Room For Three

by Melissa Silvey

  She backs away from me, even though Asher still has hold of her. She tries again to shake off his hand, and he releases her. “This was all a huge mistake,” she says. “A terrible, terrible mistake.”

  She begins to walk toward the exit, when Asher places his hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t a mistake for me, Charlie.” His voice is strong. His words ring true, and are full of emotion. But she doesn’t stop. He pulls out his phone and sends a message. And then he follows after her.

  Just when I think I am all but forgotten as he chases after his assistant, whom he is now apparently having an affair with, he turns toward me. He isn’t angry. His eyes are as full of emotion as his voice. “Help me,” he pleads.

  So, I follow after the pair of them. Like a fucking idiot.

  “Charlie, let us explain,” he says, as she reaches the sidewalk and throws her hand up. Is she trying to get a taxi?

  She doesn’t turn toward him, she just keeps waving her hand.

  “Charlotte! I don’t regret what happened. I enjoyed it. Please, Charlie, just listen to me.”

  “Are you two having a lover’s quarrel?” A woman I don’t know, although I think I recognize her from the horrid photograph, approaches. She’s wearing a sequined dress, as out of place as Asher’s tux, and what actually looks like theater make-up it’s caked on so thick.

  “No, Amanda, we’re not,” Asher lies. His tone becomes wooden, as does his stance, much like I remember him being when I first met him.

  “Then why is she trying to hail a taxi?” Amanda questions.

  Charlie doesn’t reply, although her hand does drop to her side.

  A limousine approaches, and Asher opens the rear door. He holds it open, as he gazes at Charlie. She doesn’t argue, she just climbs into the back. He waves me toward the car as well. “Good bye, Amanda,” he says, as he gets into the car. I glance from her to Asher. I nod to the strange lady, and follow after him.

  I sit on the seat across from the two new lovers, and watch. She turns her head away from him. He moves closer to her. He tries to take her hand. She pulls away. She still refuses to cause a scene, even though I am the only one who would witness it.

  Well, if Asher had to pick a woman to sleep with, I’m glad it was her. She’s not even crying. She’s amazing. I’m sure if any other woman had been in her position, she would have thrown a fit. But not Charlie. She seems almost detached.

  “Charlie, please look at me,” Asher begs. She doesn’t. “I was going to tell you, of course. I didn’t mean to withhold it from you, or lie by omission. I told you I like men. I had hoped you had figured out that Peyton and I spend time together.”

  Spend time together, huh? I guess that’s the new euphemism for fucking.

  “Yes, you’re right. I should have.” She doesn’t look at him. She sounds almost defeated. That’s exactly how I felt when I first saw the two of them together.

  “So you understand?” Asher asks. He looks at me.

  Is he asking me? I don’t understand any of it. I don’t even understand why I’m here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oh, I understand. I understand all too well. While I was falling in love with my boss, he just wanted a piece of ass on the side. Just like my former boss at Oakleaf. Just like Patrick. Why are men such fuckin’ pigs! Why did I let this happen so fuckin’ easily? I let him dazzle me with a nice dinner, and a helicopter ride, and I fell right into his fuckin’ bed.

  Gawd! I’m just as fuckin’ stupid as Marla said I was.

  “Charlie?” Ash- Mr. Glass prods. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply.

  I should have known someone as gorgeous, as sophisticated, as successful as Mr. Glass wouldn’t want a real relationship with me. I should have known he’d only want one thing from me. He has a boyfriend. He was cheating on him with me. And I believed I was the only one. I believed him when he said he was mine.

  “You promised me we’d communicate, that we’d talk about issues when they arose. You promised me, Charlotte. Don’t back out on your promise. Please.” His voice is so even, his tone so patient. We’re sitting in the back of a limo, with his boyfriend, and I still almost believe him.

  It’s ridiculous how smoothly he can lie, how convincing he can be as he does it.

