White Lies

by Jenny Lynn

  “This is a disaster,” Mark lamented as he looked back at the building. “An utter disaster,”

  “At least no one was hurt,” I assured him. He nodded but his eyes had taken on a vacant, glassy quality. We all stood on the sidewalk, staring at the door in disbelief as time passed, unsure what to do or where to go. I looked down and saw a dark bruise blooming on my leg from where I fell against the concrete steps. There was nothing to do but stand and wait.

  “You may as well head home, everyone,” Mark told the staff eventually. “We’re not going to be able to open back up tonight.” People started to drift away, and I groaned when I remembered that my purse along with my keys and everything else was upstairs. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering slightly. The sun was setting and there was a chill in the air. I was trying to figure out what I was going to do next when I saw the crowd parting and a familiar face walking towards me.

  “Nicholas!” I exclaimed as he pulled me into his arms. “What are you doing here?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “The fire made the news, I knew you worked here and rushed over to make sure that you were okay. Are you?” He glanced down at my leg, noticing the bruise.

  “My purse is upstairs, my keys, everything,” I said, feeling helpless.

  “It’s okay,” he assured me. “Come on, you’re coming home with me.”

  I took his hand and followed him to a waiting car, pausing a moment before getting in and looking back at the crowd gathered while the firemen worked. My head was still dizzy from the smoke and Nicholas guided me down into the back seat. We pulled away and he wrapped an arm around me, holding me close. I realized I was shaking slightly, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  We drove through the streets silently, Nicholas rubbing my arm reassuringly, until finally we came to a stop outside a tall tower. We exited the car and headed through heavy glass doors past a waiting concierge.

  "Good evening, Mister Blackstone," the man said with a slight nod.

  "Good evening, Gerald," Nicholas told him as we walked past towards waiting elevators. He put a key card into a slot then pressed the penthouse button. As we started to move upwards I looked up at him. He had been worried about me, he came for me and now I was about to see his home.

  The elevator doors opened into a long tastefully decorated hallway with doors on either side. I followed Nicholas into his living room, floor to ceiling windows stretched along the wall giving a gorgeous view of the Chicago skyline. I drifted towards the sight, gazing out at the city stretched before us. It was breathtaking. Off to the side, Nicholas had disappeared in the kitchen. While I was still admiring the view he came up behind me, gently placing his hand at the small of my back. I turned and he handed me a glass of red wine.

  "Here," he said. "You've had a rough evening, this should help calm your nerves."

  "Thank you," I told him as I accepted the glass. I took a sip, the flavor was heavy, with a slightly smoky finish. I was starting to feel a bit better.

  Turning, I continued looking around the room. There was a fireplace in the corner near rows of book shelves. A heavy looking couch lay across from a large wall mounted television. Near the kitchen was a bar cart, then off a bit was a thick wooden dining table in a dining area. I drifted further towards the book shelves, admiring the artwork on the walls. He had a large painting of red flowers in a vase, then another of a mountainside. I stopped in front of it to study it closer, the sea of tiny brush strokes revealing the most intricate details.

  "This is beautiful," I told him.

  "It's a scene from a village in Spain I visited," Nicholas told me. "I love it there."

  "I’ve never been to Spain," I said. “But I hear it’s lovely.”

  “The world is full of beautiful, unique places. But I feel the most at-home right here in Chicago,” he told me. Nicholas moved over to the couch and looked at me while gently patting the seat next to him. I walked over and sat down, he glanced at my leg then trailed a finger along my bruise. “You’re hurt,” he said gently. I tugged at my skirt, trying to cover the mark. As I looked down my hair tumbled against my cheek and I realized I smelled faintly of smoke and ash.

  “I fell on the stairwell,” I told him. “Everyone was moving so quickly, I lost my footing and was knocked down.”

  “People don’t act rationally when they panic, I’m glad you weren’t hurt any worse. Come, I want you to relax,” he told me. He stood up and I held my wine, following him past the kitchen into a bedroom. I looked at him with an arched eyebrow and he laughed. “That’s not what I meant, but I’m not going to rule it out if you’re up for it later, Breanne.” He continued to walk past his four poster bed through a set of double doors that opened into a gigantic bathroom. He sat on the edge of a large clawfoot tub then turned on the taps, running his hand under the water to check the temperature. As the tub began to fill he went over to an armoire and took out a white bathrobe, handing it to me.

  “I need to run out for a bit, why don’t you relax in the bath and I’ll be back soon,” he said. I glanced at the water filling the gleaming white porcelain and nodded, feeling a bit out of my element in the opulence of his space. The bathroom was bigger than my entire bedroom. Nicholas leaned forward and kissed me softly, then turned and left the room. Once I was alone I stripped out of my work uniform, laying it out on a chair in the corner. I wondered when I would be able to get my things from my purse and back into my apartment so I could have a change of clothes. So much of my life was contained in one small bag that I carried with me at all times; my wallet, my keys, my phone, even a few of my textbooks.

