“I think we’ve earned this.” Phineas appeared next to me, handing me the champagne he’d poured.
I took the glass from him. “Yes, I have. I managed to socialize with the populace for an entire evening and I was cordial.”
He held out his flute and I clinked my glass against his. “It would seem the stars aligned themselves perfectly for me tonight.”
“I’ll say they did. I’m actually kind of surprised that you didn’t tell me to take a hike so you could bring Kira Capucci back here with you.”
“Why on earth would I want to do that?” he snorted.
“Because she has a thing for you. She wouldn’t shut up about you at the premiere.”
“Yeah, I know. She made her intentions crystal clear while Esther was being interviewed.”
“Wait? Kira Capucci solicited you at the premiere, and you’re here, why?”
He shrugged. “She’s not my type.”
“Not your type?” I asked, incredulously. “Kira Capucci is everyone’s type. Hell, after a couple drinks in me, she very well could be my type, too.”
“Well, if you want, I can call Kira on her private cell phone number that she tucked none-too-discreetly inside of my pocket, leave the bottle of champagne sitting on the island, and give you two some time alone.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with Kira’s ten coveted digits scribbled on it, crumpled it up, and tossed it in a small wastebasket in his living room.
“Nice shot. It seems as though you have some practice disposing of women’s telephone numbers.”
“Just useless scraps of paper.” He looked up, noticing me inspecting the grand piano in the corner of the room. “Ah, yes, I acquired that two months ago. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play and figured now’s a good a time as any.”
“So, you bought an instrument that costs as much as a starter home in the Midwest on a whim?”
“When you put it that way, it makes me seem frivolous.”
“I suppose there’s worse things you could be spending your money on while thousands of homeless people sleep on the streets at night.”
“Are you done?”
I smirked. “For now. Seriously though, Phin, she’s a beauty, and as much as I’d like to rag on you, I can’t fault you for wanting to bring music into your home. Better than a gaggle of strippers, I guess.”
“My thoughts exactly. Although, I would liken a group of strippers to be more of a caravan than a gaggle.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s that grin for?”
“You called me Phin. I just … it grew on me, and then you stopped. I like hearing it again.”
My cheeks flushed, forcing me to turn my head so that he wouldn’t notice.
“Why don’t you play something?” He nodded at the piano.
“Because I haven’t played anything since I was a child. I’m not certain whether I would even know how to play anymore.”
“Oh, come on. I’m sure it’s like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never forget.”
“You’re highly overestimating my cycling skills.” I scanned the piano, appreciatively. Frankly, I probably could play it; and honestly, I kind of wanted to.
“All right. I’ll give it the old college try.” I handed him my champagne flute and walked over to the piano, taking a seat on the bench in front of me as I recalled the lessons my piano tutor had taught me twenty or so years ago. There were a few songs I could play by memory, the first one coming to mind being “Für Elise”. Exhaling, I placed my fingers on the keys and began channeling Beethoven’s undying classic. To my surprise, I took to it nearly as quickly as I had when I was younger. Maybe it really was like riding a bicycle, after all.
By the time I got halfway through the piece, I had hit my stride, living and breathing the music like I used to. Why I’d stopped playing, I didn’t know. Most likely, it had something to do with my childish desire to stick it to Marilyn, only hurting myself in the long run.
I became acutely aware of Phineas’s presence behind me. He was close, so close that if I were to lean back, the back of my head would brush against him. Concentrating on the keys in front of me, I attempted to shrug off my rapidly increasing pulse and continue playing. But that became all for naught when his breath caressed the back of my neck. Flustered, I missed a note, quickly composed myself, and resumed playing once more. As though taking that as a challenge, Phineas proceeded to sit down on the bench next to me, amused when I struggled to find the right keys.
“If you want me to play, you’re going to have to move away from the piano.”
“Why? Am I distracting you?” he asked in an annoyingly knowing tone.
“No,” I lied, “it’s just hard to move my arm with you sitting so close.” I placed my fingers on the keys and began playing again to make my point, but was met with his hand on top of mine. “I’m confused.” I looked up from the piano to his face looking down at me. “I thought you wanted to keep things professional?”
“I never said I wanted to keep things professional. I said we needed to keep things professional.”
“And that’s still the case, isn’t it?”
The longing in his eyes when he looked at me was enough to ignite a fire throughout my entire body, answering my question for me.
“It should remain the case for the both of us. It would certainly make things easier—at least, I thought it would make things easier. But I was in denial. The truth is it’s only made things excruciating. Because I can’t get that night at the opera out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”
“What are you saying?”
“I want you, Mena. I wanted you the night of the opera, and I want you right here, right now.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
That was all he was waiting for, to know that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. And the moment that confirmation was made, he pulled me onto his lap, his lips quickly finding mine. My back was pushed against the keys, creating an off-key melody while Phineas’s hand slid eagerly down the curves of my body as I straddled him. Resting his other hand on my shoulder, he slid his fingers over the strap of my dress, hesitating to pull it down, as doing so would render me half-naked. Maybe he wanted to savor the moment, maybe he was in the middle of changing his mind entirely. Either way, I wasn’t having it.
