CHAPTER 9
Danica
Remy's expression had changed somewhat as he had said this. Now he looked a lot less relaxed, and less confident, almost as if he was about to admit to some sort of wrongdoing.
“All right, you can tell me,” I said, trying to sound warm and understanding.
He breathed in a deep breath and then released it in a long sigh before speaking. “Anna isn't my daughter.”
“She's not?” I asked, surprised.
“No, she isn't. She's my personal assistant's daughter. I just gave her a ride to the studio because her mother was busy doing work for me.”
I nodded slowly as I processed this. “Oh... So, uh, why didn't you tell me that before?”
He chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I guess because I wanted to impress you. I was going to tell you, but then you said how it was so sweet and stuff that I was a good dad, and I... I just wanted the illusion to last. I'm sorry. I really should have told you earlier.”
“So, you don't have any children then? And you were never married?”
He shook his head. “No, I've never been married.”
On the one hand, I felt quite flattered that he had gone to such lengths just to get to know me, but on the other hand, I now felt a little wary of him, because he'd been deceiving me this whole time.
“Well, I guess that's a good thing. And thanks for coming clean about that,” I said to him. I didn't really know what else to say, and besides, I couldn't be too angry or upset at this point, because I was still glowing from the intensity of the kiss we had shared, which had to have been one of the best kisses of my life.
I was also feeling pretty tipsy; the wine we'd had at the restaurant had been really strong, and I wasn't used to drinking. After my last experience of being drunk, last week, I had said to myself that I wasn't going to drink again for quite some time... yet here I was, tipsy again! Oh, well, it wasn't such a bad thing, I guess... I might have been too nervous to kiss Remy without the confidence boost the alcohol offered me.
“So, uh, what would you like to do now?” he asked as we exited the park. “Shall I drop you off at your place?”
A flood of cold panic washed over me. This was a man who was obviously very wealthy, a man whose financial and social standing was miles above my own, and I don't think he quite understood how vast the gulf between us was in those areas – but if he dropped me off where I lived, he sure as hell would know. I didn't want to ruin this by having that happen, by having him find out the truth about my life. But I couldn't tell him that I wouldn't get in a car with him either – that would just seem rude and would destroy the trust and rapport he and I had built up during this date. So, there was only one other option available to me.
“How about we go to your place for a while,” I said. “Not that I'm suggesting anything is going to happen, because it's not,” I added hastily. “I just don't want to go home yet, and I don't want to go to a bar or a club or anything like that.”
He nodded and smiled. “Of course. Come on, let's go to my car.”
We walked a little up the street, and then turned a corner and I saw a gorgeous black sports car parked there. Remy took out a remote and pressed a button, and the car's lights flashed.
“That's your car?” I asked, my jaw hanging open with surprise.
“One of them, yes,” he replied with a grin.
He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. I stepped in and looked around with wonder; I had never been in a car this luxurious before. I enjoyed every minute of the drive, even though part of me felt very, very out of place traveling in a vehicle like this.
We pulled into the parking garage of a massive, opulent skyscraper, and Remy had his own private parking area, where a bunch of other luxury vehicles parked there. We got out and headed to an elevator where a scanner scanned Remy's face and eyes before opening the door.
“This is my own private elevator,” he said with a smile. “It goes straight up into my penthouse.”
I got in, and again felt overwhelmed; the inside of the elevator was kitted out with gold fittings and a marble floor. We headed up to the top floor, the fortieth floor, and when the doors opened I was again blown away by the opulence of it all. There was a large entrance hall, subtly lit with directional lighting, the floor gleaming polished marble and the subtly-colored walls hung with gorgeous works of modern art and stunning black and white photographs. Here and there were a few sculptures as well, and at the end of it a floor-to-ceiling glass wall looked out over the Manhattan skyline.
“It's... it's absolutely breathtaking,” I murmured.
“Not a bad view, eh?” he joked. “Come through to my living room.” He took my hand and gently led me through to his living room – well, a room that to him may have been just a living room, but was larger than two average-sized apartments put together. One wall was painted white, and Remy got out a remote control and pressed a button, and then a projector filled the white wall with a welcome screen, and it was pretty much the size of a small cinema screen.
“Would you like to watch a movie?” he asked.
“Uh, sure, yeah,” I said.
“Have a seat,” he said, patting a spot on a luxurious white Italian leather sofa. “And a drink? I have a well-stocked bar.”
“Um, just a little more wine, thanks.”
“Of course. You know how to pick a film from Netflix, right?”
I nodded.
“Put on whatever you want. I'll go make some drinks.”
I scrolled through the list of movies and saw Dirty Dancing, a favorite of mine.
“Is Dirty Dancing all right?” I called out.
“Sure!”
I put the movie on, and then Remy came out with the drinks. He handed me a glass of wine and took a seat next to me.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“Eighteen-year-old single malt on the rocks,” he said. “My favorite.”
We started watching the movie, and as much as the wine helped mellow me out and the movie helped to distract me, it was hard to not feel totally overwhelmed by all of this. Still, when Remy slipped his arm around me, I snuggled up closer to him and felt a lot better. At this point, I was feeling drunk; the wine had been pretty strong. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer, and it felt as if we were going to kiss again – and that was the last thing I remembered.
* * * * *
I woke up and for a few minutes I was in a total panic, as I had no idea where I was. I was in a large bed, still dressed in my red cocktail dress, although my shoes had been removed and placed next to the bed. I soon remembered that I was in Remy's place. I guess I had fallen asleep on the sofa, and he must have put me in this bed, which didn't seem to be his; it was obvious that nobody else had slept in the bed but me.
There was a glass of water next to the bed, and I downed it, as I was quite parched. There was also a bathroom attached to the room, so I went in and freshened up quickly.
I put my shoes on, got my bag from next to the living room sofa and crept out of the apartment. I didn't know if he was up, if he had gone out, or if he was still asleep... But I was feeling so overwhelmed by all of this, and now that there was no more alcohol in me to calm me down, I didn't know if I could handle this. It was just too much.
I managed to sneak out of the place and walked briskly out of the parking garage onto the street, turning off my phone in case he tried to call me.
I got a fright as I emerged onto the sidewalk, for there, across the street from me, was the same scary tattooed man. He smiled at me and started walking toward me. With fear pulsing its cold ice through my veins, I hurried and pushed through a crowd, managing to get down into a subway station. I got onto a train as the doors closed and saw him watching me from the platform as the train pulled away.