by Alice Ward
“That’s ridiculous,” Piper argued. “There are plenty of places he could build without tearing down a piece of history. Besides, isn’t he supposed to slow down once he wraps up the projects he already has going?”
I nodded. “He’s supposed to slow down and focus on projects closer to home. I guess this was one of them.”
Piper took a long sip of her iced tea and raised her eyebrows. “So, when are you going to talk to Drake? About all of this, I mean.”
I sighed and tossed my empty plastic container into the trash can. “I don’t know. I feel like I should get everything out in the open before we leave for Hong Kong. But we’re having our pictures for the engagement announcement taken tomorrow and I don’t want there to be any visible tension between us. I guess I’ll talk to him Thursday. I wish I could find something significant on the hotel before then.”
Piper’s eyes grew wide. “You know who you should talk to?”
“Who?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“Pete,” she replied, as if the answer was obvious. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it should have been. If Pete didn’t know the best way to save The Albergo, he’d know who to ask.
“I’m going to go talk to him right now,” I announced, rolling my chair from the desk. “If nothing else, he needs to know about Drake’s plans. He shouldn’t be blindsided by irate donors once the project hits the news.”
“Are you staying at home tonight?” Piper asked hopefully as I crossed the room.
“Yes, and I’m going to need help picking out what to wear for the photo shoot,” I said, stepping out into the hallway.
“You got it,” she agreed with a grin. “We can get Thai food. It will be like old times.”
If things don’t go well with Drake, there will be plenty of nights like it to come.
***
I made my way to Pete’s office and then paused outside the door. I wasn’t sure how he’d take the news about The Albergo. I took a deep breath, smoothed my white silk blouse, and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he called out, his voice muffled.
I pushed the door open and stepped into his office. “Hey, Pete. Do you have a few minutes? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Of course, Chelsea, come on in,” he insisted, waving to the chair in front of his desk. I closed the door and sank down onto the well worn leather.
“Dare I hope that you’re here to tell me you’re not leaving?” he asked with a glint of optimism in his voice.
“I’m afraid that’s not what this is about.”
He let out a long sigh. “Well, you can’t blame a guy for hoping, especially considering the numbers from the Founder’s Gala. Your fundraiser cost the society less money and brought in more donations than any event we’ve held in the last fifteen years.”
“That’s fantastic. But I’m afraid it had more to do with Drake’s contacts than my efforts,” I insisted.
Pete nodded. “Having the venue, food, alcohol, and gift bags all donated was quite a blessing. I hope that’s something that will continue even after you’re not an official employee. In fact, I’d love to make The Albergo our regular event venue. Do you think Drake would be open to that?”
My stomach tied in knots as I crossed one leg over the other and stared down at Pete’s desk. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I overheard something at the gala. I’m afraid that it could damage the society’s reputation, and I’m hoping you can advise me on how to stop it.”
Pete leaned back in his chair and gave me his full attention. “I’m listening,” he pressed.
“I stumbled upon Drake and one of his business colleagues,” I lied, not wanted to rehash the story of Alex with my boss. “The colleague commented that The Albergo was an unusual purchase for Drake. And Drake explained that the hotel is scheduled to be torn down. I’m so sorry, Pete. If I’d known his plans beforehand, I’d never have held the gala there.”
Pete sighed. “When you first told me you were involved with Drake Waters, I was shocked,” he confessed. “I knew him by reputation. Most people in our field do, because he has very little respect for historical architecture. From what I’ve heard, he has very little respect for anything. The man would tear down the Statue of Liberty and replace it with one of his concrete monstrosities if he could get away with it.”
“I haven’t really studied up on Drake’s business reputation,” I confessed. “I only see his private side. But I know him well enough to know that he won’t kill the build just because I ask him to. What options do we have to save the hotel? I’ve done some research, but I haven’t found anything significant enough to warrant having it listed on the National Register of Historic Places.”
“I’ll get in touch with some of my contacts at the universities,” Pete offered. “There may be some folklore about the place that could point us in the right direction. Short of getting it listed on the registry, the only effective action would be a large grassroots campaign. It would involve a lot of publicity, so you need to think long and hard about whether or not you can handle that. It could put unnecessary strain on your relationship. Have you spoken to Drake about this?”
“No,” I confessed, breaking eye contact with him.
“You don’t want him to know you were eavesdropping,” Pete said with a nod. “I understand where you’re coming from. But I think you should have a conversation with Drake before we take any action.”
“I’m going to talk to him about it on Thursday. We’re supposed to leave for Hong Kong late Friday night and I want to clear the air before we leave.”
“That’s probably wise,” Pete agreed. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go ahead and place a few calls, have my contacts start digging into the hotel’s history. You talk to Drake and see if you can change his mind. If that doesn’t work, I’ll launch a full scale effort to stop the demolition. If you don’t want to be a part of it, I’ll completely understand.”
“So, you’re going to fight the build with or without me?” I asked. Part of me loved the idea of the hotel being preserved without me having to get my hands dirty. But a larger part felt compelled to stand up for what I believed in, regardless of the consequences.
