“Hello, Handsome,” she countered, reaching out her long red nails to adjust his tie. “Babysitting?” she glanced over to Maribel.
“Getting acquainted,” he corrected her. “Shouldn’t you be in the war room?”
Gillian shrugged. “War is for men. Clubbing each other over the head isn’t exactly the way women go about getting what they want. Am I right?” Gillian lobbed the question to Maribel.
“I think I’m going to freshen up my drink,” Maribel said, searching out a diplomatic escape.
“Oh, that’s what Timmy is for…” Gillian swept up Maribel’s wine glass from her hand and passed it off to him.
“Chardonnay?” he asked Maribel.
“Yes, that’s fine, thank you,” she answered with quiet dread. Her mind was quickly considering some way she could accompany Timothy rather than be left alone with Gillian.
“And you, my dear?”
“Whatever she’s having…” Gillian outlined his chin with her fingertip. “Thanks, love. You’re always such a doll.”
Timothy paused with hesitation—as if to make certain that Gillian would behave herself—before returning to the bar. When the two women were finally alone, Gillian sneered down on Maribel, and she noted Maribel’s luxury watch.
“Well, isn’t that romantic. A brand new watch. You two must really be hitting it off.”
Maribel had been bullied in elementary school on the school bus, so she knew silence was her only defense. She knew exactly what Gillian was doing, and she wasn’t going to give in to her. But she could feel Gillian’s glare, searing into her.
“Let me guess…” Gillian continued, her eyes trailing down Maribel’s neckline, “the ruby pendant necklace was first. Brax does always like to start modest. Can’t set expectations too high from the start, or else the Tiffany jewelry won’t seem like such a stunning surprise.”
Gillian shifted her eyes over to Maribel’s diamond tennis bracelet. “See what I mean? I’m sure he bought you that lovely thing after you agreed to sleep with him the first time. Although I’m surprised he settled on white gold. He always chose yellow gold for me. Then, again… he never offered me anything except jewelry. Oh, and great sex. But in some ways, that was enough. He does have an irresistible way with food, doesn’t he?”
Maribel felt her face flush. She turned her eyes to Timothy. He was still waiting at the bar for their drinks. She looked around at all the elegant strangers—no one offered her sanctuary. Maribel felt herself trying not to frown, but instead, she frowned more.
Gillian lowered her voice and sighed. “Or maybe, he simply thinks you’re special. I’m sure he’s told you that already, am I right? It’s one of his favorite lines. Although it looks like he’s forgotten the earrings. Maybe that will be his surprise gift tonight after he closes the Olson & Anderson deal. He always bought me something grandiose whenever we closed a deal. Although Brax is also good at getting whatever he wants for as little as possible. Maybe he figures a shop girl at a department store isn’t that hard to please, and he can get away with giving nothing extra at all.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong about him,” Maribel abruptly countered with a flash of anger.
“Ahhhh, so you do have a personality? Not just a pretty face,” Gillian surveyed her. “I was wondering what your appeal was to him. But I see it now. Brax does always like a good challenge. Watch out for that granite island in his penthouse. It’s one of his favorite places to get you flat on your back.”
Maribel suddenly felt the desperate need to defend Miles as well as their relationship. “Perhaps it was all about sex for you. But it’s different between us.”
“Really? I don’t think so, cupcake. I’m sure it feels like ‘love’ now—that’s how they all get us to submit in the beginning, and convince us spread our legs open and often. But I’ve known Brax for years. You and Brax have only been together less than a week, am I right?”
Maribel’s eyes swam with emotion. “How would you know that?”
“Because he only broke it off with me a few days ago,” Gillian confessed, like it was a dark secret. “Unless…of course, you think he’s been double-dipping.”
Maribel suddenly felt nauseous. Her hissing voice and the smell of her cigarette breath was simply too much to bear. Maribel suddenly turned away and bumped into Timothy, who had returned with their wine glasses.
“Excuse me,” Maribel said, pushing past him and out through the hallway to the main entrance foyer. She heard Timothy calling after her, but it only encouraged her to rush out the door, where she saw several parked limousines and their drivers, smoking and loitering in the circular driveway.
