by Hazel Parker
She inhales and exhales.
“Here we are.” He releases her hand, opens a door, and they step into a room full of computers.
The cool room feels and smells like a walk-in closet. But instead of shoes and clothes on the gray tiles, there are floor-to-ceiling flat-screen monitors on gray steel shelves. Some screens are divided into four boxes showing streets or hallways. Some screens are divided into eight boxes showing families at dinner and children at play. Some screens have full views of boardroom meetings, suits in elevators, and groups golfing.
Nora wanders over to a screen showing a family at dinner. A bald overweight man with a bushy red beard sits at the head of a rectangular glass dining room table. Opposite him sits a young brunette in a low-cut dress and enlarged round breasts barely covered by a thin red wrap dress. A cute little girl in a high chair sits on the right side of the table where a nanny spoon feeds her. Opposite the nanny sits a redheaded boy in a booster seat. His nanny is trying to feed him, but his mouth is shut closed, and he keeps shaking his red curls.
Nora moves from one screen to the next. She lingers on the domestic scenes. There is no sound. She sees a long computer console. She looks for a button to turn on the volume. She flicks a switch up with an image of a speaker beside it. Instantly there’s sound on the screen of men sitting in white towels inside a sauna.
“I told him that if he wants my investments, then he’ll have to promise me twenty-percent interest. No matter what.” The man’s New York accent takes Nora back to the city. She thinks she recognizes him from the news.
“What is this?” She turns around and raises her hands up motioning to the many monitors.
“Sort of a mission control.”
“Who are these people?”
Sebastian observes Nora.
“Hypothetically,” he walks over to the monitor where she stands, and he turns off the sound.
“Okay, hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically, these are my shareholders.”
“That little boy refusing to eat is your shareholder?” She gestures at the screen with the family and crosses her arms in front of her.
“Not the boy. His father.”
“You’re monitoring citizens with hidden cameras?”
“They’re not hidden cameras.”
“If you’re breaking any laws, then I don’t want to know. I can’t be implicated in any crimes.”
“I’m not committing any crimes. On each of these screens, the party who installed the camera gave me express and written consent to listen to and monitor their conversations.”
“Why?”
“Because their concerns are my concerns.”
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
“It means that when they have a problem, I have a problem.”
“Let’s pretend for a moment that I believe you. Let’s pretend that these people really are your shareholders and they really did give you permission to spy—”
“Monitor—”
“—on them. Why are you showing this to your legal counsel?”
“Because of this.” He walks over to a full screen with men and women in gray and black suits sitting around an oval-shaped table in a conference room. From the camera’s three-hundred-and-sixty degree view over the table, Nora sees stacks of legal papers.
“What is this?”
“My board of directors.”
“You’re spying on your board?” She exhales. “Why?”
“Because they’re plotting a hostile takeover.”
“Why?”
“Because I fired Gregory.”
“Who?”
“My former senior legal counsel.”
“That can’t be the only reason why.” She narrows her eyes. There’s a lot that he’s not telling her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I want to buy some grocery stores.”
“Why?”
Sebastian cocks his head to the right and rests his index finger on his pink lips. Nora tries not to stare at his lips. She imagines they are soft and moist.
“What does it matter?”
She blinks to focus on his blue eyes. He’s got his poker face on, and she can’t tell what’s going on behind his steel mask.
“It matters because your empire was built on investing in low-key sectors like shipping and logistics, graphene engineering, and renewable power harvesting. Your acquisitions give small enough profits to keep your tax situation clean. Investing in grocery stores with intrinsically perishable goods is a recipe for low profits and high loss. With all of the competition in the industry, you’d be lucky if you broke even.” She shakes her head.
“That’s what Gregory said.”
“Have you thought about buying more in fiber optics?”
He shakes his head. Runs his index finger along his lips. Nora’s gut clenches. She feels her heart rate pick up. Feels the room warm up. Her breath quickens. She inhales deeply and exhales. She hopes it comes out sounding like frustration.
“I’m already invested in fiber optics. I want to do something new.”
“Something new or something risky?”
“Aren’t all new ventures inherently risky?” He doesn’t wait for her to answer. “Take marriage for instance.” He pauses and watches her eyes blink rapidly. “Say, hypothetically, I were to ask for your hand in marriage.”
She raises her eyebrows. Her brown eyes widen.
“Hypothetically, marriage is like a business venture. You get to know the business. See if you have mutual interests, if you can handle the goods with care, if you can turn a profit.”
“A profit?”
“Make love. Make babies.” A smile threatens to cross his face.
“You’re joking.”
“Not at all. Marriage is risky. And yet hundreds of people get married daily. Just like marriage, grocery stores are worth the risk. I want to be a part of something good. I want to be a part of a business that feeds the hungry.”
“Grocery stores have an average pretax profit of just two-point-five percent.” She repeats herself, “Two-point-five percent.”
“Got it.”
“Perishable goods needs to be handled with care.”
“I’m careful.”