Pete responded to my question with a roll of his eyes. “Of course I’m going to fight the build. We just held a gala there and collected six figures worth of donations, all with the promise of preserving history. If I sit back and do nothing while The Albergo is torn to the ground, I’ll never be taken seriously in this field again.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I’m so sorry, Pete. If I’d…”
Pete held up a hand, silencing me. “You have nothing to apologize for, Chelsea. I know you’d never gotten us into this situation on purpose. But I have to warn you. In our efforts to save the hotel, Drake’s name is going to get drug through the mud. We’ll need the press to paint him as the evil corporate villain, hell bent on destroying everything that makes this city unique.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” I asked, my pulse quickening with anger. I hated what Drake was doing, but I couldn’t listen to Pete call him evil.
Pete shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I just need you to understand that if Drake doesn’t put a halt to his project willingly, things could get pretty ugly.”
“Consider me warned. And if I can’t change Drake’s mind, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.” I rose to my feet and started for the door.
“Chelsea,” Pete called after me.
I turned and stared at him over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“I know it’s not my place to question your personal decisions,” he said, having the grace to look embarrassed. “I just wanted you to know that if things don’t turn out the way you’re hoping with Drake, you’ll always have a place here.”
“Thank you, Pete,” I replied with a genuine smile. I returned to my office feeling a little better than I had when I left it.
***
I met Drake at his penthouse early Wednesday afternoon. I’d taken half the day off for the photo shoot and getting ready at his place was easier than taking the train to New Jersey and back. I hadn’t seen Drake since Sunday morning when I’d left for breakfast with the girls. The moment the elevator doors opened, he rushed into the car and took me in his arms.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, planting a firm kiss on my lips. “I know you wanted some quality time with Piper, but I can’t wait until you officially move in.”
“I missed you too,” I said, pulling away from him. “But if we’re going to meet the photographer on time, I need to get in the shower.”
“I have a surprise for you,” Drake beamed. “Stephanie’s on her way to do your hair and makeup. And I took the liberty of buying you a few new dresses, but you don’t have to feel obligated to wear one of them.”
“Thanks, baby,” I said, finally meeting his eye. Drake looked amazing, as usual. His navy suit accented his sun kissed complexion and his silk tie was the same shade of aqua as his eyes. I was suddenly filled with relief, knowing that Stephanie was on her way. I was going to need professional help if I had any hope of looking as attractive in the photos as Drake did.
“Anything for you, baby,” he said, taking me into his arms once more. He planted a light, fleeting kiss on my lips, holding the lower one in his teeth as he pulled away. My body stirred, hungry for his touch. I pressed my body against his, confirming he wanted me just as badly. All of my doubts suddenly seemed unfounded as I moved my lips to his once more.
This is what I’m fighting for. This is what I don’t want to live without. And if I’m a fool to trust it, at least I’ll be a happy fool.
Looking back, I can appreciate that that train of thought was what landed Zelda Fitzgerald in a mental institution. But at the time, nothing in the world mattered to me but the man in my arms.
“Want to join me in the shower?” I whispered, leaning back in Drake’s arms. To my surprise, he loosened his grip on me and shook his head.
“As much as I’d love to, I can’t. We’ve got a long afternoon ahead of us and Frankie will murder me if we’re late.”
“Frankie…? You don’t mean Frankie Chambers?” I gasped. Surely our engagement pictures didn’t warrant the most in demand fashion photographer in New York.
Drake nodded. “The one and only. We’re supposed to meet her at the first location in two hours. Stephanie will be here in fifteen minutes. You go shower and I’ll send her in when she arrives. Have you had lunch?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll have the chef throw something together. We have nine o’clock reservations at Ivy and I doubt we’ll have a chance to eat before then,” he warned.
“Gotcha,” I agreed, just as Drake’s phone started ringing.
He looked down at the screen as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Chelsea. But…”
“I know. You have to take it,” I finished, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.
“Drake Waters,” he answered before covering the phone with his hand. “I promise, I’ll turn it off during the photo session,” he whispered under his breath.
I nodded and silently made my way to the master bedroom. As I got ready for the photo shoot, my familiar doubts crept back to the forefront of my mind.
***
“You two both look amazing, but I hope you brought a few changes of clothes,” Frankie greeted us with a matter of fact nod as Drake and I approached the Strawberry Fields memorial in Central Park. Pigeons took flight in our path and a group of teenagers perched on one of the nearby benches.
I thought Drake and I looked incredible and was surprised that she wasn’t happy with our wardrobe choices. He looked as dashing as ever and Stephanie had worked a miracle taming my unruly tresses. My simple, wide strapped satin dress looked like it had been cut from the same bolt of fabric as Drake’s tie. We looked like we belonged together. And wasn’t that the goal of an engagement picture?
“This is just an engagement announcement,” Drake reminded her. “Not a fashion layout.”
