We Will Always Have the Closet

by Natalina Reis

  Silence ensued and Petra tilted her head to the side in a movement reminiscent of a bird. “Well, did you find it?”

  “Yes, Miss Nosy,” he replied, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. “My friend has located it and he’s now in the process of implementing its contents. Are you happy now?”

  Petra smiled. “Well, I do feel better,” she admitted, leaning back away from him. “For a while I thought you were involved in some shady business.”

  Sam’s hand shot across the tiny table to cover hers and an electric jolt went through her. His intensely green eyes sought hers and she reluctantly obliged. “Listen, Petra,” he whispered, the amusement in his voice gone. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I think you know, just like I do, that there is something between us. You may not like it, you may not want it, but it’s there nevertheless. We might as well accept it and move on. Who knows? It could be a good thing.”

  Petra’s marriage to Jonas had been an unmitigated disaster. The one time she had allowed herself to follow her emotions and let go of the constant cautionary reminders her own mind threw at her, she had ended up in a long, painful divorce. She wasn’t ready to make the same mistake again. Charm and looks were not going to trap her into another painful relationship that would destroy her already damaged heart. She seemed strong and well-put together, but inside she was as fragile as an eggshell. A wrong word, a wrong move and she would break into a million pieces, never to be completely put together again.

  “It’s getting late,” she said brusquely, pulling away from his touch and standing up. “I need to go home.”

  Looking a little confused, Sam stood up as well and waved at the waiter for the bill. “I’ll take you home,” he said, extracting some money from his wallet. “My car is parked around the corner.”

  “I can take a cab,” she said, hating herself for not driving that day. Seattle was so busy during the day that she often preferred to walk or take a bus. Of course, she didn’t expect to be out this late, and taking a bus right now was suicidal for a woman.

  “No way,” he said, handing her the coat and helping her slide into it. “I kept you here late, and there is no way I’m going to let you go by yourself. I will drive you and that’s that!” There was such authority in his voice at that moment, she didn’t even consider contradicting him. He would make a good leader. Or maybe he was a leader. She really didn’t know much about him. Strangely enough, their conversation tonight had never broached their professional lives. Why was that?

  Resigned with the fact that she preferred to be at this man’s mercy than be attacked by a criminal in the dark streets of the city, she accepted his offer and allowed him to drive her home on the outskirts of town. After her divorce, determined not to take any money from her idiot husband, Petra had moved to a beautiful little cottage on the banks of Puget Sound, just outside Seattle. It had been left to her in her parents’ will when they died. The house was very simple; it only had two bedrooms and one bath, but the back of it faced the Sound in all its glory. From her living room and bedroom, she had the amazing view of the water with all its inlets and little islands, plus the majestic view of the snow-covered peaks of the Olympic Mountains. This was her little haven, a place where she could feel happy and serene without having to move much. Here, she found the inspiration for her creative pursuits—which were many—and the peace of mind required to recharge from the hectic modern daily life.

  “Wow, Petra,” Sam exclaimed as he pulled in her driveway. “This is amazing!”

  “You should see it in the daylight,” she said and immediately regretted it. It sounded too much like an invitation, and she wasn’t ready to share her secret haven with him yet. “You can see Mt. Rainier from here,” she quickly added.

  “I’ll have to come and visit sometime soon,” he said with a hint of amusement. It was dark and she couldn’t see very well, but she was willing to bet he was wearing that impish smile of his. He opened the door and circled the car to open hers. “I’ll walk you to the door. This may be beautiful, but it also looks very lonely at night.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. It was indeed lonely, which was part of the charm. However, she did avoid coming home late because ominous shadows always seemed to hide in the bushes and behind the giant evergreens that surrounded the whole property. Her rational side told her there was nothing but owls and deer prowling in the dark, but her cautious—and possibly a bit paranoid—female side told her otherwise. Secretly, she was grateful he was willing to walk her to the door. As they approached, the sensor turned the porch lights on. They could see the little quaint window beside the front door and the now dormant rhododendrons planted underneath it. In the spring they exploded in a profusion of violets and reds, lending the whole place a certain fairy-tale aura and drenching the air in a fresh, inviting scent.