“Please, could one of you drive me back to Chicago?” Maribel rummaged through her purse. “I have forty dollars. Please…anyone?
“I can drive you back.”
Maribel glanced over at the source of the voice. The man looked like he could be Maribel’s younger brother. He didn’t acknowledge how or why he was able to leave the party. Perhaps he knew he would be waiting on his guests all night, and he figured he could get to the city and back before dawn. Perhaps he noticed the mascara streaming down Maribel’s face, or the fact that she was shivering uncontrollably in the winter night air without her coat. Perhaps forty-dollars was simply worth the three-hour roundtrip drive. Regardless of the reason, the driver swiftly blunted out his cigarette with his boot, saved the remainder in his pocket, and opened the passenger door of his black limousine for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered and wiped black streaks from her cheeks while trying hard not to look at him again. She slipped across the limo’s beige leather seats and bit her lip. With trembling hands, she removed the ruby pendant, tennis bracelet and luxury watch that Miles had given to her and passed them forward to the driver.
“This is your tip.”
The driver slammed on the brakes. “Wow, for real?”
Maribel nodded listlessly, then settled herself into the back seat—out of sight from his rear view mirror. When she felt the wheels of the limo accelerate and saw the mansion estate drift away through her window, she finally gave herself permission to weep, vowing it would be the last time she would pretend to be part of a world that was not her own.
Chapter Fifteen
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoooooooooosh……
Miles always loved that sound and the sensation of lift-off.
He suddenly felt Maribel squeeze his hand. Yes, it was terrifying and exhilarating, he thought and swung his arm around her for comfort as they hung suspended in the middle of the sky. Miles tracked the helicopter’s shadow slinking across the rooftops of skyscrapers. No matter how many times Miles flew through the air, the sensation of ultimate freedom never got old. Ahead in the cockpit, he heard the pilots reciting the navigation calls through his headphones. Everything sounded calm and routine. It was a beautiful evening, made more beautiful by the fact that he was not alone. He watched Maribel peering out across the vast open waters of Lake Michigan. By tomorrow, the deal would be closed and no one would want or need anything else from him. He would whisk her away on his sail boat—just the two of them—and make love to her in the solace of daylight and serenity of night.
Suddenly, dread replaced exhilaration. They were here already. The helicopter cleared the rocky bluffs before touching down into the expansive green pasture near the edge of the estate. Miles pushed open the door and saw the co-pilot waiting to receive Maribel into his hands. It was all clockwork. Just as it should be. Miles expected the same from tonight.
Swooooosh… The gusting draft from the helicopter blades whipped them with violence. Miles embraced Maribel with protection and led her through the garden terrace towards the house. He had planned to use the back patio entrance intentionally. He wanted to slip in and out. It needed to be done fast, he thought. He hated the idea of returning to his former life—so soon after escaping it—but even more, he hated the idea of exposing Maribel to it.
Several cou
ples with cocktails mingled near an open pit fireplace. Miles heard their hardy laughter.
“You just can’t arrive in limousines like the rest of us, can you, Brax?” the familiar voice exclaimed.
Josie, Miles noted without acknowledging her. Thank God, he never slept with her like every other son-of-a-bitch in their circle. And who was she with tonight? Peter Grayson. Miles nodded to Peter, but did not stop. He didn’t see Peter’s wife, Miranda. Cheating bastard.
“It wouldn’t be Miles Braxton-Worth any other way,” Peter chimed in. “Glad to see you finally made it. Gary said you’ve been tied up with extracurricular activities. Can’t wait to hear all about them.”
“Nothing to tell, Pete. Business as usual.”
“Which means he doesn’t kiss and tell, Pete,” Josie said with a flirtatious shrug of her bare shoulder.
“Well, neither do I—officially,” Peter countered, flashing his wedding band. Then, he called after Miles.
“Brax, I’m starting up a new hedge fund in China, we should talk.”
