Closer

by Aria Hawthorne

  “It’s yours.” Sven picked up the stack of cash from the bed and tossed it at Enzo’s chest. “All fifty thousand of it. Just agree to never contact her again.”

  “But we have a daughter together. She expects to see me. Or at least, for me to see Luna.”

  Sven shrugged, cruel and unforgiving. “Luna will be fine without you. I’m certain of it.”

  Enzo eyed Sven’s determined stance, preventing his exit, and passed the stack of bills beneath his nose, inhaling their scent of authenticity. “And if I accept it…this offer? What’s to stop me from coming back into her life a year from now? Or two?”

  “I don’t think that would be wise.” Sven said in measured words, slowly and distinctly. “I have a video of you entering my penthouse, going to my bedroom and my safe, and withdrawing fifty thousand dollars in cash. That video could easily fall into the hands of the police, and it wouldn’t look very good for you.”

  Enzo held up his hands like he had been caught. “Ah, I see…I’ve been trapped. Okay, fine…you win. I’m not interested in trouble.”

  Backing away from Sven, he flung the stack back onto the bed and circled around him towards the door.

  “I think you should reconsider it,” Sven cautioned him, scooping up the bribe and holding it out to him like it was his final offer. “Fifty thousand dollars—and the only thing you have to do is disappear.”

  Accepting the stack, Enzo flipped through its bills again. “And what if she comes looking for me?” he asked, as if he had found a loophole in their ironclad deal. “Then there is nothing you can do to stop her.”

  “She won’t come looking for you—that I can promise you.”

  Enzo cast him a sidelong glance. “How?”

  “Because I plan to love Inez and Luna more than you ever could.”

  Enzo held his hands over his heart, feigning devastation. “That’s very poetic. But that doesn’t change the fact that Inez and I will always share a bond that is stronger than love.”

  “Really?” Sven scoffed, unimpressed. “And tell me, what is that?”

  “Our child,” Enzo said firmly, his black eyes challenging him.

  Sven shook his head and nodded to the bounty in Enzo’s hands. “No, I don’t think so. Not if you accept that and walk out the door.”

  They stared at each other in silence, waiting for the other to capitulate. But in the end, Sven knew there was no contest because he knew his own strength and his opponent’s weakness—there was only one man in the room who truly wanted to be with Inez for the rest of his life, and it wasn’t the man who had fathered her child. And there was only one man in her life who was willing to love her the way she deserved to be loved; and Sven was determined to make sure of it.

  “I came from nothing, and I can go back to nothing,” Enzo finally said, like a warning shot before an attack. “But now, I won’t ever have to worry about it again.”

  He pocketed the cash and passed by Sven, intentionally bumping against his shoulder before disappearing down the corridor. Sven held his ground without glancing back. It was done, he thought. He had succeeded in removing his rival from their lives, but perhaps at a cost far greater than a simple monetary exchange. He gazed at Inez’s portrait on his dresser, knowing she had gifted him her ultimate trust. The pleasure of his victory dissolved like melting ice through his heart. Had he just bought her salvation or his own damnation?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Oh my goodness…isn’t she the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

  Sven’s mother swept up Luna into her arms and pressed her lips against Luna’s perfectly shaped little head. “And look at all this black hair and this tiny little nose, and these charming little feet!”

  Sven flashed a smile at Inez. She had been skeptical that Sven’s mother, Madame van der Meer—grand matriarch of one of Chicago’s most prestigious families—would have any interest in babysitting Luna for three hours in Sven’s penthouse while she and Sven attended the opening night gala of The Spire. Apparently, Inez had been wrong.

  “Oh dear me,” Madame van der Meer exclaimed, swaying Luna back and forth in her arms like she was her own kin. “Look at the way she’s grasping my finger with her precious little hands. And look at that little yawn. Like an adorable katje.”

  Inez peered at Sven, noting the flush in his cheeks. He cleared his throat, almost like an apology for his mother’s effusive affection. “Kitten,” he translated for Inez.

