Closer

by Aria Hawthorne

  I know you have your fitting with Ebony, but after that, we have the night off.

  The night off? Inez texted back.

  Yes. We’re not committed to any public engagements except for tomorrow night for the opening of The Spire. So tonight is our night off.

  Their night off. Flustered, Inez held her head, uncertain about the implications of spending her “night off” at the opera with Sven van der Meer. But Sven’s text-to-speech responses were faster than her ability to reply to him.

  Puccini’s La Bohème. Box tickets at the Lyric Opera House, which is the antithesis of modern architecture. Nothing should please you more.

  There was a pause before his next text pinged her phone.

  Except attending with me. Of course.

  A day ago, she would have rolled her eyes at his cockiness. Now, she just smiled.

  Plus, you promised to come back and check on me today.

  She sat up straighter and edged in her response. You remember that?

  I remember a lot more than I probably should about last night.

  She felt her pounding heart beating in her chest. How much did he remember about last night? His dedication to her during his speech? His request to come with him to Shanghai? His emotional, inebriated kiss goodbye? She reflected on all the intimate moments before opting to ignore all of them.

  You’re a fantastic singer, BTW, she replied.

  She paused and waited, noting how the flow of his rapid replies had been interrupted. After a long pause of silence, he finally replied.

  Just say you’ll accompany me to the opera tonight, and I promise not to drink, sing or remove my pants.

  Then, like an omen, Enzo’s text pinged her.

  You can hide from me now, but you can’t hide from me forever. I will meet you at Sarah’s this afternoon. Tell your new dentist boss that you are taking the night off. Te quiero, mi mujer.

  Inez stared down at his words: I love you, my wife.

  Ugh, she hated him. She hated him so much for having the ability to do that—dangle the promise of a future together and succeed in making her want to believe in it.

  She scrolled back and re-read Sven’s request: Just say you’ll accompany me… She had failed to reply, and now, he pinged her again after several minutes of silence.

  Okay, I’ll infer that you’re not going to commit yourself to the opera tonight. But does that mean you’re going to break your promise, too?

  Inez paused, the weight of the world heavy on her heart. No, a promise is a promise, she replied. I’ll be there at Ebony’s for the fitting. But before that, I’ll stop by and check in on you.

  He pinged back without a beat. Good, I’ll be taking a bath.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It had been almost a week since Inez remembered being able to sit down at the kitchen table, eat her breakfast while nursing her baby, and not be in a rush to go anywhere.

  “You’re having man trouble, admit it.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yep, because you’re silent. And when you’re silent, it usually means one of two things: you’re having money troubles or you’re having man troubles.”

  “Or usually both.”

  Her grandmother smiled and shifted her useless cataract-ridden eyes up to the ceiling. “You said it. Not me.”

  “Enzo wants to see Luna,” Inez finally confessed. “And me.”

  “Tell him he should have thought of that before he started sticking it every which way he could fit it.”

  “Nana—” Inez sighed, exasperated.

  “What? It’s not true? Or a blind old bird like me isn’t supposed to say it?”

  “You’ve said it, like…fifty times.”

  “Well, I’m senile. What do you expect?”

  “Nothing,” Inez replied, resigning herself to the fact that it was true.

  “Look, dear. Enzo knocked you up, left the country, and broke your heart. I’m gonna take the heartache and the hardship he caused you to my grave with me, just so I can promise to haunt the hell out of him.”

  “Okay, so let’s forget it’s Enzo, for a moment. And instead, let’s just refer to him as…Bachelor Number One.”

  “Bachelor Number One?” Nana sounded skeptical.

  “C’mon, Nana. Play along. Like a game show…behind Door Number One is Bachelor Number One—sexy attractive artist from Argentina.”

  “He sounds more like an unemployment candidate than a game show prize.”

  “Long-term relationship of two years,” Inez continued. “My first true love—”

  “You’re young. You know nothing about true love,” Nana zinged.

