by Lucy Lambert
Her stomach dropped through the floor. I forgot to grab it before I stormed out. She'd been so mad at Aiden, so embarrassed and frustrated with not getting the ring off her finger, that she'd just wanted to leave and hadn't really thought about anything beyond that.
The bartender took note of her lack of funds. Somehow, his frown deepened. He spoke in German and waved at the door.
She didn't need to know the language to know that he wanted her out.
Maybe I'll just sit in the hotel lobby all night, Gwen thought as she began sliding off the stool, some of those couches looked pretty comfy.
Someone tall sidled up to the bar next to her. He spoke in German to the bartender, who harrumphed and stalked down to the beer taps. Then the newcomer turned to Gwen.
"It's such a shame how everyone always wants money before they'll give you what you want."
Gwen looked up into his face. The blond hair, the accent, the smile. "Ben!" she said.
Ben Somersby sat on the stool next to hers. "You know, I've never been overly fond of my name. Always thought it sounded so ordinary and boring. But when you say it, it doesn't sound too bad."
The bartender slid two foaming mugs of beer over in front of them. "Danke," Ben said, nudging one in Gwen's direction. Some of the foam sloshed over the side.
Gwen shook her head. "Does everyone except for me speak ten languages?"
Ben raised his mug, "Cheers," he said, gulping some of the frothy liquid down and making a satisfied noise when he finished. "I don't know about ten. Only know three myself. Hey, drink up. We're not all marrying a billionaire, and, as I'm sure you just discovered, the beer isn't free."
"Thanks," Gwen said, sliding her hand into the handle of the heavy mug and then taking a sip. It was cold, and she shivered. "And I think you can count yourself lucky on the not marrying a billionaire bit. It's not as fun as it looks."
"Oh?" Ben replied.
"No. And you seem different somehow. Cheekier."
Ben pinched his cheeks. "These old things? I'm not always a journalist you know, always on the job. Sometimes I'm just a Brit at a bar enjoying a beer. And alliteration... Maybe I am always on the job." He took another swallow from his mug.
Gwen smiled at his joke and then shivered again. Why did it have to be so cold?
"Now you are the one who seems different. Also, underdressed," Ben said, "Don't you know it gets rather chilly at night? Here, I insist." Ben stripped off his jacket and hung it over Gwen's shoulders. He wore a charcoal button-down underneath it that really set off the grey in his eyes.
She protested until she felt the warmth. It seeped in through her skin and she sighed at the sensation. I'll give it back as soon as I get rid of this chill, she told herself.
"Better, see?" Ben said, taking a quick look over his shoulders at the rest of the patrons, "So I don't see our Harvard man around. Can I presume some trouble in paradise? A lover's quarrel, perhaps?"
She gave him a sidelong look. "I thought you didn't work for the tabloids?"
"I don't. Like I said, I'm not on the job here now. I'm not Ben Somersby, hard-hitting investigative reporter. Here I'm Ben Somersby, beer lover and good listener."
"We'll see about that," Gwen said.
"Try me."
"You promise this is all... off the record?"
"It's so far off the record it might as well be in orbit. Really. Besides, you know if I submitted even a singular word to my editor that might be construed as not lauding praise upon our Harvard man and his company I would lose my job. You've nothing to worry about."
Ben really did have a great accent. And a great, friendly smile. And his coat was nice and warm. Besides, if she didn't vent soon she knew she'd burst from the pressure.
"It's kind of hard to explain..."
"Try me," Ben said, gulping down some more beer. He was already more than half done his pint.
So she did try him. "Well, like I said, it's complicated. Let's just say that it has something to do with his grandmother not exactly approving of our match and my efforts to try and win said approval back."
"Not going so well, then, eh?"
"So far, no good. Although things might have gone a bit better if Aiden would dismount his high horse long enough to get my back."
"So if I understand your mixed metaphors correctly, he's not helping you out with the whole grandmother issue? Is her approval of your relationship really that important to the both of you?"