  Inez controlled her urge to tease him. It was a side of Sven she had never seen—embarrassment. It was as if he was a twelve-year-old schoolboy who barely knew how to act around his mother in front of his playground girlfriend. The only difference was the fact that he was dressed in a black designer suit, awaiting to embark on the most important night of his career, and his mother was busy fussing and cooing over his girlfriend’s baby.

  “Mother—” Sven interjected, interrupting Madame van der Meer as she nestled kisses into Luna’s belly. “Inez has left you the bottles and milk in the refrigerator. But you’re not to heat it up. You must leave it on the counter for a little time before giving it to the baby.”

  Madame van der Meer shooed her son away with a dismissive wave. “How many children have I raised, Sven? Hmm?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes up at something imaginary in the air. He answered in Dutch, a reflexive response after being scolded by his mother.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she answered back in perfect English. “Two. Two boys, no less…so I am well aware of how to care for an infant—especially one as easy and lovely as a baby girl. And I certainly don’t need any instructions on how to care for her unless it’s directly from the mother.”

  Sven held up his hands and backed away. “I will say no more.”

  “Good.” His mother nodded firmly. Inez suddenly saw the source of Sven’s authoritative demeanor. Her indistinct accent gave her an aura of sophistication while her striking green eyes and peacock face confirmed the origins of Sven’s well-defined facial features and rugged beauty.

  “Now, tell me my dear,” Madame van der Meer asked, lowering her eyes and voice towards Inez with deference. “What should I know about your daughter, so that I may put your mind at ease while you are away from her?”

  “Just that she loves being held, she hates being in her crib, and if she cries, it’s usually because she’s looking for this…”

  Inez passed off the rubber giraffe to Madame van der Meer, who tested its squeak with a delighted laugh. “Oh my, you do love that, don’t you?” Sven’s mother squeaked the toy more times than her son could apparently bear.

  “Mother—” Sven finally insisted. “We’re going to be late to our very important work function. You must let Inez say goodbye to her child now.”

  She turned away from her son with a shrug; clearly she didn’t give a damn. “I’m certain your fancy gala can wait,” she informed him with certainty. Turning to Inez, she said, “Sven and his brother, Hans, think the only thing important in life is work. But as women, we know the exact opposite is true. Happiness. Happiness is the only thing that matters in life, and nothing would make me happier than to have my own boys grant me the gift of kleinkinderen.”

  Impatient and uncomfortable, Sven circled the kitchen island and cleared his throat again. “Grandchildren,” he reluctantly translated.

  “Yeah, I got that one that time,” Inez replied, stifling a smile.

  Earlier that evening, she had confided in Sven that she was insecure about meeting his mother. She had doubts that Madame van der Meer would be impressed with her status as a young single mother. Sven had shrugged it off, just like his mother shrugged him off now. He had divulged to her that not even his own mother and father had been married. The customs in the Netherlands were less conventional about nuptials and more interested in offspring. For Inez, it seemed impossible to imagine Madame van der Meer as anything other than a traditional socialite. Now, she realized that her assumptions had been wrong. Madame
van der Meer may have been an heiress and philanthropist, but it was clear that in her own private moments Augustina van der Meer was like so many other women who simply loved children.

  Inez studied Madame van der Meer’s black beaded sweater top and passed over a baby towel. “And here…you’ll definitely need this.”

  “For bathtime?” Sven asked earnestly.

  Tsk. Sven’s mother clucked like a hen, clearly annoyed at her son’s ignorance.

  “No,” Inez replied. “For burping time, spitting up time, or just plain drooling time.”

  Madame van der Meer exhaled dramatically with a lamenting sigh. “How is it possible that men can build entire skyscrapers, but know so little about babies?” She tossed the towel over her shoulder and raised Luna up over it.

  Sven tapped his foot and extended his wrist, glancing at his glimmering watch.

  “Inez—” he petitioned for their rescue.