  Petra could tell Sam was truly impressed by her place, and in spite of herself, she felt an irrational sense of pride in it. What did she care what he thought? Yet, it seemed like she did.

  Stopping right under one of the lights, Petra unlocked her door and turned to face him. She hadn’t realized that, once again, he was uncomfortably close to her. Sam gave her one of his charming smiles and she smiled back, shaking a little in awareness of his body. “Well, thank you for dinner and for bringing me home,” she said in a not-so-firm voice. The man could really rattle her nerves, even when not trying.

  “We need to do it again,” he said, lowering his voice to dangerously sexy levels. Taking a step even closer, he added, “Soon.”

  Now she was shaking in earnest. As if an earthquake had chosen her body as the epicenter, she could feel her legs wobbling under her and her arms jerking against her sides. Silently, she thanked God for the cover of darkness, but she couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure he wasn’t aware of her near panic state. In fact, she was pretty certain he knew it very well, for he took two more steps toward her and his body was now tantalizingly touching hers. His warm hands wrapped themselves on her waist and her heart cartwheeled. Instinctively, she tried to step away, but his hands held firm.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he asked, so close to her mouth she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

  Petra hesitated for a second, and that moment of trepidation cost her some more in between space. With his body now glued to hers and his hands pressing gently but firmly into the small of her back, it was obvious he wanted her as much as she wanted him, even though she hated to admit it. He too shook like a leaf on a windy day. “Oh, shit!” she exclaimed under her breath as her lips rose up to meet his.

  The kiss was passionate and urgent at first, as if they both wanted to taste as much of each other as they could in the shortest time possible, but then it became gentle and sensual, unhurried and relished to its fullest. Their bodies fit each other as if they were two pieces from one whole, and Petra found herself melting into his embrace to the point she was not sure where she ended and he began. It was an overwhelming feeling, a mixture of wanting and needing combined with a feverish desperation she could not explain. When they finally broke apart, they were breathless and wanting more. It was that sense of yearning that shook her out of her strange delirium. She wasn’t going to get romantically involved with anyone right now, and she knew herself too well to realize there was no such thing as a one-night stand or a passing fling for her. It was too easy for her romantic heart to take that dangerous step farther, to make her fall in love all over again.

  Sam seemed shocked when she pushed him away. “No, sorry, I can’t do this,” she said. “Goodnight.”

  Confused, her mind still foggy with the heat of his kiss, she opened the door, walked in, and slammed it behind her, leaving him outside in the semi-darkness of the porch. Like a teenager on her first date, Petra ran to the nearest window, and without turning on the lights, spied on him from behind the curtains. He stood by the door for a little while, paralyzed, obviously taken aback by what had just happened. Eventually, he turne
d his back to the door and allowed his body to slide all the way down until he was sitting on the cold stone stoop, hands on his head, breathing hard, looking despondent and lonesome. Her heart bled a little. She didn’t want to hurt him. After a few minutes, he stood up underneath the porch light, a smile creeping up to his lips.

  “Why am I so worried about this?” he yelled out loud. “You want me as much as I want you. I’m willing to wait as long as you need, because I’m sure the two of us are destined to be one.” Right before he turned on his heels to back away, he added, “You just wait and see, Petra. Just wait and see.”

  ***

  Petra

  Not bad, not bad at all. She twirled to check out the effect on her beautiful—and borrowed—gown. Somehow she had managed to convince an old friend of hers to allow her to wear a gown worn only once for a very special wedding—her own. Petra had to admit she had been surprised Alina ceded so easily to her strange request, but then again, she probably had a guilty conscience. Alina had been so busy with her own life that she hadn’t been much of a support through Petra’s divorce. Water under the bridge. After all, everyone had problems and was allowed some time to sort them out. The important thing was that she seemed to be back in Petra’s life. As a fringe benefit of their renewed friendship, there was this dress. The gown was absolutely stunning; the strapless bodice of black lace accentuated her small breasts while funneling down to her hips in black silk and then flaring all the way to the floor in fluid midnight folds. In the back, the beautiful black gown plunged teasingly all the way to her lower back, sexy and elegant all in one. She was ready.

