Chapter9
Ben yawned, sleepless from a long day at work yesterday. It was taking its toll on him, and it was barely five in the afternoon. He had gone home, showered, and changed into a tuxedo. He didn’t feel like attending this gala, but he had to. His family and the company had long been patrons for this cancer research center that catered to children. After all, it was only a $5,000 per plate event.
He and Denise had gone to this same event last year; he didn’t remember what she’d worn, but he remembered the champagne he’d drank to mask the annoyance that Denise had been making a big deal out of him not wanting to move in with her, or worse, her moving in with him. The rest of the night had been a blast, though…
His driver waited for him by the curb. He hadn’t put on his coat yet as he went up to her floor. The night was cold, and he hoped she had had enough brains to buy a shawl for herself at least. If she’d thought that far ahead. He knocked on her door but she didn’t open. Maybe she was still in the shower again. He was irked, remembering he had told her he would pick her up at six o’clock sharp.
He let himself in with his spare key, glad he had brought it with him again. He walked inside and saw the pillows on the couch all jumbled up. He shook his head. He heard a shuffling noise.
“I told you I’d pick you up by six—” he stopped when he saw her walk out of the bedroom.
He held his breath. It seemed so unreal. She wore a delicate, strapless, turquoise gown. Her hair was in soft, voluminous waves. The only accessory she had on was a gold cuff bracelet. Her makeup was done flawlessly. It didn’t make her look overdone or make her look like a clown; instead, it enhanced her features. He couldn’t say anything at first.
“I’m ready,” she told him.
He had to clear his throat to say something. “You look-you look nice.” He said that lamely and suddenly wanted to kick himself for it.
“Thanks, this look didn’t go beyond $3,000.” She grinned.
“Good to know,” he murmured. “Shall we?” He held out his arm for her to take.
She felt giddy at the idea of a formal event with him. It was her first big gala. With a designer dress and designer shoes and a designer bag. With someone very attractive. She had to admit that she stared at him, not realizing he was staring at her the same way. It was probably his hair, not too much wax on it; it was probably his freshly shaven face, he looked regal; but it was most probably the suit. He looked dashing.
The car ride was a slow one, and it made the car seem quieter than ever.
Say something, he urged himself, now is the time to act and talk like a boyfriend. “You picked that dress at the last hour?”
She nodded. “Ten minutes before closing time.”
“Looks good on you,” he said in a quiet voice as he checked emails on his phone.
“Thanks,” she replied, sounding unsure if he meant it or not. She resisted looking at him, instead concentrating on the sights that passed by her window. Her hopes hadn’t been dashed yet. She would make this night magical for herself, if not enjoyable for them both.
Ben had told her only a thousand had confirmed attending, a disappointing turnout for such a dedicated charity.
“Why do we have to dress up? Why can’t people just give money right away?”
“It makes the socialites look human. Partying for a cause,” Ben said with a chortle. “Pretty good excuse to stay relevant in society.”
She stared at Ben as he looked out into the world and she said nothing. The sarcasm was strong with him. It was obvious he did this for some degree of camaraderie in the business world, but most especially for the kids who needed it. He was a contradiction in many ways; he was an asshole, but he was kind to those who needed it. Did that mean she didn’t really need his kindness?
She saw lights dancing across the New York sky, lights that came from the gala venue, a newly renovated hotel turned high-end event area that could easily fit 3,000 guests. She saw other guests getting out of their limousines and expensive sedans. Ben got out first and held out his hand for her.
“Don’t forget to smile,” he said to her.
The moment she got out, flashes of light came from everywhere. The cameras were momentarily pointed to her, and she smiled as she held Ben’s hand. She saw other world famous supermodels on the steps of the hotel with their partners. She saw a few actors and actresses; there was also the mayor of New York, and a senator with his wife. It was no ordinary dinner, and she felt even more nervous.
“You’re doing fine,” he whispered to her, patting her arm gently.
Ben gamely introduced her to his acquaintances and friends, and they greeted her pleasantly. Ben knew better. They were curious; they were dying to ask him. Some met up with him with all-knowing looks.