I reached for the strap, making eye contact with him briefly before his eyes traveled down to my shoulder, watching me expectantly. Under any normal circumstance, watching a woman perform a strip tease would be an erotic experience, but this wasn’t any normal circumstance. Completely forgetting about my tape situation, I slipped off the strap and tugged.
“Son of a bitch!” I screamed, burying my face in Phineas’s chest.
“What happened? What is it?”
“I really hope you aren’t a boob man, because I’m pretty sure I just ripped one of them off.”
“What?” he asked, chuckling. His eyes widened, resting on my chest when I sat up. “You’ll be happy to know it’s … it’s still there. Your breast, that is. And it looks perfect … perfectly fine.” He took a second to compose himself, his focus moving from my breast to my dress. “Dear God, how much tape did you use?”
“As much as I needed to use to keep my boobs from making their own premiere.”
“So, you were planning on wearing that dress forever, then?” He laughed, despite trying to hold it in.
“I’m glad you find humor in my pain. In my defense, I wasn’t planning on nailing my boss tonight. I figured I would casually disrobe tomorrow afternoonish while nursing a hangover like I do any other weekend.”
“That seems plausible.”
I smiled as my fingers pulled the other strap of my dress down my arm, almost certain I could hear Phineas’s breathing intensify. He put his hand over mine, and for a second, I thought he was going to stop me. Instead, his fingers interlaced with the strap and, slowly, he pulled it the rest of the way down my arm. With the strap of my d
ress out of the way, his fingers traced the length of my arm, hovering over my chest, his face searching mine.
“I want you to touch me,” I whispered near his ear.
“Mena,” he groaned. Gently, his fingers worked to separate my other breast from the dress. Once freed, his thumb brushed over my nipple, sending a pleasurable current through my body. “You’re absolutely stunning.” His eyes moved up my body, finally settling on my face.
Unable to hold back any longer, I crashed my lips against his while my hands worked to remove his tuxedo jacket. “There’s so many parts to this. Why are there so many parts to your tuxedo, Phin?”
“Here.” He snickered at the desperation in my voice, but I could sense he was just as eager as I was for the both of us to be undressed.
Together, through fumbling fingers that had completely lost their dexterity at the moment we needed them the most, we managed to remove his tie, cummerbund, and button-down shirt, revealing the white T-shirt he was wearing underneath, which I managed to pull off of him in record time. His bare chest looked exactly how it felt the night at the opera: defined and sculpted in every way. A groan of my own escaping my lips, I couldn’t help but run my fingers down his torso, stopping just north of his equally as impressive abs.
He leaned forward, pushing me back against the piano, his lips exploring my neck. His hand cradled the back of my head, preventing it from striking the keys, while the other explored the top half of my body, his fingertips sending waves of pleasure up and down my torso. Heart beating out of my chest, I couldn’t wait any longer, and thankfully, neither could he. Desperately, he stood up and lifted me up onto the piano, kicking the bench out of the way as he tugged my dress the rest of the way down, until I was in nothing but my bikini briefs. Pesky clothes out of the way, in one swift move, Phineas picked me up, and I swung my legs around his waist as he carried me to his bedroom.
Like the rest of his penthouse, Phineas’s bedroom featured floor-to-ceiling windows that, at night, allowed just enough light into the room for me to make out his silhouette as he lowered me down onto his bed, his lips finding mine the moment my head came to rest against his pillow. In one smooth movement, his hand pulled my bikini briefs down, leaving me fully exposed.
“It would appear you have me at a disadvantage,” I said, our lips just centimeters apart. I could feel his lips curving into a smile against mine.
“You’re wrong. When it comes to you, I’ve always been the one at a disadvantage.”
“Well, then let’s level the playing field.”
He shuddered as my fingertips ran down the length of his body, stopping when I reached the button to begin unfastening his trousers. Sensing I was in for a struggle, Phineas finished the task, removing both his trousers and boxers and throwing them onto the floor. Fully naked himself, he hovered over me on his elbows, his thumb caressing my cheek. It felt like he was hesitating, and my stomach sunk at the thought that he may be changing his mind.
“Phin? You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“Not a chance,” he said in a voice somewhere between his normal tone and a whisper. “I just haven’t been with anyone since Kathryn, and, well, you know how long that’s been.”
I cupped the side of his face, tracing his jawline with my thumb. “Don’t worry, I hear it’s like riding a bicycle.”
He laughed softly. “So it is.”
Any hesitation left him as he lowered himself on top of me, and our bodies finally connected as we were able to express the feelings we’d been forced to conceal for far too long.
*****
“I must say, I was wrong,” Phineas proclaimed, his voice hoarse from sleep deprivation.
Resting in his arms with my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest over his heart, I opened my eyes to look up at him. “About what?”
“The night actually got better, after all.”