  “I said I’m fine, Mr. Glass. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me be, until we get to the hotel. Then I’ll head back to Wilmington. I’ve been away from Elise for too long, anyway.” I want my tone to match his. I don’t want to sound like I care. And I don’t want to cry, even though this hurts me. Gawd, I was so fuckin’ high, so fuckin’ happy. I thought everything was perfect, that I’d found the perfect man, who actually wanted me too. At least he wore a condom. At least I won’t be gettin’ pregnant, and having another fatherless child.

  “No,” he says, and reaches out to hold my chin, to tip my head back. But I pull away. “We must talk about this, Charlie. We must discuss what happens next. Now is the perfect time, while all three of us are here.” I shake my head, and cross my arms in front of my chest. “When I said we’d discuss issues that arose, this is exactly what I meant.”

  I glance at Peyton. He’s sitting across from us, as silent as an empty church. His light hazel eyes are surveying me. He’s incredibly attractive, in his dark suit with his grim expression. His perfectly sculpted jaw line is tight and twitching, as if he’s grinding his teeth. But he doesn’t look angry. He looks tense.

  “Yes, let’s all talk about it. Peyton, how do you feel about being called an issue that just happened to arise?” I chew on my lip, but I don’t look away from him. I really want to know how he feels about this, whatever this is.

  His left eyebrow arches thoughtfully. He’s sitting with his legs spread apart, with his hands clasped together between them. He almost looks comfortable. It’s unnerving how well he’s taking this.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised.” His voice is just as calm as Mr. Glass’s. “By any of it.” His eyes move from me, to the man sitting beside me. His expression gives nothing away.

  “What does that mean? What does any of this mean!” Damn it, I’ve raised my voice. I bite my bottom lip again. Aren’t either of them upset? It’s almost as if… “Did you two plan this? Did you know he was going to seduce me? Is that why you asked me out?”

  “You went out with Charlie?” That revelation got a response out of Mr. Glass. His voice changes, he actually sounds nervous. Well, at least I know he’s not some unfeeling, uncaring creature.

  “She’s a sweet, nice, polite young woman who is great company.” Peyton’s reply seems straight forward enough. Until his pretty hazel eyes narrow as he stares at his boyfriend, and he quips, “At least I didn’t fuck her!”

  “Oh, my gawd! I’m sittin’ right here!” I exclaim.

  “I didn’t just fuck her, Peyton. We shared something incredible. There’s a difference,” Mr. Glass corrects him.

  “You’re my boyfriend, Asher. You’re not supposed to share anything with anyone but me!” Peyton argues.

  “I never said we were exclusive,” Mr. Glass counters. He sounds almost hollow.

  “After two and a half years of fucking you almost every night, it is certainly implied,” Peyton growls.

  “I never said I didn’t like women, either,” Mr. Glass continues.

  “You never said much of anything about anything, until Charlotte Hall came along!” Peyton is upset now. He’s animated, and obviously angry. Sparks are practically flyin’ out of his light eyes, and his usually handsome face is set into a mean scowl.

  Good. Maybe I can get the two of them arguing, and they won’t notice when I sneak out of the car. But there’s one bad thing, Mr. Glass knows where I’m going, and my room is right beside his.

  “You didn’t appear to mind before now,” Mr. Glass argues. I won’t look at him. I can’t. I can’t look at him and think of what we did, so many times. I mean, we started sleeping together last night, and we’ve done it four times already. And pro
bably, if I’d wanted to, we would have done it again, right inside the little room at Hansen Technologies. He wanted it, that was blatantly obvious.

  So he isn’t one hundred percent gay, I guess.

  Not that it matters now. He has a boyfriend. Who asked me out just a few days ago. I glance at Peyton again. “I didn’t mind at all, until I saw the change in you after you met her.”

  They sit in silence for a moment. I think we are near the hotel. I am ready to run. I kick off my shoes, and thankfully neither of them notices.

  “I don’t like your tone, Peyton,” Mr. Glass finally says.

  “You know what I don’t like? I don’t like you sleeping with a woman!” Peyton yells.

  “Don’t make me choose. I don’t think you would like my decision.”