He had easily replaced the overachieving and pretty Denise with an up-and-coming model. Rumors had filtered about that she was a fresh graduate from Rochester, daughter of some secret millionaire. There were talks that she was also the illegitimate daughter of one of Baltimore’s best criminal lawyers. Whatever the truth was, they agreed she was a beautiful woman.
Sierra did her best to remember their names, but all she could remember were faces and certain perfumes. She saw a multitude of dazzling women and men, all dressed in their finest. Dressed to impress. She suddenly felt awkward, as if she were trying to fit in. She was no socialite. Did she have to pretend about being one, too?
She could hear a few women whispering as she drank champagne from a crystal glass. She wanted to enjoy this moment—she had never played dress up to this degree before—but their subtle stares were starting to prevent her from doing so. Still, she braced herself to act like the perfect girlfriend for tonight, no matter what the circumstances.
“Oh, this is my girlfriend, Sierra Whittaker,” Ben said to a middle-aged couple.
“Why hello, young lady,” the woman said with a posh accent.
Sierra quickly gave a dazzling smile. They walked away after some pleasantries, but not before she overheard the woman talk to her husband in a hushed tone, saying she was a “lovely woman of color.” Seriously? There were still people like that now?
She looked at Ben, who still towered over her by four inches despite the heels she wore. He smiled at her.
“Don’t mind them. They went bankrupt ten years ago and had to ask for help from my mother. They’re not really nice.”
She nodded, suddenly curious about what his mother was like. She was introduced to more people over the course of the night and participated in light banter about her career, which she downplayed, focusing more on Ben’s strengths and achievements when she spoke. These women were curious about her, she could see in the way they leaned over to talk to her. It was a good thing she had researched the fine dining set-up. The event had a twelve-course meal and free-flowing champagne. She couldn’t help but think of the children who had cancer while the women tittered about.
“How long have you and Ben been together?” one asked.
“More than a month,” she said, “it’s been a great more than a month.”
“That is so sweet. I’ve never seen the enigmatic Ben Eriksson look at anyone like, well, the way he looks at you,” another gushed.
Ben saw her surrounded, and he decided to step in, seeing the discomfort in her eyes. A waltz had begun, and he made his way to her and offered his hand. She gladly took it, much to the envy and whispers of the others at the same table.
He whisked her off to dance, and he was surprised that she knew the waltz.
“You can dance,” he murmured, enamored by this revelation, suddenly oblivious to the others dancing around them.
“What? You thought I could only dance hip hop?” she joked, looking up into his blue eyes. They had gone considerably softer the more she looked at him.
“I just didn’t think you danced.”
“Cheerleader and part of the jazz dance club,” she said proudly as they twirled around, her dress wafting as they did.
“I wasn’t kidding about you looking nice tonight,” he said. “You really look lovely.”
“Is this a heartfelt compliment?” she said with a laugh.
He nodded as he guided her across the room. “It is.”
“I could get used to this,” she told him.
We still have two and a half months, Ben suddenly thought, wondering why their remaining time together as a couple crossed his mind. He hadn’t thought he’d see her this way. Gone was the giddy, sometimes awkward girl he had met weeks ago. Dancing with him now was a confident and beautiful woman who deserved someone amazing. His heart thudded, and he found himself drowning in her light brown eyes and her beguiling smile. She certainly enjoyed dancing, and he was praying the orchestra wouldn’t end this piece just yet so he could have a little more time with her and her alone…
From afar, they looked like a beautiful couple, and the talk increased even more about the mysterious and stunning Sierra Whittaker, who was probably an heiress to something but was just too humble to show it. The waltz ended, and Sierra and Ben were offered champagne the moment they got back to their table.
“Oh, that was beautiful,” a woman said, admiring how they’d danced. They looked so in love, she suddenly wished she was, too.
They smiled at each other in silence and continued to drink their champagne, their hands still interlocked even though they had sat down already.
“Are you enjoying tonight?” he asked in a voice that only she could hear.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I feel pretty glamorous. This must be how Halle Berry felt when she won her Oscar.”
“You’re prettier than Halle Berry,” he said with a grin. His phone rang. It was his mother. “Excuse me while I take this call.”
Sierra was left alone to talk with the women at the table whose husbands and boyfriends had also left for a smoke and to have some gentlemanly talk. She bore through it for a while then excused herself to go to the restroom.