  Inez caught a glimpse of her reflection in the stainless steel countertop of the kitchen island, certain her gown, hair and makeup were as ready as they would ever be. She moved towards Luna and gave her a gentle good-bye kiss on her head.

  “We’ll be home before it gets too late, but if you grow tired, the balcony suite is made up and ready for you,” Sven instructed his mother. “A rocking chair and Luna’s crib are also there.”

  She shooed him away with a dismissive wave. “I’m just glad you have a date tonight. I hate it when you and Hans try to drag me to all your company functions.”

  “We do it to keep you entertained, Mother.”

  “Then, give me more kittens,” she insisted. Taking the bottle into her hand, she started away from them and towards the balcony suite before quickly turning around and addressing Inez with a formal nod.

  “You’re wearing the Prince Alexander heirloom tonight, I see?”

  Inez touched the emerald and diamond choker around her neck. Despite the crisp platinum setting draped against her skin, she had forgotten she was wearing it. “Yes, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, not at all. It looks lovely on you.” Madame van der Meer tilted back her head and gazed down her long, aquiline nose at the priceless treasure around Inez’s neck. “And I hope you get to keep it. That way, perhaps I will have the pleasure of babysitting for you again.” Shifting her hawkish eyes to Sven, she cautioned him in a maternal tone. “In the meantime, however, I will pray that my son doesn’t ruin the chance of that for us both.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The moment Inez stepped into the glass-paneled elevators, she knew she was trapped.

  The transparent doors closed and the cylindrical cab rushed upwards along the metallic exterior walls of The Spire, launching them like a rocket ship into the air. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty stories…she backed away from the thin panels of glass and shut her eyes, halting her vertigo as the earth spiraled away from her. Sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety stories through the evening sky. After sixty sickening seconds, the elevator slowed its ascension and fluttered to a stop within the black abyss of the starry night—one-hundred floors above ground level.

  Loneliness. The odd, unexpected emotion seeped into her heart as she swept her eyes across all the adjacent skyscrapers, studying their diminutive antennas twinkling below her. There was nothing around them but constellations, and nothing else competed for her attention except the unnerving gusts of wind, rattling the glass panes, and the gentle touch of Sven’s hand, enveloping her own.

  “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, observing how his black designer tuxedo, crisp and elegant, mirrored the evening skyline surrounding them. He looked strong and intimidating with his hair slicked back, accentuating his sloping forehead and high cheekbones, and his rigid black eyepatch hiding his only hint of weakness. No, there was no weakness in him, she corrected her own thoughts. He was the man who had designed this fearless feat of structural brilliance, and it was not the work of a weak man. It was the work of a genius.

  Behind them, a set of silver-toned doors chimed open, inviting them to step out of the elevator and into unparalleled thrill of being at the top of the world. He took her by the hand and led her with confidence through a stunning atrium lobby, its curling metallic walls shimmering like mirrors.

  “Please tell me you planned that?” she said, her eyes rising to the unobstructed view of the full moon, reigning over them with celestial perfection.

  He smiled at her and kissed the curve of her hand. “The only thing more beautiful than the moon is its dependability.”

  His gaze dropped to the flashing glint of her emerald choker necklace and the satin of her evening dress, its lilac sheen made scintillatingly white in the wake of the lunar glow.

  Following the pulsing rhythm of the live band, he guided them through a grandiose spherical entryway and into the elliptical ballroom. The vaulted glass and steel ceiling threw a shadowy pattern of endless hexagons onto the white glossy floors, drawing the guests into its seductive web. Within its oval shape, the ballroom had no formal walls or windows, only curved panels of glass offering a breathtaking vista of the sleeping city to the west and the endless evening horizon of Lake Michigan to the east. If Inez thought she had experienced every part of Chicago, she was now proven wrong. She had never experienced the city—her city—this way, like an angel marveling at its beauty from the heavens.

  Sven halted them every few steps, exchanging handshakes and accepting the murmurs of praise from men in black tuxedos and women in sequin and lace evening gowns. He confidently made his own way through the crowd, distinguishing each face through the iridescent glow of the chandeliers. He no longer needed her. It was a strange, fleeting thought that whispered through her mind when he turned his back on her to greet an older man with a long mustache and his wife.