  “The happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” Inez overrode her.

  “Hey, what about our road trip to The Badlands? Now, that was a rowdy good time.”

  “You mean the trip where you almost shot a tourist with a pellet gun, just so we could speed away and pretend we were Thelma and Louise?”

  “You have never screamed and laughed so hard in your whole damn life, and you know it.”

  “Can I finish?” Inez insisted.

  “Bachelor Number One.” Nana feigned a long-drawn out snore.

  “Father of my baby. Tells me he loves me. And…says he wants to be a family.”

  “Cock-sucking bastard,” Nana cried out through cupped hands

  “Nana!”

  “Well, I’m just playing the part of a heckler in the audience. You forget that I was a nurse at a veteran’s hospital for thirty-two years. I didn’t last that long using please and thank you when they had to shit in a pot, I can tell you that.”

  “Okay, forget it. Let’s move on to Bachelor Number Two—”

  “Bachelor Number Two, eh? I like him already.”

  “Handsome Dutch billionaire. Rigid, stern, asshole by day, but charming, unguarded playboy by night. Famous modern architect who’s leaving this Saturday for Shanghai to design the tallest towers in the world.”

  “Hm…” Dubious, Nana chewed on her pancakes. “Sounds like nothing but more trouble.”

  Inez sighed in agreement. “Yeah, and that doesn’t even include his bitchy ex-girlfriend with the crazy eyes who hates me because she thinks I’m sleeping with him, but it’s all just a charade because he’s actually paying me to pretend to be his new girlfriend.”

  “Ah, so that’s what you’ve been up to this week. But you’re not sleeping with him?”

  “No, of course not. He’s my boss.”

  “But do you wish you were sleeping with him?”

  Inez answered with conviction. “No, Nana. It’s just a job.”

  “Lying little slut!” Nana cried out again.

  “Nana!”

  “Well, I’m just calling it like I see it because if that were all true, we wouldn’t be playing this little game.”

  “Ugh.” Inez buried her face in her hands. “So does that mean a veto for Bachelor Number Two then?”

  Nana shrugged. “What’s behind Door Number Three?”

  “Endless nights of comfortable pajamas, homemade lasagna, and a marathon of watching weepy melodramatic Meryl Streep movies with her foul-mouthed grandmother and perfect princess baby daughter.”

  “Sounds like you got your answer.”

  “Yeah, I wish it was that simple.”

  “So do I.” Nana nodded. “But I can tell you one thing for certain. Whichever door you choose, make sure the bachelor behind it realizes he’s got you as a gift and not the other way around.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sven held up his foot and let the water from the bathtub’s faucet drip onto it. One, two, three, four…he attempted to count his toes, struggling to discern the difference between each one. His vision was substantially worse. Last night, he had experienced both the terror of being rendered completely blind, and the exhilaration of reclaiming his sight, spurred by the radiant spotlights and the invincible inebriation that had consumed him. But this morning, weighed down by his hangover and exhaustion, every
thing was blurry and indecipherable again.

  Like his memories of being with her.

  He remembered everything about last night, but only in bits and pieces—hazy images of the ballroom interspersed with visceral sensations of being with Inez. The touch of her hand. The scent of her hair. The taste of her tongue. The warmth of her lips. The texture of her teasing ruffled panties. The sway of her lush body against his own. Through his trust in her and her trust in him, they had succeeded in buying him time—another night to pretend that he was still an invincible genius. But now, it was the morning; she was gone and he no longer felt like an invincible genius.

  Plink, plink, plink…

  He raised his foot again and caught the droplets with his toes. One, two, three, four…

  He squinted, still unable to make out the division between them. He submerged himself deeper into the whirlpool tub. Shanghai weighed heavy on his mind. She had promised to come this morning to check on him, but he needed a way to convince her to stay. Stay in his life. In less than two days, he had gone from a bitter blind wretch to a faint shadow of his former self. There was a chance he might be able to keep his career from imploding by prolonging their charade. With her help, he might have a chance to travel to Shanghai and claim his position as lead architect on the Li Long Towers. And in her care, perhaps his vision could be maintained, and perhaps, even slowly restored.

