At the Brink

by Anna del Mar

  “Lily, you’re not going to believe this,” he said without preamble. “I’m in Ohio. Lane sent a whole team to revamp the project as well as a group of technical advisers who’ll be working on the prototypes.”

  I could tell he was on a high and although I didn’t like Martin much these days, I was glad for him. After a quick side glance, I lowered my voice. “How long do you think it will take?”

  “To fix the prototypes?” Martin said. “I can’t say for sure, but I’ll try to make it as fast as possible. You’ll blink and your ordeal will be over.”

  Like I believed anything he said.

  “This is going to be worth it,” Martin said. “But we must all continue to put our best foot forward. Everything hinges on you, Lily. Buy me the time I need, and we’ll be set for life.”

  Martin was a bucket full of clichés, ignoring the fact that we had no future together, and I wasn’t up to listening to his pep talk.

  “I have to go,” I said. “Good luck with the prototypes.”

  “Please him,” Martin said. “No matter what you have to do, regardless of how crass or disagreeable, do what he wants. Satisfy all his cravings. Whatever suits his fancy, do you hear me Lily? Whatever he wants—”

  I hung up. No matter what you have to do. Easy for Martin to say. I gritted my teeth. My hands fisted and my nails dug into my palms.

  Josh grabbed the phone from me and pitched it out the car window. “All better,” he said.

  “My cell!” I groaned, watching through the back window as the cars behind us ran over it and smashed it to pieces. “Why did you do that?” I slumped on my seat. “It had all my numbers!”

  “The cell I gave you has my number. That’s all you need.”

  Really? Like my world didn’t matter beyond his?

  Before I could protest, the car arrived at a private marina. At the end of the dock, an attendant waited with the keys to a sleek power boat. The white letters at the back of the black boat proclaimed it as the Vagabond.

  Josh claimed the keys, tossed his messenger bag on the back seat, hopped onto the deck and helped me into the gleaming hunk of a boat.

  “Sit here.” He grabbed a life vest from under the seat, clipped it on me and adjusted the straps to make it snug.

  I felt ridiculous. “I can swim a little.”

  “A little is not enough.”

  He turned the baseball cap around on his head and switched on the ignition. The motor growled like an irritated lion. The attendant undid the ropes and off we went, heading east. The boat’s integrated GPS beeped as it came online. Josh punched in coordinates into the navigation system and pushed on the throttle. The engine roared and we flew across the strait, skimming over the sea. Behind us, the sun’s flaming ball dunked toward the horizon.

  Josh was clearly familiar with the route and comfortable piloting the boat. He could’ve been a model for a sporting magazine. There was something irresistible about him, his confidence, looks, attitude, the way he glanced at me every once in a while with that greedy expression on his face.

  Was I really going to go through with this?

  A warm wind buffeted my face as we raced the sunset. The sun splashed the sky with astonishing colors. The light toyed with the world, altering the scenery by the minute. I ached to capture the changing light on canvas.

  The island ahead of us grew from distant coastline into a looming paradise. We steered away from the main channel. After a while, the roads and buildings grew sparse, substituted by long stretches of uninhabited island, deserted beaches and rocky cliffs.

  “Where is everybody?” I shouted over the motor’s roar.

  “Two thirds of the island is designated as national park land,” Josh shouted back.

  We were in the most remote and isolated part of the island. The fears I had so successfully harnessed began to break free once again. Josh must have recognized them.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.”

  Famous last words.

  And yet not even my fears could keep me from appreciating the view as the power boat slowed down and Josh maneuvered it across a stunning bay and into a smaller cove. By then the sun had set and the tropical night had arrived, along with the moon’s discreet glow, which softened the island’s profile, imbuing the darkness with a magical quality and the ocean with a silver gleam.

  The powerful engines quieted then went silent as we docked next to a small beach. I spotted a few faint lights embedded on the hill beyond. The air smelled sweet and fragrant with hints of jasmine, lemon and fresh grasses. I took off the lifejacket. Josh grabbed his messenger bag, climbed out of the boat and offered me a hand.

  I had a mind to drive away in the power boat. I had an image of me, fleeing across the ocean at top speed. My enthusiasm fizzled out when I looked into Josh’s stare. I’d already invoked the notion of running earlier today and his expression made it clear he was in no mood to tackle all of that again.

  Our feet clapped on the dock. I followed Josh onto a pebbled path that took us across the beach, through a grove of coconut trees and up rock-carved stairs to a travertine stone deck surrounding a glowing infinity pool.

  “This way.” Josh walked up the steps that led us to the main house, an elegant construction of polished dark woods and high ceilings, surrounded on three sides by an ample terrace with spectacular views of the cove and the bay.

  I leaned over the veranda to appreciate the scenery. At the horizon, the starred sky collided with the ocean’s dark mass.

  “Wow,” I said. “What a view.”