She went down the hallway, hoping to get away from anyone who was at that table, searching for an obscure restroom. Sierra took her time there, checking her makeup and taking a selfie even, so she could show this to her mother. Ten minutes was enough, she told herself, as she made her way down a pocket garden within the hotel which was adjacent to the grand ballroom. The greenery was well-trimmed and lush. She heard men talking and a voice that sounded like it was Ben’s.
“She’s hot, your new girlfriend,” someone told him.
She stopped in place, smelling cigarettes and liquor at the same time. Ben didn’t smoke, that was for sure.
“Hot,” Ben repeated. “I would prefer beautiful.”
“Better than Denise’s ass,” another man chuckled.
“You should respect women, you know. Your mother might not like that reference,” Ben said with a good-natured laugh.
“Did you seriously get a black woman just to compare?”
“Are you for real?” Ben said with a frown. Then he huffed. “Well, she does have a better ass than all the women I’ve dated.”
“Benjamin Eriksson, ready to settle down? That’s a first!” the man with the bowtie said. “And with a black woman at that.”
“Like you wouldn’t want to have a piece of that ass,” Ben chided him.
The group of four laughed.
“Watch out, she might just break your heart,” the guy with the blond hair warned him with a smirk.
“I think she will; it isn’t easy rising through the ranks of the modeling industry, but she’s doing fine. I’m thinking of proposing.”
“After a month of dating?” bowtie guy said. “This has got to be one of the most interesting things I’ve ever heard in a while.”
“Well, I’m assured of good bangin’,” Ben replied good-naturedly.
Sierra shook her head, no longer waiting for the conversation to finish. She slipped away as quietly as she could, unable to believe he had uttered those words after such a romantic dance. In the corner of his eye, he saw a turquoise gown fade away from his sight.
***
What she had overheard pounded in her ears. Weren’t they supposed to be pretending to be a lovey-dovey couple? He had broken her heart before she could break his. Broken her heart… yes, she was hurt, tormented by what he said. She didn’t deserve to hear what he had said, even with the contract and all, even when she knew it was fake and she wanted it to be real.
Sierra found herself walking out of the party and into the cold night. She could still hear the revelry; she could hear people laughing, glasses tinkling, gossip abounding. That was his world, and she didn’t want to be a part of it. He had wanted her to dupe him, but she had been duped. She didn’t have money, she hadn’t bring a wallet at least. She hoped to hail a cab. The night air was colder than she had anticipated, and she had left her shawl behind.
This is the alcohol talking, she told herself as she walked down the steps of the building. The champagne had given her quite a buzz, but her hearing was excellent still.
We’re just using each other. Damn right, we’re just using each other. Why am I so upset about this?
She didn’t care if she walked alone; she was going to do it to clear her head. She was going to do it barefoot. She was going to do it tipsy. She wouldn’t know about Ben’s eyes searching wildly in the crowd for her at the gala.
He asked those who had been close by where he had last seen her.
“Have you seen Sierra?” he asked Rick.
“No, man, I thought she was with you,” he said with a grin. “Maybe she went to the ladies’ room or something.”
Ben had this foreboding feeling that she had heard him talk about her. He had only said those things out of male bravado. He didn’t really mean that… well he did, but not all of it! He tried to call her phone, but the line was busy. Was she talking to someone? He didn’t even know if she was still here.
“Jesus, pick up,” he muttered, finally hearing her end ring.
She didn’t pick up. He called his chauffeur and didn’t even bother to say goodbye to his mother. He told his driver to pick up the pace and look for her as well. He scanned one side of the road while his driver looked on the opposite side.
He didn’t want to apologize for it. This was all part of the plan, right? Even if it was improvised. He hadn’t told her he wanted to say something as harsh as that. He hadn’t been able to warn her. That was his fault, he told himself. The rest was just part of the ploy.
“Wait, wait,” he told his driver all of a sudden. “Stop the car.”
Ben saw her figure just a few feet away, walking as quickly as she could, her gown billowing in the night. She was easy to spot with her turquoise dress, and he was glad not many people were on the streets that night.
“Sierra!” he called, stepping out of the car.
She stopped in place but she didn’t turn to look at him. Her arms were by her sides and her hands were clenched.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“Home,” she replied, still not facing him.
