Chapter6
The next day
He had almost thrown his phone in exasperation. Her number couldn’t be reached. She had blocked him on purpose. That was a first. Someone had the audacity to reject him. Her, of all people! He shook his head, knowing it was nearing 12 noon, and he still hadn’t contacted her. Where was her sense of professionalism?
“Sir?” Betsy came in. “Your reservation’s at 12:15.”
“Cancel it,” he said, forcing himself to calm down. “I’ll have takeout from KP Fung,” he told her, knowing how much he needed dim sum right now to at least give him some enjoyment. Betsy nodded, knowing what particular dishes he preferred.
He faced the cityscape, hands in his pockets, doing his best to ignore the irritation she had caused on his character. It was a minor thing, he had told himself, but it bothered him more than he could imagine. Some people were more bothersome than most, but Aliya filled his thoughts, even while at work. He wasn’t focused as much, and it spelled disaster unless he got a hold of it—unless he got to have lunch with her.
It’s just to prove that I’m in control.
It was all about control. That was how things worked. It was in his system; he had been groomed for this moment, tortured emotionally and psychologically as a child, only to survive it and thrive in it. Remember what you’re here for. You’re here for yourself and no one else.
Yes, he was here for himself. Dates came first; he didn’t even want children. He didn’t need to add more drama to the existing ones that always hounded his relationships. Sure, he enjoyed them for a few moments, but his interest in each one quickly waned. His mother had set the bar, he had thought. Besides, the majority of his dates were vapid, although Aliya was a promising one. He wondered how long his interest in her would last.
He pressed on his intercom. “Betsy, could you get me a list of all the local coffee shops near Miami University?”
“Of course, sir.”
His interest wasn’t about to disappear anytime soon. No one rejected him; not even his competitors could reject him. He waited for around fifteen minutes, and his Chinese takeout arrived. He spent his time reading an online magazine, and then he stumbled across a photo that looked quite familiar. Yes, it was him on it, with some female he had broken up with long ago. Six months to be exact. They were on the tabloid as part of the ‘celebrity couples we miss.’
He shook his head, disliking that the paparazzi had been so close to them as he and the model sunbathed in a private resort in Cancun, Mexico. He had dated models, actresses, businesswomen who were alphas on their own terms—and everything ended in less than three months. It gave him his playboy reputation, something he detested but used to his advantage. He closed the tab, reading stock exchange news instead.
It irked him that people enjoyed ogling at other people’s lives. He loved his privacy, loved his quiet. His mind was noisy now, filled with unnecessary clutter, filled with thoughts of Aliya. He ate his dim sum in silence, enjoying his dumplings and noodles.
Betsy came in right on time, serving his noon tea. “I have the list already, sir,” she told him, handing over a piece of paper.
“Great, thanks.”
He looked at the list. There were quite a lot, weren’t there? There were 20 of those. And he narrowed it down to the street where he had dropped her off. On that block, there were three. And she thought she was through with him. James’ eyes narrowed, seeing the buildings that the coffee shops were in. One of them was due for demolition. Douglas LTD planned to build high-end residences there. Was this where she worked? Sunshine State?
He was going to take his chances, planning to visit her at the end of the week, once all his meetings and trips were through. Tomorrow, he was leaving for Spain, and there was no way in hell that he was moving a multi-million-dollar project for another date. She could wait, and wait she would.
*
Aliya hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in two days, but she was glad that she had finally gotten to sleep in her own bed. It was comforting and familiar, unlike the enormity and grandeur of James’ home. She saw the stacks of books on her nightstand, and she closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn’t studied too well for the exam tomorrow, and she was so tired. She didn’t enjoy cramming.
Was it all his fault? Well, partially, she was to blame too. She had consented to everything, except for the part where he took off her clothes to launder them. Good move, though. She would’ve smelled like cigarettes and liquor if he hadn’t. Aliya made a mental note that she wasn’t drinking ever again, not until she finished her 3rd year of dentistry. Screw all the parties, she thought. Two glasses of whisky, or whatever drink that was, felt like a decanter to her.
Sighing, she picked up a book, searching for the last chapter she had reviewed. Another year of this, and then the statewide board exams, she thought, willing herself to push through it all. She had always been a fighter, even if the fighting was nonviolent. She dreamed of putting up a lower cost dental clinic back in Pensacola. Everyone deserved good dental care and service at a fraction of the cost. In her heart, she knew she could do it. Mustn’t let the scholarship go to waste, she thought. Concentrate.
Despite telling herself that, Aliya found her gaze wandering off to her phone. Should she unblock his number? Her emotions about him were a tug of war, but one thing was certain: to contact him would bring another bout of irritation. Why couldn’t he be as nice as the customer she had met earlier? He clearly had it all, except empathy. Aliya found herself grabbing her phone, looking him up online.
