Celestial (Vivienne Book 7)

by Karen Gordon

  When he catches me looking he stops what he’s doing and studies me back, questioning the change in me with his eyes. “Let’s um,” he clears his throat. “Let’s start with flight times to Zurich, Hong Kong and here, I mean from here to Ho Chi Minh or to here from Ho Chi Minh.” I’ve unnerved him and he’s stumbling his words.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the power I have right now. With only a pointed look I jumbled his powerful brain so he had trouble forming a sentence. I’m definitely leading here and it’s lighting up all kinds of places in my control-freak brain. Would I enjoy pushing all his buttons and having my way with him? I’m starting to think I might…

  ✈　✈　✈

  I back off a little so we can get through the mountain of information we need to cover. We work for hours, crunching numbers and reviewing options. But I don’t let go of the idea completely. I touch him more as we pass notes and folders. I sit closer than I have before. The sexual energy sparking between us makes the meeting so much more fun, at least for me. It’s uncomfortable for Evan but definitely not enough for him to pull away.

  Ironically, as we pull closer together, the numbers pull us apart. Ho Chi Minh City is winning by a landslide. No matter how we look at it the best place for him to keep his plane is in Vietnam. The cost difference is astronomical for hangar space and personnel, and it’s also closer to all the cities he needs to fly to often. While I’m disappointed Evan seems fine with the results. If we’re going to see each other is he planning to fly to Savannah or am I looking at a lot of extremely long flights in my future? It’s a subject I can’t bring up right now. It’s too big of a jump from all these dry numbers.

  At six thirty his secretary leans his head in and announces the time and that he is leaving and reminds Evan that we have dinner reservations at eight. Evan waves him off without a goodbye or thank you, but I’m guessing the guy is used to his boss by now. Instead he wants my opinion on his choice of restaurant. “There’s this French restaurant in town. It’s supposed to be really good...um…really nice. You have to dress up.”

  Now I’m mildly turned on and definitely charmed. He had to pick this place for me. I mean, French food? This menu is going to be a huge challenge for him. And dressy? Again, not his style, much more mine.

  “Are you going to wear the suit you got in Italy?” I ask more to remind him of our trip than to find out what he’s wearing.

  I throw him off by discussing his choice of clothes, not a subject he is used to. He looks down and possibly blushes as he says, “Yeah, I thought I might.”

  “Great ‘cause you look really nice in it.” The compliment is genuine, but I wonder if I’ve gone too far. I know this conversation is making him uncomfortable. I’m tempted to tell him what I’ve brought to wear but I stop myself. I want it to be a surprise.

  ✈　✈　✈

  He never mentions me staying at his place so I hurry to my hotel to check in and get ready. I have exactly twenty-five minutes before he’s picking me up for dinner. I shake the wrinkles out of my black knit dress before I heat up my curling iron and fix my makeup. In the bottom of my bag I’ve hidden the necklace. I didn’t like leaving it in the trunk of my rental car while I was in this afternoon’s meeting, but what else could I do? In order to have it insured I had to get it appraised and knowing it’s value makes me uneasy. The appraisal noted that the cost of the stones and metal was over one hundred thousand dollars but also that the actual value was higher because it’s a one-of-a-kind original. As I fasten it around my neck I chuckle at that phrase because it fits Evan to a tee.

  With my very simple dress and no other jewelry it doesn’t look as gaudy as it does in the box. The lights in the elevator cause it to sparkle in the mirrored doors. It’s not something I would wear often, but it does have a certain unique charm to it.

  All my worrying about it being stolen while I travel with it fade away when I see Evan’s reaction. He doesn’t get out to open my door but I’m not surprised. I get in his car and fasten my seat belt then sit back and wait. As he turns back to check for oncoming cars he sees it and stops and stares. I watched him swallow several times and I think he might say something, but he only gives me a huge smile which I return.

