Chapter 41
Riley set a large file aside and looked up from her desk. The view outside the windows was stunning, all Manhattan skyline and a glimpse of the cold, gray sky above. She loved that spectacular and familiar panorama, dismal as it was to some.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes closed as she was once again assaulted by that same dull ache she’d felt ever since she had walked out of Gray’s hospital room. His words constantly rang in her ears, telling her to go, telling her they weren’t good for each other and that they had to end it before one of them really got hurt. She almost had to laugh at that; she was really hurt anyway, and there was no way around that.
A knock on the door interrupted her gloomy thoughts.
“Come in,” she called out.
Marge, her assigned assistant, stepped in, her red hair neatly coiled and her freckles hidden below a light coating of mineral makeup. “Ms. Teeters, I have the daily reports for you. Also, there’s a meeting with the head of the Foundation, and…” She paused and shuffled through a pile of papers, wrinkling her brow in confusion. “Um, I’m so sorry, but it seems I somehow missed noting exactly which Foundation.”
Riley sighed inwardly. “No, it wasn’t you, Marge. I didn’t give you the name, but thanks.” She was also not about to tell Marge, a stool pigeon for Riley’s father, which head she was meeting with. The so-called foundation was actually a shelter that served homeless youth, and she was certain her father would find a way to work her contributions into his campaign somehow. She wanted to keep her charitable acts quiet, and she didn’t want them to be any part of his fake altruism that he used to garner votes. His campaign was running full steam ahead, and she did not want her good works to fuel his ambitions. It just felt wrong, and what was more, she was still pissed off at him for interfering in her relationship with Gray.
He actually tried to buy Gray off. The thought made her angry all over again. Gray had turned the money down, but he’d also sent her walking. Either way, in the end, her dad got his wish, because they were not together anymore, and she missed him so much her entire being hurt.
Marge continued, “Also, your father wants to have lunch.”
“No.”
Marge slid a disapproving look over the rims of her glasses, a look Riley ignored. “So I suppose I won’t pencil that in then,” she said.
“You’d only have to erase it,” Riley snarked.
“Well, after the Foundation meeting, you need to consult with the finance manager at four, Charles Heprin. At five, you’re supposed to meet Lewis Jones for drinks at—”
“I know, I know,” Riley said, weariness spilling into her voice from her heart. She’d been roped into saying yes to drinks with Lewis, when that was the last thing on Earth she wanted to do. Not only that, but he was the last person on Earth she wanted to have drinks with. She knew all too well that her parents were still holding out hope that the two of them would end up together, that they’d marry and have a handful of perfect little children to add shine to her father’s political career, that she’d agree to settle down with him somewhere and be a poster family till the end of time, someplace nice and classy. Like stupid, boring Connecticut.
Her lip tried to curl back, she stopped it. She knew Marge was still watching and would most certainly tattle on her. “Please leave all that on the desk, Marge,” she instructed.
Marge nodded, set the paperwork and planner down on the corner of Riley’s desk, and backed out the door.
Riley gave the forms and documents a disinterested glance. Her entire life was carefully orchestrated on that calendar, confined in neat little boxes and time slots. It depressed her and made her feel tired and far too old.
The sky darkened, and roiling clouds stirred. Riley studied them in the corner of the windows and realized they were a lot like her life. Something was always brewing, some bad weather that kept the skies from being blue again. She’d grown so used to the gray that she’d actually fallen in love with it, and she wasn’t sure that was such a good thing.
She flipped the planner over and felt the tinge of an ache in her head. She sat back and sighed, the chair creaking beneath her weight. There was plenty to do: a dress to buy for a gala she had promised to attend, phone calls that needed to be made, endless reports to be filed, and a hundred other little things that were, in the grand scheme of life, meaningless and stupid.
Unimpressed by the busywork, she stood and started to pace. Her legs took her back and forth in front of the window. The sky darkened even more, and the rain soon turned into sleet. Time ticked away as she tried to outrun her heart.
Another knock came at the door, lighter this time but yet another interruption Riley didn’t want to contend with.
“Yes?” Riley answered tersely.
When Marge opened the door, her face held a hint of anxiety. “There’s a Jon, uh…somebody on Line 2. He says you might be interested in making a real estate deal with him. He claims you know him personally and that you will want to speak with him.”
“I do know him, and that’s exactly why I’ve got no desire to talk to him. Tell him I’m not and will never be,” she said, sharp and fast. She added, “Also, if he calls back, simply hang up on him. I want absolutely nothing that he has to offer.”
