Control

by Laura Marie Altom

  His raw question and his earnest, heartfelt stare caught me off guard.

  Worried or pissed?

  No—Liam wasn’t at all making me happy. He’d given me all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, yet still couldn’t put Ella back together again. My tears came fast and hot, raining in ugly rivulets down my cheeks.

  Willow bottomed up her drink. “For fuck’s sake, you’re such a drama queen.”

  “Fuck off, Willow.” Nathan pushed her out of the way.

  “Fuck you, Nathan! I flew you out here to play with me. She’s already got a boyfriend.”

  Did I? Because from where I stood, I had a ghost.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Nathan asked Willow. “I thought you were out here to give her moral support.”

  I couldn’t stop crying. And crying.

  “I am!” Willow said, “but why’s everything gotta be about her? Fuck both of you bitches! I just wanna dance…” She sloshed off, barefoot and wearing a long tie-dyed skirt and macramé halter. She’d become a walking hippie cliché. The pot cloud was so thick I could have gotten a contact high.

  Nathan pushed me back into my room and shut the door. “Got a bathroom? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” I swiped at my snotty nose. “I—I really am glad to see you.”

  “Aw, it’s good seeing you, too.”

  I led the way to the bathroom. In the time I’d been here, I’d grown used to the sunken tub that would fit twelve. The mosaic steam shower and endless vanity counter that looked lonely with only the few toiletries I’d picked up at a corner drugstore. The commode was tucked away in its own, private little room.

  He took a washcloth from a basket filled with carefully rolled mates in exotic colors—saffron and turmeric and ginger—soaking it under a hot water stream.

  “I came out here to party.” He laughed. “But this isn’t turning out like I expected.”

  “Sorry.” I’d hefted myself up to sit on the granite counter.

  He held out the cloth to me, and I pressed it to my flushed face, imagining Liam doing it for me, ever-so-gently wiping away my tears. But how could he do that when he’d caused them?

  Worried or pissed? Worried or pissed?

  “So seriously,” Nathan said, sitting beside me, “what’re you doing, Julie? I know we haven’t known each other all that long, but this is…” He took in the cavernous space. “This is whacked. Don’t get me wrong—like it’s a sweet setup, but no guy sets a chick up in a place like this for nothing.” He gave me a friendly nudge with his shoulder. “You sure his price isn’t going to be too high?”

  No. I wasn’t at all sure. Which was why I couldn’t stop crying.

  The worst of this was that I thought I could have handled Liam straight-up using me. To be so far removed, so safely clear of Blaine, was any price too high? The problem was that Liam had inched inside me, like water seeping into a rock, and I was afraid that if I had to endure his mysterious disappearing act much longer I might shatter. Gazing into my future without him, I felt hopeless, which was stupid!

  How did this even happen? I was a dead girl. Dead girls didn’t fall for guys—especially admittedly unobtainable guys. I groaned, pitching the washcloth at the tub, but I missed.

  Nathan hopped down to grab it, tossing it into the sink. “Know what you need?”

  “Shock treatment?” I managed a faint smile.

  “I was gonna say a few shots of your boyfriend’s pricey liquor, but maybe we should just get out of here and take a walk?” He held out his hand.

  I took it, holding on as I would have had I fallen overboard on stormy seas and Nathan’s hand was the only thing tethering me to my ship called Sanity.

  27

  Liam

  A morning view of the Sydney Opera House usually made me smile. Today, it only reminded me how far away I was from her.

  She’d called. I wanted to call her back. Hell—I should have. It was the decent thing to do. So what was stopping me?

  Fear.

  Of all the women I’d met, she was the only one who’d ever invaded my dreams. My first night here, I’d taken an Ambien, just needing to crash. I usually don’t have such vivid dreams, but on that night, I saw the two of us as if we starred in a movie on a screen—only I stood behind glass, watching myself. Ella and I and this kid were playing on some jacked-up school playground. Everything around us was post-apocalyptic gray. Only we were in color—along with the red swing this little girl rode back and forth on, pumping herself higher and higher. From behind the glass, I’d screamed at her to slow down or she’d get hurt. Ella and I just stood there laughing and applauding, oblivious to any danger. I woke to a horrifying vision of the kid flying, crashing into my protective glass, shattering it into pieces that attacked my eyes like winged razors.