  He looks amazing in his suit, better even than he did in Italy. He’s quiet as he drives, so I take the opportunity to scrutinize him and try to figure out what’s different. He’s had a haircut, a good one, and he’s used some styling gel or something to keep the longer part out of his face. It makes him look older. And the stubble: it’s subtle but it also makes him look more thirty than thirteen. I breathe in and notice he’s wearing some absolutely delicious cologne. I have a suspicion he may have hired an image consultant to achieve this new look. Whoever helped him out I say, “bravo”.

  The restaurant is understated, quiet and elegant. I love it. Instead of one big room with loud music to try and talk over there are small salons with alcoves. Ambient sounds of glassware clinking or waiters walking is absorbed into the thick cloud of carpeting. Before leaving us the maître d’ hands Evan a multi-chapter book of a wine list which he opens and studies. Did he learn about wines in the past few weeks too? I picture him taking some accelerated finishing school course that he had to ace, like any class he would take.

  He snaps the wine menu closed. “Do you like champagne?”

  I’m almost too shocked to answer. “Uh yeah sure, I mean I’ve only had it a few times but, yeah…” I shrug. Champagne says “special occasion” to me and I wonder if it does to him too. Did he make all these changes and plan this evening to propose to me?

  Chapter Six

  I’m watching Evan more closely now for any other tell-tale signs that he might be about to go down on one knee and I’m silently praying that I’m wrong.

  What a nightmare that would be. Should I say “yes” just to save face here in public then tell him the truth later?

  The waiter arrives to get our drink order and go over the specials. I watch him closely too. Is he in on this? Will I find a ring in my champagne glass or hidden in my dessert? My heart is pounding and I’m starting to sweat. His description of the specials goes on and on. I’m tempted to blurt out, “I’ll take that one” just to make him shut up and go away.

  When he finally leaves Evan turns to me and smiles. “Do you like this place?”

  “Yeah,” I stammer. “Yeah, it’s really nice. How did you hear about it?” Was it what came up when you googled Best Place to Propose?

  “Greg, my assistant, said it would be a good place to bring you tonight.” His voice is quiet and I try not to read between the lines but I can swear he put a slight emphasis on “tonight.”

  I look around and try not to look nervous. “Well he has great taste but you didn’t have to do this. I know you like pizza and take-out gyros. We could have just gone to one of your favorite places.”

  He’s adamant when he shakes his head. “Not tonight.” His hands are fidgeting and pulling at the edge of his napkin and he keeps looking down, avoiding eye contact.

  My heart falls into my stomach and my throat constricts. I doubt I’ll be able to eat. I’m about to just ask him what is so special about tonight when the waiter comes back with our champagne. Nothing here is cheap but I get the feeling Evan chose one of the most expensive bottles of champagne because it comes with a whole dog and pony show for the bottle opening. I try to focus and enjoy the show. I mean, I could be wrong. Maybe this is his new idea of a date.

  When we both have a glass in hand and the waiter has left Evan looks down and clears his throat. I watch him twist the stem of this champagne flute as he struggles to say whatever he came here to say. “Vivienne, I uh.” He has to stop because his throat is so tight his voice has gone up an octave. He breathes through his frustration and tries again, still not looking directly at me. I’m sweating bullets for both him and me.

  “I, um, I like you… a lot.” It’s far from the beginning of a dream proposal but it’s completely Eva
n. It makes me like him even more, but not enough to say yes. I let him continue, but I consider stopping him. He looks up at me but his eyes stop at the necklace which seems to strengthen his conviction to go on. “You’re the first girl…woman…I’ve really dated and I want us to spend more time together.

  A waiter comes by and fills our water glasses so he pauses and waits. He takes a big gulp of champagne before starting again. It’s either stronger than he anticipated or the bubbles get to him, giving him a coughing fit. I offer him water and he takes a drink of it. When he turns back to me he pushes his champagne flute aside. His face shows determination to get to his point. The distraction gives me more time to compose the kindest “no” that I possibly can.

