“Are you serious? That was one of the best moments of my life. I’m giddy. Good God, I had no idea it would be like this.”
“It wouldn’t be,” he said. “Not with just anyone.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Trust me.”
I caught my breath and kissed him on the lips. His face and his hair were sweaty. “I trust you, Alex. I hope you know what it means for me to say that. I don’t say it lightly.”
“I know you don’t. And I’m grateful for it. I’m falling for you, Jennifer.”
Please, don’t say it.
“You’re mine?” he asked.
That I could deal with. “You know I am. Why do you keep asking?”
“Because I need to make sure,” he said. “I don’t want you to go, regardless of what comes.”
“What’s going to come?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. I just need to know that you’re mine.”
I reassured him that I was, but even then, I knew that on some level, especially after today with the presence of his security detail, he was trying to protect me from something. From what, I didn’t know. But it scared me. Something was happening, and I had no knowledge of it or control over it. I held him close to me, and we just lay there, naked and spent, until we finally pulled ourselves together, dressed and left for the house.
* * *
Later that evening, after we had a dinner of tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, garlic, carrots and baby potatoes that were tossed in olive oil, roasted at a high temperature, and then tossed again with herbs from the farm stand, we relaxed in the living room, which faced the mountains and the ocean beyond.
Alex poured us each a glass of Pinot Grigio, and we enjoyed it in silence, watching the cars curve around Cadillac Mountain, but also lost in our own thoughts about what had been an unnerving and exciting day.
We started the day with a security detail I knew nothing about, we had a lunch that was fun despite the guard watching over us, and then we’d been together for our second time, this time fully out in the open on the beachfront Alex owned.
Twice that evening, Alex was called upon to join his security team outside. Each time he returned, he was filled with apologies, but no information as to what was happening. I didn’t engage him. If we were going to be a couple, this was a test. Eventually, he needed to tell me what was going on. I was waiting for him to do that.
But he didn’t that night.
When he was called outside a third time and offered no explanation when he left me, I was over it. I went upstairs to our bedroom, put on a tank top and some shorts, and went to sleep while he dealt with whatever it was he didn’t want me to know.
When he came to bed, I was aware of his presence when he quietly stepped into the room and removed his clothing. But when he slipped beneath the sheets, I began to breathe deeply in an effort to convince him that I was asleep and not to be bothered. I felt him kiss me on the shoulder, then on my neck. And then I felt him turn onto his side. He draped his arm over me and held me close, and I felt his affection. I wanted to turn and to kiss him goodnight, but I was too disappointed that he wouldn’t share with me what was an obvious situation.
Or was it?
I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness. Maybe this is just how he lived. I didn’t know. I felt confused. He was a billionaire. Was someone targeting him? Was that it? If that was it, was that normal for him? I just wished he’d come clean with me and tell me, even though I felt he was protecting me from the truth by saying nothing. Maybe, at this point in our relationship, he didn’t want me to know what his life really was like. Maybe he thought it would frighten me away.
So many maybes, I thought. Then I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
* * *
When morning came, so did bad news. We were headed back to Manhattan. For whatever reason, our trip to Maine had been cut short.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said when he told me we were leaving.
“Two days are better than none, I suppose.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
I decided it was time to go there. “I don’t understand. You’ve told me nothing. But something is going on. I’m no fool, Alex. I’m not going to pry into your life, just as I expect you not to pry into mine. But I was looking forward to spending a week with you. I’m not going to pretend that I’m not disappointed.”
“I apologize.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be happy to see Lisa and the new apartment. I need to proof her book, which is finished, and which I promised I’d do for her. I assume you’ll allow me to take these next five days off since we were going to take them off anyway?”
“Of course. If you need longer, you can have whatever time you need. I just hope you’ll see me during that time.”
“It depends on how quickly I can proof her manuscript. She means the world to me, and that’s one person I’ll never let down. But I’ll be finished in time to report to Wenn on schedule. At that point, I hope you’ve settled whatever issue you’re going through now.”
I knew what I said sounded cold, but I couldn’t help it at this point. He considered me his girlfriend. If something significant was happening, he should trust me enough to tell me what it was. Why he didn’t was beyond me.
And then I checked myself. This coming from a person who had major trust issues of her own? This coming from the person who wouldn’t verbally commit to being his girlfriend? Since I hadn’t committed, why should he share anything personal with me? Maybe he just wanted to keep it private for now, and then tell me later when things settled down. His life was bigger than mine. It always would be. I either needed to be fine with that, or, to be fair to both of us, I needed to fully commit to him or end this.