  They both become quiet again. I can see the hotel. My hand is on the door handle. “How about I take myself out of the equation, and you don’t have to make a choice? I’m not available, to either of you!” As soon as the car stops, I open the door and sprint out.

  “Charlotte!” Mr. Glass calls out. But I don’t stop. I keep running, with the asphalt against my bare feet, even when I hear cars honking. I make it to the door of the hotel, before he grabs me. “Don’t run across traffic like that! That was dangerous, and foolish Charlie! You scared the life out of me!”

  “Leave me alone!” I scream. I pull away from him, and stumble backward.

  He reaches out to steady me, and I smack his hand away.

  He takes a deep breath. I can see his chest move. “Calm down, please. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt.”

  I try to calm down, to lower my voice. People are walking past us, and I don’t want to make a scene. “Don’t touch me, Mr. Glass. Just let me go.”

  “Mr. Glass?” He jerks away from me, as if I struck him. “I’m Mr. Glass again?”

  I take a moment to put my shoes back on, although my feet are now probably dirty, and I’ll probably ruin my new, expensive shoes. He stands in front of me the entire time, in his perfectly tailored tuxedo. He looks amazing in it. Did I tell him how good he looked? It doesn’t matter any more. None of it matters. I want it to be as if it didn’t happen. I want to forget it.

  “I need to go home, Mr. Glass.” I see Peyton approach, and stand beside our boss. I guess I should call him Mr. Waits now, because he befriended me under false pretenses. Mr. Waits is taller, and wider, than Mr. Glass. He’s dressed in a black suit with a black shirt and a black tie. I don’t look either one of them in the face. I won’t.

  “Let her go, Asher,” Mr. Waits says, his voice again gentle and calm.

  “No, I don’t want to let her go,” Mr. Glass argues, and reaches out to me again.

  “There’s no reason to argue here, in front of the hotel. Let her go.” Mr. Waits places his hand on Mr. Glass’s shoulder, and whispers something to him.

  I step away from both of them. I don’t look back. I walk into the hotel, head held high. No one looking at me would know that I just had it out with a billionaire who seduced me, and his boyfriend. No one would guess that there’s a storm brewing inside me. No one would know how angry I am.

  Not even the Misters Glass and Waits.

  I see them approaching the elevators, walking so closely their strides are the same length. They are both gorgeous, both successful, both intelligent. And they both like men. They are perfect for each other. As the doors to the elevator come together, I realize, there’s no place for me in either of their lives. I don’t fit in their world. I might as well return to West Virginia.

  Elise will be upset. My mom will be happy. And I will have learned a lesson. Men are all the same, even seemingly sensitive, thoughtful, shy billionaires can’t be faithful.

  “Charlie,” Mr. Glass says, right before the doors close.

  This will be for the best. I should never have thought that he could care for me, that he could love me, the way I love him. As soon as I’m safely inside my room, I allow the tears to flow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “She’ll be right upstairs, Asher. Just let her take some time to calm down, to breathe. Then you can talk to her.”

  I push the up button, and take a step away from Peyton to wait for the next elevator. “Why did you come here?”

  He scoffs. I do not need his attitude tonight. I need solutions, not pouting and jealousy. “I came here because I was afraid you were sleeping around. I guess I found out my answer.”

  “And did you find the answer you flew across the country uninvited for?” I watch the display over the doors, counting down the floors. I need something to think about, to distract myself. Otherwise, I will get angry at him. I don’t think he wants to see me angry. No one does.

  “I knew you were going to have sex with her eventually. Why didn’t you take a page from your own book and talk to me about it?” he demands.

  The elevator arrives, and when I step inside, he follows me. I watch the lights behind the numbers indicate the floors as we pass them. Two. Three. Four.

  “I didn’t ask her to fly out here, to leave her daughter, with a nefarious purpose in mind. I had a crisis, and I needed her assistance. We solved the problem together, as I knew we would.” Six. Seven. Eight.

  Nine. The elevator doors open, and I step out. I immediately walk toward Charlie’s door, and knock.