Surprisingly, he was tabloid fodder. There was a multitude of pictures online, James with a celebutante or model, one after another. There were profiles of him as well, from Forbes, People, and some on investment sites. So, this was who she had slept with. She was no trophy lay—at least that was for sure. She was just one of the many. It disgusted her. She hadn’t been reared this way, and she had veered from her initial judgement and disinclination for the strange and mysterious James Douglas III.
Why did he sleep with her again? It’s always a choice to sleep with people, but his kind never slept with her kind. She shook her head, hating herself for suddenly feeling insecure. Sure, she had cellulite, but she exercised when she could, and she was fairly healthy with her food choices. He could have any female in the world, and yet, he had chosen to be with her last weekend.
He was probably bored, and she had been an easy target. Well, target no more, douchebag, she told herself fiercely, putting her phone away. It was a mistake she didn’t want to repeat anymore, a mistake to be buried in the not so distant past.
*
It was a balmy Thursday morning, and the university was brimming with life. He observed the students coming in and out of the building that had the words College of Dental Medicine emblazoned on its driveway signage. He disliked stalking, but he couldn’t help himself. James had driven all the way to the college sans driver.
Am I stooping this low for someone I’ve barely met?
He had had his fair share of rejections as a high schooler, and he did most of the rejecting now. For Aliya to deny his instructions—it made him feel unwanted, unimportant. He had never been unimportant, until now. She was defying him; she was being childish. It was only a simple request that he have lunch with her. She was treating it like he had been unjustly harsh to her and demanding.
James finally saw Aliya walk out with someone else in tow. At least he came in time; he only had to wait for a mere fifteen minutes. Sheer luck, wasn’t it? She was with another female student, and they were polar opposites in features. Aliya, with her dark brown, thick and wavy hair, and her tanned, orange-brown complexion, while her friend looked like she had been a part of those vintage bombshell posters, kinda ditzy looking, but decent enough to look at.
Aliya stood out from the throng; he knew this, seeing her walk down the road with a few men gawking at her in her royal blue scrubs. She was a looker, alright. And that smile, that damned smile he didn’t get to see quite often enough…
He didn’t regret sleeping with her at all, he didn’t regret taking her home, and he didn’t regret singling her out for a lunch date. What he regretted was why he was suddenly obsessed with her. He didn’t deal well with rejection anymore, not since the first girlfriend he had dumped during the Independence Day holidays at the Hamptons.
It was all he needed: one more lunch date, just to show her who was boss. He wanted to call out to her, but he hesitated, staying inside the confines of his darkly tinted Toyota Prius, the most generic car he could borrow from the company cars. She had begun to walk away, and he shook his head, disliking the fact that he froze.
He needed someone to talk to, someone to air out his grievances to, no matter how small. There was little he could do to assuage that growing bitterness inside him, a bitterness that had haunted him since childhood.
He was going to lose today, he thought, and he didn’t want another bout of it tomorrow. It was an ill feeling, and he wondered if he needed a shrink. He had managed for so long; what made her any different? She didn’t even remind him of his classy mother.
Shaking his head, he began to drive away. This was a waste of time, and time wasted meant loss of money. He drove past her, his eyes on the road.
A Prius zipped by, and Aliya was momentarily distracted. She looked to see the car drive past them, and she had this weird feeling in her gut that it was someone she knew. Could it have been James? Nah, it couldn’t have been him. James did not drive boring-looking cars, despite their eco-friendliness. It was the kind of car that he would have considered a waste of money, from what she sized up from his ego.
“You okay?” Kimmy asked her, frowning.
“Yeah, yeah. I thought it was someone we knew,” she replied, continuing their friendly banter. They parted ways after two blocks, with Kimmy off for her own part-time job, and Aliya off for hers. Arriving at the coffee shop moments later, she quickly slipped into the backroom to change into her uniform, donning her apron before coming out.
“Can I have your name, sir?” Robert asked a customer, just as Aliya stepped behind the counter.
“James,” a deep voice said.
Aliya’s head snapped up, her eyes widening. She said nothing as he continued to pay for his drink, casually strolling to the end of the bar to wait for his order. Naomi was making his Americano. Aliya was holding onto a clean towel rather tightly.
The nerve! Did he stalk her? She wanted to confront him. She wanted him out of the coffee shop. She wanted to scream. Aliya didn’t want to look in his direction as he waited for his coffee. He began making small talk with Naomi, who promptly giggled, enjoying the attention the handsome customer gave.
“So, how long have you worked here?” James asked the barista.
“Six months,” Naomi replied, grinning broadly. The store was getting an influx of really good-looking customers the past few days, and she was enjoying it as much as she could, until the place closed down.
James leaned over the counter, and he saw Aliya furiously rinsing a tea dispenser. “Hey, I think I know her,” he told Naomi.