The latter wasn’t going to happen. I was too fond of him to let go now, so I just needed to suck it up and understand that his life with all of the complications that came with it was on a much higher level than mine. Dating Alex wasn’t going to be like dating someone who had a normal life. This was a completely different arena, and I needed to be prepared to either go with it gracefully—or bow out of it gracefully.
I opted for the former, and apologized to him.
An hour later, we were back on a plane to New York. He asked if I’d like to sit next to him. But I chose to sit in the seat across the aisle from him because I had a feeling that he’d rather be alone. I also needed to come to terms with what being with him was going to be like. Once I wrapped my head around that and accepted it, things would be easier.
Once we had lifted off, it was a silent trip home with neither of us engaging each other along the way. I kept my head lowered to my Kindle and attempted to read a new thriller, but I was too distracted to see the words on the page. I was trying to read a situation that was escaping me, and I was failing to do so. I glanced over at him a few times. His nose was buried in his laptop while he typed furiously. What was he writing? Who was he writing to? And what was going on now that caused us to leave five days early?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was mid-morning when we arrived at La Guardia, and despite it being September, the air nevertheless was humid when we departed the plane. Two men, whom I knew on sight were part of Alex’s security team, greeted us. Alex acknowledged them with a nod, but he didn’t speak to them. At least not in my presence.
We left the airport and stepped outside where a limousine was waiting to take us into the city. Two black Cadillac Escalades were parked behind the limo. I watched the two men step inside one of them, and the SUVs followed us as we pulled into traffic.
I didn’t comment on anything I saw. Instead, I removed my cell phone from my handbag and texted Lisa. “Home in 30.”
“If that was to Lisa, please give her my best.”
“I will when I get home.”
“I’ll make this up to you,” he said.
“T
here’s no need to.”
“Yes, there is.”
“We can talk about that at some other time.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
“But you’re distant.”
“I’m just disappointed.”
“Would you sit closer to me?”
I looked at him, and saw that he was at once distracted, tense and apologetic. Everything he was going through was reflected in his features, especially his eyes. How could I deny him? I scooted over to him and leaned my head against his shoulder, which had a calming effect I hadn’t expected. He put his arm behind my back and held me close. Physically, he was a strong man, which was one of the things that attracted me to him.
Strong and silent, I thought. Especially now.
When we crossed the bridge into Manhattan, I knew our time together was closing in, so I took his hand in mine and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful time,” I said. “Regardless of how brief it was, I’ll never forget it for many reasons.” I shrugged. “What can I say, Alex? Being with you spoiled me. I wanted those five extra days with you. I won’t apologize for that. I loved being with you. It’s that simple.”
“I wanted them as much as you did. When can I see you again?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“Call me when you have things under control, or I’ll see you at Wenn on Monday morning. We can always talk at night.”
When we approached my apartment on Fifth, the car pulled to the left and I looked up through the window at my beautiful new home. I stepped out when the car stopped, and without looking back at Alex when he reluctantly released me from his embrace, I walked across the busy sidewalk with my handbag slung over my shoulder. I gave the doorman a little wave with my fingers when he opened the door for me, and with a heavy heart that now was unexpectedly filled with sadness, confusion and longing, I disappeared from Alex’s sight.
* * *
To my delight, Lisa was waiting for me in the lobby. When she saw me, she leaped out of one of the stylish chairs in the center of the cavernous space and hurried over to me. It had only been a couple of days, but I’d missed her terribly, and we hugged each other fiercely when we had crossed the distance between each other.
“So much for a week,” she said.
“So much for a week,” I sighed.
“Are you all right?”
“We’ll talk upstairs. Not here. Is it too soon for a martini?”
“Girl, please.”
“I can’t wait to see what you’ve done to the place. If I know you, it’ll be perfection.”
She started to speak, but hesitated. I knew her too well not to catch that look. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
“There isn’t a problem. At least, I don’t think there’s a problem. You’ll be the judge of that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Pretty much everything you’re about to see? It wasn’t me.”
I pressed a button for one of the elevators and looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“Let’s just say you’re not going to believe it when you see it.”
“Alex,” I said.
“Who else?”
“He had the place decorated for us, didn’t he?”
“Um, yeah. You could say that. You also could say that’s an understatement.”
* * *
When we entered the apartment, it was like entering another space—one I didn’t recognize from the last time I was here when the penthouse was empty.
Lisa and I walked from room to room, and I just took it all in, knowing that he’d done it out of kindness, and also knowing that I’d never be able to keep him from extending his generosity. To his core, that’s who he was. As difficult as it was for me to accept it, I needed to learn to accept it and appreciate it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Look at these Persian rugs.”
“Real.”