  Stepping into the tub, I stretched out, letting the water continue to rise all around me. It felt amazing against my skin, rinsing away the smoke and perspiration from my panicked escape from the building. Laying back I picked up my wine glass and took another sip. I kicked at the water with my feet, making small splashes. Nicholas was right: I was already starting to feel a lot better. When the water was near the top I reached forward to shut off the taps. Quiet fell upon the room immediately and I leaned back, closing my eyes.

  After a while the water started to cool and I looked at my fingers, they were starting to prune, and decided it was time to get out. I stood up letting the water trickle down my body and wrapped myself in the bathrobe Nicholas had left out for me. It was thick and cozy, I hugged it to my body as I tiptoed out of the bathroom holding my wine. I passed through the bedroom, back past the kitchen and into the living room. Nicholas wasn’t back yet; I was alone. I made my way over to the bookshelf and ran my finger along the spines. He had quite an extensive collection, I guess he was an avid reader. I noticed he had a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and pulled it from the shelf. It was a well-worn leather bound edition, it was one of my favorite books. I took it with me over to the couch and curled my legs under me then opened it.

  I was making my way through the second chapter when I heard footsteps and looked up. Nicholas was back, walking towards me from the hallway with bags in his hands. He smiled at me as he approached. “Reading anything interesting?” he asked.

  “You have a lot to choose from,” I said. He came closer then glanced at the cover.

  “That’s a good one,” he said.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” I admitted as I closed it and placed it down on a side table. “Where did you go?”

  Nicholas glanced down at the bags in his hands then back at me. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to get back into your apartment tonight so I picked you up a few things.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “That really wasn’t necessary,” I began but he shook his head.

  “I insist,” he told me. “I admit, I don’t have much experience shopping for women but figured you could use a clean change of clothes.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you,” I told him, genuinely touched.

  “I was going to order some food for dinner, how do you feel about Chinese?” he asked. I smiled, I was famished.


  “That sounds great,” I told him. He handed me the bags.

  “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll order. You sitting there wearing nothing but a bathrobe is just too tempting,” he said with a wink. I blushed then accepted the bags from him and walked back towards his bedroom. When I looked inside I noticed he had purchased me a black slip, underwear and two dresses. As I took them out of the bag my jaw dropped when I noticed the tags still on the clothing. The slip and underwear were Agent Provocateur, they were soft lace and more expensive than anything I owned. The dresses were a simple black sheath and a fitted grey dress, and they were both Gucci. I appreciated that he had picked me up a few things to wear, but was not expecting anything so extravagant. I decided to focus on the thoughtful gesture and not dwell on the fact that for Nicholas Blackstone, money was clearly not a problem.

  I slid on the underwear and slip then went back to the living room. Nicholas had refilled my wine glass then handed it to me. “Were the sizes okay? I had to guess,” he told me. I accepted the glass and nodded.

  “They are, thank you. You really didn’t have to do this,” I told him.

  “I know, I wanted to,” he said as he picked up his glass then headed for the couch. I followed him and curled up beside him. He looked at me, his face inches from mine and causing my heart to quicken its rhythm. “Would you like to watch a movie while we wait for dinner?” he asked. I nodded and he wrapped his arm around me holding me close. He stroked the silk strap of the slip against my shoulder then leaned over and kissed me, his lips moving over mine possessively. “I like having you here,” he told me when he finally pulled away.

  “I like being here,” I replied. I leaned into him as he searched for a movie for us to watch, looking up at his handsome face illuminated by the screen. He came into my life so unexpectedly. This all felt like a dream and if it was I never wanted to wake up.

  13

  I opened my eyes as a hint of soft morning light streamed through the curtains. Nicholas’ arm was draped over me, both of us naked against the smooth sheets. I glanced at the clock and realized it was still early, not quite six in the morning. Carefully, not wanting to wake him, I moved his arm and slipped out of bed. In the bathroom he had left a new toothbrush out for me, I quickly rinsed my face and brushed my teeth, then smoothed my hair with my fingers. I got dressed in the grey dress he had picked out for me, then headed for the kitchen. I saw a coffee machine and figured I would get it brewing so that there would be fresh coffee when he woke up. The only problem was, it looked complicated and I had no idea how it worked. I pressed a button and there was a loud grinding noise which caught me off guard. I shrieked.

  Nicholas came out of the bedroom, pulling on boxers. When he saw me he started to laugh. “What are you doing, Breanne?” he asked as he approached.

  “I woke up and thought I would make coffee,” I told him, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Sorry for waking you.”

  “My alarm goes off at six, but this works for getting me out of bed too. Here, let me show you how to start it.”

  It turns out Nicholas was a big fan of his coffee, the machine ground and pressed the beans before brewing. There was also a milk frother which he used to make me a cappuccino. I accepted the drink gratefully, sipping the warm frothy liquid while Nicholas drank his coffee black. “Do you have class today?” he asked me. I nodded. “Let me get dressed and I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” I told him but he leaned forward and nipped at my lip with his teeth, cutting me off.

