by Claire Adams
Oh, that was interesting. Last year we had had a guest in his Intermediate Macroeconomics class and it had been incredible. He had brought in the Vice President of Finance of Dylan Motors – a multi-billion dollar corporation – and he had told us his amazing rags to riches story and taken the class by storm. Who could it be this time? There was a murmur of excitement through the whole class and I couldn’t help but be overcome by enthusiasm myself.
“Our guest has taken time off his incredibly busy schedule in order to speak in front of you today. Most of you probably know him by name – if not, you should if you want to get anywhere in the world of finance. The school and many professors far more capable and venerated than myself have been trying to get him to come and speak for years, but he has only now found the time. So we should consider ourselves extremely grateful.”
You could slice the anticipation in the room with a knife. Everyone was suddenly sitting upright with perfect posture, and the guy in front of me, who usually napped through class, was ready with a notebook and a pen. It was rare for the whole class to be so alert and present.
“Who is it?” a couple of students asked, unable to conceal their excitement.
“He is a young man – much younger than myself, to my shame – who has taken a family empire and built it into an incredible corporation. Students, please let me welcome, Mr. Zayden Sinclar, owner and Chief Executive Officer of South National Bank!”
Wait, what? I must have heard that wrong… It couldn’t possibly be? No, no, no. This was just not happening. He wasn’t going to walk into my classroom right now, it had to be some kind of a sick joke. Maybe there was someone else with that name? Hah, I was being stupid. One Zayden Sinclair who was the CEO of South National was more than the world could or needed to take. I pinched myself hoping to wake up from a bizarre dream and jumped with pain.
Unable to take my eyes off the front of the classroom, I waited in a panic. Maybe he would cancel? Could I stealthily escape the classroom before anyone noticed? I could pretend to faint, nobody was going to see any reason for me to fake passing out, since nobody knew about Zayden and I. And I was in Mr. Weber’s full confidence; he would never suspect me of ditching a class for no reason. Yes, I could totally pull that off!
But just as I was gathering the courage to fall down flat on to the floor, Zayden walked in, looking like he just zoomed out of a magazine, and staring right ahead at me. The class broke into a loud applause as though they had just seen the President of the United States. He caught my eye with a sly twitch of his mouth, his face ridden with amusement, and I looked away. I would have a full-fledged panic attack at any moment.
“Welcome, Mr. Sinclair,” Mr. Weber said cheerfully. “Thank you so much for coming here to speak with our students today. The class collectively could not be more excited!”
“Is that so?” Zayden asked Mr. Weber with a slight laugh. “Collectively? Each and every one of them? Are you sure?” He was facing Mr. Weber, but looking at me from the corner of his eyes.
If there were ever a time to want to disappear into the ground beneath me, it was right in that moment.
“Of course!” Mr. Weber exclaimed in pure delight. Gosh, did he have to sound so ridiculously excited? “In fact, I have never seen my whole class so alert this early in the morning before. Everyone is awake, for starters.”
Zayden chuckled, sending goosebumps down my spine. If only he didn’t look so damn good, my life would be so much easier.
“That is very flattering. It is very nice to see you all,” he said, now directly looking at me. “I have some questions for you all, before I start yapping endlessly. Any volunteers?”
The whole class raised their hands as high up in the air as it went. Except me, which was a mistake because it caught Mr. Weber’s attention.
“Aria, why don’t I see your hand up in the air?” he asked, looking almost hurt, as though I had personally offended him.
Shit. Great, Aria. What a wonderful way not to draw attention to yourself. Should have just blended with the crowd!
“Uh, not sure I am quite up for inquisition just now,” I said, looking at neither Mr. Weber nor Zayden, and instead focusing hard on the concrete below me. I didn’t even notice how hard I was clutching onto my dress until my palms started to hurt.
“What do you mean you’re not up for inquisition?” Mr. Weber asked completely perplexed. He was used to a very different version of me altogether. I wished there was a way to communicate to him that I would rather swallow a vile of rat poison than be in that room without offending him. “Are you feeling alright?”
There was my cue. No, say no, Aria. It would then be easily over with and I could probably escape and not have to deal with this whole ordeal. But I froze, unable to say a single word. I made a feeble attempt at shaking my head but I doubt it looked like anything other than an involuntary shudder.
“You seem pretty alright, Miss… Aria, was it?” I heard Zayden’s voice.
“Yes, Aria Roberts. She is one of our best and brightest,” Mr. Weber said proudly. “In fact, I am not sure you know – you have thousands of employees after all – but she is already advancing her career in banking by working as a teller at South National.”
“Ah,” Zayden said, flashing me a look of pure amusement. “That’s where I know that face from! It all makes sense now. I am glad to hear young talent like yourself works for me, Ms. Roberts.”
There was a definitely intonation in his voice – especially a stress in the words talent and works, like he wasn’t quite talking about my skills in banking.
“Since you were the least eager to answer my questions, I suspect you will be the most honest in your responses.” He looked at Mr. Weber. “Should I proceed?”
“Of course! Ask her anything!” he exclaimed.
