Intimate Mergers

by Raleigh Davis

  Paul steps into the spotlight, thanking the emcee for his introduction. He’s in a tux, and the stark lines and lack of color only emphasize how handsome he is, a frame for his perfect beauty. His picture from tonight is going to cause many a girl to swoon when she sees it.

  He waves the crowd, acknowledging their applause without seeming to encourage it. “I want to thank you all for being here,” Paul starts out. Of course he began with a thank-you; he always has perfect manners. “Thanks to the funds you’ve raised tonight, many lives will be saved.”

  He turns, his gaze searching for something in the wings.

  “That’s your cue,” Lucy whispers, pushing me forward.

  When Paul sees me, something comes over him. His polite mask slips, and there’s… pure amazement. Open wonder.

  “Grace,” he says, but not into the mic. Just for me. And then he holds out his hand to me.

  Lucy doesn’t need to push me—I’m already going toward him, my own hands reaching out. He pulls me close when I arrive, closer than he needs to.

  I can hear gasps from the audience, even a few awws when Paul dips his head as if he’s going to kiss me.

  He doesn’t though; he simply watches me. His gaze is intense, potent. Not his look of fake adoration, but something more real.

  My heart slows way down, almost stopping. He looks like he’s really in love with me. Like I’m in love with him.

  “When all this is done,” he says only to me, “we need to talk. About the future.”

  Everything that was swirling in me before—my feelings, my doubts, my indecision—stills.

  “Okay” is all I can manage to say. I can’t think of anything better while I’m trying to interpret his expression and hold on to my smile.

  He turns me toward the crowd, loosening his hold so that they can see me better. I put on the smile I’ve been practicing for days—polite, demure, appreciative, no teeth. And remember to tuck my chin, angle myself toward Paul. All the better to photograph properly.

  I think I’m doing it correctly, but I won’t know until tomorrow when I see myself in the papers. My mouth is dry and my heart is thundering, but thank goodness that won’t show up in the pictures.

  “I’m very pleased to be taking my mother’s position at Tsai Holdings,” he says. “Her retirement is well deserved, and I hope to lead the company as well as she has in the past. And to honor our commitments to the charities supported by our foundations.”

  There’s some applause there, but I can sense the crowd waiting for what they really want—his introduction of me.

  He takes my hand, squeezes it. And takes a moment to simply look at me. I smile too big before I remember not to—no teeth if you can help it—but since I was smiling just for him, I couldn’t help it.

  “I have a more personal announcement too.” Paul’s not looking at the crowd as he speaks—his gaze is tight on me. My skin warms beneath it. “I’m pleased—honored—to introduce you all to my fiancée, Grace. When she agreed to be my bride, I knew my future would be a happy one.”

  My cheeks flush because that’s more than he needed to say. But he’s not done.

  “She’s truly my better half. And I hope you all”—his gaze sweeps over the crowd—“will join me in welcoming her to our family. I know you will all come to love her as much as I do.”

  The flush has crawled up my neck and spread over my chest, my ears ringing with his words. Love. It feels like no accident he said that. And definitely not fake.

  All Paul had to say was that we were engaged, maybe a few words about how happy he was, something light, shallow. That’s all anyone would have expected from him.

  But to say he loves me…

  Everyone is clapping for us, and there are even some cheers as Paul hands the mic back to the emcee. Then he’s pulling me offstage and I’ve never been so happy. Not just to be done with that moment but to be alone with him.

  He feels the same; I can tell from his expression. “Finally.” He frames my face. “Grace, I—”

  “Paul! Grace!” Lucy is coming toward us, along with his mom.

  Paul swears under his breath, then drops his hands.

  His mother nods to me—I think she’s actually approving?—and then tells Paul he needs to speak to the donors. Lucy takes me the opposite direction, telling me how beautiful I looked, how wonderfully we pulled it off, and soon enough Paul and I dissolve into our separate roles at the party.

  I can see him sometimes across the room as Lucy introduces me to everyone and I accept their good wishes. He stands out among all the other men even though they’re all in tuxes. Or maybe it’s just that he draws my eye constantly.

  After about two hours of meeting people and saying thank you to their congratulations, I need a break. While Lucy is chatting with one of her school friends, I seize my chance to slip away.

  It’s not too hard to find the doors leading out to the balcony of the War Memorial Opera House. I’ve only ever seen the building from the outside before, the elegant columns, high windows, and ornate flourishes. But now I’m one of those lucky people on the balcony, staring down at the people below and the traffic rushing along Van Ness. Across the way, city hall is wreathed in light, the great dome massive and imposing. The balcony is cold after the enclosed heat of the party and the spotlight, but the fresh air feels good. Bracing and head clearing.

  When Amelia appears at a side door and walks out onto the balcony, the hair on my arms rises. I’ve seen her at most of the family dinners over the past few weeks, but she’s never said much to me. I got the impression she didn’t think I was worthy of her attention and certainly not her jealousy. I don’t know what she wants, but I somehow instinctively know it’s not good, not if she’s seeking me out now.

  Which is definitely what she’s doing, heading straight for me even if her steps are a little unsteady and her cheeks are deeply flushed. I think maybe she’s had one too many glasses of champagne.

