CHAPTER EIGHT
The red was gone. My office was now a contrast of cream leather couches set against earthy shades. If I couldn’t spend my days in nature, I would bring nature to me.
With the arrival of the new furniture came my realization that Stafford Scientific had changed me. Never before had I cared about interior design or the clothes I wore. At my grandma’s house, the couch was floral and yellowed with age. My clothes were bought in thrift stores and bargain outlets. We weren’t poor, but we were frugal. If we hadn’t been, there would have been no inheritance, no trip to Thailand, and no move to Chicago.
I embraced the change, but I was also determined not to lose myself, especially now that Noah and I had spent the night together. I was not Noah’s personal assistant. I was Imogen Clare. I had worked my ass off to get good grades in school, and I was passionate about the environment. The only time I would let a man command me was when it resulted in my own personal pleasure. I had given Noah what he wanted, and instead of making me weaker, it had made me stronger, because I was being true to myself, to my desires.
Julia would have approved of the changes to the office and the changes in me, but I felt some relief that she was in a different department. In fear of disappointing her, I didn’t want her to see how differently Noah and I interacted with each other now that I’d extended my agreement with him.
And there was a difference. He came into my office as often as he could, rarely delivering his messages through our devices, taking a much more hands-on approach. Those hands were on me. When he passed a brief on to me, he made sure to gently touch my shoulder, remaining professional but reminding me that I was his. During meetings, instead of standing in a corner to take my notes, he designated a spot at the head of the table for me. If anyone suspected my relationship with Noah had changed, no one dared to mention it. And if there were rumors, I hoped they didn’t trickle down to Julia before I had a chance to tell her first.
The view from my window had also been altered. The lake had risen, flooding over the ports. The tempest had done its damage. Chicago by day was not the same as it had been. The storm had brought me endless pleasure, but it had brought the city irrevocable pain.
Noah joined me in my office. “Imogen.”
Flushing beet-red as he approached my desk, I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Hearing him call my name had a new power over me, leaving me speechless. He wore a midnight blue suit that was as flawless as his perfect smile, which he flashed at me. Since making love numerous times during the storm last week, there’d been no time to see each other outside of work. I was left replaying his caresses in my mind, a reminder of just what kind of man Noah was beneath his suit.
Sitting on the corner of my desk, he faced me and brushed my lower lip with his thumb. I took in a sharp breath and held the candor of his gaze, reading everything he’d like to do to me while we were alone in the office. My heart raced, and my chest heaved as his thumb continued to graze my lip, teasing me, making me scream inside for him to kiss me, to show me the full force of his affection once more.
“I won’t be available this weekend,” he said with clear reluctance. He dropped his thumb and set his hand on my shoulder, massaging it. My heart exploded under his touch, and I pined for our bodies to intertwine once more, to move with the thunder of the storm.
“Where will you be?” I asked, my breath rapid as our eyes remained sealed together.
“The nanotechnology lab is being permanently moved up to the top floor in preparation for the convention.” Regret was carved within his gorgeous face. “If it were anything less, I would tell everyone to go to hell, but it’s important.”
“I understand,” I said quietly, anticipating his lips on mine, kissing me goodbye. I inhaled his cologne. It wasn’t fair that I was forbidden from using perfume while he was able to enchant me with his expensive musk, making me pliable to his will.
Releasing me from his hold, he picked up my tablet and clicked through the screen. “I’m going to leave a specific set of activities I want you to participate in this weekend. You’re a rebellious woman, Imogen, but sometimes your wildness puts you at risk. No drinking. No running around in lethal storms. No driving around in the death-trap you call a car.”
Reminded of my pluck, as Old Ben had put it, I stood defiantly, took the tablet from his hands, and leaned my body against his. I ran my hand across his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and rested my head against it, enraptured by his scent. Clutching me until there was no air left to breathe between us, he ran his hand down the back of my head, smoothing the waves of my hair.
“God, you’re irresistible,” he murmured. I felt the vibrations of his voice as he spoke, and I tilted my head up to kiss his throat. His skin was salty and delicious, whetting my appetite for him. “The halls of my company are a lot less lonely with you around.”
