by Claire Adams
“Lilah, could you please stand up,” he said, looking at me.
I hesitated, and he nodded to encourage me. I pushed myself up on shaky legs and tried to hide the fact that my hands were trembling from the rush.
“Please, let’s give the savior of the Harry Winston campaign a hand!” he shouted. “She deserves it!”
The room erupted in a thunderous bout of applause. I was a little embarrassed to be in the spotlight and the experience had me fighting back tears of joy. Thankfully, I managed to keep my emotions in check.
“Well done, Lilah, well done!” Asher exclaimed. “Is there anything you'd like to say?”
“I . . . I just want to thank everyone on the team,” I managed to utter. “I can’t take all the credit for this. I honestly couldn't have done it without you guys. And without your support, Mr. Sinclair. Thank you for believing in me.”
Everyone applauded again and I sat down, a little light-headed from all the adrenalin flowing through my veins.
“That's all, ladies and gents,” Asher said as the applause died down. “You can head back to your offices now. Enjoy the rest of your Friday afternoon, and have a great weekend! I'll see you all on Monday.”
Everyone got up out of their chairs and started shuffling out of the room. I waited until they had left, leaving Asher and I alone in the room. I walked up to him, smiling from ear to ear.
“It worked. It really worked, Asher. It really worked!”
“I knew it would. I knew you could do it.”
“Thank you for having faith in me and trusting in my abilities.”
“I know talent when I see it, Lilah,” he replied. “And, you've got boatloads.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to celebrate later tonight with a drink?”
Had my defenses not been down in that moment of elation, I might have been able to think clearly, but all logic and reason had flown out the window the moment I saw the sales numbers.
“I'd love that,” I replied.
“Excellent,” he beamed. “I'll message you later to make arrangements.”
***
As I was applying my eyeliner, it hit me: I'd made a promise to myself to keep my distance from Asher, to keep things professional. Yet there I was, putting on makeup and acting like a nervous high schooler, trying to decide which cocktail dress and heels to wear to the jazz lounge we had agreed to go to.
“You let your guard down. In that moment of happiness, you became so overwhelmed that you were weak! You totally let your emotions get the better of you,” I scolded myself in the mirror.
The battle was getting harder and harder to fight. But, since the joy of my success had started to wear off, my logical and rational mind started to make a strong comeback.
I couldn't do it—not yet. I just couldn't.
I dropped my eyeliner into my makeup bag and picked up my phone.
I knew what I had to do.
Hi, Asher. I hope you haven't left your place yet. I'm really sorry, but I've suddenly started to feel a little under the weather. I think it may have been the seafood I had earlier. I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to call off drinks for the evening. Looks like I'm going to be spending most of the weekend at home.
I sat down on the edge of my bathtub and put my head in my hands. I wasn’t overly pleased with myself over what I had just done, but sometimes you had to do unpleasant things to remain in control of yourself and your feelings.
My phone buzzed a minute or two later. He had replied.
Oh no, Lilah, I'm really sorry to hear that. I could come over to your place and just chill if that would be easier for you?
I typed out a quick reply, feeling terrible but knowing that it had to be done.
Thanks for the offer, but it's fine—I really prefer to be alone when I’m sick. See you on Monday.
And with that, I turned my phone off and started running a bath.
Chapter Eleven
Asher
I'd been really looking forward to having a few drinks with Lilah. Not because I had any expectations that a few drinks might loosen our inhibitions and ultimately something would happen between us again, but simply to enjoy her presence, her conversation, and the feeling of being myself around her.
Not to mention, I did want to celebrate. Her Harry Winston campaign ideas had performed phenomenally well, and I was incredibly proud of her. It was kind of obvious that she was overwhelmed at her own success and the excitement I’d seen in her eyes was something I'd wanted to share with her.
Yet, despite her keenness in that moment, her enthusiasm seemed to have not only faded, but disappeared entirely by the time the evening rolled around.
I'd put on one of my favorite suits and had even gotten my grandfather's cufflinks out. It had been as Alfred was warming up the Lamborghini for me that I got the message from Lilah cancelling our plans.
She'd claimed she was sick, but I had my doubts. It felt far more like she was searching for an excuse to get out of the evening. And while I wanted nothing more than to spend time with Lilah, I wasn't going to sit at home and mope about it. In fact, I was going to take the Lamborghini out regardless. And, I wasn't going to do it alone.
A man can only be rejected so many times before he starts thinking of other options.
I took out my phone and started looking through my contacts. One name immediately sprang out: Angeline. Twenty-three, blonde, and drop-dead gorgeous.
She was a young actress who had just started to break into Hollywood—and she had been very, very interested in me for quite some time. I messaged her.
Hey, Angeline, it's been a while! How's everything? If you're not busy tonight, I'm taking my Lamborghini out for a spin. I know how much you like supercars, so if you're free, you're welcome to come along for a drive.
I didn't have to wait very long for an answer; the phone buzzed about ten seconds after I hit the send.
Hey, Asher! Awesome 2 hear from u! I'm IN!