“Even so,” she said, critically eyeing our formal attire. “Those outfits aren’t going to work for some of the shots I have planned. Can you send one of your people to your place for a few casual options? Think ripped jeans, plain white t-shirts, rugged stuff that will provide contrast to your elite reputation.”
“I’m not sure I have any ripped jeans, but I’ll have Vanessa pull together what she can,” Drake said, taking his phone from his pocket. “She can just run them over.”
“That’s right,” Frankie nodded. “You live right across the street. Great, we’ll get started with the more formal shots. When your maid arrives with the rest of your wardrobe, we’ll move to our next location.”
Frankie started setting up her tripods and I stood on tiptoes, leaning into Drake’s ear.
“How many places are we going today? I thought we were just having pictures taken for the announcement,” I whispered.
“Frankie’s an award winning photographer and she’s next to impossible to book, even for me. I thought we should take advantage while we had the chance. Trust me, when we look back on the pictures twenty years from now, we’ll be happy we took the time to have them done.”
He’s still looking into the future. He’s still making plans. Whatever’s going on with Alex, it must not be too bad.
“That makes sense,” I reluctantly agreed.
“All right,” Frankie said, approaching us again. “Let me tell you how this is going to work. I’m going to pose you and I’ll be giving you emotional prompts to get your expressions the way I want them. Some shots might be perfect on the first take, others may need dozens of takes before I’m happy with them. Try to forget that the camera is even here. I know what I’m doing. Trust me and do as I tell you, and we’ll wrap this up before you know it.”
“We can do that,” Drake agreed.
Frankie arranged us around the iconic Imagine mosaic and shouted out directions, her camera constantly flashing. Her assistants arranged lighting equipment between shots. Her booming voice and the vast array of equipment drew a crowd of onlookers to the shoot and I suddenly felt over exposed. Frankie picked up on my attitude and announced that it was time to move on. She sorted through the clothing Vanessa had delivered and tossed me a white eyelet sundress.
“Change into this in the car,” she directed before turning to Drake. She threw him a pair of well worn jeans. “Lose the jacket and tie, unbutton that starched shirt, and replace those slacks with the denim. I’ll meet you at the Boathouse in half an hour.”
“The Boathouse?” I repeated as Drake led me to the curb where Vince was waiting with the limo.
“I thought it was appropriate, considering that’s where I proposed,” he explained, holding open the back door. I slid into the car and waited for Drake to join me before stripping out of my silk dress.
“What other locations are on the list?” I asked, pulling the simple cotton sundress over my head.
“Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and the Flatiron Building,” he answered, stripping out of his suit. “And I guess we’ll be changing between each stop.”
He tossed his jacket aside and it landed in my lap. As Vince circled around the park, I felt Drake’s phone vibrate against my leg.
How many calls has he ignored since the photo shoot started?
I cleared my throat and slid my hand into Drake’s jacket pocket. “I think you’re getting a call, baby,” I said, keeping my voice as casual as possible. His arm jerked forward, his hand clasping the phone before I had a chance to look at the screen.
“I’m sorry, babe. I know I said I’d turn it off, but I’ve been waiting for this call. It’s about our trip,” he explained, swiping the screen to answer. Drake spoke in fluent Chinese while I stared out at the park. He finally ended the call as we pulled up at the Boathouse.
“Is everything okay?” I asked as we slid out of the car.
<
br /> “Everything’s perfect,” he replied with a smile. “All of the arrangements for our trip have been finalized. I can’t wait to whisk you away from the city for the weekend.”
Before I could reply, Frankie burst out of the Boathouse doors. “Come on you two. We only have an hour alone here. We’ve got to get moving.”
Of course he rented out the entire Boathouse. I wonder if he’s cleared the streets around the Flatiron and the cathedral.
Drake and I spent the next four hours following Frankie’s directions and posing around the city. By the time the shoot finally ended, we were both starving and exhausted.
“We have just enough time to get to Ivy,” Drake announced, staring down at his phone. “But if you want to just head home, I completely understand. The staff has the night off, but we could have food delivered.”
I was sweaty from posing under the hot sun and had no interest in being seen in public. “What I’d really like is a nice, greasy pizza,” I confessed.
“Consider it done.” He tapped his phone a few times and then tossed it onto the seat. A few moments later, the screen glowed and it vibrated across the leather. Drake’s face turned red and his jaw tightened as he stared down at the screen.
I’ve had enough of this. I can’t just keep sitting silently, pretending I don’t see what’s right in front of my face.
“Drake, what’s going on?” I asked, my voice flat and serious.
“Nothing,” he sighed. “It’s just a work…”
“If you say it’s a work problem, so help me God…” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I overheard you and Alex at the gala,” I confessed. “I also had a pretty interesting conversation with your mother that night. We have a lot to talk about, Drake.”
I met his eye and watched the color drain from his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for the right words. Finally, he sighed and stared out the window.
“Let’s not do this here, Chelsea,” he insisted. “We’ll be home in five minutes. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