“Mm-hm.” I nuzzled my nose in the crook of his neck, taking in what remained of his cologne. Outside, the first light of dawn was just beginning to break through the horizon. “Yes, five stars—would highly recommend doing again.”
“Again? Three times wasn’t enough for you?”
“It’s a start.”
“You’re insatiable.” He leaned his head down to kiss my forehead.
“So, I’ve been wondering. Whatever became of old Orfeo and Euridice?”
“That all depends on what ending you want to go with.”
“There are two endings?”
“Yup. There’s the real ending and then there’s the happy ending.”
“What’s the real ending?”
“Ah, well, we find Euridice becoming more than a little annoyed with Orfeo’s refusal to look at or speak to her. She becomes so disheartened, in fact, she decides that death may have been better all along.”
“Overreact much?”
“She was confused and hurt by the cold shoulder her husband was giving her. Frankly, if I were to die and someone came down to the Underworld to rescue me, I’d at least want a, ‘Hey, how are you?’.”
“They’re rescuing you, though. I would just be grateful they went through all the trouble to begin with. But please, carry on.”
“Before long Orfeo is worn down by Euridice and he turns to look at her. She immediately dies again, and Orfeo finds himself right back where he was at the beginning of the opera, alone and grief-stricken.”
“That … really sucks.”
“It gets worse.”
“What? Does he die or something?”
“Afraid so.”
“Talk about a shitty day.”
“Yes, but maybe not. I’d like to think that, like the happy ending in the opera, even in the bad ending, they’re reunited again in the Underworld. It’s not perfect, but it’s much better than the alternative.” I intertwined my fingers with his, noticing how much larger his hands were than mine. “Happy endings sell well because they’re what everyone wants to see. The real world is depressing enough without the fictional world. But love often has a real world ending and not the fictional happy ending we all enjoy. Which is why I often choose to find the light in the darkness.”
“Phin, the optimistic pessimist.”
“I like that. Perhaps, I’ll have to change my business cards to reflect my new title.”
He stared silently up at the ceiling. I knew the expression on his face, recognizing it as one he often had whenever he was in the middle of writing a speech for one of his conventions. Despite his way with words, he frequently second-guessed himself, taking the time to think about what he wanted to say repeatedly, instead of just letting it flow.
“What is it?”
His expression changed from contemplative, reflecting more of a hint of the worry that must have been on his mind. “I’ve a bit of a confession to make.”
“Okay. About what?”
“The text you sent to me by accident. What I told you at the opera wasn’t the real story. Much like that version of Orfeo and Euridice, it was the sugarcoated one.”
“I know,” I answered him, much to his surprise.
“You knew? How did you know?”
“I’m more observant than you may think. You have certain mannerisms. For instance, you stammer a bit when you’re flustered or impassioned about whatever it is you’re talking about. You also avoid eye contact when you aren’t being sincere, which isn’t very often. You’re a very sincere person by nature.”
“Impressive … and very true. I told you I hadn’t seen your text with the photos until the morning after you sent it. In reality, I saw it the night before. Seconds after receiving the notification, I checked my phone and realized it was a text from you.”
“But you hate dealing with text messages, and you get so many of them.”
“True on both counts, but when I saw it was from you, I wasn’t filled with the sense of dread I normally am whenever I receive a text or an email from anyone else. I was actually, I guess, excited.”
> “And then you opened it and became even more excited?” His cheeks reddened. “We’re lying here naked, our bodies pressed together, and you’re blushing over a text you received from me months ago?”
“I’m just thinking about everything that went through my mind when I saw that text. So, yes, I am blushing.”
“But you knew I sent it to you by mistake?”
“I strongly suspected that was the case, but I wasn’t entirely certain. I wouldn’t admit it to myself at the time, but I know now that I wanted it to be meant for me. Even then, I wanted all of this.” He motioned between me and himself with his free hand. “Although highly inappropriate, I think I wanted you to come into my office and confess it hadn’t been an accident at all.”
“Which is why you lied to me about not having seen the text?”
“Yes.” He brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Either way, I didn’t want to lose you, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me, so I lied. I’m not proud of myself for doing it, but …”
“You did it for me?”
“Of course I did. I know I’ve been throwing out mixed signals, but everything I’ve done was with you in mind. How difficult your life would be if you were with me. What others’ perception of you would be if you were with me. It’s a lot to put on someone’s shoulders.”
I rolled over, positioning myself on top of him, catching him off guard.
“What’s all this?” he asked amused.
“As I showed you last night, my shoulders can handle quite a bit.”
*****
Exhausted, makeup smeared, hair a mess, and clothes wrinkled, I walked through the lobby of Phineas’s apartment building. He’d insisted on driving me home, but after he’d proven himself unable to keep his eyes open for longer than ten seconds at a time, we both decided it would be a wiser decision for his driver to take me home, instead. Well, actually, he decided it would be wiser for his driver to take me home. I was fine with slumming it in a cab.
When Stars Collide Page 26