“And these paintings. I love the way they pop against the gray walls.”
“Real.”
I moved into the dining room and saw a clutch of sunflowers sitting in a unique vase I recognized on sight. Seeing the sunflowers was enough to make me catch my breath because of the message they sent after Alex and I had purchased sunflowers ourselves at the farm stand on the Point. The vase was another treasure. “I know why the sunflowers are here, but this vase is ridiculous. It’s Lalique. It’s their Bacchantes vase. It’s one of their most celebrated pieces. And it looks as if it’s antique.”
“That’s because it is. Rene himself signed it. I checked the bottom when it arrived. His name is carved there.”
“That’s worth a fortune.”
“What isn’t? Have a look around. And by the way, what’s the significance with the sunflowers?”
“We bought sunflowers at a farm stand on the Point, but that was just yesterday. When did these arrive?”
“This morning.”
Oh, Alex.
“Come look at your bedroom.”
We went to it, and found that apparently I now had a massive, king-sized sleigh bed crafted in deep mahogany and covered with rich, glorious bedding that complemented the light green walls and the maple flooring.
I stepped into the room, looked around, and noticed that on the nightstand to the right side of my bed—where Alex knew I slept—was a black-and-white photograph of him framed in silver.
It was a portrait of him wearing a tuxedo, which he knew I loved him in, so even this was intentional.
What I was witnessing wasn’t just some random designer coming in here and taking control with his or her own vision and tastes. Somehow, at some point, Alex had designed much of this with me in mind. He must have directed as much of this as he could from Maine, though I wasn’t sure when or how. Had he done it late at night when I was asleep? Or that morning I slept so late? Did he order the sunflowers from the plane when he was on his computer? It didn’t matter. There were too many personal touches throughout the apartment to be just something he dumped money into without giving it serious thought. I felt touched by the gesture. I felt guilty for walking away from him so cooly a moment ago.
“You need to see my bedroom,” Lisa said.
We went to it. It was beautifully finished, but what she brought me to was the movie poster of the original version of “Dawn of the Dead.” The director, George A. Romero, had signed it, and it featured a massive zombie head rising in the background. It was an original, probably bought at auction, and he’d had it framed.
“Can you believe it?” she asked.
“Are you going to be able to sleep with that thing in here?”
“Girl, please.”
I looked at the poster, which was on the wall to the left of her bed, near the window, and I admired it not only because of what it meant to Lisa, which was a great deal, but because of what it represented. He was acknowledging that this was Lisa’s and my home. By giving her this poster, he’d gone out of his way to make sure that we both knew that he knew that.
“So, I have to ask you,” I said. “Did a certain person oversee this?”
She smiled at me.
“Blackwell?” I asked.
“The legend herself.”
“You know, when I first met her, I didn’t like her. She was really rude, dismissive and caustic with me. But things have changed. Time and again since then, she’s gone out of her way for me.”
Lisa looked carefully at me. “She’s paid to.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
She thought about that for a moment, and then reconsidered. “Actually, that was pretty cynical of me. We all had a fine time looking at this apartment. And then we had a great lunch and a fun conversation, which was loose and freewheeling, but not fake. Though I have to say that she is venomous if you eat anything other than salad.”
“Tell me about it. But she is who she i
s, and I kind of love her for it. She’s a straight shooter. We both appreciate that. She did a great job here.”
“Over a two-day period, she put about thirty hours into what you see. She was tireless. At one point, I think there must have been twenty people in here. She was on the phone a lot, too. I think she was speaking to Alex.”
“I know she was,” I said.
* * *
“Martini?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
In the living room, I fell into a chic, comfortable sofa. Beyond the massive expanse of windows was the Park. At this height, the view made you pause and realize that in this city, there was a greater design that you didn’t necessarily see from the street. The trees—still green here even though they had begun to turn in Maine—were magnificent. I wondered how any of this could be. For months, we’d lived in a shitty little prison camp of an apartment on East Tenth Street, and now we were in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue. It didn’t make sense to me, but I was grateful for it.
Within days, I’d also need to earn it.
Lisa came out of the kitchen with two martini glasses filled with what Russians called their “dear little water,” which, in this case, was coddled with olives and vermouth. We touched glasses, Lisa sat next to me, and we sipped.
“I know this is selfish, but I’m glad you’re home.”
“Miss me?”
“More than you know.”
“I missed you, too. More than you know.”
She looked slyly at me. “What else are you missing?”
“If you’re talking about my virginity, it’s history.”
“I knew it! Spill.”
I told her everything.
“You did it on the beach?”
“We did.”
“But you could have been caught.”
“It was a private beach.”
“Who are you?”
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