights with an extremely rigid businessman.”

  Inez paused, suddenly remembering her new agreement with Sven was supposed to be kept confidential. Sarah spotted her hesitation.

  “Hmm…” Sarah pondered, admiring her neon blue fingernails. “That sounds almost…indecent.”

  “It does require me to wear heels.”

  “Well, whatever it is, make sure you keep your legs crossed at your knees and smile with your eyes, not your lips. Otherwise, men think we’re easy, and just because we are, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have to work for it.”

  Inez lo
oked at Sarah. Her long auburn hair always looked amazing, even thrown up into a tousled pony tail, and her waif figure and unblemished porcelain skin made her look like one of those Swedish magazine models. She was the perfect person to play Sven’s girlfriend, not Inez who suddenly felt nauseous with doubt and uncertainty.

  Twenty thousand dollars. It was the only thing motivating her to leave her daughter again. Inez wanted to confess to Sarah that she was going to make more money in one week than she had made in an entire year, but she also knew Sarah would assume the worst.

  “Let’s just say that I’ll be able to pay you double what I’m paying you now every time I need you to watch Luna.”

  Sarah waved her hand. “Pay me whatever you want. Luna is the only person I know who doesn’t mind me belting out the high notes of Memory like the faux soprano that I am.”

  “Thanks, Sarah. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Inez said, feeling Luna release her latch and nestle snugly into her arms.

  “You’d probably go on welfare and be better off.”

  “Clearly they taught me nothing at Northwestern.”

  “Community college was way more fun. I guarantee you.”

  They both fell silent. It was the moment that Inez dreaded—the hand-off. Reluctantly, she stood up from the toilet seat and passed Luna over to Sarah who accepted her with a soothing bounce.

  “You know, things might be easier if you let ‘you-know-who’ back into your life,” Sarah offered.

  Inez looked away. “I’d rather just struggle.”

  Inez gathered up her purse and breast pump bag and headed for the front door.

  “He came here looking for you today.”

  Inez stopped cold in the doorway. “Did you tell him to go flush his head in the toilet?”

  “Noooooo,” Sarah sang out. “I’ll leave that precious honor to you. Instead, I told him you’d be back soon, but that was before I knew you were officially employed as a woman of the night.”

  “What did he want?”

  Sarah smiled slyly. “What does he always want from you?”

  “Money?”

  “No, the other thing.”