With butterflies flapping around in my stomach, I absorbed his praise. “I won’t put myself in any danger,” I promised him, “but if you are working, then I have my own plans this weekend.”
A brew of mistrust and concern darkened his eyes. In some ways, Noah was a statue permanently frozen with the impassiveness of his authority, but at times, he wore his emotions like a mask. He studied my face, which I was sure was blushed red from my arousal of having him so near. “What plans?”
“Some cleaning and organizing. I want to put the house in order.”
The cloud in his eyes transformed into undeniable lust. He cocked his head to one side. “I like the idea of you on your hands and knees. I approve, but know I’ll be thinking of you scrubbing the floors in your delectable bra and panties.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I said, squirming as my blood boiled with desire.
To my great satisfaction, Noah kissed me, his mouth firm and unapologetic. As we kissed, he grasped the back of my head and pulled me tight against him, refusing to let go. Well, not until his wrist device buzzed.
“My team of copywriters has an appointment with me,” he said when he pulled away, as breathless as I was. “We need to nail down the speech for the convention.”
“I know,” I said, disappointed that he had to leave with my core pulsing uncontrollably. “I scheduled the appointment. Do you want me to come?”
He grinned wickedly. “Every time.” And then he brushed his thumb across my lip once more. “Stay here, but I promise you, Imogen, I’ll make time for you. You’re my priority.”
I kissed his thumb. “Then go. Finish what you need to do so that we can be together again. You still have lessons you need to teach me.”
“That I do.” He kissed me once more before leaving.
When he was gone, I let out a deep breath, emptying my lungs. Noah was astute, he read people like they were the morning newspaper. I was afraid he would have called me out on my lie. My plans for the weekend did involve cleaning, but not in the way Noah thought. The work would be worth it, if I managed to keep it a secret from the man who ruled me.
***
My memory and navigational skills were excellent. They served me well when I was lost in wetlands trying to journal the population of pelicans or in the forest analyzing the impact logging had on the vegetation that grew beneath the trees. Today, my skills led me out of the city, through a small suburban neighborhood, and up a hill to Stafford Estate.
Standing outside the iron gate, I feared I was about to enter a horror movie. I’d watched enough of them to know better than to go into a derelict manor alone. The way Noah spoke about his family, I was certain many ghosts walked its halls, even those that were still alive.
Ignoring everything I learned from horror movies, I went to my trunk and pulled out a hover board. The blue disc resembled a futuristic Frisbee, with lights around the sides that lit up when it was touched. While running an errand for Noah, I’d spotted it in the Innovations room near his office. It had been left behind after prototypes like it had been presented to Noah for his approval. I was supposed to take it down to the floor it belonged on, but it had inspired a better idea. I could use it to jump the fence and fix up Stafford Estate.
Noah may prefer the city, but he needed his childhood home. It represented everything that he had once loved. And if he still refused to see its potential, I would convince him to convert it into a homeless shelter or something of value to the community.
The problem with stealing the hover board was that I didn’t have the opportunity to ask anyone how to work the thing. I turned it over in my hands, but it had no buttons. The surface was smooth all over. Growing frustrated, I finally pounded the top with my fists and shouted, “Turn on, you damn thing!”
Instantly, it lit up. “Damn thing turning on,” a digitized voice said.
I should have realized it was voice activated. I didn’t think anything at Stafford Scientific had buttons. Nothing new, anyway.
Bracing myself against the fence, I set the hover board on the ground and stepped on it, praying that it didn’t fly up with me, rising through the atmosphere until it floated past the International Space Station. It wasn’t the only prototype of its kind, but I planned to take it back when I was finished. Given the size of the estate, that could be months away.
“Ascend,” I instructed it, but it didn’t move.
I tried again. “Go up.”
Rumbling beneath my feet, it launched into the air. I wavered — it was like standing on top of a bar stool after six shots of vodka — but managed to keep my balance.
“Stop!” I shouted as soon as I was at the top of the fence. Resting my feet on the rectangular beam that connected the iron bars together, I moved the hover board over to the other side and steadied myself on it once more.
“Go down!” I instructed, and it listened, halting just before the ground. Victorious, I jumped off and tucked the hover board under my arm.