Gwen got the sudden urge to drink. She put the glass to her lips and swallowed the foamy beer down as quickly as she could, stopping only when she needed air. The heavy stein clacked against the bar top loud enough that the bartender glanced in their direction.
"No help at all. Actually, I got the impression tonight that he thinks this whole thing is stupid and not worth his effort."
"Really? Carry on," Ben said. He waved to the bartender, pointed down at the two mostly empty beer mugs and held up two fingers. Shortly thereafter, two fresh, frothy glasses arrived to replace their depleted comrades.
"Well, to cut a long, convoluted story short, we had a fight back in our suite and I stormed out and ended up here with you and all my new friends: these beers," Gwen said, finishing the first mug and taking a mouthful from the second.
Already, she experienced the lovely, tingling buzz that marked the first stage of alcohol intoxication. She reminded herself to try and be careful, she didn't want to get blackout drunk and wake up bleary-eyed in a dumpster tomorrow morning. Who knew what horrors awaited in a Swiss dumpster?
"Lucky me," Ben said.
She found that she liked Ben. He was easy enough to get along with, with a quick sense of humor and a sharp mind. Somewhat dry, but dry was okay. Besides, she also liked having a captive audience to dump all her issues on.
"He makes me so mad sometimes. Like tonight, he saw how mad I was, and he smiled at me! And I think there was a chuckle somewhere in there, too."
"That devil," Ben agreed.
"Sometimes I think that he thinks I don't know what I'm getting myself into."
"With marrying him, you mean?"
Gwen knew that she skated around dangerous territory here. But the beer was so foamy and good, and while it was cold going down, it certainly warmed her stomach nicely.
"Sort of. There's a lot more to it than that, though. Then again, our whole relationship has been a bit of a weird one from the moment it started."
Ben used the pad of his thumb to wipe a bit of white, frothy foam from his upper lip. "Back in New York, yes? You two met at a party and hit it off from there?"
"Yes...?" Gwen said, giving him a sidelong glance.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. Research is my job. Well, research and writing. I'm familiar with your escapades back in Manhattan."
Gwen shook her head at that and then gulped down some more beer. "Keep telling yourself that." There were very few people in the world who were actually familiar with her escapades. Everyone else just believed what they read in the tabloids.
"I like to think I'm fairly well informed. For instance, did you know that dear old daddy Henry Manning received a mobile call from your fiancé just a few minutes before his car wreck?"
Gwen barely managed not to spit her latest mouthful of beer back into her glass. Instead she choked it down and hoped that she hadn't paused for too long. "You do your homework, I see."
"When it involves a beautiful woman, always."
Maybe it was the alcohol, her anger at Aiden, or a combination of the two. Whatever it was, Gwen felt the blush creeping up her neck, and could barely keep herself from smiling.
"Another pint?" Ben said, nodding down at her nearly empty second mug of beer. He smiled.
Gwen almost said yes. She wanted to say yes. And then she realized what she was doing. Letting a handsome Englishman buy her drinks at a pub. He called me beautiful, she thought. I'm angry at Aiden, but I still love him. Besides, she knew then after having some time to cool off, Aiden really did have
a point.
"Thanks, but I'm cutting myself off now. Sorry."
"Not a problem. So what now?"
"Now," Gwen said, sliding off the stool and then shrugging off Ben's jacket, "I think I'm going back to the hotel. Thanks for letting me use this."
But Ben didn't take the jacket back. Instead he hopped down off his stole, dug his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed a few funny looking Euro bills down onto the bar. "And let you walk yourself back at this time of night? And in the cold, no less? I think not."
He did have a point. It was night out, and while the neighborhood looked nice, who knew what sort of hooligans waited in the shadows? She could feel it was a bad idea; however, getting mugged because she'd refused his company sounded like an even worse one.
"Okay, fine. You might as well take this back, though, because I'm done with it," Gwen said, forcing the jacket into his hands.