  He’s just about to speak when a waitress brings bread and butter. She’s followed immediately by our head waiter coming to take our order. Evan sits in sullen silence as I tell the waiter we aren’t ready to order yet. Could this evening be any more of a disaster?

  ✈　✈　✈

  With the waiter out of earshot Evan blurts out his proposal. “Will you come live with me in Vietnam?”

  I stare at him and don’t answer because I definitely wasn’t prepared for this question. I’m so relieved that I don’t have to turn down a marriage proposal that I don’t censor my answer when I finally do reply. “You know I just closed on a house, right?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs and brushes off a major event in my life.

  “And I’m right in the middle of renovating it.”

  He can’t see where I’m going with my train of thought so he quickly nods.

  I connect the dots for him. “Evan, I just settled in Savannah I can’t leave now.”

  “You can if you want to.”

  He has a point, sort of. I can do whatever I want. But what I want to do is live in my dream house with the people I love most. “Yeah I can, that’s true, but I want to live in Savannah.”

  He shrugs off my desire because it doesn’t match his agenda. “Vivienne, I can’t live in Savannah. Right now I need to be in Ho Chi Minh city.”

  Oh my god, I get it. The metaphorical lights come on and I can clearly see what he’s thinking. “So, let me get this straight, you’re assuming that we are going to live together, which I have not agreed to, and that we will live where it’s most convenient for you.”

  He looks lost for only a minute before he suddenly sees the situation from my perspective. “But, no, I mean…” He breathes out his frustration and pushes the glassware aside, almost off the table to lean in and make his point quietly but forcefully. “If we are going to be a couple we are going to need to live in the same location.” He’s speaking to me like I’m daft for not seeing his logic. His tone shocks me. I’ve never seen Evan the ruthless businessman. I never really thought about it but he would have to be pretty tough to get where he is. It’s a side of him I do not like and I will not submit being bullied and talked down to.

  I lean in too and hold eye contact. “You’re making some big assumptions here.”

  He cuts me off. “Are you saying that you don’t want to live with me?” He’s trying to keep his tough negotiation tone but I can hear a hint of hurt. He turns to what he considers facts to shore up his side. “Don’t all women want to live with their boyfriends?” He’s downright smug when he adds. “Especially when their boyfriend is a billionaire.”

  My blood is boiling and I’m seeing red. How dare he paint me as some gold-digger. The waiter starts to approach our table again but backs away when he sees us locked in a heated discussion at close range. “No Evan, not every woman wants to live with her boyfriend. Me, for example, I have everything I need. I don’t need your money,” I start ticking things off on my fingers. “I don’t need your house, and I don’t need you.”

  The last line hits him hard and he reels back in shock. “What are you saying?” He’s lost control of the discussion and it has completely rattled him. I would imagine his big brain can usually keep him in the ring a lot longer than this.

  I back down some and soften my tone. “I’m saying that we really aren’t even officially a couple. We’ve never discussed anything.”

  “But Italy…you kissed me.” And evidently sealed some sort of contractual bond.

  I nod because I did pursue him. I wanted to test the waters, to see if we could be a couple. “I did, and I like you. We had a fantastic time together in Rome. We travel really well together.”

  “Travel really well together?” He’s obviously hurt that I’m not making a stronger declaration. “Do you kiss everyone who you travel really well with?”

  I have to purse my lips to keep from saying, “yeah, pretty much.” What can I say, I enjoy kissing. “The thing is, we’re just starting out. We’ve got a long way to go before I could ever consider moving in with you.” I let that sink in and have a sip of champagne. “My life is really complex and so is yours. People like us don’t find romance easily so I took advantage of the opportunity in Rome. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

  I know the fight has gone out of him when he falls back in his chair. “I just thought…I found this great house right outside the city. It’s huge, lots of tropical gardens…I just wanted you there with me.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. I see our waiter hovering near by sensing that it’s still not a good time to approach the defeated couple. “I bet it’s an amazing house.” I change our focus so we can salvage some dignity and either leave or eat. “I’d love to come see it sometime.”

