The Darkest of Shadows

by Lisse Smith

  “So, just for my own clarity, would it be asking too much to perhaps have you explain what this means?” He indicated us both sitting on the lounge.

  “It means we’re having sex.” I shrugged. “If you want more than that, you’re with the wrong person.”

  “Just sex, meaning?”

  “I’m not marriage material, Patrick. I don’t do devoted, and I don’t do clingy,” I told him softly. “I don’t love you, and I never will. I’m not your girlfriend; it’s not what I’m capable of.”

  “But you have sex.”

  I bristled at the implication of his words. “I have sex with you.” I clarified. “I live my life day to day, and today you make me happy, so I’ll go with that. But you need to understand that this isn’t real, none of it is practical, and it isn’t anything other than exactly what it looks like. Sex.”

  “You’re using me for my body?” He gave me a half smile.

  “It’s a very nice body,” I argued.

  “I reiterate—you are an infuriatingly independent and frustrating woman, Lilly.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “But I’ll take whatever you’re offering. You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  I followed him into the kitchen, where he was busy making what I presumed was to be our lunch.

  “So I assume from that little speech,” he continued, “that this thing between us isn’t going to be something we’re advertising.”

  “Good God, no!” At least he seemed to be following my train of thought. “Could you imagine the shit we would get at work if anyone found out we were sleeping together?”

  “Oh, I could imagine all right,” he replied. “But unlike you, I’d be pretty happy with everyone knowing.” He shrugged. “But your call.”

  Exactly. “My call,” I agreed.

  I kicked him out of my apartment later that night. I wasn’t about to have him move in, and I wasn’t going to be spending time at his house, either. We would both be seeing each other at work the next day, and due to the events of the last few days and his untimely arrival early that morning, I was feeling drained. I needed to sleep—by myself.

  “When will I see you next?” he asked, drawing me into his arms at the bottom of my stairs.

  “Tomorrow.” Work, remember?

  “No, not like that,” he elucidated. “When will I get to touch you again?” And did he ever like to touch. His hands were always touching, stroking; his lips kissed their way down my neck, his strong arms molding my body against the length of him, making us both want more than just kisses.

  “Well, you have that comfy lounge in your office, and I’m sure we could manage to work back there sometime during the week. Let’s just see how it goes.” I smiled into his eyes.

  “Ahh, that lounge.” He shuddered. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is going to be for me to get any work done in that office now? Every time I see that lounge, all I’m going to be able to do is picture your naked body beneath mine.”

  “You’ll manage,” I assured him, and pushed his resisting body through the door and out of my apartment building.

  Sally beat me to the office the next morning. She bubbled away in her usual manner, seeming totally oblivious to the fact that I never listened to a word she said. Even Ashlan’s arrival didn’t stem the tirade of words.

  Apparently, today was the day we all got to hear about Gerard’s frustrating family, with particular emphasis on his mother, who in Sally’s opinion was an overbearing fruitcake. Her words.

  “Morning, Lilly.” Ash smiled as he walked past my desk.

  “Morning, Ash.” He really was easy to like.

  Patrick came in while Sally was still in the middle of enlightening me about the events of her Christmas break.

  “Good morning, Sally.” His welcome didn’t even make her pause, and with a smile he turned his attention to me. We shared a smile that said much more than his words. “Morning, Lilly.”

  His gaze stayed glued to mine as he continued through the entrance foyer and into his office; then, with a knowing smile, he gently shut his door to begin his day.

  It wasn’t until I turned back to my computer that I noticed the silence in the room. Even Ash was disturbed enough to wander back to stand at his door. His attention focused on Sally who, I was alarmed to notice, was staring at me with a shocked, openmouthed expression.

  “What?” I looked around, anxious by her startled expression.

  “Lillianna Owen. You did not sleep with Patrick!”

  “Sally!” I screeched. “Shhh.” I looked at her in alarm. God, let there have been no one around to overhear that. Well, too late for Ash, who had turned his attention from Sally to me. He looked startled, and his eyebrows nearly shot up to meet his hairline.

  “Oh, this I need to know about,” he said, and then disappeared into Patrick’s office.

  “Sally! Good lord! Did you have to advertise it all over the office?” I yelped. “And how the hell could you tell anyway?” I added indignantly.

  “Oh, I know when a man’s looking at something he owns.” She crossed the room to sit on the end of my desk. “What on earth were you thinking?”

  “It’s not what you think,” I told her quietly. “We’re not together, not like that.” And this was going to sound bad. “We’re just sleeping together.”

  “Oh, that’s so much better,” she ground out. “So professional and worthy of you.”

  “Hey.” My voice leveled out dangerously. “You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t have the right to judge me in this. It’s between Patrick and me, and as long as we’re both clear from the outset about what this means then it’s no one else’s business.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “It’s not my business—but don’t let it start to affect your work, because then it will be my business, and I think that one day you might live to regret this.”

  I laughed hollowly, the sound deep and haunting. “You have no idea what I regret, Sally.” I rose to stand above her. “Regret is something that I do know about, and trust me when I assure you that this doesn’t even remotely register on that scale.”