It was a move she regretted as soon as they stepped out onto the street. The breeze had bite to it, and she flinched.
"Are you sure you don't want it?" Ben said as they started down the sidewalk.
"Yes, thanks," Gwen said, hoping the shadows hid the way her skin knitted itself into goosebumps. She did her best to keep her arms swinging at her sides, rather than clutched around her body.
At least the cold sobered her up right away. The comforting ball of warmth in her stomach contracted and finally disappeared. The buzz in her mind quieted.
It took maybe ten minutes to get back to the long drive that led up to the front of the hotel. All the while, Ben kept talking to her. He was a nice guy, if very curious. She liked being near him, but also knew that she shouldn't.
Large floodlights lit the facade of the building. Gwen's feet moved more quickly, following her desire to get inside as fast as she could.
Before they reached those doors, Ben lightly gripped her arm above the elbow and stopped her. He didn't let go, and she found herself looking up into his stubbled face. "Are you sure you're okay?" he said.
"Yes, thanks. It is pretty cold out here. Why don't we go into the lobby?" The lobby, with its elevators that could take her up to her suite, where Aiden waited.
"Not yet." Ben sighed. He glanced around as though trying to make up his mind about something. He did. "I think there's something between us, Gwen. I can feel it. I know you can, too. So I just want to lay this on the table. Aiden is a complicated man with a complicated life, both personal and professional. I, on the other hand, am pretty simple. What you see is what you get. So, what I'm asking is, do you like what you see?"
His words stunned Gwen. She'd suspected that his interest in her went beyond the professional. And somewhere inside, she'd known about this attraction since they first bumped into each other. She'd felt it, too.
"I can't," Gwen said, "I love Aiden." And she did, she could feel that inside, too. It came with more certainty than ever before, too, after Ben's offer forced her to really consider it. "Now please let me go."
Ben's face grew dark, his lips pressing thin and his brow furrowing. That hadn't been the answer he'd been hoping for and expecting. "Yes, of course. Just one more thing."
"What?" Gwen replied.
He pulled her close and kissed her. His stubble prickled her chin and cheeks, and his eager lips writher against hers.
It went on until Gwen managed to shove him away.
"Tell me you didn't feel anything," Ben said.
"I can't feel anything for you, Ben. I told you, I love Aiden. Thank you for your help tonight, but please leave me alone." Her whole body shook, and it wasn't from the cold. If anything, she felt hot. Her heart slammed itself against the back of her ribs. Anxiety and fear and shock all roiled together in her stomach, trying to enclose her in numbness.
"I see how it is," Ben said. "Fine, take your leave, then. But I know that you felt something, no matter how you lie to me and to yourself." He shoved his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and stalked away from the hotel.
Gwen watched him for a few seconds to make sure he really went before wheeling back towards the doors. "Aiden, oh Aiden," she said.
She felt terrible. She needed to see him, to explain, to apologize, to beg his forgiveness. All of that and more. She needed to tell him that he was right, and that they could do whatever he wanted to.
She rushed into the lobby, hardly feeling the warmth of the indoor air on her skin. Now that it was later, it was much quieter. A couple night auditors watched her from their places behind their desks. A few people sat in the lounge areas flipping through books or magazines or whispering quietly.
The loudest thing in the large room was her scurrying footsteps.
When she reached the elevator she instinctively reached down to touch her purse. More panic spread out through her chest when she again remembered forgetting it in their suite. The panic only increased when she also recalled that her room key was in said purse.
I really screwed up, she thought. Really, well, and truly. Like Napoleon invading Russia screwed up. Or black suit and brown shoes screwed up.
She thought about going to one of the auditors and asking for another key, but knew they wouldn't. Not without seeing some identification (also in her purse).
It didn't matter, though. Aiden would be there, and he would let her in. She hit the Up button to call the elevator. It took so long that she seriously considered jogging up all the stairs.
