CHAPTER 7
AS I EXITED THE STAIRWELL, it was everything I could do not to burst into tears. Over the years I had studied composure as though I were being graded on it, and I reproached myself for losing control. His reaction was unexpected, and it had rattled me. I held my purse to my side and hurried along, desperate to climb into my bed, thankful that it would be alone.
I walked as I attempted to hail a cab, but it was quiet in the way that Sunday nights can be. The night replayed in my mind as I tried to figure David out. Questions filled my mind; questions for him, questions for myself. Questions, I realized, that might never get answered.
He compelled me with his every word and movement, otherwise why would I have agreed to see him? Since our moment in the theater, whatever it was that drew me to him grew more tangible. And nothing positive could come from that.
I was surprised to look up and see my apartment building ahead. I’d walked all the way back without even realizing. Just then, the sound of glass breaking against the concrete made me jump. I kept my eyes forward and focused on the final destination. I had enjoyed the dusky walk to the bar, but now I realized how dark it was and how late it had become. My ears pricked when I thought I heard footsteps behind me.
“Hey.”
Bill had always told me, nonchalantly, not to pay the bums any mind, and they’d leave me alone. I’d never seen any on our block, but then again I was rarely out this late by myself. I hastened my pace, feeling less brave than usual in my vulnerable state.
“Hey!” a male voice called aggressively.
I ignored the plea, but the phantom footsteps quickened behind me. Cursing my choice of footwear, I vowed to wear tennis shoes everywhere going forward. My thoughts blurred surreally when I realized that there was, in fact, someone right behind me. Fishy fingers grasped at my elbow – fleetingly at first and then, as he missed, more forcefully. He pulled me in the same spot that David had, but his grip was harsh and unrelenting, causing me to wince. He jerked me back to him, and the stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes filled my nostrils. Looking him over, I realized that he was not a bum at all, but a young man in an oversized hoodie and sagging jeans. The revelation did nothing to calm me. He was short and stocky with disheveled glossy hair and an alarmingly sinister expression.
“Does the name Lou Alvarez mean anything to you?” he slurred, tightening his grip over my twitching muscles. Misty and distant eyes betrayed his state of mind.
“Let go,” I commanded with feigned confidence and pulled my arm.
“Mmm,” he moaned and, against my neck, said, “you smell like flowers.” He leaned in and closed his eyes, taking a deep whiff.
Seeing nowhere to turn, I lifted the purse I’d been clutching with my free hand and smacked him in the temple with all my strength.
He cursed loudly, and I wrenched my arm away. I took a step before he caught me again and squeezed my arm so powerfully that I fell to my knees.
“Olivia,” he snarled and my breath caught in my throat. Fear surged through me hearing my name from his mouth. His distant eyes became clear and menacing as he bared his teeth at me. “It is Olivia, right?”
“Who are you?”
He leaned in close to my ear and said, “I’m here about my brother Lou.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Bill will know,” he said, releasing me with an emphatic push.
I took no time to ruminate on his comments or catch my breath. I ran to my complex without stopping or checking to make sure he didn’t follow. Once inside, I bolted the lock and leaned against the door, exhaling my relief. Bill had never mentioned the name Lou Alvarez, or if he had, it wasn’t enough that I remembered. I dug my cell phone out of my purse, located his name and stared at the screen until it went black. How would I explain being out so late? I’d never had a reason to lie to Bill before, aside from the occasional fib, but the thought of telling him the truth gave me pause.
I headed straight for the bedroom, stopping only long enough to kick my shoes onto the carpet before climbing into bed. I lifted the comforter over my shivering body and thought about what the man had said. What would he have done if he’d found Bill instead?
~
I awoke with a start when I reached across the bed for a body that wasn’t there. I sighed when I remembered Bill was away and then again when the night’s events flooded over me. I sat up and looked around the room, softly lit with the rising sun, and found I was still in my blouse but had removed my pants sometime in the night.