Miles nodded and locked hands with Maribel. I’ve moved on from you—from all of you. He passed her through the sliding screen doors and away from the couple without being forced to provide introductions. When he glanced back, Miles saw Josie eyeing them. Maribel looked stunning in her sequined dress—the same one she had modeled for him before they made love that afternoon. Maribel would make any woman jealous in that dress, Miles thought as he watched Josie tracking them with her eyes. His first obstacle of the night had been avoided. He knew it wouldn’t be their last.
Miles towed Maribel forward into the house. They entered the grand living room. Live music bounced off its glass-paneled walls and cathedral ceilings. Mariachi music? Son-of-a-bitch. Gary was serious.
“Brax—” Gary’s voice boomed over the trumpets and maracas.
Miles turned and saw Gary, donning a large black sombrero and jetting over to them.
“Impressive,” Miles said, shaking his hand and noting the sombrero.
“I am both a man of the law and a man of my word,” Gary replied, throwing back his tumbler and crunching down on its ice. Gary suddenly eyed Maribel. “I wasn’t certain you were going to show, but now, I understand why. Please tell me this is the little mouse with whom you’ve been sneaking your cheese for the entire weekend and all shall be forgiven.” Gary moved behind Maribel to remove her coat.
Miles smirked—Gary was such a womanizer, and certainly the last man on earth to care about social propriety. Miles waited to see if Gary would demand to know Maribel’s name; the less information that Miles betrayed about her tonight, the better for both of them.
“Congratulations, Brax. You’ve got everyone chasing their tails. No one expected this deal to be postponed for this long.”
“I’m not the one who decided to shop it.”
“But you were the one who decided to put a freeze on it the whole weekend. So are you here to close it, or not?”
“That depends, Gary. How much am I supposed to give up?”
“I have the seventy-page contract on my desk in the den,” Gary lowered his voice, and crunched down on his last cube of ice. “They’ve included every single deal point except the escalation. They’re keeping it at eight. But clearly, you’ve got Olson by the balls because he doesn’t want to be in Harvey Zale’s palm…. Hello, Marzena, lovely as always,” Gary suddenly took Marzena’s hand and swept her close for a side kiss on her cheek.
“Thank you, darling,” she slurred with her Slavic accent. “I love the Mexican hor d’oeuvres and the margaritas.” She lifted up her empty glass.
“Requested by the man of the hour,” Gary nodded at Miles.
“Nice to see you, Brax,” Marzena held out her hand for Miles to touch it, just as she was slinking away to the bar. “It’s been such a long time.”
“Marzena, tell him to be nice to me tonight,” Gary teased. “I’m on his side.”
Marzena pouted on cue. “Don’t be too much of a meanie tonight, Brax. It’s still so early. Do whatever Gary wants, then come have a drink.”
Miles could tell that Marzena was already wasted. The last time he saw Marzena was after her messy, vicious divorce and her equally scandalous affair with Gary, who was retained as her husband’s real estate lawyer. Gary should have taken better care of her during the divorce, Miles thought as his eyes lingered on Marzena’s unbalanced gait. She always had a soft spot for crass, liquor drinking men. Miles steadied her with his hand before she finally pulled away from him.
Both men watched Marzena saunter back to the bar. Then, Miles flipped back to business. “Escalation at eight percent is bargain for them. I asked for thirteen.”
“Don’t be such a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, Brax. Olson is here to do the deal, and I can probably get him to nine. But he’s ready to sign, and the contract has the escalation set at eight. He’s been waiting for you the last fucking hour. If you blow up the deal tonight, all bets are off.”
Miles scanned the grand living room. He saw a group of laughing guests near the decorative champagne waterfall. Then, he saw her.
“What’s she doing here?” Miles said, accusatory.
“Gillian?” Gary countered, following his gaze. “She’s with them. I know you dropped her on her ass, but she’s still their broker on the deal. Plus, you know Gillian better than anyone. She’s a canine bitch—her jaws won’t open until her teeth meet.”