“You have to limit your risk.”
“I love risk.”
The verb love hangs in the air between them.
She wonders if they’re still talking about business. She wonders if he’s playing games with her.
What billionaire loves risk so much that he’d buy a chain of grocery stores?
Nora thinks about it and then remembers that an American billionaire recently acquired a grocery chain specializing in selling organic products.
So, billionaires are into buying high-risk retail now?
“Sebastian…” She can’t think with his index finger running along his bottom pink lip. She tries not to stare.
“Nora?” He steps closer.
“As your legal counsel… I would advise you to shut down this...control room...and steer clear of high-risk retail.”
With just a foot between them, the room feels hot. The walls are closing in on her. Sebastian is exuding waves of heat. She imagines that she can smell him: freshly laundered tux, clean soap scent, and musky cologne. She needs to get away from him before she does something rash, like reach out and take his hand and look into his eyes begging him to kiss her. She turns sharply to leave.
She pivots quickly towards the door. Her ankle turns slightly. Silently she curses her gorgeous shoes. She wishes she spent more time practicing wearing high heels at home. Arabella was always telling her that men love women in heels. She isn’t sure about the truth behind this fact, but she knows that she was hoping that Sebastian would like her high heels. Even though she’s not supposed to want him to want her. She still wants the CEO.
This wave of desire propels her to run out of the room. Unlike Cinderella, she doesn’t lose her glass slipper. Instead, she loses her balance. She c
ollapses like a mannequin in an earthquake. And cue embarrassment.
Sebastian catches her. His arms wrap around her. He holds her tightly against his torso. His quick reflex prevents her from twisting her ankle. Her head rests on his chest, and she inhales his cologne up close. It’s exhilarating leaning into his muscular chest.
“Nora?” His voice is husky. “Are you alright?”
Gingerly he stands her upright. She leans into him. Her right foot is out of her shoe. Just like in her fantasies, she reaches up and wraps her arms around Sebastian’s neck to get her balance. She relishes the feel of his strong shoulders. Her right foot finds the shoe, rights it, and she slips her foot in.
Her face is inches away from his. They are acutely aware of their bodies touching. His blue eyes darken. She looks past her eyelashes into his dilating pupils. She wonders if she’s imagining the telltale signs of desire growing in his eyes.
His thoughts are scattered. His muscles tense. His hands want to explore her body. He knows that he should behave. He knows that he should help her stand up. The slow burn of desire grows in his pelvis. He wills an erection not to grow. He knows that he should look away. But he can’t stop looking into her trusting brown eyes. She’s beautiful.
“Yes.” She whispers.
She tests her right foot. She puts weight on it. She stands up straight. Her arms are still around his neck. She knows she should let go. She doesn’t want to let go. She’s a few inches shorter than him. She looks up into his blue eyes, wanting.
Why can’t she just slip her fingers in his blond curls and pulls his lips down to kiss hers?
Why can’t she just press her pelvis into his and begin a slow dance to a silent song?
“Nora, can you stand up?”
She rocks her right foot to the left and to the right. She taps the ball of her foot on the ground.
The sounds of her heel tapping sends goosebumps running up Sebastian’s spine. He loves the sound of a woman’s high heel tapping against tile. It brings to mind long nights dancing and longer nights making love with beautiful women in Brazil, Italy, and Jamaica.
Sebastian misses the scent of a woman. He misses the floral scents of their skin and their hair. He misses kissing soft lips. He misses exploring their curves. His hands ache to get underneath Nora’s dress.
But he resists.
“How’s your foot?” He’s aware that his arms are still holding her. Her arms are still wrapped around his neck. He would just have to tilt forward and kiss her glossy red lips.
“Fine.” Her blood is racing from standing so closely to him. She can’t form any coherent thoughts. She can’t stop staring at his beautiful mouth. She imagines him kissing her...everywhere.
Sebastian inhales deeply. He closes his eyes. He leans his head back and tilts it up to the ceiling. He exhales long and deep towards the ceiling. He does this one more time. Then looks down into my eyes and the distant and determined Sebastian in the boardroom returns.
“I’m going to let you go now.” His tone is firm. Resolved.
Nora feels rejected. Hurt. She knows that she shouldn’t take it personally. It’s the right thing. They can’t kiss. They shouldn’t touch. He’s her boss. She’s his legal counsel. She reasons with herself. But she’s all in her feelings: sad, resentful, angry.
Yes, Nora is angry. She’s angry that every time she likes a man, it always seems to be the wrong man. Forget about Rex whom she dated for three good years. Forget about her college boyfriend who she dated for four good years. In the end, when the time came to commit. They ran.
The anger cools the yearning running through her blood. She rests her weight fully on her feet and unwraps her arms from his shoulders. Then she steps back. Instantly she misses the feel of his muscular shoulders, misses the touch of his hands on her waist, misses the pressure of his torso against her breasts.
“Nora, we can’t—”
“I know.” She doesn’t want to hear him say it. She’s already embarrassed by the way she’s been looking into his eyes.