I was in.
Dogs, I abruptly thought, and I froze, listening for the sound of paws running on the grass or gnarled growls, but there was none. The estate really was abandoned. I was relieved, but it was also a bit sad.
Cobwebs tangled in my hair as I crawled through a window broken by overgrown ivy, the glass shattered and covered by the green around it, cushioning my climb. I brushed the cobwebs away, as if I was in the jungle once more, pushing back the leaves on the trail as I trekked with my group to find the elephants.
Corey was no longer a part of my daydreams, but I didn’t let the fact ruin my memories of Thailand. It had been an eventful vacation, full of wonders I would likely never experience again.
I couldn’t understand how Noah had permitted the estate to become such a dystopia. He said he preferred the city, and I believed him, but if he truly had no attachment to his childhood home, he would have sold it off. He held onto it for a reason, possibly a secret longing to have his brother near, or maybe he subconsciously wished to save it for his own family one day, though that was a hope I did not dare have, accepting how the one-year rotation worked.
The window led into a small utility closet, which was thankfully unlocked. I crept out and turned down the hall, arriving in the foyer where a split staircase rose on either end to the second floor. Stumps of narrow trees rotted at the foot of the stairs. While touring an old period home in Milwaukee, I’d seen something similar. I didn’t remember the era, history wasn’t a strong point, but there was a time when treating a foyer like an arboretum was fashionable. Above the stairs was a dome built of stained glass. Though dusty, it had persevered well over the years, the colors within the glass vibrant and uplifting, showcasing the constellations of the night sky. The entire foyer reminded me of the lobby at Stafford Scientific, and I once again hypothesized that Noah’s childhood home had greater reverence than he was willing to admit.
Like Alice in her Wonderland, I continue to explore the manor, drifting first into a formal sitting room with a high ceiling and elegant crown molding. The furniture was covered with dust sheets. I imagined that beneath those sheets were gilded couches with exotic patterns upon which ladies and gentlemen sipped their tea. Except that when I checked, the furniture was disappointingly modern.
I continued through similar rooms until I reached a conservatory at the back of the house. Like with the tree stumps in the foyer, the fossilized roots of plants told me a garden had once been here, but the room was striking for other reasons. Amongst the roots, classical life-sized sculptures, like those seen in Italy and Greece, absorbed the sun. I searched amongst them until I found the Andromeda, the Chained Maiden. Long hair cascaded down her back and shoulders, covering her breasts but leaving her stomach and thighs exposed. Cuffs were buckled to her wrists, but whatever she had been chained to had long broken off. I ran my hand against the cuffs, fascinated.
I was going to save this room for last, I decided, stepping away from the sculptures. There was something momentous about the room, a finality that I couldn’t grasp, possibly because it was at the back of the house, the last room to wither.
Meaning to begin the cleanup, I backtracked to the kitchen, having neglected to bring cleaning supplies with me. With its tremendous size, metal surfaces, and upscale appliances, the kitchen belonged in a restaurant, not a home. There was enough room to prepare a feast for the entire town. Perhaps, long ago, it had.
Unfortunately, there was no disinfectants or sponges left beneath the sink, nor could I find them in any of the utility closets. Without supplies, there was nothing further I could do, but I was excited for the project, especially now that I’d seen the foyer and the conservatory. Trees would grow again, and flowers would bloom once more. I would make sure of it.
***
“Did I tell you I promised Peter I’d find him a girlfriend?” I asked Julia over a plate of spaghetti, twisting the noodles around with my fork, wondering if Noah liked meatballs.
She nearly spit out her wine. “No! When did this happen?”
“A few weeks ago over a picnic lunch in our office.”
“Your office,” she corrected me.
“It was our office back then. He was really cute. You actually inspired the promise. He absolutely adores you, as I’m sure you know. He goes bright red every time you step into the room, but I warned him you’d be uncomfortable with the age difference.”
“Thank you,” Julia said, topping off her glass of wine. “Peter is like a little brother, and it would have killed me to break his heart. You did it for me. Cheers to that.”
I clinked my water glass with hers. “That’s what sisters are for.”