Scrambling out of bed, I fumbled to the couch where I’d flung my stuff the night before. I retrieved my phone and prepared to place the call to Bill but froze as my thumb hovered over his name. Sleep had brought no answers and in fact, I felt more confused than before. I threw the phone back in my bag and decided it could wait until after my shower.
As hot water poured over my face, soaking my hair, I let the questions filter in. Who is Lou Alvarez, and what is his connection to Bill? Did it involve one of his cases at Specter & Specter? I wondered if I should just not say anything to Bill, so I wouldn’t have to lie about where I was. Or rather, whom I was with. David. Would I ever see him again? Was he upset with me? My mind flashed to the eager waitress. How easy was it with him? Would she need to make the first move? I stopped myself. Someone tried to attack me last night and might be back. He obviously knows where we live. And I’m here alone for the next week. I shook my head and decided that worrying wouldn’t help.
I was feeling gloomy and, without Bill, alone, so I picked out a cap-sleeve, fitted charcoal dress and a cropped black cardigan to mirror my mood. Concealer helped me to cover the dark circles from the night’s halting sleep. I brushed on mascara in an attempt to open my sleepy eyes, but the effort of trying to make myself presentable was too great, and I gave up, tossing the make-up back in the drawer.
~
Serena followed me to my new office with two cups of steaming coffee.
“Thank you. How was your weekend?” I asked, sitting down to face her.
“Awesome!” she replied with big eyes. “Brock and I saw Enter the Dragon downtown with his brothers.”
“Enter the Dragon?” I wrinkled my nose. “What’s that?”
“It’s a martial arts classic,” she said excitedly. “There was a special showing at the Music Box Theatre.”
“Oh,” I grinned. “Is martial arts an interest of yours?”
“Chinese cinema is, absolutely! Brock too.”
“Huh,” I replied. “When did you get into that?”
“Hmm,” she closed one eye as she counted silently. “Eight – no, seven – no, eight months ago.”
“And you have been dating Brock for . . . ?”
“It will be a year in a few months,” she offered a wide grin, seeming proud.
“Cool. Well, thanks for the coffee.”
“Oh a couple things. Mr. Beman wants you to refer to yourself as associate editor for now. He said nobody will take you seriously otherwise.”
“Sounds like something he’d say,” I mumbled.
“Also.” She pulled a folder out from under her arm and handed it to me. “One of the guys for Most Eligible is available to meet today, but it’s his only time. He sounds very busy.”
“Busy is good,” I said, opening the file. I scanned the profile sheet and nodded approvingly. “He sounds great. Is he good-looking? Can you get me a photo?”
“Oh, trust me, he is,” she said. “All the girls gave him a ten. And Lisa already approved. I’ll send one over but like, can you do the interview? Or should I ask Lisa?”
I scowled. Lisa would just love to edge me out. “I’ll do it. Just e-mail me the address, and I’ll prep the rest.” I straightened when I saw Beman’s head bobbing through the office.
“Actually, he’s coming here. He insisted.”
“Oh. That’s fine I guess. Can you see that the kitchen is stocked so we can offer him something?”
“Good morning, ladies,” Beman said all of a sudden, causing Serena to jump. “I see you have Starbucks there. Anything for me?” He directed his eyes at Serena and she opened her mouth slowly.
“I’m sorry. I can go back. What would you like?” Serena asked.
“Nothing,” he snapped. “Please get to work. Olivia, a word?”
Despite his small frame, I noticed how the office felt smaller when he was in it. “How are you this morning, Mr. Beman?”
“I’d like an update on the Most Eligible article.”
“It’s coming along nicely. In fact, I have an interview today with a mister - ” I opened the file and squinted, “a mister Lucas Dylan.”
Beman raised his eyebrows. “The architect?”
I nodded, glancing down quickly to make sure that was right.