  I turned away from her and walked straight into Patrick’s office. “Get out, Ash.” I’m not sure if it was my words, my manner, or the quick nod that Patrick gave to him, but Ash hauled ass out of that office and closed the door behind him.

  My feet drew me toward the windows and the calming sight of the city beyond them. I don’t know why I chose to come into Patrick’s office; I didn’t want to talk to him about it, but yet here I was.

  “Sally lives in a perfect world,” I told him a moment later. “She thinks that the only way to live is with a husband and a family and surrounded by your annoying extended family.”

  “Sally has very simple requirements from life,” Patrick agreed.

  “All I want is to live through each day,” I told him. “I’m not her, and I can’t have what she loves. She just can’t accept that I’m not that person. She judges me on the way I choose to make it through what’s left of my life.”

  “No one knows what you have been through, Lilly.” His hand reached out and gripped my fingers tightly in his. “You keep things very private, so you have to expect that some people won’t understand.”

  I spoke quietly to myself. “And the stupid part about it, is that I had that once.”

  “Had what?” Patrick asked quietly.

  “I had the husband.” I’m not sure why I told him that, but as soon as the words left my lips I shut down.

  “You were married?” Patrick sounded stunned, and instantly released my hand and tried to turn me to face him. “Lilly?”

  “Sorry.” I pushed away from him and walked toward the door. “I should never have said that.”

  “Lilly?” I ignored his call and returned to my desk where I immersed myself in work, anything to take my mind off the secret I had allowed to escape.

  TEXT: I told Patrick i was married

  REPLY: so<
br />
  TEXT: i need to keep that secret. I need to keep all of those secrets

  REPLY: might help if he knew

  TEXT: thats a different world, one he isnt part of

  REPLY: what did he say

  TEXT: nothing. I left

  REPLY: hes going to want to talk about it

  TEXT: no. Not Patrick. He will ignore it unless i bring it up again

  REPLY: then dont worry about it

  TEXT: Sally called me a whore

  REPLY: Bitch!

  TEXT: not in so many words, but she implied it.

  REPLY: she found out about Patrick.

  TEXT: She sees things far too clearly and believes the world is a simple beautiful place

  REPLY: Ah one of those

  TEXT: She means well

  REPLY: Whos stronger, you or her?

  TEXT: Me

  REPLY: Fact…

  Thankfully, after that one altercation, Sally chose to ignore the relationship I shared with Patrick. I’m not sure what Ashlan thought about it—I could only imagine—but he likewise was enough of Patrick’s friend to pretend it didn’t exist.

  I tried to keep a very clear division between when Patrick and I worked and when we were on personal time. After Sally’s reaction, I made a rule that we didn’t have sex in the office. I could just imagine Sally’s comment if she believed we were doing the nasty at work.

  Instead, a few times a week, Patrick would come to my house after work and would always leave sometime during the night. I wasn’t about to go to work with him in the morning, and for the moment, he seemed content with that arrangement.

  It was March before we actually had to go out on a social occasion together. It was a work function—otherwise I wouldn’t have accepted— but still, it was strange for me.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, as I was slipping out of the office late that afternoon. We were attending the Master Engineering Awards ceremony, and our company had been nominated for an award. It was a huge event for us; all the MDs were attending, and I wasn’t surprised to learn that Samuel Parsons would be venturing out of seclusion for tonight’s event.

  Apparently there were a set number of seats at each table, and we had been short one person, so Patrick decided I should go to even up the numbers. Gee, thanks, like this isn’t going to be awkward.

  Sally and I had managed to patch up our relationship somewhat over the past few months. We were almost back to our old friendship, however we followed a fairly rigid rule that I didn’t mention Patrick and she didn’t mention her family. It was working really well for us both.

  “Have fun tonight,” she chirped happily, as I grabbed my bag from under my desk.

  “Oh, yeah.” I grimaced. “This is going to be super. You’re just happy that you don’t have to go.”

  “Yep,” she said, and laughed. “More than you could imagine. But I also love to see when you get all dressed up, so make sure you send me a picture when you text one off to that friend of yours.”

  “Will do,” I promised her, and headed off to get ready.

  I already knew I was strange, so it made sense that I would have a few peculiarities. For instance, I didn’t pick a dress and then the shoes to match. I tended to pick my shoes and go in search of a dress that would match, and tonight was no exception. I had found a pair of what I happily called my “bling shoes.” They were black stilettos, with bands of various widths that wound around my feet and up to my ankles and were totally covered in sparkling embellishments. Not too garish, but just enough. I loved them.

  I picked a short black-and-white dress, with just a shade of grey in it, and matched it with a wide black belt and black Armani clutch. I was ready.

  Patrick’s low whistle of acknowledgement was enough for me to know that I had chosen well. He leant his head back against the headrest of the seat as I slid in beside him. “You really are going to be the death of me, Lilly,” he informed me, as the driver drove us away from my house. “As long as I get to take you home tonight, I think I’ll be able to manage to get through the night without embarrassing us both.”