“It’s just—”
“Got it.”
Nora wants so many things. She wants to run; she wants to hide; she wants him to kiss her; she wants him to run his hands down her back and make her forget her three years of abstinence. Her body is tense. Desire and mortification stiffen her muscles. She decides to run.
Turning quickly, she nearly twists her ankle again.
“Whoa.” Sebastian plants his hands on the curve of her waist.
At that moment time stands still. Nora hears nothing but the sound of her heart beating and Sebastian breathing. She’s acutely aware of his strong hands gripping her waist. The warmth from his hands emanates through her body in the chilly computer room. Keenly aware of his musky cologne, she wants to turn around and bury her face in his chest. A chest that she imagines is covered in tight curls.
Sebastian knows he should let Nora go. He knows that he shouldn’t imagine how the curve of her waist looks underneath her dress. He shouldn’t imagine how the expanse of her back feels under his palms. He shouldn’t imagine landing a trail of butterfly kisses from her lips to her hips.
His breath catches.
“Are you alright?” he murmurs.
“Yes.” Her breath comes out in a pant.
Not looking back, Nora stalks towards the door. She pulls herself away from his magnetism. She’s afraid that if she looks back, then he’ll see the desire in her eyes. He’ll mistake it for desperation. He’ll think she’s like this with all of her employers.
Will he?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
She decides not to look back. She reaches the door, turns the knob, and swings it open, letting in the warm air of the unlit musty attic.
Now she understands the old tale of the woman who looks back at a burning city and turns into a pillar of salt. Sebastian is no burning city. But when she looks at him, her body lights up. She wants him to kiss her, hold her, hug her. She can almost feel the weight of his body pressing into on her.
She shakes her head to clear the delinquent thoughts.
Why couldn’t he be a cute driver?
Would she have wanted him this badly if he were just a driver?
“Let me.” Sebastian walks past her to bend over and push open the attic step ladder.
The sliding ladder makes a click-click sound as it extends to the hallway beneath them.
Nora peers down.
“You first.” She tries to hide her fear of falling.
“As you wish.”
Nora is surprised by his gallant words. She watches his black tuxedo disappear down the silver ladder. When he reaches the bottom, he calls up to her:
“Ready?”
Nora’s fear of falling makes her hesitate. She doesn’t want to appear weak. She’s already showed him enough of her hand. Inhaling deeply, she turns around, steps a foot down onto the cylinder, grips the rails, and climbs down.
She tries not to think about the fact that her dress is giving Sebastian quite the view. When she reaches the hallway, she practically runs to the staircase and down the steps.
He doesn’t stop her. Doesn’t call after her. Doesn’t chase her.
She wants him to.
She doesn’t want him to.
She rushes all the way downstairs. When she reaches the first floor, she composes herself. Before her is a big crowd of masked men in tuxedos and more women in black dresses.
Nora is grateful for the mask. It hides the flush in her cheeks. She maneuvers through the crowd. She hopes no one notices her.
When she gets to the door, her cell phone pings. A text message from Sebastian: Wheels up in two hours. A car will pick you up from your hotel.
Nora shoots off a response: Got it.
Her high heels tap across the hardwood floors as she speed-walks through the party to the front door. She begins to take her mask off, but the pretty blond woman with the silver tray of masks shakes her head.
“It’s
yours.” She opens the door for Nora who rushes through.
A black cab opens, and a couple emerges. Holding hands, they cross the sidewalk and seem to float up the steps. She hops in.
She remembers Sebastian’s scent as the cab passes a two-story brick mansion with large windows and black trimmings. She presses her thighs together and leans back into the black leather cab seat. Closing her eyes, she can almost feel his hands gripping her waist. She can smell his cologne. She thinks about him pressing into her. They’re in bed in their very own red-bricked mansion in Savannah. The sun rises painting the morning sky reds and oranges and dark blues. They’ll wake together, shower together, make breakfast together or drink coffee together, and cab to work together.
Nora has longed to have a true partner. Ever since Rex, she thought that she would meet another lawyer or someone in business who would understand her world. Now that she’s met the CEO, she imagines them working together, researching companies together, and doing deals together.
The cab pulls up to the historic inn. Nora tips the driver, jumps out, and jogs to her room. With no time to shower, Nora quickly packs. She pauses to text her girls in their group chat:
Nora: Girls!
Arabella: What’s up Nora?
Audrey: Hey!
Sasha: Hi!!
Nora: I need advice
Sasha: On what?
Arabella: What did you do?
Nora: I think I like him
Audrey: Who?
Sasha: The CEO??
Nora: Yeah
Arabella: I knew this was gonna happen!
Nora: How?
Arabella: The man is hot.
Audrey: What does he look like?
Arabella: Google Sebastian Price surfs in Honolulu
Nora: Really, Arabella?
Sasha: Oh Hello! He’s hot!!
Audrey: So, what’s the problem?
Nora: He’s my boss.