“Excellent. But don’t call him Lucas, he doesn’t like it,” he said, waving a finger. I nodded knowingly, making a mental note. Luke it is. “We’ve tried the past few years to get him involved but he’s very private, only does work-related interviews. Actually, Architectural Digest profiled him in last month’s issue, look it up.” Thank you, Serena, I thought. “This would be a huge coup, Liv,” he continued. “If you manage to get him in the issue, well,” he paused, “it would be very impressive.” His lips tightened at the last word, and I bit the inside of my lip to prevent a grimace.
“Mr. Beman, I’d like to run an idea by you.” He glanced at his watch and nodded curtly. “In addition to the issue’s launch party, I think it would benefit us to have an exclusive meet and greet for the top candidates. Since many of them are local celebrities, it would drum up some publicity. We can get web to post some pics afterward to get people wondering who will make the magazine.”
His jaw swung from side to side as he considered it. “Publicity would be good, I’d like the issue to be a high point of the year,” he reasoned. “Get me some numbers by Wednesday, and I’ll see if I can get you a budget. It wouldn’t be much, so work with the publicity department on getting some sponsors to foot the bill.”
“Great, I’ll look into it.”
“Oh, and might I suggest a little lipstick before you meet with Mr. Dylan? No harm in trying to look nice for him.”
He sashayed away, and I touched my fingers to my hair. What does it matter how I look for him? I thought angrily. I’m asking him questions, not testing his make-out skills. The thought of Beman pimping me out to guarantee Lucas’s involvement made me laugh and cringe simultaneously, because I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do it.
The phone had become more conspicuous with every passing minute and now it demanded my attention. I knew I had to call Bill and that it would be the first time I would really lie to him. But there was no way around it.
“Hi, babe,” I said, when he picked up.
“Hey, Livs. Can I call you back? Just got out of a meeting and have another in ten minutes.”
“Actually, this is important,” I started.
~
The phone buzzed, and I grabbed it automatically, my eyes fixed on the computer screen.
“Liv, Mr. Dylan’s here.” Jenny’s voice was even more high-pitched than usual.
“Right. Can you have Serena or one of the interns bring him back?” She hadn’t sent the photo, but it didn’t much matter now. According to everyone else, he was a shoe-in. Quickly, I peeled my sweater off and grabbed my make-up bag, heading for the tiny mirror Diane had installed behind the door. My hair was actually behaving, and I patted it appreciatively. Balancing the bag on the couch, I smoothed on raspberry lip gloss, Beman’s comment lingering in my head.
“Right back here,” I heard. Just then the bag teetered over, spilling products all over the floor. Shit. I squatted and threw everything back in record time. A sea foam green Clinique lipstick tube caught my eye from behind the couch. Leave it. But I couldn’t, so I steadied myself against the edge and reached an arm into the sliver of space.
“Hello, Olivia,” I heard, just as I had grasped it.
Burnished, brandy-colored leather brogues stared me in the face. I froze as my eyes drifted up a long body and landed on David’s expressionless face. His hair was parted off to the side, gelled into one soft, cohesive wave. His sharp navy pinstripe suit looked as though it was made for him. It likely was, I thought. He wore the collar open with no tie so that I could glimpse the beginnings of his collarbone, and the sight of his exposed skin sent a shock through me that ended in a tingling between my legs.
“D-David?” I stammered from below once I’d recovered. If I’d thought the office had seemed smaller before, it now felt microscopic, especially from my current position. His presence could barely be contained. I rocked off my heels and stood, smoothing my hands over my dress.
“You’re surprised. Were you expecting someone else?”
“Um, yes. Lucas Dylan?” I said, wiping excess lip gloss from the corner of my mouth.
“Aha. Do you always do this much research before an interview?” he teased. “I go by my middle name.”