  She still looks amazing, way more at home in her designer gown than I am in mine. There’s a hint of a sneer on her face, but she still looks so beautiful.

  But even as sophisticated as she is, Paul didn’t want to marry her. That thought makes me want to smile even though it’s not very kind.

  I wrap my arms around myself and debate just running away. It would be terribly rude, but I don’t think she means to tell me anything good.

  “So, you passed mommy’s inspection.” Her plummy British accent turns mommy into mummy. Once upon a time I would’ve killed for an accent like that.

  “I think Paul can make his own decisions without his mother interfering.” I cock my head at her. “Don’t you?”

  Even though she’s clearly buzzed, she catches my implication. “I didn’t want to marry him anyway.”

  I laugh because she sounds like a spoiled child. “Right. He’s gorgeous and rich and holds himself like a prince, and you didn’t want to marry him? Okay.”

  I’ve hit a nerve, and she takes two uneven steps backward. “I could have married him. If his mother hadn’t tried to force him into it.”

  “But aren’t you in love with someone else?”

  She looks away, but not before I see the raw pain flash across her expression. “If Paul had only talked to me before he proposed to you, we could’ve come to some agreement. We could have been together in public and done whatever we liked in private. It would’ve been perfect.”

  I can’t hide the revulsion that passes through me. “But if you love this man, why would you do that?”

  She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and I fear for a moment she might start crying.

  “Amelia?” I reach out for her arm, but she shoves me away.

  “You two are never going to get married,” she spits out. “You know that, don’t you?”

  My heart stops. She’s found out our secret. If she tells anyone… But then I realize she’s referring to something else.

  “You think he’s too good for me,” I say slowly.
>
  “It’s not that he’s too good for you, although he is. It’s that you have no idea how to operate in this world. This family is going to eat you alive first chance they get. It would really be much better for everyone if you’d just run along now.” She makes a shooing motion with her hand, as if I’m an annoying pet or a moth or something.

  I know she’s saying it just to upset me, but it still hurts. Corvus fired me, the United States government said they don’t want me no matter whom I work for, and then to hear Amelia outright say those awful things, on this night that I almost believed I was a princess…

  It hurts. It really, really hurts.

  But I also know that Paul, underneath his suits and manners, isn’t all prince. And that he needs more than a princess by his side.

  “You’re drunk,” I say with all the cold dignity I can muster. “I won’t tell Paul about this, but you should leave. I’ll even call you a car.”

  “Paul.” She injects a lethal amount of venom into that. “Where is he? If he loved you so much, he wouldn’t leave you alone with all these people. People like me. He doesn’t really care about you. And as soon as he realizes you can’t advance his business interests, not like I can, he’ll drop you.”

  I draw myself up to my full height and stare her straight in the eye. “Lucy was right about you. You need to make up your mind about what you want. You don’t want Paul—we both know that—but you’re putting on this sad display anyway. You’re a coward.”

  With that I make a sweeping exit, walking down the stairs that lead to the sidewalk and leaving through the emergency gate.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I’m more than ready to ditch this party.

  Before, I never would have dreamed of leaving so early. It would’ve been rude, and my mother would’ve been horrified, and of course they would need me to stay until the bitter end. Wasn’t I one of the most important people here?

  But now I’m just eager to get back to Grace. Stupid of me to plan to ask her to marry me on the one night we can’t catch even half a second of privacy.

  What can I say though? I can’t think straight when it comes to her. She looked so luminous when she came out on stage, I couldn’t breathe for a minute. And I almost dropped to one knee and proposed right then and there.

  The man next to me has been droning on about his golf game for almost ten minutes now. Or maybe he’s talking about a golf course. I haven’t been paying attention. Everyone else in the group is nodding along enthusiastically though.

  Fuck this. I’ve done my duty, and now I’m going to take some time—some happiness—for myself. Without a farewell, I leave. Golf Man doesn’t even pause.

  I see Lucy out among the crowd, laughing at something one of her friends is saying. I walk up, smile an apology, then pull Lucy away.

  She starts to protest, then stops at the look in my eyes. “So you figured it out?”

  I don’t need to ask what she means. “I figured it out a while ago. I just needed to give Grace some time to get used to the idea. I’m going to propose—for real—tonight.”

  Lucy is smiling so widely I’m worried her lips are going to crack. “Go then! Tell her now!”

  “I’ve been trying to get a private moment with her for hours. These people won’t stop talking to me.”

  “Oh, poor baby, to be the beloved and desired heir.”

  I make a face at her since she knows damn good and well she’s the spoiled in the family. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving now. Can you cover for me?”

  “Of course. You’re not half so important as you think you are anyway.” She shoves me toward the balcony door. “I saw Grace go that way a few minutes ago. Hurry, because I want to celebrate with you guys. For real.”

  “If she does say yes”—Lucy lifts her eyebrows like that would never happen—“you’re not seeing us until tomorrow morning,” I say. “At the very earliest.”

  Lucy’s grin is wicked. “Thank God I got Mom out of your house then.”