  He shut his eyes and indulged in the steamy heat of the bath water against his skin. He had already ordered her a full wardrobe and luggage and he had put no limit on the budget. Their night at the opera together would be his opportunity to propose his plan—she would travel to Shanghai with him as his fiancée. He would pay her whatever she wanted, and she would stay with him in his hotel suite. And he would promise to take care of her there, the way she had taken care of him.

  It was a daring proposal. He knew it. She was not a woman who could easily be bought or seduced, and she had made that crystal clear. Even after their first meeting, he had felt an unexpected intimacy between them—something that was not clear or certain, but rather something unspoken and undefinable. Yes, there was sexual tension, but it was more than physical attraction. It was an emotional connection. Despite being complete strangers, they understood each other, and it unified them in a way that underscored how painfully alone he was without her.

  His phone vibrated against the hard, black tiles of the bathtub’s ledge. He dried his fingers against the adjacent towel and answered the call.

  “Yes?”

  It was the doorman. “Sir, your girlfriend is here to see you.”

  Early, Sven thought, a good sign. “Perfect. Send her up.”

  He ended the call, tossed his phone onto the towel, and relaxed deeper into the steamy bath water. She would know how to enter the penthouse on her own. He had remembered singing aloud the combination for the front door keypad to her last night. It wasn’t the only embarrassing thing he had done in front of her. He remembered pissing in the urinal and being unabashedly proud of it. He remembered stumbling into the bedroom, kicking off his pants and underwear, but needing help to unbutton his shirt. Those damn pearl buttons. He remembered allowing her to disrobe him, yearning for her every touch until the overwhelming haze of inebriation extinguished his arousal. He remembered how tenderly she coaxed him into bed, naked and impotent, before attempting to leave him. He had refused to let her go. He remembered catching her hand and indulging in a kiss—one spontaneous expression of his ultimate desire. Amongst all the foggy, vulnerable moments floating through his mind, it was the one memory he did not regret. In fact, it was the one memory that encouraged him to hope for more.

  When he heard the creak of the bathroom door, he shut his eyes, dropped his head against the bathtub’s rim and grinned. “You’re early, which can only mean you do care about me.”

  “You know, I was afraid that I might be disturbing you, or that you wouldn’t be alone. But I’m glad to hear you’re happy to see me.”

  Disturbed by her unpleasant voice, he slowly opened his eyes, barely able to control his sagging smile. Celeste’s blurry reflection ebbed across the water’s surface.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you look this relaxed since the night I first met you.” She seated herself at the far edge of the bathtub, like a cat enjoying the sparkling glints in the water from the overhead lights bouncing off the tub’s stainless steel basin.

  He looked at her and suppressed his urge to shiver. “That was a long time ago.” He paused, hoping his icy reply would convey that he was not pleased with her surprise visit.

  “Well, apparently not long enough. Your doorman still thinks I’m your girlfriend.”

  “He has known me a long time. He knows I rarely only have one girlfriend.”

  He glared up at her. It was a comment intended to silence her.

  “Ahhh, yes. You did go through an entertaining binge of ridiculously younger blondes after we broke up.”

  “You mean after you left me,” Sven corrected her. “And those attractive, younger blondes were more than willing to entertain.” He intentionally let the sexual innuendo hang between them. The fact was…Sven hadn’t slept with any of them. They had all been paid escorts, one-night trials that eventually had served as precursors to his arrangement with Inez.

  “Well, you certainly have had a dramatic change in your taste in women.”