  I’d slept like shit ever since.

  Groaning, rubbing my hands over my face, I completed my morning routine, and then packed, eager to finish this round of meetings, then get home. I felt as if I could literally die from missing her—a fact that terrified me far more than flying razor blades.

  I met Owen in the lobby café for a quick bite, then we headed to the offices we’d affectionately dubbed Zoogle South. The kid’s dog translation app turned out to be a sophisticated troll, but his programming skills were on par with anyone fresh out of Stanford. If he was this good self-taught, I couldn’t imagine how far he’d go with the right training. I sure as hell wanted him on my team when we found out.

  Through a siege of meetings, I forced myself to be still, working hard to maintain the appearance of interest.

  I’d agreed to tag along with Owen on this trip in the hope of distance providing clarity. All it had really done was make me all the more confused. How could I figure out why the girl affected me like this when I wasn’t with her?

  Once on the jet, I shut myself in the back cabin, taking more pills to sleep—hopefully enough not to dream.

  Stephanie eventually woke me with fresh-baked chocolate croissants and steaming coffee. “Good morning, Mr. Stone. The captain wanted me to let you know that it’s 4:48 a.m. local time, and we’ll be landing in thirty minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  She set my breakfast on the table across from me, along with a damp hot cloth. “Would you like anything else? An omelet? Juice?”

  “No, thanks.” I took the cloth, washing it over my face and neck.

  She smiled and left, closing the door behind her. I had standing orders to wake me thirty minutes out from wherever we were landing. Gave me time to get my head on straight.

  Upon landing, I wanted to go straight to her, but duty called. I ran by my Palo Alto house for a quick shower and change, then drove to the office, where Carol accosted me with a stack of files.

  “Next time you go rogue,” she snapped, “could you at least have the decency to let me know?”

  “I did.” I grinned, taking the pen she offered, signing documents on my way into what used to be my sanctuary but lately, felt more like a cage.

  “Two days after you’d gone. I was about to call out the National Guard.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Knowing you, it took all of ten minutes to find me.”

  “True. But that’s not the same as communicating with you.” She opened the blinds, letting in the soft morning sun.

  Was she watching the sun rise? For an instant, I closed my eyes, imagining her in the penthouse’s rooftop garden. But then that place felt too cluttered with other faces, so I moved Ella to the beach. Our beach. The place where I wanted to be with her now.

  I asked Carol, “How much do I have to do today?”

  She booted up my computer, then shrugged. “You’re the boss, so technically, you don’t have to do anything. That said, I recommend tackling at least the top three items on your list. After that, I’ll be happy to do some shuffling.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, dropping my briefcase alongside my desk. “Make it happen.”

&nb
sp; “Aye aye, Cap’n.” Her salute was corny as hell, but it made me smile. She was a good girl. Not the girl—but good, all the same.

  Was Ella the girl? Was I even prepared to give anyone top billing in my life? No.

  But maybe if I saw her, I would find flaws, which would then give me the rationale needed to exorcise her from my mind.

  28

  Ella

  I woke slowly. Fragile morning sun stroked the bed’s canopy and drapes into shimmering fairy wings that could transport me from this place. I still hadn’t heard from Liam. It had been eight days since we’d talked. Touched.

  Worried or pissed?

  The phrase was still in my head, caught in an endless loop.

  If he wasn’t hurt, the fact that he could do this incensed me beyond measure. While I couldn’t in any way define what we’d officially become, at the very least, I’d thought we were friends. Only friends didn’t abandon friends in cages—even the lovely gilded kind.