  I looked into the house. The open plan included a chef’s kitchen, a dining area with a glass table set on a spectacular driftwood pedestal and an expansive living room furnished with silky white couches. The place was stunning in every way, a little too symmetrical and monochromatic for my taste, but stunning nevertheless. Every detail spoke of workmanship and quality, including the high beams buttressing the wood-shingled roof and the carved mahogany veranda.

  “Beautiful,” I said. “But if most of the island is national park, how did you manage to get this place?”

  “I searched hard and I was lucky,” he said. “The property was one of a few parcels grandfathered in for construction prior to the park’s existence. Since it can’t be reached by land, buyers’ interest was low. But to me, isolation was the property’s best feature.”

  “Was the house already here?”

  “No,” he said. “I built it.”

  “You mean you had it built?”

  “No, I mean I built it, with my own two hands. I had help, of course, but for the most part, I did the work. Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

  I had an image of Josh, far away from his office and his suits, marooned on this isolated stretch like Robinson Crusoe, stripped down to his waist, lugging lumber up the hill. It wasn’t congruent with what I knew about him and yet it seemed entirely plausible.

  Following another trail off the main house, we crossed a small ridge and climbed to yet another bungalow. “This is where I bunk.” He dropped his case by the door. “I like to keep my rack private...from everyone.”

  “No problem.” I knew exactly where I stood.

  We climbed a final set of stairs to arrive at a third bungalow. It stood higher on the ridge, commanding imposing views.

  “This is where you’ll stay,” Josh said, opening the door.

  I’m not sure what I expected, but I was relieved when I stepped into the bungalow. It was a spacious room, nicely appointed with a stunning Balinese bed opposite the balcony, an oversized stuffed chair and an ottoman in the corner. A massive antique travel trunk stood below the window. The room was as simple, rustic and elegant as the rest of the main house.

  “Okay?” he said.

  “Fine.”

&nbs
p; “By the look on your face, you were expecting a dungeon.”

  I blushed.

  “Don’t look away from me.” He turned my chin toward him. “I really like your eyes.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips. “You’ve got twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes for what?” I said, reeling from the contact.

  “To unwind and get ready,” he said. “I want you down at the main house in twenty minutes. Wear the violet dress.” With that, the door shut and he was gone.

  For a moment, I just stood there, trying to figure out what he meant. I approached the closet’s door with trepidation. Inside the walk-in closet, several dresses hung on evenly spaced cedar hangers. Orderly stacks of folded clothing lay on the upper shelves. On the lower shelves, I spotted a tidy row of shoes. I opened one of the drawers and shut it quickly, but I caught a glimpse of the intimates stored there.

  My heart raced. There was a month’s worth of new clothes in the closet. How long did he expect to have me around?

  I went into the bathroom to answer nature’s call but stayed afterward to gawk. It was lavish by any account. An enormous steam shower presided over a corner, opposite to a free standing stone bathtub carved from a single piece of white onyx and positioned on a balcony overlooking the cliffs. A long travertine counter flanked the modern sinks. The shelves were stuffed with towels and any toiletry I might need in the next hundred years.

  It was really too much.

  The woman in the mirror looked lost, bewildered and overwhelmed. The world seemed to turn on the axis of Josh Lane’s finger.

  My phone rang, startling me out of my nearly catatonic state. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where it was. Purse. Bed. It had rung a good seven times by the time I found it at the bottom of my bag.

  I squeaked. “Yes?”

  “You’re late.”

  Where had my twenty minutes gone?

  “Well?” he said.

  “Time just got away from me,” I said. “I seem to be having trouble functioning here.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No, please, no need,” I said. “I think I’m okay, but I haven’t dressed yet.”

  “If you’re not down in fifteen, I’ll come get you,” he said. “And Lily? Your phone rang nearly eight times. Keep it close by. I won’t tell you again.”

  The line went dead.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm the upheaval in my belly. He really excelled at giving orders. I didn’t like the way I felt, insubstantial, inconsequential, tentative. I didn’t like the way I looked either, drained, disheveled and frail.

  The threat of him coming over propelled me into action. I stepped into the shower. It was bigger than the entire bathroom in my apartment. I had a little trouble figuring out the settings, but ended up luxuriating under a combination of rain, spray and therapeutic massage jets. Selecting from a basket full of luxurious bath products, I washed my hair with a lavender scented shampoo and lathered up in a eucalyptus gel capable of resuscitating the dead.

  The shower renewed both my strength and my mercenary zeal. Wrapped in a fluffy white towel, I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair. There must have been a least ten different types of toothbrushes and hair brushes in the drawers. I took a moment to apply some lip gloss that I found in a case of brand new makeup. Making quick use of the blower, I dried my hair and let it hang loosely over my shoulders.

  Picking out underwear from the drawer was difficult because all the sets were shockingly racy. I wasn’t used to wearing stuff like that. I stared at some of the panties. Surely they were meant for Barbie rather than me.