  “Such lovely things shouldn’t be abandoned.”

  A chill shuddered down her spine as a masculine hand skated along the small of her back. Its owner pushed his chin over her shoulder, allowing her to catch a whiff of his breath—garlic liver pâté.

  “I’ve hardly been abandoned,” she replied coolly, feeling the imposing build of his chest crowding into her personal space before she turned to face his menacing eyes and the flashy smile that matched the pearly sheen of his white tuxedo coat.

  “Well, you certainly aren’t being...” Eliot Watercross paused and shifted his eyes to the half-circle of guests huddled around Sven. “…well-taken care of.”

  As a waiter rushed by them with a tray of champagne flutes, Eliot relieved him of two glasses and handed one to her.

  “I’m an independent girl, Mr. Watercross. I like to take care of myself.” She returned the flute to the tray of another passing waiter and ordered herself a drink. “A French Martini, please. Extra Chambord.”

  Eliot eyed her disposal of his drink. “I can see that, and I admire it. But—” he countered, edging uncomfortably closer to her and murmuring his whisper against her ear. “The only time I ever believe a woman who proclaims her independence is when she’s angry about being left alone and I’m there to fill the void.” He slowly pulled away, but not before passing his nose over the scent of her hair. “Did you enjoy the opera?”

  Inez glared at him, remembering exactly the one thing she didn’t enjoy about it. Seeing him.

  “The flower girl dies at the end,” she managed to say, impatiently throwing a glance at Sven. Still showboating, she sighed, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that he hadn’t even noticed she was no longer by his side.

  “The girl never fares well in a Puccini opera,” Eliot commented, throwing back all the champagne in his flute. “I much prefer the female lead in Bizet’s Carmen and her…fiery disposition.”

  “I’m pretty sure she dies, too.” She challenged him with her glare.

  “True,” he said with a playful snap of his teeth. “A stab wound from her jealous lover. Such a shame.” His insincerity oozed from his playboy smile.

  “Heartbreaking,” she seethed with
sarcasm.

  “I suppose the moral of the story is…don’t be too tempting.”

  “Or have too many lovers.”

  “And certainly not jealous ones.”

  He reached out and slid his long finger down the contour of her bare arm. “You know, I received a phone call earlier today from Hans, saying that Sven has decided to move forward with us on the Li Long Towers. He said he thought you would be traveling there with him.”

  Inez bristled from his touch and avoided his gaze. Like divine intervention, a waiter appeared with her martini. She slurped it down, savoring its syrupy sweetness as it relaxed the tension in her shoulders. She even reconsidered her decision to kick Eliot Watercross in the balls if he touched her again.

  “Sven will be very busy when he’s in Shanghai,” Eliot continued. “It’s a big job and there’s not a lot of time for...recreation.”

  “I thought your only concern was whether or not Sven designs your towers, not how he spends his personal time while he’s there,” she shot back, betraying irritation in her voice.

  He threw his head back with a grating laughter. “Oh, I don’t care how Sven spends his personal time. Only that he’s not torn between entertaining you while he’s working for me.”

  Inez crossed her arms, quelling her urge to shiver and suddenly feeling nauseous at the prospect of being at the mercy of more than one rich and powerful man while in Shanghai.

  “I’m fairly certain she’ll be well-entertained,” Sven replied, cutting in from behind them and sweeping Inez away from Eliot. He locked eyes with Watercross and clasped her hand. “I apologize for being detained. I can see it wouldn’t be wise to let it happen again.”

  His arm stiffly encircled her waist, like a band of steel. She winced. It wasn’t his typical tender embrace, but rather an assertion of his possessive authority over her.

  “Probably not.” Eliot smiled slyly, goading him. “It’s never a good idea to keep a woman waiting…is it, Miss Sanchez? Especially not one who can obviously take care of herself. But I was happy to make her aware of all her…alternatives.”