“I like your idea of finding him a girlfriend. I’m in on it too. There’s gotta be someone his age that matches his charm.”
We were enjoying a dinner in our apartment, homemade by Julia. As it turned out, she was a great cook. Buttery and soft, her garlic bread was pure heaven, and her pasta perfectly cooked. When I made pasta, it was either too mushy, or it crunched beneath the teeth. She claimed it was because of the snowy winters in Boston that forced her indoors.
“Are you sure you don’t want any wine?” she asked, holding the bottle up. “Or we can make those lemongrass mojitos you’re always raving about.”
“No, thank you,” I told her. “With the convention getting closer, my stomach is a ball of nerves. I don’t think alcohol will help.”
“Or alcohol is the only thing that can help,” she ventured, but she set the bottle down.
I was nervous about the convention coming up, but what I couldn’t yet tell Julia was that Noah had ordered me not to drink alcohol, and now that we had extended our agreement, I wanted to oblige. I did so willingly, a sacrifice for the pleasures to come.
“I really like your grandma’s house. It was cozy, and there were so many photo albums.” Her eyes glistened. I didn’t imagine Julia had many photos of her childhood, not after growing up in foster care. “I hope you don’t mind, but I flipped through most of them.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said honestly. “I actually brought a few here. They’re in my room. I can show them to you if you want.”
“Later,” she decided. “I wouldn’t want to risk spilling spaghetti sauce on them. Then the ghost of your grandma’s friend really would come back and haunt us. And so would your grams.”
“If she doesn’t already,” I joked.
“What about your grandpa. You don’t speak much about him.”
“He died in Vietnam. I never met him.”
“That’s terrible. It takes a brave woman to date a soldier,” she said resolutely.
Yes, my grandma had been brave, in many ways.
“What about the guy you were making out on the couch with that night?” I probed. “I haven’t heard you speak much of him lately. What was his name?”
“Ronald Weister,” she said and stuck out her tongue. “It’s like the worst name ever. Obviously, when his parents were deciding what to call him, they didn’t realize he was going to grow up to be such a hottie.”
I laughed. “Weister I can kinda see, but he’s definitely not a Ronald.”
“He tries to tell people his name is Ronaldo, but I know better. I’ve seen his driver’s license.”
“Is that why you haven’t seen him lately?”
“Oh no, I see him. A lot. We’re dating, but we’re not exclusive. I don’t want to move too fast. I just want to enjoy it. No pressure. That’s why I’m not talking much about it.” She looked apologetic, but I wasn’t offended.
“Fair enough,” I said. “As long as you invite me to the wedding.”
She threw a dry noodle at me. “Of course you’ll be at the wedding. You’ll be my maid of honor, which means I get to dump all the work on you while I sit at the spa getting pampered.”
“I’ll do it, as long as you don’t put me in a pineapple dress. I know you like yellow, and so do I, but every color has their limits.”
“I have no limits,” Julia sang. “And neither should you. We’re young and free.”
“To being young and free,” I toasted, but it was a half-lie. I was young, but I wasn’t free.
***
After dinner with Julia, I went to the park to walk off the mound of garlic bread I’d eaten. To my delight, the fountain was running once more. Water spewed from its tiers, and the antique stone had been scrubbed clean, resurrected. A shiny new addition to the fountain caught my eye. At its base was a gold plaque with the inscription:
To Imogen, From Noah.
I bent down to run my fingers over our names, touched by the gesture and that he knew me well enough to predict I’d return.
Within the fountain were countless coins and countless wishes. Pulling a penny from my pocket, I flipped it into the water, repeating history. Last time I stood here, I’d wished for Corey to return. Now, I desired the opposite, that he would never come back. Not that I thought he would and I didn’t wish him harm, only complete happiness. But his absence so far had convinced me he wouldn’t return, as had Noah’s persuasions. But to make sure, I pleaded with the fountain gods to keep him far away.
Corey would complicate things. Time and distance had built a wall between us, but I still had feelings for him deep below the surface, bubbling up every so often, especially when I thought of the future. As much as I cared for Noah, if Corey ever did live up to his promise to find me, he could offer me a lifetime, whereas Noah could only give me a year.
Did wanting both make me a horrible person?