“These questions are basically a screening of how much your students have learned before I go on to speak about my own experiences. I want to tailor them to what is relevant to your students. As such, complete honesty about the material covered is essential.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked, still looking at Mr. Weber.
He shook his head. “No, no, not here. It would be best if I could speak with you briefly in private, for maybe fifteen minutes, so you feel more comfortable answering with honesty. My questions will pertain to this class too, and perhaps there are things you wouldn’t want your professor and fellow classmates to know.”
“I am perfectly comfortable right here, thanks,” I snapped, unable to handle it anymore. Hopefully nobody caught the bitterness in my voice, and even if they did, there was no way they could guess what it was about. “You can ask me anything,” I added more evenly. “And you will get a honest answer. There is nothing I have to say about Mr. Weber or this class that he wouldn’t like to hear.”
“Be that as it may,” he pushed. “Participation bias is a serious psychological effect, and to get the best out of all of our times here, we must have an audience in private. Is that okay, Mr. Weber?”
Now he was trying to be professional.
“Of course it is!” Weber exclaimed. “Aria, why don’t you show Mr. Sinclair the conference room and answer any questions he may have. Meanwhile, I will prep the rest of the class on questions we may have for him in turn and make a list. You can add yours to it after you return.”
“Uh.” I was trapped. There was no way to get out of this without raising suspicion or getting into Mr. Weber’s bad books, which was something I simply could not afford. Zayden’s little game was not worth my grades and academic performance. It was in my best interest to suck it up and show him the “conference room.”
“Fine,” I said finally. “Let’s go then, Mr. Sinclair.” I added emphasis on those last words.
“After you, Ms. Roberts.” He looked thrilled. Why wouldn’t he? After successfully ignoring him at his own bank, he had found a way to get to me by showing up at the one place where he knew I had to keep my cool. It must have been easy for hi
m, calling up the Econ department head and asking to make a guest lecture. He knew what classes I was taking from when I was discussing schoolwork with him so he must have just easily dropped the name of the most relevant class I was in and the department head must had exploded in delight. I was starting to feel lightheaded just from thinking about it.
As soon as we were out of earshot, Zayden started chuckling. “How was that?” he whispered.
I said absolutely nothing until we reached the nearest empty conference room. When we walked in, I closed the blinds and locked the door so nobody could hear us.
“Really?” he said with a smirk when I turned to look at him. “Here? Now? I’m flattered, sweetheart, but I suppose they are waiting for us back in your classroom.”
My face went red from a combination of anger and embarrassment. I wanted to punch him, or hurt him in some way for pulling this crap. But for some reason, words just choked up in my mouth as I watched his face light up. Why did Zayden Sinclair have this effect on me? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, resigned to not let myself be charmed by his ways once again.
After gathering a considerable amount of courage, I said, “What do you think you’re trying to pull here? Really Zayden? Don’t you think you have crossed a line by showing up in my class?”
The hint of amusement was still in his eyes when he said, “Don’t you think it’s a little egotistical of you to assume I came here for you?”
Oh shit. If it was possible at all, my face turned even redder than before, and I wanted to scream or cry or do something completely ridiculous to make all of this go away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply–”
“Aria, just stop. Of course I am here for you. I’ve been trying to call you every single day! And I try to catch you at the bank, but you rush to the other direction at the very sight of me as though I am some kind of a monster. You left me no choice, did you?”
“Yes, I did,” I said, the anger replacing the momentary humiliation I had felt a few seconds ago. “I left you the choice to leave me alone. Why is this so hard to comprehend?”
“First of all, that’s not really a choice. It’s not like I can just control wanting to see you.” He looked at me like I was a three-year-old who failed to understand basic concepts of human interactions. “And second, it’s not what our contract is about, is it? The whole idea was that you spend as much time with me as I require, no questions asked.”
“You were also not supposed to have an attractive wife up your sleeve, if we’re going to nitpick about the stupid contract. And since when is stalking me into school a part of the deal? I don’t remember singing up for that.”
“Well, you didn’t complete your end of the deal that you signed up for so I just improvised,” he said as though it were an obvious answer and I was being ridiculous for even questioning what he was doing. As though it were normal and excepted of him to show up here like this and I was a moron for thinking he wouldn’t.
“Fine,” I said, completely frustrated at this point. The only way this was going to be over was if I just went along with it and let him feel like he had won. “Fine. You’re here, great. What do you want from me?”
He walked forward with a grin on his face and his mouth came very close to mine. For a few insane moments, I forgot where we were and what we were doing. All I could see were his perfect lips so close to mine and if I only so much as tilted my head half an inch, we would be kissing. The thought of that sent tingles down my spine and I was close to giving in when he said in a very low voice, “You know very well what I want, Aria. It’s what you want to. You need to stop denying it.”
That brought me back to reality and made me jump. “Stop!” I yelled. “Stop trying to tell me what I want, stop trying to tell me what’s right for me, stop trying to tell me who I can or cannot speak to. I have survived a perfectly wonderful twenty years of my life without a man telling me how best to live it and more than anything else in the world, I would like to continue to do so. You need to back the hell off, Zayden! My life is none of your god-damn business.”