I typed out a hasty reply.
Pick you up from your place in half an hour?
The reply arrived almost instantly.
Perfect! See u soon... u handsome devil ;)
I didn't smile. I simply straightened my tie in the mirror and buzzed my butler.
“Sir?”
“Is the Lambo warmed up?”
“The engine is at optimal operating temperature, sir.”
“Good. I'm coming down.”
***
We were cruising along the Pacific Highway, enjoying the drive. The moon was full and, to our left, the Pacific was rolling in and crashing against the cliffs below, looking like a great sea of mercury in the bright silver light. I glanced across at Angeline, who smiled flirtatiously at me. She was dressed in a flimsy, red cocktail dress that left little to the imagination.
“Thanks for taking me out,” she said. “This is such a gorgeous car.”
“It's one of my favorites in my collection,” I said.
“You got any music in it?”
“Music? You're supposed to be enjoying the sound of that beautiful, Italian motor!” I joked.
“I know, I know,” she laughed, “but hey, I need something with a beat!”
“There's a USB stick in the glove compartment that's got a bunch of music on it. Stick that in and see if there's anything you like on it. The list of tracks will come up on the media player display screen.”
“Cool.”
She reached into the glove compartment and took out the USB, which she then plugged into the car's media system. She started browsing through the tracks.
“The Razor's Edge? Who's that?” she asked, pausing on the one band I hadn’t expected.
A sudden flush of uncomfortable heat rippled through my body at the mention of the band. Immediately, thoughts of Lilah started to run through my head.
“Um, they're just a band I liked as a teenager. I don't even know why that's on there. Skip that, I don't feel like listening to that stuff
now.”
“Oh, all right. Wow, you've got a lot of jazz and classical on here. Don't you have any new stuff? Skrillex? David Guetta?”
“Not really my cup of tea, I'm afraid.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Uh, if you want, you can go onto YouTube and play music from there. This system is hooked up to the internet.”
“Oh, wow! Cool. I’m sure I'll find some tracks I like there.”
As she searched YouTube for songs to play, a creeping feeling of guilt and doubt started digging its claws into me, probing and pulling beneath my skin. What was I doing? Why was I doing this? Was it some cheap, petty attempt at revenge after being ditched by Lilah? Despite how physically beautiful the woman next to me was, I wasn’t attracted to her in any way other than the most basic of levels. Try as I might, I could not get thoughts of Lilah out of my mind most of the night. I’d been trying to fool myself, but continuing with this farce was pointless.
A quick assessment of the road ahead confirmed that it was empty aside from us. Without warning, I yanked up the handbrake and spun the car around in a 180 degree turn, smoking and screaming the tires, and throwing Angeline violently back into her seat.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked, the blood draining from her face with shock. “What the hell did you do that for?!”
“Sorry,” I said calmly and flatly. “I've just remembered something extremely urgent at work that I absolutely have to get back to. There's no way I can put it off any longer. Sorry for cutting the evening off so quickly, but I have to do this.”
“I, uh . . . Well, all right then,” she said, clearly upset.
We drove the remainder of the distance to her apartment in silence. When I dropped her off, all she said was a listlessly mumbled, “Bye.”
I didn't care. I shut the door behind her and roared off toward home.
***
A dry, sticky mouth and a splitting headache aren’t exactly the most pleasant ways to wake up. Drinking a ridiculous amount of whiskey after I returning from my failed attempt at a revenge date hadn’t been the smartest idea I’d ever had. It had, however, calmed me down and temporarily quieted all the warring thoughts in my mind.
I heaved myself out of bed and started to mentally prepare for the morning's rigorous workout, after which I would head in to the office. It was Saturday, yes, but I wanted to work. It would keep my mind sharp, focused—and off certain things. A certain person, I suppose I should have said.
I spent the morning working out and sweating my hangover away, although, try as I might with exercise, nutrition, and rehydration, the headache wouldn't go away. I hated taking medication and would only do it as a last resort, but at the moment it seemed as if popping a few pills was the only way I'd be able to get any respite from the dull, persistent throbbing in my skull.
I asked my chauffeur to drive me to the office as I was in no mood to deal with the city traffic myself. Once there, I immediately started getting to work on the new campaign for VIV Perfume—the project I'd met with Anton about in France. This was going to be a challenge, as it would require a lot of in-depth research into French markets and consumer behaviors in the fields we were trying to market the perfume to. Luckily, exhaustive and obsessive research was my thing—there was nothing like a good challenge to get me going and get my mind mentally focused.
I managed to get several hours of solid research in before my concentration started to falter. I stood from my desk, did a few stretches, and then stood at the windows looking out over the expansive view of the city that stretched to the edge of the horizon. The sun was sinking low in the sky, but there were still a few hours of daylight left. I decided to go for a walk and get a quick bite to eat before returning to the office.
As I was walking out of the building, my phone buzzed. I took it out of my pocket and was surprised to see a message from Lilah. I opened it and read it with eager eyes.