  “You can muss me all you like later,” I assured him, and we shared a knowing glance.

  Patrick looked good in a tux, really good. He caught my appraising glance and leaned over and gently kissed me. He knew all about not messing with the lipstick.

  “Behave,” he whispered.

  The awards ceremony was a sit-down dinner, and then after that the guests could mingle with the other participants. Our table consisted of Maria and her husband; Peter and his partner, who I was surprised to learn was a man; Ashlan and his date, who I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he picked up from an escort agency—she had that kind of look; and completing our group were Samuel and his equally ancient assistant, Mrs. Thompson.

  Samuel was seated next to Patrick, who sat on my left. I was thankful for this because, although close, he couldn’t actually see me easily, which was exactly as I preferred it. Conversing with that man was a mental challenge I wasn’t equipped for tonight. Ashlan sat on my right and his date next to him, while the others completed the circle of our table.

  Eventually, the awards started, and in between courses various companies took their awards gracefully and with the usual boring acceptance speeches. There were well over three hundred people in the room, so I wasn’t too surprised that I didn’t recognize any of them—that is, until one of the announcers called for the main awards of the night, the one that we were up for: Most Outstanding Engineering Development.

  We had just finished a joint-venture construction on a heavy industry machinery plant in southern Spain, an expensive, high-tech project that had come off really well. There was a lot of optimism riding on our chances of winning, because it was not only a state-of-the-art development, it was culturally and socially integrated into the surrounding old-world community in which the owners chose to build it. Hence, it was not only a successful production plant, but it served many other purposes in the local community that would ensure its continued operation and importance for many years to come.

  What I didn’t realize was that Monterey Enterprises was also nominated for this award, which meant that somewhere in this huge room, Lawrence Monterey sat enjoying the evening. Well, that meant I definitely wasn’t moving my ass from my seat, not if there was a chance that I might run into him.

  Patrick squeezed my hand under the table and sent me a supportive smile. “Relax,” he whispered quietly, easily picking up on what caused my sudden agitation.

  “Easy for you to say,” I whispered back. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself last time you were in his company.”

  “He won’t come anywhere near us tonight. We’re definitely small fish in this room.”

  Big enough to be nominated alongside him, I thought to myself, and found myself suddenly wishing with everything in me that we didn’t win that award.

  Alas, it was not to be.

  “And the winner is Cartright and Nagel, for their Vallier Machinery development.” The loud speakers boomed the announcement around the room, and then all eyes turned toward our table.

  Patrick, Samuel, and the other MDs were standing, busy congratulating themselves on the win, while I tried valiantly to remain out of focus. Sadly, this was one of those events where roving cameramen were on scene to catch the excitement up close and personal, and then, no doubt because of the size of the production, the intimate moments were telecast on huge screens at the front of the room for everyone else to see.

  Any chance of my remaining inconspicuous were shot down when they zoomed in on Patrick as he wrapped his arms around me for an excited hug. All captured in alarming detail on the big screens.

  Samuel led his directors onstage to accept the award while the rest of us stayed at the table. Me personally, I tried to sink beneath it and disappear.

  I know I should have been happy about the win. It was good for the company, and when I stopped feeling like I was going to vomit, I
’m sure I would have shared those feelings. But for the time being, I had other things to worry about, like disappearing from the table before Patrick and the others returned. With a politely murmured excuse about having to visit the restroom, I escaped through the maze of tables toward the nearest exit.

  I stumbled to a halt just outside the doors, where I found myself in a foyer of some kind, but all I really cared about was the sign at the end of the room that indicated there were bathrooms nearby.

  I took as long as I possibly could in there. I touched up my makeup and spent a few long minutes fiddling with my hair, but eventually I knew I would have to venture out, or no doubt Patrick would come looking for me.

  Trouble had a way of finding me, and it certainly had me in its bull’s-eye when I came out of the bathroom and saw a large man standing off to one side of the hall. I think maybe I was still a little frazzled from the awards, and at first I didn’t acknowledge him, but the closer I got, the more familiar he seemed. It wasn’t until I was nearly upon him that it clicked where I had seen him before.

  The blond surfer boy.

  I also should have realized that where one was, the hulking black one would be too. But too late, he was suddenly standing behind me, and then, as I gave a startled yelp, he pushed me through the door surfer boy happily swung open for me. It shut firmly behind me and left me standing face to face with Lawrence Monterey.

  “Do you often abduct women in closets?” I asked sharply, my gaze skimming the room quickly and determining that it was some kind of cloakroom.

  Lawrence moved from where he stood leaning against one of the walls, a small smile playing at his lips. “Lillianna Owen.” He drawled my name.

  “Lawrence Monterey.” Seriously!

  “I was surprised to see you here tonight.”

  I shrugged. “You and me both.”

  “Congratulations on the win,” he said.

  “Wasn’t really much of my effort,” I replied honestly. “Mind telling me why I’ve just been hauled into a closet with you?”