On Sunday, we were eating a lunch prepared for us by Claude, who I couldn’t help notice was sporting a very expensive-looking new Rolex. He’d served us, then promptly disappeared.
Alexander’s doorbell buzzed.
“A delivery, sir,” came the voice over the intercom. “From Barneys.”
“Send it up,” Alexander replied.
A man delivered two large boxes, gift wrapped, and one smaller one. Alexander tipped him with a hundred dollar bill, and the man thanked him profusely before taking his leave.
Alexander turned to me, leaning one bare, toned shoulder against the wall, his hands slung into the pockets of his low-slung jeans. My hands had wreaked havoc on his black, too-long hair and he needed a shave. His olive skin emphasized the whiteness of his teeth as he smiled. Damn, the man was gorgeous, like a badboy pirate who’d taken a break from the high seas to wrangle a couple of boardroom deals before the next ship took sail. “For you,” he said. “Open them.”
“Alexander, I’ve already told you: you don’t need to buy me things,” I began, but my protests sounded futile even to me. He could buy me anything he wanted, we both knew that. And I had a feeling I knew what these gifts were. Replacements, for the things I’d lost during my meltdown.
A new coat, identical to the one I’d left behind at that distant, hazy restaurant. And a new pair of Balenciaga boots, like the ones I’d ruined schlepping through the pouring rain, lost, alone, afraid.
I looked up at him, overwhelmed, so very grateful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “There’s another one.”
“What’s this one?” I unwrapped the third, smaller package, gasping when I saw the dress. A white dress, made of fine cotton, frilly but not overly so. Feminine and incredibly well-made. A modern take on a peasant dress, short and flattering. “It’s beautiful.”
“Put it on.”
I shrugged off the robe I was wearing – Alexander’s, not Jake’s – and slipped the dress over my head. I twirled for him, smiling, feeling happier than I could ever remember feeling. I pulled on the boots and put on the coat, standing in front of him. “There.”
He contemplated me for a few seconds. “There’s something missing,” he said.
“What’s missing? That’s everything.”
Alexander took a small, velvet box out of each of his pockets. One was pink and the other was blue. He held them out to me, balancing them on his upturned palms. “Pick one.”
I looked at him warily. “Alexander.”
“Lila,” he replied, smiling widely.
“What’s this?”
He took a step closer. “I guess you’ll have to open them and find out.”
I hesitated, but his smile was infectious. I reached for the blue box, but he withdrew it as I reached for it. “Take the pink one first.”
Watching his face, I took the pink box. Tentatively, I opened it. “A gold key,” I said, my observation tipped with a light question.
“Yes. A gold key. It’s the key to my office. And my bedroom. And it’s yours now.”
After all the recent melodramas, this gift was a heavy statement: a promise. The key to my bedroom. I would never again be trapped, or locked in. My freedom was his new priority, one that was, at times, difficult for him to allow; it meant that he had to relinquish total control.
And here, too, was the key to his office. Knowing what I did about Alexander, this was significant. He was allowing me out and allowing me in. His office was his kingdom, the control center of his vast empire, the one he’d struggled and sweated and toiled his whole life to build, driven by desperation at times, spurred by dreams and also nightmares. The same office he’d been very reticent to allow me to step into, once our relationship had taken on the intensity that had begun that very first day I’d met him. Still, I wasn’t sure what this meant. Maybe this was the key he gave to all his assistants, to tidy up, to take notes, to file away the paperwork he hadn’t quite gotten to.
“I don’t want you to be my assistant,” he said, reading my mind and dashing my hopes with a single, brusque pronouncement.
I didn’t answer right away, but I could tell he could read my disappointment by the way his chin dipped lower and he assessed me from under his long eyelashes. I was slightly irritated when he grinned again, as though he found my disappointment amusing.
“I want you to be my business partner,” he continued. “I’m going to train you to work alongside me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He wanted to share his publishing empire with me? Not just as a minion but as an equal? I didn’t know what to say. I was completely, utterly speechless.
He took another step closer, holding out the blue box. “None of it means anything without you, Lila. I want you. I love you. Now open this one.”
I think my jaw had dropped open by this point. And it only got worse when Alexander bent down onto one knee in front of me. Before I could reach for the small blue box, Alexander looked up at me. Slowly, tantalizingly, he opened it, revealing the biggest, glintiest diamond ring I had ever seen. The obscenely-large rock was set on a band made of honey-colored gold. It was simple and luxurious and exceptionally beautiful. Solid and mesmerizing, catching light. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
Until Alexander began to speak. Then it was his face that held my attention. His sincere, heart-breaking face. “I figured since I can’t bear to let you out of my sight,” he began, “and I can’t breathe when you’re not near me, and nothing is as important to me than your well-being and your happiness … well, that I better make a few changes around here. Will you make me the happiest man alive by saying yes to me? Lila, will you marry me?”
It took me several seconds to respond to him. He reached for my hand, taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto my fourth finger. It fit perfectly, like it belonged there.
Then he tugged gently on my hand, pulling me down to him. I kneeled in front of him. His presence and his love fed me a kind of comfort I’d never experienced before. Contentment, joy, unadulterated hope.
“Yes,” I finally said. I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt the warm slide of a tear on my cheek, and my throat felt tight when I choked out my reply. “I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you.”
Alexander took my face in his hands. “Thank God for that. I already bought you an engagement present. It’s down below, in my garage. How do you feel about Porsche 918 Spyders? I can get you something else if you don’t like it. Of course you’ll also have your own limo and driver, and the use of mine whenever you want it. But it’s always nice to have your own wheels. Do you know how to drive, Lila?”
“No.”
“Great, I can teach you. And when –”
“Alexander.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to buy me a car. You’ve already –”
“Too late,” Alexander said, cutting me off. “We can argue about that later.”
But then he smiled at me. He kissed me, tenderly, hungrily, endlessly. Our hands were all over each other, our mouths insatiable. Until we were rolling on the floor, clothes tossed aside. Until I was naked except for my new diamond ring, which I had no desire to ever take off. Until he was all around me, on me, inside me.
I believed that Alexander and I were destined to be together. Our attraction had begun with an uncontrollable lust and grown into an all-encompassing, deeply meaningful, wholly necessary bond. There would be bumps in the road along the way, I had no doubt about that. He’d given me his key and his ring, and he’d promised me he’d try to curb his obsession, to give me room to breathe while still keeping me safe.
I couldn’t see the future, and I hoped that our love would sustain us.
Time would tell …
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