  “I insist,” he told me, then he walked back to his bedroom. I perched myself on a stool by the counter and picked up a magazine, flipping through the pages and sipping my drink while I waited. He didn’t take long before coming back into the kitchen dressed in a fitted navy suit and matching tie, adjusting a gold cufflink around his wrist. I stared at him in awe; the man looked immaculate in a suit and I was enjoying the view.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, Breanne, we won’t be leaving this morning,” he told me with a raised eyebrow. I blushed then closed the magazine, heading to the sink and rinsing my cup. Nicholas did the same then we walked together to the elevator and left the building. There was a black car already parked at the curb and he opened the door for me to slide inside. When we were both seated the driver pulled into traffic.

  “We’re making a quick stop at the University of Chicago first,” Nicholas told the driver.

  “Yes, Mister Blackstone,” the man replied, turning up a side street then changing course.

  “Are you still free after class?” Nicholas asked me.

  “I’m hoping to stop by the restaurant, see if I can get my bag and get back into my apartment,” I told him.

  “I have a few meetings this afternoon but would love to see you later tonight. Can I have a car pick you up around seven?”

  “What would you like to do?” I asked. In reply Nicholas raised an eyebrow and trailed a finger down my arm, causing a shiver to run through me.

  “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he said in a seductive voice. I bit my lip and blushed. He had such an effect on me.

  “Seven then,” I told him. The car started to slow and I glanced out the window, we were at the campus. I leaned over and kissed Nicholas, then opened the door. “I’ll see you later,” I told him as I got out. He winked in reply then I closed the door and watched as they drove off; Nicholas, heading to his office and a busy day of business decisions and whatever else a powerful CEO got up to. I headed for my lecture, then saw a familiar face waiting outside the auditorium. Tabitha saw me as I approached and rushed over.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone!” she shrieked. “I heard about the fire and I was so worried about you!”

  “My phone, my keys, everything is still at the restaurant. I need to head over there after class to see if I can get it,” I told her. She appeared visibly relaxed with my explanation.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said pulling me into a hug. “That must have been terrifying.” She stood back and held me at arm's length. “Wait - if you couldn’t get into your apartment where did you stay last night?”

  I bit my lip and blushed slightly, Tabitha’s jaw dropped open and she smiled. “You stayed with Nicholas, didn’t you?” she said excitedly.

  “He saw the fire on the news and came down to the scene to get me,” I told her.

  Tabitha touched her chest with her hand. “What a knight in shining armour,” she sighed. I laughed and shook my head.

  “I really need to get to class,” I told her. “But actually, can I borrow some cash so that I can get home? No purse…”

  “Of course,” Tabitha told me, digging into her bag and handing me cash.

  “Thanks,” I told her. “I owe you one.”

  “I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said again. “Text me when you get back into your place to let me know everything's okay.”

  “I will,” I said as I headed into class, waving goodbye. I made my way through the rows of chairs and found a seat; I turned my attention to the lecture. It felt good to be focusing on school after the whirlwind my life had become lately, being a student felt like the most normal part of my existence at the moment. After an engaging and interesting lecture, I left the building, heading towards transit. I hopped on the streetcar as it moved down the street towards the restaurant. Once I got off at my stop I made my way up and walked into the entrance, the smell of smoke still thick and pungent. I noticed Mark walking through with a man holding a clip board and waved, heading inside. I glanced into the kitchen, everything was completely destroyed; the walls were charred.

  “Breanne,” Mark said. “What are you doing here?” I made my way past the bar towards the hooks, relieved to see that my purse was intact.

  “I needed my purse, my keys and all of my things are in it,” I explained.

  “The fire was contained to the kitchen,” Mark said. “The rest of the restaurant was spare
d. But unfortunately, the kitchen is going to need a complete rebuild.”

  “How long will that take?” I asked. Mark shrugged.

  “I’m not sure, we have contractors who will work on it as fast as possible but there was a lot of damage. We won’t be reopening for at least a week.” My heart sank, I needed this job for money but at least I had my savings that would be able to carry me over in the meantime.

  “Please let me know if there is anything I can do,” I told him. “I really love working here.”

  “I know you do,” Mark said. “I’ll be sure to keep you updated on when we can expect to reopen.”

  “Thank you Mark,” I said. I took my bag and made my way out of the restaurant, shuddering when I passed the stairwell and remembering how terrifying it felt, to be trapped in there with the panicked crowd. I was glad when I was back out on the street, breathing in the fresh air after the ash of the restaurant. I headed to the streetcar and made my way home. I checked my phone and noticed I had missed calls yesterday from Nicholas, Tabitha and my parents. I dialed my mom, she picked up right away.

  “Breanne, are you okay?”

  “Yes mom,” I told her. “I take it you heard about the fire?”

  “Your dad heard about it and told me, we couldn’t get a hold of you and have been worried sick. Were you hurt?”

  I felt a wave of guilt wash through me. “I got out safe, but my things were still in the restaurant. I know how scary it must have been not hearing from me and I’m so sorry, I should have called you.”

  “It’s okay, we’re just glad you weren’t hurt, sweetheart. Where are you now?”

  “I’m on the streetcar headed home, I was able to get my purse and phone from the restaurant.”

  “If you didn’t have your keys where did you stay last night?”

  “Um, well,” I began. “I stayed with a friend.”

  “Is this the same friend you went to California with?” she asked. I laughed, there was no getting anything past my mom. She had a sixth sense for these types of things.