Marge’s face lost some of its tension when she realized it was not just a prank caller, but another expression filled it, a look of curiosity and suspicion that made Riley uneasy. Resentment filtered through Riley when she saw it. Marge had tenure at the office, and Riley could not fire her, but she did not want or need her assistance. Like so many things she did not want but was stuck with, Marge was just one more issue that always needed to be solved. Beyond that, Riley did not trust her at all, and she had no doubt that Marge would immediately call her father to tell him Gray’s dad was making calls to the office. Great. Now he’ll probably sic more watch dogs on me or have my phone tapped, if he isn’t already, she thought with a groan.
Irritated and furious by Jon’s call and Marge’s intrusion, Riley waited until her assistant turned to go before she said, “I’m heading to lunch. I also have to stop by Versace, for a gala gown. I’ll be too long to come back to the office today, so just put tomorrow’s schedule on the app for me. I’ll go over it tonight after I get home.”
Marge nodded.
Riley gave her a tight smile, put on her thick wool coat, and grabbed her expensive leather bag. Her feet carried her down the hallway too fast. Her anger simmered for a few steps but quickly became a raging inferno. Gray had told her the buyer for the resort had backed out, leaving Jon in a lurch. Now, she wondered where that left Gray, who had gone home to the resort. Her ass of a father hadn’t even given him plane fare like he promised, but she was relieved to find out that Gray’s brother had fronted him the money for that. Damn, he’s probably working his ass off at that stupid bar, just to get his old bed back.
She stopped walking and took several breaths that she hoped would be cleansing. They weren’t, and she didn’t feel a bit better about Gray. He deserved better, and so did she. Still, her thoughts battled within her over the matter. He threw me out, she reminded herself. Plus, she was growing so tired of the strain her money always put on the table between them. She was equally exhausted by the giant toll that being with him took on her as a person. She was rich and privileged, and she didn’t want to apologize for that. After all, she had not asked to be born into a wealthy family, and he just couldn’t deal with that.
Her mood soured as the elevator opened and she stepped inside. “No, he could have dealt with it,” she whispered as she violently pressed the button for the first floor, “but he just chose not to.”
***
Lewis sat at the bar, dressed as impeccably as always in a tailored suit with a crisp, pastel blue shirt below. His tie was Hermes, his cologne expensive. His blond hair was carefully arranged, his eyes sparkling and clear. He exuded an aura of inherited wealth and ease. That should have soothed Riley, but it had the opposite effect; it put her on edge, even as she set her bag down on the bar and said hello.
“I ordered wine for you,” Lewis said in his low and slightly raspy voice.
“Thank you.” Riley picked the glass up and let the aroma of the good red, a Malbec, drift into her nostrils. It smelled of leather and tobacco, with just a hint of chocolate. Her shoulders did not release the tension even as she took a healthy slug of the wine, letting the tannins dissolve on her tongue. It was slightly bitter and very dry, quite like she felt as she set the glass down.
The bar was dim and softly lit, peppered with people speaking in hushed voices. The aura of wealth permeated every corner. The quiet was deliberate, as was the massive amount of space between groupings of barstools and tables set farther back along the floor. The booths had high sides, designed to give privacy to their occupants, another thing that spoke of just what went on there.
High-dollar deals of all sorts were made in that place, and Riley’s nerves tightened and stretched as she realized it was precisely why Lewis had chosen it. The whole thing was a façade, meant to impress upon her that they were part of an elite crowd. The deal he wanted to broker was one that would see them merging their massive trusts in a marriage that had been given the stamp of approval by their parents long before they even considered each other as anything more than the occasional playdate or classmates at their pricy, demanding private school.
“Would you like to sit in a booth?” Lewis asked.
“No, thanks,” she answered quickly as she shot a glance over to the booths briefly, then gave the expensive watch on her wrist a pointed look. “I have a lot to do yet. I actually can’t even stay.”
Lewis caught her wrist. “Don’t go yet, Riley,” he said, more of a command than a request.
His touch made her skin feel clammy; to say there was no spark would have been a broad understatement. She was actually a little creeped out by him, and she felt woozy. She began to wonder if the bitterness in her drink was the wine itself or some sort of foreign substance he’d added before she got there.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, “but I have an important matter to take care of. I didn’t want to just stand you up without telling you face to face, but I’ve gotta run, Lewis.” She was still wearing her coat, so she quickly snatched her bag from the table and ducked back out of the club, bemused but also more than a little concerned that he might follow her.
Riley’s car sat nearby, and her driver looked startled when he saw her coming back out so soon. “Uh, where would you like to go, miss?” he said.
She smiled when she saw no sign of Lewis trailing behind her. She sat in the back seat, her hands clutching the bag nervously. Her heart and head were going in different directions, something that had become uncomfortably familiar since she had met Gray. “Home please,” she said quietly. “Just take me home.”