  He just shrugs.

  “I’d like you to come see my house when it’s done. You helped convince me to buy it.”

  Again he shrugs then breaths out a small laugh. “Good move on my part.” He’s sarcastically analyzing his past words like they are fumbling chess moves.

  “Actually, it was good advice, and I’m really happy I bought it.” I won’t let him dismiss something I’m so proud of and excited about.

  “So you’ll be alone in your mansion and I’ll be alone in mine.” He’s really reached the point of defeat and is now feeling sorry for himself. I’m not buying into it.

  “You don’t have to be alone, Evan. There are tons and tons of women who would love to get to know you and come hang out with you.”

  “It’s like you want me to date other women.”

  In a nutshell, yeah. “Would that be so bad? We can still get together sometimes.”

  He looks up at me and I see when he realizes how differently I see our relationship. “Wait, are you seeing other people?”

  I’m relieved to finally have this conversation. “Yeah, I am. Like I said earlier, we never had a discussion about where we stand. I’m not going to assume we are an exclusive couple until we say so, and you shouldn’t either.”

  He runs his hand through his carefully styled hair sending the longer chunk falling over his forehead again. “I’m such an idiot.” He says to no one. “You must think I’m a real moron.”

  I quickly assure him, “No. I think we were overdue to talk.”

  We sit in silence again as he stews on all the things he did wrong tonight. He finally asks. “Do you want to leave?”

  The thrill has gone out of this meal so I say, “Yeah.”

  He signals the waiter over and asks for the check. I’m guessing we aren’t the first couple to implode in this restaurant because he doesn’t even question why we are leaving before dinner.

  “Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?” The fact that he’s asking tells me that he wants to spend more time with me and oddly enough I want to hang out with him too. I want us to get back to being two geeks who can be ourselves around each other.

  “Well, I still haven’t eaten. Could we stop at the gyro place and get take out to eat at your house?”

  Relief replaces the tension between us. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  Chapter Seven

  After eating some really good Greek take out at the coffee table in his living room we grab some bla
nkets and sit together on one of the loungers by the pool. The night is clear and cool and soothing after such a heated evening.

  “Are you selling this place?” We’ve spent the past few hours talking about planes and travel, avoiding anything personal.

  “No, renting it out to a couple of guys who just got funding for a start-up.”

  I picture a group of college guys putting the backyard party palace to good use. “I’m sure they’ll have some great parties back here.”

  Evan laughs loudly at this and I question, “What?”

  “They’re exactly like me, only five years younger. They’re dreaming of big parties here but…” He laughs again. “They’ll be lucky if they can talk one girl into coming over.”

  I laugh too but add, “You did it. I’m here.”

  He stops laughing and stares up at the night sky for a minute before asking, “Why are you here? Why did you agree to hang out with me in the first place?”

  Tonight has really killed his mojo and I need to remind him that he has a lot of offer. “Because you’re smart,” I look over at him to add, “Like me.” He smiles at this and nods his agreement. “And you’re cute.” He won’t agree to that and shakes his head. “You are, in a geeky, nerdy kind of way. You’d be amazed how many girls like that.”

  “How many?”

  I don’t know how to answer because logically he knows there’s no way for me to have a number. “What do you mean, how many?”

  “How many other guys are you dating?”

  Ah yes, the seed planted earlier that he can’t let go of. I firmly tell him, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  “But it shouldn’t.” I turn towards him to stress what I’ve learned that he needs to too. His life will be so much better when he gets this. “We aren’t like everyone else.” I let that sink in. “We’re like each other, which is great, but our lives are destined to be different than most people.” I sit up and face him. “Before Ora, before the money, I wanted to live in the neighborhood I grew up in. I wanted to have a small ranch house with a carport on the same street as my best friend and get married and have two point five kids, baloney sandwiches for lunch, and a swing set in the backyard.”