  It was a comment intended to provoke him. It worked. He rose up fully from the bathtub and let the water cascade off his naked body with a crash. He assumed she was staring at him, but he didn’t care. He felt nothing. Not long ago, he had seduced her here—in his penthouse, within his bed, and even upon occasion, in that bathtub—but he barely remembered any of it.

  “You mean Inez,” he said flatly, realizing Celeste had come to draw blood. But not from him.

  “She’s definitely an interesting choice in a fiancée.”

  He peered into the mirror, unable to see her through the wafting steam.

  “I always assumed you would marry someone more…sophisticated,” she added. “Someone whose reputation and career would complement your professional achievements. Someone—”

  “More like you?” he cut in.

  “More your equal in every way.”

  Sven rotated slowly towards her, fully displaying every inch of his dripping body.

  “I’m a wretched bastard, Celeste. I don’t need my equal in every way. I need someone infinitely better.”

  Their eyes locked. Celeste released a nervous laugh. “So I suppose that means you’ve found your newest inspiration.”

  He pushed forward, reaching across her lithe figure to remove the towel from its hook. He shook off the water from his hair and turned away into the bedroom.

  “You’ve come for a reason, Celeste. What is it?”

  She followed him to the bedroom and withdrew a document from her alligator skin purse. For a moment, Sven thought he saw something flutter to the floor. But he lost sight of it as quickly as he had noticed it.

  “I’ve come to deliver this.” Celeste held out the document to him. “It’s the partnership contract for the venture capital company that will be funding the Li Long Towers.”

  “Hans and Eliot are sending you as their emissary?”

  “I volunteered to come. After all, we were friends once, Sven. More than friends. And I want to see you make the right choice.”

  She waved the document at him like a peace offering. He accepted it and pretended to flip through its pages, as if he was able to read it. But she confirmed what he already knew.

  “It assigns you a majority stakeholder share in the new venture if you sign on to become the lead architect of the Li Long Towers.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I really don’t see how you have a choice. Especially now that you have found your… inspiration.” Celeste stroked her rabbit fur scarf and settled her gaze onto Enzo’s seductive portrait of Inez, still propped up on Sven’s dresser. “Eliot Watercross i
s planning to sell The Spire to Harvey Zale in exchange for the Li Long construction contracts. Once he does that, you’ll become a diluted stakeholder in the new holding company—unless you agree to be the lead architect of the Li Long Towers.”

  “Inez is uncertain about coming with me to Shanghai and I cannot go without her.”

  Celeste gazed at him like she didn’t understand him. “But you’ll lose everything.”

  “True, I’ll lose most of my money due to Watercross’ Machiavellian equity dilution scheme. And I’ll lose control over Van der Meer & Associates because Hans has no remorse about using the Van der Meer name without my participation in the deal. But I won’t lose everything, Celeste. That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll win the chance to gain back my happiness and a part of my soul.”

  “My, my,” Celeste clucked, turning away from the portrait. “She truly has charmed you. Like a dangerous siren luring you into the rocks. Be careful, Sven. Don’t mix business with pleasure. Your career, your reputation, your life’s work…even your net worth. Do you really think it’s wise to give that all up? And for what? For her?” Her voice quivered as if she feared the answer.

  “I don’t expect you to understand, Celeste.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. And I don’t believe she would want to be the one holding you back from the peak of your career.”

  “The last thing Inez has done is hold me back.”

  “Then there’s no reason why she shouldn’t go with you to Shanghai. You’re engaged now, after all. I was willing to do whatever I could to support your career, and I was just your lover.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs in a way that made her tight skirt ride higher up her thighs.

  “Tell Hans and Eliot they can make whatever plans they like—with or without me. If I choose to go to Shanghai, it will be on my own accord. Not as a pawn on their chessboard.”

  He edged closer and tossed the contract beside her like a discarded surrender flag.

  “What they’re offering you is a continuation of your current partnership, Sven. The same partnership that helped ensure the construction of The Spire. Tomorrow is the opening night. Until then, consider all your options.”