Miles surveyed the group—Don Olson, his wife, Annabelle, their lawyer, Wendell, and Gillian. Fucking son-of-a-bitch. Miles watched Gillian suddenly throw back her bleached blonde hair with grating laughter. He had come to hate that laugh. Slowly, he loosened his grip on Maribel’s hands. Plans were going to have to change. There was no way he was going to get the deal done with Gillian in the room, and there was no way he could leave Maribel alone at the party if he knew Gillian was circling like a shark, waiting for the perfect moment to sink her teeth into her. Miles searched the room for a safety net—Timothy. He was standing near Olson, talking to his lawyer. Timothy’s eyes lifted for a moment. Miles nodded him over. Timothy confirmed and graciously bowed out of the conversation and headed towards them. Timmy, Miles thought, he could always count on Timmy.
“Are you going to bring them over, or do I have to do everything myself?” Miles said to Gary, calculating his next four moves on the chessboard.
Gary smirked and stopped a server whisking by them with a tray of white wine glasses. He lifted up two glasses and passed them off to Miles and Maribel. “Take the edge of first. I’ll see if I can warm Olson up before getting you two in the same room.”
Gary stole a tray of hor d’oeuvres from another server, then swaggered across the room. Miles watched Gary greet Don Olson with fanfare, pulling off his sombrero and slapping his own backside like he was a rodeo rider. Gary could be such an asshole. Miles’ eyes fell on Gillian; she was already watching him. She gazed back at Miles with a nod from her margarita glass. Technically, he had already won. They both knew it. Olson was here to do his deal. But Miles knew Gillian better than that. She’d never let him have the final victory, and her searing feline gaze confirmed it.
Miles’ looked back at the flaming helix in the fireplace. His jaw flinched with agitation until he heard the familiar voice of one of his best friends.
“I must have the honor of meeting your gorgeous date.” Timothy immediately held out his hand to Maribel and introduced himself. “Timothy.”
“Maribel,” she smiled softly. Miles realized it was the first thing she had said all evening.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Timothy released her hand, then turned to Miles. “Gary didn’t think you would show. He accused me of not properly doing my job.”
“You can only manage my money, Timmy. You can’t manage me.”
“Well, that’s certainly true. I suspect your new lovely friend has learned that lesson as well.” Timothy’s eyes twinkled at Maribel. Miles watched him take in her natural beauty and grace. Even while
admiring his date, Miles still knew Timothy was a friend who he could always trust.
“Brax,” Gary abruptly called out across the room. “C’mon over here so we can draw swords and fight to the pain.”
“There you go,” Timothy nodded, sipping from his brandy. “Leave it to Gary to force all the enemies in one room, just to see how much blood they’ll draw.”
Miles peered over at Maribel and smiled with reassurance. “Five minutes, and then we’ll go outside to look at the stars,” he promised her. Then, he turned to Timothy. “Take care of her for me.”
“If she can handle you, Brax,” Timothy replied, “I’m fairly certain she can hold her own.”
Maribel smiled. Timothy was right. She wasn’t a child, and Miles knew Maribel could hold her own. He patted Timothy on the shoulder; nothing more needed to be said. Miles was here to do the deal, and then, he would celebrate the night with Maribel. He winked at her with affection before crossing the grand living room to join up with the Olson crowd.
His first priority was to isolate Olson. “Good evening, gentlemen. Nice to finally have a chance to meet face-to-face without the counter-productive meddling of our lawyers and brokers.” Miles shook Don Olson’s hand and kissed his wife on the cheek, but he was careful to exclude everyone else in the group from acknowledgement.
“Hey, that counter-productive meddling is called ‘negotiating,’” Gary corrected him.
“And I’m here to make sure that my client always knows all his options,” Gillian jumped in, anticipating Miles’ strategic maneuver to alienate her.
“I’m pretty sure at this stage in the game Olson doesn’t need his broker to act like his babysitter. That’s what Wendell is for…” Miles eyed Olson’s lawyer.
“If you think you’re throwing me out of my own house, Brax, you’ve clearly forgotten who has the key to the liquor cabinet.” Gary pulled out a small antique key from his vest pocket.
“I’m fine with just legal counsel,” Olson said with his Southern drawl, “so long as they keep their mouths shut and provide free Scotch.”
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