Those words seemed to have been the equivalent of slapping him across the face as he took a few visible steps backwards and looked at me in a completely different way, with something that resembled very close to loathing.
“Really? Is that what you want? For me to back the fuck off?” All humor had disappeared from his face and I felt a shiver of fear at the look he was giving me. Had I finally done it? Offended him enough that he would just step aside?
“I didn’t mean to sound hurtful,” I said more gently. “But I have spent my whole life being independent and this, whatever this is with the controlling, this aspect of our contract is suffocating me, Zayden. It all seems unfair – especially after I saw your wife in your office like that the other day – like you think I am some kind of a commodity you have acquired. Like a pet that you expect will do your bidding without asking any questions. Somehow, when all of this started, you had convinced me that you had respect for me. That is obviously not the case here. And it’s really suffocating me.”
“You already said the part about suffocating you,” he said softly. “And for the last time, nothing is real between Gina and I. You are right, I do have respect for you, which is why I wouldn’t lie to you through my teeth like this. But you have made your point. You want me to back off, I will back off. The contract is still valid, so if you don’t want to pay me a huge lump of money at once, don’t break any of the rules.”
Then he turned around and walked away. I stood there and took deep breaths for a few minutes before following him into the classroom. When I did, it was like a completely different Zayden in there. Gone was the teasing, joking man who had come here to mess with me. He was stern and serious now, discussing his business strictly, and not even making eye-contact with me. I was so confused and irrationally bothered by it that I actually found myself raising my hand to answer a few of the questions he addressed to the class, but it was like I was not even in the room.
Chapter 4
Zayden
Things had become very different since the day I had gone to Aria’s school. Upset by her defiance, I had stopped pushing for her attention, but that had caused a remarkable affect on my mood. I felt cranky and impatient all the time and not a single interaction with anybody had gone by without my snapping.
I was at the dinner table with my mother and Gina and whatever they were chattering about was making my blood boil.
“What do you think, darling? You haven’t spoken a single word all evening,” my mother said sweetly. “Should I try acupuncture? Gina seems to swear by it.”
“Sure,” I mumbled and went back to nibbling on my shrimp and mashed potatoes.
“For God’s sakes, Zayden,” my mother snapped, seeming to finally lose her temper. “Make the slightest bit of an effort. How much time do you get to spend with family? Do you think it’s fair that on the odd night that we all get to sit down and have a meal together, you are not even really here?”
“What do you want me to say?” I snapped back. “You two seem to be doing fine on your own. I have nothing to contribute to the conversation. Leave me alone, mom.”
“Hey, don’t speak to your mom like that!” Gina gasped. “She is only trying to spend some quality time with her son.”
“Nobody asked you for your fucking opinion,” I snapped at her too. “I am done eating.” I through my napkin down and stormed out of the kitchen.
No matter where I went, I couldn’t find peace. At work I was forced to look at Aria all day and not be able to approach her. At home it was the constant whining of two women who somehow seemed to have vowed to make my life difficult. Maybe now was a good time to take a vacation…
There was a knock on my door. I ignored it hoping that would make it stop but I had no such luck.
“Open the door, Zay,” my mother finally said. “This is really important.”
“It’s open, just come inside.” I sighed
.
She walked in and sat across from my desk.
“Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?” The look of genuine concern on her face took me aback. “You seem to have been very disturbed by something these past few weeks. I know you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, and whatever it is that is bothering you, you know you can really talk to your mother.”
“Do I?” I glared at her. “It has never quite seemed like it.”
Her eyes started to moisten but she held back. I had never seen her this way before. The only times I had seen her cry were full-blown episodes where she wailed until she manipulated me into doing whatever she wanted.
“I know you think I am a horrible mother. You always have. Even before your father passed away, and you learned about things that I wish you never had to hear.” She looked at me with a kind of rare intensity for a long while before speaking again. “And you are right.”
“What’s that?” I was surprised to hear what she was saying. It was not like her. Unless this was some new twisted plot intended to manipulate me.
“You are right. I could have been a better mother and a better wife. I had you when I was too young. Married your dad at an age when I should have focused on my career and living my life, without understanding the repercussions of being a wife. He wanted a child right away and I loved him so much, I went with it. Without warning, my youth was suddenly over and I became responsible for a whole new life at a time when I wasn’t sure I was doing a very good job of taking care of my own. Your dad had a huge business to run, so even though he had wanted a child, he didn’t have the time to care for it. Obviously, I had to quit my job – I was working towards being a chartered accountant – and then I started getting lonely and distant with your dad always working. I started finding comfort in other things, other men, and a part of me felt like I had given up so much, that I deserved to stray a little bit. Subconsciously, I blamed you for some of the things I had to give up, but it was never your fault. As you grew older, your dad started spending more time with you and going to all your football games and you two bonded while I stayed home and made dinner. So it always looked to you like he was more of a parent to you than I was, but he never helped me raise you, Zayden.”