The entire ride up, she leaned against the corner and fiddled nervously with her ring. Maybe it had been the cold outside, but it felt looser on her finger, spun more freely. It would come off now, she knew. Not that she would even consider removing it.
After an anxious epoch, the elevator delivered her to her floor. Breathless, she sped down the hall. She knew that everything would be better as soon as she could see him, throw herself into his arms, and ask him to make everything better. He always made everything better.
In an attempt to hold onto some shred of her dignity, she stopped short of the door to their suite. She straightened her back and made herself take a few deep breaths in an effort to calm her racing heart.
"Never a mirror when you need one," she muttered, pawing at her hair and trying to set it as straight as she could. It felt pretty windblown, though. Besides, her brush was in her purse.
Her palms started sweating. She lifted one fist to knock, but hesitated. He's going to be mad at me, she thought.
Her keen procrastinator’s instincts kicked in. They told her to maybe go back down to the lobby and chill for a while. You know, just to calm down and think things through a little more.
Or, if that didn't sound good, they also suggested that maybe she could go work out some of her feelings by going and berating her parents for a few minutes.
Both options tempted her. Especially the second one. Both her parents deserved a good reaming out for what they'd let happen at the restaurant. But doing that wouldn't help her set things straight with Aiden any faster. He might even be angrier for making him wait that much longer.
So before she could stop herself, she rapped her knuckles smartly against the door three times and waited.
She heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Her heart pushed into her throat. This was it. Time for groveling and apologizing and, hopefully, making up.
The door opened. "...Gwen?"
"Catherine?"
Chapter 12
A sudden sensation of vertigo left Gwen queasy. It was like someone had dangled her by her ankles and then set her back down on her feet, expecting her to walk.
I've got the wrong room, Gwen thought. To confirm this, she looked at the number on the door.
It was her room number. Her and Aiden's. And, peering in around Catherine's body, Gwen definitely recognized all the furniture. She also recognized her purse sitting on the small table just inside the suite.
But if this is my room, then what is Catherine doing here? Then she really took a look at Catherine. The woman was dressed differently than she'd been
during their little coffee klatch.
A little, "Oh..." escaped Gwen's lips. If she thought Catherine had been good looking in her business attire, the woman absolutely smoldered now. The little black dress she wore showed off all her curves. Her cleavage left even Gwen's mouth dry. She'd put on some lipstick that really made her mouth pop.
And Gwen wasn't going to say anything at all about those big, soft eyes that just begged you to spend your entire life plumbing their depths...
She snapped herself back to reality, realizing she'd been standing at the doorway for probably a solid thirty seconds by now.
"Catherine," Gwen said.
"Gwen," she replied, "What are you doing here?"
Clearly not the same thing you're doing, Gwen wanted to say. Instead, she went with, "This is my room. So... What are you doing here?"
"Who is it?" Aiden called. It sounded like he was on the upper level of the suite. The upper level with that king size bed with its pillow top mattress and mountain view.
Something stirred deep inside Gwen. Something she tried to keep at bay. Just keep calm, she told herself, you don't know what's going on. Be certain before you freak out.
Those beautiful eyes widened fractionally. "Oh my God. You're Aiden's fiancé! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me you worked for him?" Gwen left out the other questions she wanted to ask. Although they were less questions and more accusations.
Footsteps came from the stairs. "Catherine, who's at the door?" He showed himself at the bottom of the staircase, finishing the final loop on his tie. Why was he retying it?
"Gwen," Aiden said.
"Yes," she replied, glancing between the two of them, "Me." She finished by fixing Aiden with a particularly pointed look.
***
Aiden's hands paused, his whole body going rigid as though someone had prodded him with a taser. The taser in question was Gwen's stare.
He grasped the situation immediately. Catherine answers the door for him, he comes down from the bedroom apparently having just finished putting his clothes back on. It was obvious what conclusion most people in Gwen's situation might draw from the evidence at hand.