“I’m taking you home.”
She spun around this time. “You aren’t taking me home. I don’t think we should even be seen together, by the way you made me sound back there.”
“You know it’s part of—”
“What? Being a guy? Piece of ass? You think I’m dark meat or some shit like that?”
His eyes widened. She had never sounded this angry at him, and in fact, she sounded downright hateful. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Oh, please. You don’t know that you know that I know.”
“You’re drunk. Let me take you home.”
“I can walk fine.”
He saw her heels in her hands. “You can’t. You’ve drunk too much champagne. Your reasoning is clouded.”
“You made me look cheap back there.”
“That’s how men talk,” he exploded.
“No, that isn’t how men talk,” she said in a disappointed voice. Her wonderful night had disappeared quickly. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. He had whispered into her ear, telling her how he loved looking at her tonight, those sweet nothings—they really were nothing.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to apologize. “Please, let me just take you home. It’s cold, you’re drunk, and you’re barefoot.”
She stopped herself from crying. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. The arrangement was starting to wear her down, and it had only been a month and a half. She shouldn’t have found herself liking him in the first place if all he saw was sex. He opened the door of the waiting car for her and she slipped in, silent.
In a matter of minutes, she had fallen asleep. The girl couldn’t hold her alcohol, even if it was just champagne. He decided to bring her to his townhouse. He had a bit of difficulty carrying her into his house, thankful his driver was still there. He set her down in the guest bedroom, carefully taking off her shawl and putting a blanket over her.
He stared at her for a while. It was another unguarded moment for her, but she looked frustrated even in sleep. Suddenly, her eyes opened and she began to gag. He shook his head and grabbed a trashcan in case she puked. She didn’t.
“What else did you drink?” he asked her.
“There was a shot of whisky on the table before I left,” she murmured hoarsely, “I can’t believe you’d say that about me.”
“I had to play my part.”
“You wanted us to look in love,” she snapped, quite near tears.
“This is the alcohol talking.”
“’No!” she retorted. “This is the truth. I believed you. I believed every word you said when we were dancing, when we were sitting down, holding hands.”
“What part of the contract did you forget?” he asked her as he sat across from her on a leather chair.
She sat up on the bed, her eyes welling with tears. “I didn’t.” She felt torn up. Here she was feeling for him when he didn’t feel the same way. Stupid, black girl, falling for a white guy, she told herself.
“Then get some rest,” he said, turning on a lamp and then shutting off the ceiling lights before he left.
Sierra cried herself to sleep, trying to make some sense of what she was feeling. How could she have allowed this to happen to her? Maybe it was because of the sex, maybe it was because no one had ever complimented her as well as he did. She fell for a compliment? How lame was that? She didn’t have enough time to think about all of the things that had gone wrong that night before she had fallen asleep again.
Ben waited until she was in a deep sleep before he went into the room again. A part of her blanket had fallen on the floor. She was curled up, and her legs were covered by her gown. Her makeup was smeared, but there was something about it that made her look endearing, like he wanted to protect her from anything that would hurt her—including himself.
The call he had taken was from his mother, who had been alerted by a friend about the date he had brought to the gala. She’d wanted to confirm this and had excitedly told Ingrid within earshot. “When are we meeting her?” questions and demands came.
He rearranged the blanket and covered her again with it. He sighed, staring at her. He meant every word he’d said when they were dancing and when they were holding hands. He found himself liking her more than he thought he would. Who wouldn’t? She had a great and warm personality and was pretty to boot. Yeah, like the other girls he had dated, right? No, no, she was different. There was something different about her. Was it her spunk? Was it her kindness?
When he made love to her, he had assumed it was going to be another break from celibacy. The usual horniness. But he had made love to her. He shook his head. He was complicating things. That gala was a break from their monotony. At least there was some drama in their relationship, no matter how fake it was. Besides, girls liked drama. Deep down, though, he knew she didn’t. Wasn’t that why he’d hired her from the start? Because she was straightforward and kind. Yes, she was kind. Like the others weren’t?
When he’d danced with her, something in him had broken. Was it his walls, so guarded from romance? He did romance, for crying out loud. But the sparkle in her eyes when they’d danced… without another thought, he leaned down to kiss her forehead and then he left the room.