I eyed Serena, who stood in the doorway, and then looked back at David. How could she make such an oversight? “I’m sorry, you’re right. Welcome.” I stuck my hand out awkwardly. Quickly, I attempted to sort through my thoughts, but all I could think was that I was glad I had heeded Beman’s advice. With a smirk, he took my warm hand in his icy one and squeezed it with a pump, sending a chill up my arm.
“Sorry I’m so cold, it’s biting out there today.”
“How about some coffee then?” Serena asked.
“Sure,” I said absentmindedly, narrowing my eyes at David. Once she had stepped out and we were alone, I gestured to a seat as I returned to my spot behind the desk.
“Mr. Dylan,” I began, carefully pronouncing his name. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
His laugh was soft. “I should think not, after the way you ran out on me last night.”
“Anyone else might take a hint,” I ribbed.
“I love what you’ve done with your office,” he commented, gripping the arms of his chair. “Very colorful.” I hated its stark white walls and generic carpet. It was the matted and grimy type that you never wanted to touch with bare feet. The only indication that it had an inhabitant was a photo of Lucy, Gretchen and me that Lucy had taken, printed, framed and brought over my first week at the magazine. She even positioned it on my old desk herself.
“Well, I’m just borrowing it,” I responded quietly.
As he looked around the room, I took the opportunity to study him in the daylight. He was no less mysterious, but in the office, with the desk between us, he somehow seemed less threatening. And if possible, more handsome.
“That’s right, it must’ve been Diane’s office. So I want to apologize if I came on too strong last night,” he said, affixing his eyes on me again. I glanced at the door. Lowering his voice and leaning his elbows on his knees, he continued. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“You came here to tell me that?” I asked. “How did you know where to find me?”
“It wasn’t hard.” He winked.
My brows creased as Serena knocked lightly and entered the room.
“Here you are, Mr. Dylan,” she cooed, offering him a steaming cup of coffee. She set the tray on the coffee table and handed me mine as well.
“Thank you, Serena,” I said.
David stared at me over the lip of the mug as he took a sip, and I shifted anxiously. He swallowed and cupped a hand around the heated drink, watching me like I was his next meal. In unison we glanced at Serena, who was lingering near the door.
“Thank you, Serena,” I repeated more sternly. She smiled at David, even though his back was to her, did some sort of curtsey and left the room. Strange girl, I thought.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, your being here,” I said, straightening a pile of papers on the desk.
“Why not?” he asked. “Nothing’s going on.”
I felt silly for suggesting that something was. I tilted my head and, lifting my shoulder lightly, asked, “So you went out of your way just to tell me that?”
“No,” he said simply. “Diane had asked me to do the article this year, and I turned her down. But I’ve changed my mind.”
I stopped and set down the stack of papers. “Really?” I asked. “Why?”
“Don’t make me answer that, or I might start to wonder the same thing.” His mouth kinked into a half smile, but I chewed the inside of my lip. This would mean working with him until the issue went to press, since he was all but guaranteed a spot. I wondered if I’d been wrong about him. Perhaps his visit was purely platonic. As if he could read my mind, he added, “I never mix business and pleasure. Ever. You have my word that I will be completely professional.” I narrowed my eyes at him without realizing it. “You don’t believe me,” he observed. “Do though, as I don’t like repeating myself.” My thighs constricted involuntarily at the way his tone dropped. Composure, Olivia. Composure.
“I don’t really have a choice in the matter,” I pointed out, searching his face.
“Sure you do, it’s your article,” he said. “Don’t worry about them,” he added, waving his hand. “I’ll say it’s a conflict with my schedule if you aren’t comfortable.”
Part of me wanted to refuse, wanted to ask him to back out if it became too much to handle. But I didn’t know how to express that in so many words, and I didn’t want to make something of nothing. Not only that, but it would put me some steps closer to the promotion. “All right. Let’s do it,” I decided, straightening my back.
He answered with a large, boyish grin, pure and unassuming. I flexed my hands against my thighs, digging my fingers into them; I’d never seen a smile like that before. It made me want to laugh and hug and kiss him all at once.