  In the end, I decided by color rather than style, choosing the violet set that matched the only violet dress in the closet. It was a sleeveless little number with a scooped neck and a low back, made of bamboo jersey. It felt like silk against my skin. I slipped on some espadrille sandals I found in the closet and made my way down the stairs to the main house.

  Josh stood on the veranda, grilling a couple of small filets and a pile of vegetables. He wore a pair of loose drawstring pants and a gray T-shirt that showcased his lean body and broad shoulders. For a man who had no capability to unwind as far as I could tell, he looked almost relaxed. But any lightness I might have imagined fled from his expression when he saw me.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  He looked famished. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. No man had ever looked at me like that. No woman either, but that was beside the point. All that chemistry hit me like a tsunami. I had to take a deep breath to control the sensations coursing through my body. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get chewed, swallowed and spat out before dinner.

  He brought two full plates to the table and filled my glass with wine, something oaky, deep and delicious that complemented the steak. I found myself making steady progress with the meal, even though my belly had been flip-flopping all day. When I next looked up, Josh was staring at me.

  Uh-oh.

  I wasn’t hungry anymore, but I played with my food, trying to think of ways to delay the inevitable.

  “You’re a good cook.” I waved my fork in the air. “How do you manage all this?”

  His stare steeled. “Is that really what you want to talk about right now?”

  I gulped even though I had no food in my mouth. It was clear that he had no interest in casual conversation, but I needed more time to work up my courage and settle my nerves.

  “I’m just curious.” I said. “I know for a fact that you didn’t go to the store to get that steak or those vegetables. I also know that you weren’t here earlier to prepare this place for our arrival. I’m not even going to talk about the rest—the nursing home, the plane, the boat.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because this is all very exceptional to me,” I said, deflecting his impatience. “I’ve never met someone like you. You’re like magical Mr. Mistoffelees.”

  “Magical Mr. Mistoffelees?” He laughed, an authentic sound that made me smile. “No, Lily, there’s no magic to my life. It’s all about having the proper set ups, developing capabilities early on, organizing, having all the elements in place—people, resources, blueprints—anticipating the contingencies and then executing the plan at the right time.”

  “You sound just like a soldier.”

  “I suppose I still am.”

  “The most efficient man on the planet,” I said. “What about all those clothes in the closet?”

  “What about them?”

  “How did they get there?”

  “By boat?”

  “They’re new,” I said. “They fit me perfectly. They’re not left over...” I wanted to say that they were not left over from whoever preceded me, but the look he gave me was so forbidding I stopped midsentence.

  “If you have to know,” he said, “I had some time between the moment I received your email and when I went to work this morning. I ordered everything online and had it expressed to my agent, who brought it here. Curiosity satisfied?”

  There was something intriguing—and also disturbing—about knowing he’d picked out every piece of clothing I wore, down to my underwear.

  “Are we done with idle conversation?” he said. “Are you done delaying?”

  He had been onto me the entire time.

  He slid an envelope from beneath the placemat and pushed it over to me. “As required.”

  “Oh?”

  “Open it.”

  The envelope contained an official looking document. On further inspection, I almost choked.

  “Everything in order?” he said.

  I made a pretense of reviewing the date and the physician’s signature even though my eyes wouldn’t focus on the official health certificate I held between my hands.

  “Ready?” he sai
d.

  “No.”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed. “What now?”

  “I just want to clarify,” I said. “Having a conversation is not necessarily a waste of time. Sometimes it’s good for people to get to know each other before—um—you know.”

  The look he gave me set me on fire. “I already know you, Lily.”

  “You might know things on paper about me, but you don’t know anything else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Stuff, you know? Like what I like for a snack, or which kind of bagel I prefer, or what I do in my spare time, or what kind of ice cream I like.”

  “You like cheese and fruit for snacks,” he said. “You go to Olivetti’s for asiago bagels with salmon infused cream cheese on Sundays. You practice yoga, and your favorite ice cream flavor is—as my luck would have it—plain vanilla.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it. “How did you know?”

  He shrugged.

  “You did call off those people, right?”

  “As you requested.”

  “I guess they had already done the job?”

  “We’re an efficient outfit.”

  “You may have read a thorough report about me.” I stood my ground. “But I don’t have the benefits of ‘due diligence.’ I know nothing about you.”

  His brows bunched above his nose. “What do you need to know?”

  “Things,” I said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like where did you grow up, for example?”

  “My father was in the military,” he said. “We traveled a lot.”

  “Okay,” I said. “How old are you?”

  “Guess.”

  “Thirty-three?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  He looked younger, especially when he smiled, which wasn’t nearly often enough. “What do you do for fun?”

  “I work.”

  “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

  “Not plain vanilla, that’s for damn sure.”

  I blushed but I kept at it. “Don’t you have a hobby or something?”