  Clutching her petite silk purse, she left the ladies’ room and headed toward the reception area where the gala was taking place. The Linden Galleria was a beautifully designed modern building that served as the perfect backdrop to her ex-husband’s equally exquisite art collection. Jonas was on a retreat at Crystal Mountain, otherwise she would have never dared crashing this party. Her intentions were not totally legitimate. She hadn’t even been honest with Alina about it. On one hand, she did want to see all the amazing pieces of art her husband so diligently collected with his ever-growing fortune. However, she had a second reason for the visit, one for which she felt only mildly guilty. But first, she was going to enjoy the caviar, the expensive champagne—even though she really didn’t drink—admire the beautiful clothes, and salivate over the products of human creativity and artistry.

  Hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone from her married circle, Petra made her way to the buffet table where she could see, even from a distance, tantalizing trays of shrimp and caviar, something she hadn’t tasted since her divorce. Her family and friends had all chided her for not—to quote her more colorful relatives—taking Jonas to the cleaners. “He’s loaded,” they all chimed in, “and he did you wrong.” Which was true, of course, but her pride just wouldn’t allow her to take any money from a two-timing, ungrateful, narcissistic pig. Yes, he was devastatingly handsome and cultured, brilliant and resourceful, but he was also untrustworthy and a master liar. As strange as it may sound for most people who knew how much in love with him she had been, she had gotten over him pretty easily. After all, he really wasn’t who she thought he was, so she had been in love with an imaginary man all along. She still loved that man, but she was well aware that he had never existed outside her mind and heart.

  Just as Petra’s pride did not allow her to accept any monetary compensation from him, it also drove her to this art gala. The hope was that she might find what she so desperately wanted somewhere in his office in the upper floors of the galleria. When she couldn’t find it in his home, she had started looking elsewhere. Where could he possibly have hidden it? She was determined to find it, even if that meant breaking the law ever so slightly.

  The caviar was delicious, and for a moment she forgot why she was really there, enjoying the salty, slightly grainy texture of the fishy delicacy. The shrimp was next on her list. Seafood was a weakness of hers, only surpassed by her love for art. One fed the body, the other the soul. As she stood in a corner, looking oddly at home while munching away at the briny food, she noticed the security guards leaving their posts on the staircase, presumably to go to the bathroom. Hands hastily wiped, Petra sped toward the stairs, climbing the steps two at a time. Luckily, she had always been good at running in heels. While the security guards wouldn’t be away for very long, she knew Jonas’ office was large and she would certainly find an easy place to hide if necessary.

  She cracked the door open and slipped inside, cautious not to get her dress caught. The lights were on, so she started her search right away. Jonas sure had a lot of storage in this office—drawers, boxes, file cabinets, closets, trash cans…hell, it would take her all night at this rate.

  “Do you need a hand?” she heard a voice from behind. Her heart jumped to her throat as she turned around suddenly, trying to think of a believable excuse for her presence there. A now familiar face stared back at her. “You!” she yelled, forgetting she was trying to be inconspicuous.

  “Shhh…are you crazy?” he exclaimed in a whisper while reaching out to her. “They’ll hear you.”

  “I just can’t get rid of you,” she protested in a hushed voice. “What the hell…”

  “I’m not the one sneaking around like a criminal,” he pointed out. “What are you doing, anyway? Should you even be here? Isn’t this Linden’s private office?”

  “If you must know, I used to work for him,” she lied, looking behind him to make sure they hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention. “So, in a way I have the right to be here.”