“Let’s get started then,” I said, blinking away the dreadful impulse. I reached over the desk for his file, and he jumped from the chair suddenly. My head snapped up; his expression both darkened and enhanced his attractive features as his gaze fixed on my arm.
“What the . . . Oh my God,” he stammered, and I followed his eyes to find fresh, purple bruises forming along my bicep and elbow.
“Oh,” I said, my eyes flitting between the marks and him. I shook my head as he found the words.
“Shit, Olivia, I am so sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared, as if he was physically unable to look away.
“No,” I insisted, shaking my head harder. “No, no, no - you didn’t do this. It wasn’t you,” I reassured him, waiting for his relief. Instead, his look grew menacing as his eyes crept up to meet mine. I sat back in my chair, nervously clutching for my sweater. He rounded the desk and gently pulled my wrist up so my arm was taut. I relished the careful touch of his fingers encircling my wrist. His thick eyebrows met in the middle while he examined the bruises.
In a voice contrary to the feather touch, he demanded, “How did this happen?”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I said in a small voice, although I knew he wouldn’t believe me. It didn’t, I hadn’t even noticed anything until now, but the marks were vivid nonetheless.
“Olivia, tell me who did this. Was it me?” he asked with a wavering voice.
I was reluctant to tell him. I hadn’t even had time to process it myself. But I could tell he wouldn’t back down and that his patience was wearing thin. I sighed and looked down. “Last night . . . after I left you, I was walking home - ”
“What?” he bellowed, dropping my wrist. “You walked home last night? Christ, I never would have let you walk; do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
I fluttered my eyelashes at him innocently, and his expression softened slightly. I started to tell him that I’d done it several times, but thought better of it. “Someone – a man, he . . . Well, he was drunk. He tried to get my attention, but when I ignored him, I guess it upset him. He grabbed me.” David’s eyes widened visibly. “But,” I said before he could speak, “I used my purse to fight him off, and I’m fine. Here I am.” I shrugged, tucking some hair behind my ear.
“I can’t believe you walked home, I never should have let you go,” he muttered.
“You didn’t let me do anything, David. I’m not your responsibility.”
He drew his lips into a straight line and looked at me guardedly. “Right,” he said. “What did your husband say? Did you call the police?”
“He’s out of town.”
David closed his eyes and shook his head. He opened one eye and appeared to brace himself. “You slept alone last night?”
“Yes, of course.”
He exhaled forcefully. “What if he had followed you home?” he asked. I hesitated, avoiding his eyes. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” He waited a moment. “Olivia.” It was a command, rumbling with warning, and it almost turned me to jelly. I wondered, if I didn’t respond would he say it again?
“He was looking for Bill.”
“Your husband?”
I wondered if he had actually forgotten Bill’s name or if he didn’t want to use it. “Yes. He’s a lawyer, and it’s related to one of his cases.”
“Is that so.” His jaw looked tense enough to snap. “So he was looking for him but found you instead. Do you know how?”
“It was in front of my apartment.”
“He knows where you live? But you still slept there?” He rolled his head back and said something under his breath. He took his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. “Shit.” I hadn’t even heard it ring.
“Dylan. Yes. No. No. How is that an emergency?” David looked at me as he listened. “I see. Okay.” He hung up the phone, never taking his eyes off me. “I have to go.”
“Everything all right?”
“It is, just a fire I have to put out. Are you safe here?”
“Yes,” I said with fake confidence. I had no idea, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “It’s not as big of a deal as it seems. I’ll be fine.”
“It is a big deal. What about tonight? You can’t stay alone.”
“Bill thinks I should go to New York, where he is, but I haven’t decided. I’ll have to clear it with Beman.”
David appeared to relax, but his guarded expression remained as we stared at each other. Knowing that I could sit and drink him in all day, I turned away and held out my card. “E-mail me, and we’ll do this another time.”