  “And you just happened to fall into bed with her afterward?” Peyton quips.

  Charlie doesn’t answer. So I knock again. Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “I’ve had about as much of your emotional tantrum as I can stand. Please stop now. If you aren’t going to contribute anything productive, just be quiet.” I’m getting to the point where I can’t process all of the emotions I’m feeling. I’m going to shut down, or blow up. I don’t want either to happen. I need to speak with Charlie. I need to make her understand.

  “Emotional tantrum? Are you serious? You cheated on me, Asher. I could-”

  I turn toward him, and even though he is taller than me, and stronger than me, I place my pointer finger against his chest, and growl, “You could do what, Peyton? I’m your boss. Although I allow you to tie me down, fuck my ass and shove your cock down my throat, and let you live out all of your fantasies on my body, do not think for one moment that you have any of the power in this relationship. I am in control, at all times. Remember that. Whatever you do to me it is because I allow it to happen. Don’t make me regret my decision to allow you to spend time with me.”

  He stares at me, dumbfounded. He has no idea what to say, or how to react. I have stunned him into silence. I stare into his intelligent eyes for several moments, waiting for him to find his tongue. He doesn’t.

  “You will leave this floor now, since you do not have permission to be here, or I will call hotel security.” I do not look away. I do not avert my gaze. I continue to stare at him.

  He remains silent as he walks toward the elevator. Quietly he enters the car when it arrives. He turns his back, and as the doors close I see his hand brace against the back wall, and his head lean forward.

  I return to Charlie’s door, and knock again. Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I could stand here all night, and she might not answer. I pull my phone out of my trousers’ pocket, and call her cell. She doesn’t answer, but her voicemail does.

  “Hi there! You’ve reached Charlotte Hall, Executive Assistant at Glass Investments. I am unable to answer your call at this time. Please leave a brief message with your phone number, and I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you, and have a wonderful day!”

  I’ve rarely heard it, because she almost always answers the phone when I call. I have always called for business previously. Will she ever answer her phone again?

  I hear the beep, so I speak. “Hello, Charlotte, it’s Asher. Please call me Asher again, and not Mr. Glass. I called to apologize because you have not eaten dinner yet. You might have called room service by now. I know you are probably hungry, and I hate that you are suffering becau
se of me. I know that you might also be sad right now, and that is my fault as well. I would like to take you out for dinner, and apologize to you face to face. I’m also feeling very emotional. I think that if I explained, and we discussed our issues, that we would both feel better afterwards.”

  An automated voice interrupts me. “One minute remaining.”

  “I’m not good at this, Charlie. But you promised me that you would talk to me if you had a problem with me. You promised to talk about what was bothering you. You also promised you wouldn’t hurt me, and you are by not speaking to me. You’re hurting me right now, Charlotte. You’re hurting me.”

  There’s a beep, and the recording ends. I lean my forehead against her door, and hope that she hears the message.

  Chapter Seventeen

  You’re hurting me right now Charlotte. You’re hurting me.

  As soon as the call went to voicemail, I touched the screen and dialed it. I thought I felt bad before I heard it, but his sad voice and his heartfelt words make me feel even worse. I can’t even call him selfish, because he acknowledges my pain before his own. He even apologizes for it. He said all the right things. He sounded so sincere. But he’s a cheater, no matter how much he apologizes, or tries to explain it away.

  He says he didn’t have a committed relationship with Mr. Waits, but they were together for two and a half years. You can’t get much more committed than that. Mr. Glass must have known how Peyton felt. Did they not tell each other “I love you”? Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he doesn’t know how to love. Maybe he really is autistic.

  But the voicemail has genuine emotion in it. He feels. He cares. Can he not love as well? I have no idea why, but I listen to the voicemail again. Maybe I just want my heart completely broken by this gorgeous man.

  I get a beep as I’m listening to it. It’s Mr. Glass calling again.

  “You’re hurting me right now, Charlotte. You’re hurting me.” His tone causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up straight. How can I be so damn angry at him, and want to hold him at the same time?