  I rolled over to find Nathan still sleeping. Nothing happened between us. It never would. I guessed he might have a thing for me, but I viewed him as a much-needed friend in a confusing time. We’d spent the night strolling through fog thick enough to dull the shadows and sounds, coating my new world in a dreamlike hush that calmed my frayed nerves and hid all of the city’s eccentricities I wanted to share with Liam. Gypsy fortune-tellers and guitarists playing on corners. Whole chickens hanging in steam-covered windows. Impeccably dressed nannies wheeling old-fashioned prams. Micro-communities camping in parks. This place was so much larger than anything I ever could have comprehended. There was so much I wanted to talk about. So many questions to ask. Instead, all he’d given me was gnawing silence and the constant worry about what I’d done wrong. And I hated that he had that power—no, I hated that I’d given him that power. That control. After what happened with Blaine, I’d sworn no man would ever have control over me.

  So what was I still doing here? Waiting for Liam to declare whether or not I was good enough for him to grace me with his royal presence? If I took a second to be real with myself, I knew he wasn’t sick or hurt. He was toying with me like a big cat after a hunt. All I was to him was prey. He’d caught me and was choosing to use me at his leisure. Carol had told me straight up what I was in for. So had Garrett, in his own twisted way.

  If I left right now with my five thousand, the mere fact that I was so far from Blaine put me years ahead of my previous escape plan. Liam might have thought he was in control, but if I left, who really had the upper hand?

  “What’s got you so deep in thought?” Nathan asked.

  I jumped, startled that he was even awake, let alone watching me.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached out to touch my brow.

  I nudged him away, scrambling out from under the covers. I knew he meant well, but I couldn’t be touched. I couldn’t stand for anyone but Liam to touch me, and right now, not even him.

  “Is he the one who has you scowling so early?”

  Unable to speak past the knot in the back of my throat, I nodded.

  “Anything specific?”

  I shrugged. “I knew what I was getting into. Now that I’ve got what I wanted”—to get away from Blaine—“I think it’s time I go.”

  “You’re just going to leave this cushy setup?”

  I drew a shuddering breath. “Yeah. I’ll find a cheap apartment. Get a job.” I forced a smile. “It’ll be fun.”

  —

  “You’re fucking kidding me!” Willow didn’t approve of my plan, and she sure didn’t think my idea to return to living on a budget sounded fun. She was in the midst of gorging herself on a stack of Olga’s to-die-for pancakes.

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” I’d already shoved my toiletries in my purse and was taking only the outfit on my back—the linen slacks and sandals Liam’s caretaker had bought for me and his sweatshirt. I wished I hadn’t left my own clothes and sneakers back at his beach house, but it wasn’t as if I could go back for them now.

  “Come on, Willow. Don’t be a bitch.” Nathan turned one of the kitchen table chairs around, then sat, resting his arms on the chair back.

  Willow wasn’t taking his abuse. “Don’t talk to me about being a bitch, when I paid your way out here with my own money.”

  “Money I gave you,” I said.

  She laughed. “Money earned on your back.”

  My palms itched from wanting to slap her. “For the record, I’ve never slept with Liam. And forget it. I don’t even want you with me.”

  I turned to leave.

  “Stay a little longer,” she shouted. “I’ve got a big party planned for tonight!”

  I kept on walking.

  Nathan followed.

  “Come on, guys! Just one more night! That’s all I’m asking!”

  I paused before actually leaving.

  Nathan asked, “Sure this is what you want?”

  I took a deep breath, then opened the imposing white doors, knowing I’d never be back. Whatever game Liam was playing, I was no longer interested.

  29

  Liam

  During my last meeting, I became a kid on the verge of being let out of school for summer vacation.

  I’d had a few good childhood years. The time before Dad discovered I wasn’t cut out to be a jock, and my mom had started taking pain pills to escape him. What a tidy little circle we’d all been in, running on a hamster wheel in a never-ending game of trying to get away from each other. Mom had had the last laugh. I’d been the one left crying. As for Dad, who the fuck cared?

  I left the office craving a sunshine high. I kept a half-dozen cars garaged on-site, leaving in whatever ride matched the day. Sunshine dictated a convertible, so I hopped in my Jag and put the top down.