“Who?” Naomi spun around. “Aliya?”
“Yes, Aliya Jones,” he said. “I met her on the street a few days ago; she was a great help for lunch recommendations.”
Aliya took a deep breath, closing her eyes and muttering to herself, before she turned to face the counter. “Yes? How may I help you?” Lunch recommendation? He had initiated everything, ordered for the both of them. What game was he playing?
“Aliya, hey,” James greeted in a warm tone. “Remember me?”
She remembered him alright, remembered the way he tasted, berries, milk, cereal—remembered how hard he pressed against her, remembered how he made her moan, earth-shattering moans… “Oh, hi,” she said lamely. “How are you, James?”
He smiled pleasantly. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
I didn’t know you knew I worked here. “Coffee happens to be my calling for now,” she replied, trying not to sound too acerbic.
“I hope this tastes good,” he told her. He nodded at Naomi. “Ladies, have a good day.” James walked out of the café, leaving Naomi mesmerized and Aliya fuming deep inside.
“You knew him,” Naomi told her, almost squealing.
“I just met him,” Aliya corrected her. I wanted to get to know him, but—she shook her head. He was playing games with her. Or it could have been just pure coincidence, like how he met her on the street. How many times did coincidence have to rear its ugly head on her? She would give him a piece of her mind later—that jerk!
*
He was lying casually on a couch, reading Jules Verne, when his phone rang. “H’llo?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” her voice crackled on the other end of the line.
“What do you mean?” he asked her, sighing.
“You don’t just show up at my workplace and intimidate me like that.”
He almost laughed. “I was just ordering coffee,” he told her. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You did that on purpose. You were stalking me.”
“You overthink, and you place yourself on such a high pedestal, Aliya Jones,” he told her calmly.
“You must think I’m an idiot to even—”
“You’re not. I just happened to be in the area,” he said. “I didn’t even know that was where you worked.”
His voice was calm, and it made her feel embarrassed that she had exploded the moment he picked up his phone.
“I don’t believe you,” she finally said.
“I wasn’t trying to convince you to do so,” he replied. “The coffee was great, by the way. Where are the beans from?”
“Puerto Rico,” she replied without another thought. Aliya immediately regretted it. She had allowed herself to engage in senseless banter with someone she was supposed to block from her phone and from her life.
People like James Douglas enjoyed making other people feel uncomfortable; they enjoyed having people eat from the palm of their hands. “Look, I have to go.”
“Will you have lunch with me tomorrow? I think that was a convenient way to have another meet-up.”
“Oh, so you’re thinking it’s a sign?” She rolled her eyes, as she walked up and down her studio apartment. “Stop bothering me. Leave me alone.”
“One more lunch and conversation; you already left me hanging the last time.”
“Because you were being a dick.”
He wanted to say something green, but he bit back the joke. He wanted her to say yes. It was the least she could do for making his blood boil. “Maybe you were,” he replied. “I was conveniently blocked.”
“I was wondering if that sent a good enough message, yeah?”
“I don’t take no for an answer.”
“Oh, but you do. It’s people like you who can run the world and yet have zero empathy for others.”
“That was too harsh.” He smiled to himself after saying that. “Your mouth isn’t as innocent as your face.” Her face while he banged her was pure pleasure though, and the recollection of it made him want her again.
“Stay away from me.”
“How about we eat somewhere you want?” he asked her.
“How about no.”
“Do you really hate me that much?”
“No,” she replied, surprising herself. What the hell did I just say? Am I that thirsty for affection? She was fine without any man in her life. He was screwing her over. He was looking for someone to manipulate after his last relationship.
“Look, why don’t you date all the models and actresses in this part of the world?” she told him, getting exasperated. “I’m sure you can do that. Just flash them your brightest, winningest smile.”
“And that isn’t enough to win you over for a simple, no-strings-attached lunch?”
No strings attached? They had already slept with each other, for Pete’s sake! Her hand gripped her phone tightly. Sure, he had a great smile and really good teeth—she shook her head. No, no. “I can’t. I’m busy. Unlike some people, I have a day job, and my life depends on it.”
“I’ll drop by the café tomorrow, then? Is that good?”
And create a scandal? She sighed, not wanting him there at all. She didn’t want questions, snide comments, or any comments at all. “Look, if it’ll make you go away—”
“I’ll take that as a yes?” he said.
“I have classes at one; we don’t have enough time.”
“That’s enough time for us to eat and talk.”
What was there to talk about? She didn’t want to know more about him. The more she did, the more interesting he had become. While she—she was an open book. There was no mystery to her at all.
“Hey, James,” she added.
“Yes?”
“Do you own the Douglas Arts and Sciences building, south of the campus?”
He laughed. “Nope, my grandfather donated that building though. Will that be enough for you to say yes to lunch?”
She was silent, and then he heard her sigh. It was a yes.