Hi, Asher. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I'm sorry if I came off as a bit defensive or standoffish. I just wasn't feeling too great. However, I'm actually feeling a bit better now. What are you up to?
A broad smile crept over my face. Maybe she wasn’t as disinterested as I’d thought. Maybe she really had been feeling bad the night before and I jumped to conclusions. Maybe. Only one way to find out. I typed out a reply.
No worries. I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. I'm actually at the office working on a new campaign, the one for the French company VIV Perfume. You don't happen to know much about the French perfume market, do you? I've been researching all afternoon and trying to brainstorm ideas. Let me know if you have anything that might help save my brain. Hope you're enjoying your Saturday!
I strolled along the bustling streets, enjoying the hustle bustle of weekend pedestrian traffic; it was strangely calming, this moving sea of strangers. After a few minutes, I got a reply from Lilah.
As it so happens, one of my college friends has been living in Paris for the last five years, and she works in the fashion industry. I'm sure there's a good crossover with the perfume market somewhere in there—I could arrange a Skype conference call with her, if you'd like? We could pick her brain and probably gain some valuable insight into the market. What do you think? I can come in to the office later; I don't have any plans.
My smile broadened as I read her reply. Hopeful optimism, coupled with inspiration, began spreading throughout my body.
“Well, suddenly this weekend isn't looking so bad after all,” I said to myself. “Not looking too bad at all.”
I responded with:
I'll be at the office all afternoon and evening. Come on in whenever you're ready. See you later :)
Chapter Twelve
Lilah
Some of the guilt I'd been feeling since the previous evening began to alleviate. Even though I’d tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had acted, quite frankly, a little selfish and had let my own fears get in the way the night before—characteristics that were usually alien to me.
I'd made assumptions about Asher's motivation for taking me out to celebrate. It was an immature move and after some thought and an evening of beating myself up over it, I decided I had been too harsh on him. I mean, did I really expect him to buy the lame ass excuse about not feeling well?
My guilty conscience was wreaking havoc on me. I had to not only make it up to him, but give him a chance to prove that his wanting to spend time with me was not solely motivated by a desire to replay the drunken evening that ended with more than a handshake between colleagues. He deserved the chance to prove me wrong out of professional respect, and as a friend.
Of course, I couldn't deny the chemistry was there between us—but to reduce his desire to spend time with me to solely that, seemed like I had been blowing things a little out of proportion.
So I texted him and opened up the option to spend time with him—with the pretext being that of a professional context. Although it wouldn’t be a typical day at the office if we'd be the only ones there.
He'd come across as rather eager to follow up on my suggestion of Skyping my friend Alicia in Paris so, as soon as I finished reading his reply, I sent her a message asking if she was available to chat in a couple of hours. When she responded that she was, I got ready to go in to the office.
***
It was late in the evening when I walked into the building. It was weird being there on a weekend. The space which was normally bustling with activity and crowded with people was empty and most of the lights were out. It was almost like being in an entirely different building. I went straight through to Asher's office and knocked on the door.
“Lilah?” came a muffled but familiar voice from within.
I pushed the door open a little and stuck my head in. “Hi, Asher,” I replied.
“Come on in,” he insisted.
I complied. Asher was sitting in his chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head and his feet up on his desk. I couldn't help but laugh.
&nb
sp; “Hard at work or hardly working?” I asked with a cheeky grin.
“Hey, I'm not a machine,” he replied, “even though I'm not far off from one! I've gotta kick back sometime, you know.”
“I see this. The man isn’t quite the myth the buzz around town makes you out to be, huh?” I chuckled. “I'm just kidding.”
“I know, I know. Come on in, have a seat.”
I walked in and took a seat across from him, staring over his huge desk at him for a few moments before speaking. The subtle light of his office only enhanced how attractive he was. I was finding it hard to keep my eyes off of him.
“So, your friend in Paris is ready to have a chat with us, right?”
“She is. She's waiting for us right now, actually.”
“Well, then, let's not keep her waiting any longer, shall we? Let me fire up the projector and the quadrophonic sound system. You brought your notebook, right?” he said, eyeing the carrying case I had placed in my lap. “Just hook it up to these cables, and we can get things rolling.”
We proceeded to make the call and chatted with Alicia for nearly an hour, taking notes as she responded to our questions. At the end of the call, Asher asked her for her address.
“I'm going to arrange a little something to be sent to you as a thank you gift for everything you've helped us with,” he said.
“Thanks so much! That’s very kind of you,” Alicia replied after giving him her address. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Sinclair, and it was great to catch up with you, Lilah,” she said to me. “Call me soon. You still need to come visit!”
“I will do that. Thanks again for your help, Ali. Bye,” I said, and then we cut off the call.
“Well, well, well,” Asher gushed. “That was some excellent insight into the market there. I think we've got a lot we can work with—although plenty of research is still going to have to be done to really get into the meat and bones of this. Still, we've got plenty of time to work on it. I'm hoping you'll be able to do as stellar a job on this project as you managed to do on the last one.”