  I give her a kiss on the cheek because Lucy really is the best sister I could ever have wanted. “Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  And then I sprint for the balcony door before anyone else can grab me. But when I get out there, Grace is nowhere to be seen. There’s only Amelia, looking miserable and like she’s going to have the mother of all hangovers come morning.

  Something in her face puts me on edge. She looks so guilty she could throw up, and not only because she’s drunk way too much. I hope my mother hasn’t seen.

  “What happened here? Where’s Grace?”

  Amelia spins to face me, clearly shocked by my cold tone. “I was only trying to help her.”

  The hair on my neck stands up. “What you talking about? What did you tell her?”

  Instead of answering, Amelia sits down hard on the floor, her dress billowing around her, dirt streaking the skirt. “He left me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

  “What?” I crouch down beside her. “What’s happened?”

  Her hands are covering her face, and she speaks around them. “Jin said we couldn’t carry on in secret anymore, that he was tired of sneaking around. That if I loved him, I’d have told my parents about him.” She takes a sharp inhale. “And since I hadn’t, clearly I didn’t love him. Not enough. So he said it was over.”

  Jin has a point as far as I can see. He and Amelia have been carrying on for years; did she really expect him to stay with her like that for the rest of his life? Only meeting in secret and never having a real, full life together?

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that I could never tell my parents. They’d cut me off!”

  I realize suddenly that Lucy’s been right about Amelia all along. She’s a coward. Not evil or horrible or even a bad person. Just a coward, which is somehow worse.

  “I’m very sorry,” I say gently. “But where is Grace? I have to find her.”

  Amelia rubs her eyes like a too-tired child, smearing her mascara. “I was mean to her. So she ran down the steps.” And then she breaks into noisy sobs.

  I know I should feel bad for Amelia, and I do, but Grace would never do this. No matter how upset or angry or sad she was feeling, she would hold herself together. For me. And I would do the same for her.

  And once we were alone, I would hold her and let her cry as much as she wanted.

  I take off my jacket and slip it onto Amelia’s shoulders. I pull out my cell phone and fire a text off to Lucy, telling her she needs to put Amelia in a private car and send her back to the hotel. And that I have to go find Grace.

  As soon as Lucy appears at the door, I sprint down the stairs to the sidewalk. Amelia made it sound like Grace ran off in a tizzy, but that’s not like Grace. I’m guessing she took off before she lost it and popped Amelia in the nose. Or did a suplex on her.

  Amelia didn’t go into detail, but I can guess at some of the things she might have said to Grace, about how she wasn’t worthy of marrying into our circle. None of it’s true, and I don’t think Grace would believe it, but it still must have been infuriating to hear.

  She probably just wanted to get away from Amelia and didn’t go far.

  But when I arrive at the sidewalk, it’s eerily empty. There’s no fog, the air is as clear as it ever gets, but there’s nothing to see. No Grace, not even a hint of her. I walk around the building once, twice, three times, thinking that maybe I just missed her. Maybe she went back inside, maybe she’s walking in the opposite direction from me, or maybe we’re circling around each other.

  But somehow, deep in my gut, I know that she’s gone. That I could search the city forever and not find her. There’s a hollow spot in my chest that wasn’t there before, and it keeps growing.

  I head back to the main doors, the hollowness shifting to something like panic. I can’t lose my cool, not at this event, not in front of all these people, but if Grace isn’t inside—

  My phone buzzes from inside my jacket pocket. Grace’
s name flashes on the screen.

  I close my eyes, relief flowing through me. Thank God.

  “Where are you?” I’m so keyed up I don’t even bother to say hello. “I can’t find you.”

  There’s no answer. Instead, it’s only dead air. And maybe… scraping.

  Or scuffling. Like someone is fighting someone off.

  “Grace,” I shout into the phone. “Can you hear me?”

  I search up and down the street, in case she’s nearby. I never once considered a kidnapping attempt. Fuck, I’m so goddamn stupid to not have thought of it, to not have had a dozen security guards following her.

  “Stop jerking around.” It’s a man’s voice, coming from far away. “You’re not getting out of those cuffs.”

  My blood turns to ice.

  There’re more noises, only this time… it sounds like she’s in traffic. Or like she’s in a car.

  “Grace,” I call again. I don’t think she’s actually holding her phone, but hopefully she can at least hear me. “Tell me where you are.”

  “What the fuck?” It’s the man’s voice again, closer though. Like he’s picked up the phone.

  “They’re deporting me!” That’s Grace, far away, frightened.

  Shit. Did ICE grab her? But her visa is still good.

  Or did the kidnappers lie about being federal agents?

  “Where are you? Can you see anything?” Even just a small clue. I can work with that; I’ll find her no matter—

  There’s a loud noise, like the phone has met the asphalt at high speed, and then the tinkle of broken glass.

  And then nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Lucy!”

  Everyone at the gala turns to stare when I come crashing inside, yelling at the top of my lungs for my sister. Even the music seems to dim.

  I’m making a scene, something I never, ever do, and the papers will be filled with this tomorrow instead of our carefully planned announcements, but for once I don’t give a shit. Grace is the only thing I care about, and she’s out there somewhere, kidnapped by God knows who. Fuck all these people and fuck their respectability.