  “I don’t think that would hold water in court.” He laughed. “His employee…what are you looking for exactly? You must want it really bad to take such risks. First the house, now here.” He was looking at her with an expression that said he didn’t believe her for a minute.

  “None of your business,” she responded with bravado. Waving her hands in front of her as if shooing him away, she added, “Now, get out of here and leave me be.”

  His attractive, wicked smile made an appearance. “No way, sweetheart,” he said, taking a step closer. “I’m not leaving, so you better tell me what you’re up to.”

  “You…” Voices approaching outside the door interrupted the insult that was burning on her tongue. “Shit, they’re coming! Shit, shit, shit…”

  Sam was looking at her incredulously, half amused, half irritated. “Is that how you solve problems? Stand paralyzed and cuss?” Her eyes shot daggers at him, but he dismissed it. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her toward the far wall. “Let’s hide in that closet.”

  Petra stopped so abruptly, he almost crashed into her. “Another closet?” she exclaimed, exasperated. “Do you have some kind of fetish?”

  He didn’t seem amused anymore. “Listen, do you see any other place where we can both hide?” She glanced around her, frantically looking for a hiding place that did not involve a closet and found nothing big enough. “Well?”

  Giving up, she grabbed his arm and dashed to the closet, immersing them in darkness…again. She was starting to think God was trying to tell her something. What, she had absolutely no idea and was afraid to ask. At least this was a much bigger closet and they did not have to stand close enough to touch. She sat in a corner, surrounded by piles of printer paper. Sam sat opposite to her, his long legs pulled up to his chin as he studied her in the darkness. A thin ray of light from a crack in the door illuminated her face. He stroked his own arm and caressed her with his piercing eyes. Suddenly she felt naked with her slender neck and bare shoulders exposed to his scrutiny. From the corner of her eye she noticed how shivers raked his body and how he slightly shook his head as to dispel unpleasant thoughts—or maybe too pleasant.

  “That’s a nice dress,” he said, his eyes sliding down from her shoulders to her unadorned décolletage. Another shiver crossed her abdomen. Her eyebrows raised in disapproval while her index right finger was placed in front of her mouth in the inte
rnational signal for quiet. “Well, it is,” he continued in a quieter voice.

  The voices were now in the office. “I thought I heard voices in here,” a male voice said. “Look under the desk. Last week I found someone hiding under there.” The clatter of chairs and other furniture pieces being moved were heard. “No, I guess there’s no one here. Let’s go. I’m getting hungry.” They heard the door opening and closing and the office was quiet again. As if by mutual assent, they sat quietly for a few more minutes to make sure the guards were gone.

  “I think it’s safe now,” Sam said, cracking the closet door open and peeking outside. “Let’s go.” They both crawled out and Petra got up in what she was pretty sure was a very inelegant way. It wasn’t easy to do it elegantly strapped to a ball gown and stiletto heels. Sam, on the other hand, fluidly stood up as if his legs had some sort of spring system built in. “Are you going to tell me what you were looking for?”

  Petra laughed, wiping imaginary dust bunnies off her borrowed dress. “Right. And I’m Santa Claus,” she snapped.

  “A very sexy Santa, I say.” It was so hard to be mad at him when he was constantly flirting with her. “Come on, Petra, tell me,” he begged, holding one of her hands. “What do you want so badly?”

  Hesitating for a second, she allowed herself to get lost in his green eyes. No, she wouldn’t tell him, as tempting as that was. “We better get out of here.” she said, totally avoiding an answer. “The guards will be back soon enough.”

  Resigned, Sam let out a loud sigh, grabbed her hand and guided them both to the door. Looking both ways before leaving the office, Sam shuddered against her small figure pressed to his side. They walked stealthily and quickly across the upper floor and somehow managed to go down the staircase unnoticed. In a corner, the chamber quartet violinists caressed their instruments, producing a Viennese waltz that wafted into the air like perfume. Several couples now danced, enchanted by the magical music. Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Let’s dance, Cinderella,” he said, breathing in her ear.