  I couldn’t wait to see her.

  What would she be wearing? Had she done anything special with her hair? Where would I find her? Lounging in bed? Soaking in her tub? Watching a movie?

  The closer I got to town, the faster I drove.

  Just thinking about her made my chest feel full, as if I’d swallowed too much air. Why had I left? It had been a total dick move. But now, I was back. She’d understand. I’d take her to the beach this weekend and progress would be made on making her forget she’d ever been with anyone but me.

  And then?

  Well, I didn’t have an answer for that, but I was working on it. Instead of distance, I’d needed proximity. Lots of it.

  I was doing 90 on the 101 just past Candlestick Park when a cop pulled me over.

  I didn’t give a shit about the ticket, but was pissed at the intrusion on my time.

  Thirty minutes later, after dealing with the slowest cop in Cali history, I was back underway. I waited until the cop was out of sight before punching it again.

  In front of the building I’d bought five years earlier and had spent an ungodly amount on renovating, I left the Jag in the loading zone, tossing the keys to Kenny the doorman and removing my sunglasses to tuck them in my suit coat’s chest pocket. “Take her for a ride if she gets in the way.”

  “Will do, sir.” At six foot four, he did a great job of keeping away the riffraff. He had a wife and twin boys for whom I’d already set up a college trust.

  “Thanks.” I shot him a backhanded wave before next encountering Oscar, who’d been running the elevator since 1943. When his wife died, I’d paid for her funeral. It had been a lavish celebration of her life.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stone.” He never failed to greet me with a formal bow. “Penthouse?”

  “Yes, please. Ready to retire, Oscar? Say the word and there’s a condo waiting for you anywhere in the world.”

  We began our ascent. “You know I appreciate the offer, but I feel at home here with my Lucille.” They’d lived their entire lives in the basement apartment, and every time I checked on the renovations, she’d given me a plate of still-warm chocolate chip cookies. She’d passed not long after the building’s renewal
was completed. All she’d ever requested was a claw-foot tub. In return for her cookies and grandmotherly hugs, I’d given her that and every other conceivable luxury.

  “How do you know she wouldn’t like a vacation?”

  Oscar and I had grown adept at this game, but he still wasn’t biting. “I know my Lu, and she’d want to stay with her fancy tub.”

  “Fair enough.” We’d reached my floor and shook hands. He still wore his wedding ring.

  I couldn’t imagine what that must be like—being with the same woman for so long. But then Ella’s image drifted into my mind’s eye. Her shy smile, her blueberry eyes, her laugh, all made me hungry for the sort of nourishment I’d never before craved.

  Pulse on a runaway gallop, I wiped my damp palms on my thighs.

  I stood before the double doors. I owned the entire building, so why did I feel it would be appropriate to knock? Probably because it was the right thing to do. For the time she was here, this was her home. I wanted her to feel relaxed and comfortable and secure.

  I knocked, but then I also heard the throbbing bass of Korn. No doubt she couldn’t hear me. I knocked louder, but when there was still no answer, I went in.

  I loved this place. The design was loosely based on El Bahia Palace in Marrakech. My friends give me shit about me keeping my concubines here, but to my credit, I focus on one woman at a time.

  I entered, lingering a moment in the entry to allow my eyes time to adjust to the change in light. If I were brutally honest, I held back more to calm my runaway pulse. The thought of seeing her again was making me emotionally unsteady. I couldn’t breathe and wasn’t sure what to say. Obviously, I needed to play it cool, but how? I didn’t know the right approach. How to explain why I’d gone with Owen when even I barely understood the reason.

  Easing my way into the sky-lit courtyard, I followed the music trail, assuming I’d find her at its end. Korn transitioned to Metallica—not at all what I’d expected from Ella, but I could roll with her choices. A further walk led me to the garden, where sunshine reflecting off the bay prompted me to put my sunglasses back on. Damn, it was a gorgeous day. The pool was heated, and I hoped to find Ella lying beside it, preferably naked.