I visited dad at the hospital every day. He was getting better, stronger, and he coldn’t wait to get out of there to take charge of things again. I had to convince him that it was good for him to rest and that he should be careful and let the doctors check up on him every day. “Bah, they don’t know shit,” he would say, but after a while he’d stop protesting. I brought him books to read and talked with him for hours.
Even Theo seemed to step aside for a while to let me enjoy my happiness. He was still the same jerk, but he didn’t pressure me so much. Work was easier without him constantly pestering me and putting me in overdrive.
After these few happy days, I started worrying again. I was still happy but I felt guilty and asked myself what I was doing exactly and what Theo meant to me. He had made an amazingly romantic gesture, giving up millions of dollars in exchange for me, but he’d done it in the least romantic way I could think of, and it was more than a bit humiliating.
Also, jealousy started to set in. I remembered my encounter with Vanina time and time again, and her words hurt every time. You’re the new toy. He will discard you.
I had to do something, get it all out of my mind. I had to discern what I meant for Theo exactly. Was I just a toy indeed, ready to be thrown away and replaced for a new one on a whim? Why had he made his sacrifice?
One morning, when it all became too unbearable to keep quiet, I decided to talk to him.
“Vanina came the other day,” I said when he arrived at the King of Hearts.
“Oh, yeah?” Theo asked casually, without even making eye contact. “What did she say?”
He stepped into his office without waiting for my answer. I followed him inside.
“She said that you like to keep your toys around for a while, and that I’m just the newest one.”
“Hmmm.” He was paying an unnatural amount of attention to his computer’s boot process. I’d never thought that he was so interested in the minutiae of the computing world.
“She said that you call the apartment I live in the Joker, because you put your wildcards there, ready to be used. And that there may be several of these apartments scattered around.”
“Oh, no, there’s only one,” he said, glancing at me briefly.
“But is it true? You always put your girls in there?”
He looked at me again, and this time he didn’t look away.
“My girls? You make it sound as if I was a pimp or something. Yes, Vanina lived there for a while until she quit. Previous assistants lived there briefly. Does that bother you?”
That burning sensation again: tears welling beneath my eyes, ready to flow at an instant. How could he be so cocky about this? I needed him to tell me that I was different, that I wasn’t just the newest toy in his box. I needed him to assure me that what he had done was a sign that he wanted me, not an everyday business thing where he took a strategic loss.
I was different. Right? I had to be. Somehow I knew.
Or did I just wish I was different?
“Don’t pay attention to Vanina. She’s butthurt because she refuses to accept her role. She always has. Remember what I told you when I hired you? She tried to bite more than she could chew.”
I gasped. It hadn’t occurred to me that Vanina had been my predecessor. This meant that they had been together (whatever that meant in Theo Lambert’s twisted world) right before I came to the scene. I had taken the interview to replace her.
“The sooner you understand this, the easier it will be for you,” Theo said, his clear eyes puncturing me with their intensity. “Vanina was an asset. And you are too.”
No, no. I didn’t believe him. His mocking tone was one thing, but his eyes were another. They were the only part of his that would always seem sincere to me. And they weren’t lying now. I could read them perfectly. I was not like Vanina or any of the others. I was more.
“Do... do you get off on this?”
A bolt of anger flashed through his eyes. His mouth turned into a bitter rictus. When he spoke, he spit his words one by one, like a hammer beating on rock or a machine gun firing rounds.
“Do I get off on giving people back their lives? Do I get off on helping plucky ungrateful employees? Do I get off on covering a pretty woman in expensive gifts only to find despise in her eyes? Oh yes, I guess those things turn me on.”
I knew I was being unfair to him. He was under no obligation to give me more than he had already. But... I needed to push, try to break his surface and see what was on the other side. I needed to know who Theo Lambert really was.
“It’s not that. I...”
“Thanks for your time. You’re dismissed,” he said, sitting down on his chair. I stood there for a few moments, until he gave me a hard look, urging me to leave.
How I’d wished to find tears in his eyes. But they were cold and dry.
THE FRIEND ZONE
“So? How’s it going?”
Maurice has a wide smile practically painted on his face. He’s been smiling that way since I turned around the corner and met him. We’re sitting at a pub now, with a couple of beers between us, and the multicolored lights play with his beard as his eyes refuse to let me go.
I called him in a fit of rage, out of frustration after my talk with Theo. I had decided to give Maurice a chance, as Callie had suggested. Why not? He had an intense crush on me, and he was such a nice guy that he deserved it.
He’d helped me countless times, the latest one being helping me get some fake documents with the name “Lara Bold” printed on them, so that I could mount Operation Revenge. He’d never expected any compensation from me for all his favors, except for my smile.
Well, this was his compensation. I had called him practically in front of Theo. He was in his office, but the door was open and I procured to talk in the loudest and clearest way I could, to make sure the message had been received. Barely two hours later, we were here, in the pub.
“It’s going well, thank you,” I replied. I didn’t want to tell him about Theo and our bizarre agreement, but I told him that I might have found a way to save dad’s company. He looked genuinely happy when he heard that. He already knew that dad was getting better, and he’d even gave me a greeting card for him, wishing him a quick recovery.
Why not? I thought as the night progressed, and we downed beer after beer. Why not give him a chance? He’s handsome, funny, and caring. Also, he looks like an athlete. I’ve yet to discover a single flaw in him. So... why not?
When the waiters moved some tables around, the music got louder and the lights got darker, we danced for a while. Then we sat down again and chugged a few more beers. Then we danced again. Then we drank some more. At some point in the night, the beer started talking for us. At last, Maurice gathered courage and said he loved me.
I shot him down.
“Let’s just be friends,” I said. “It’s good to be friends.”
His look of disappointment was painful to watch. I realized that I didn’t actually want to shoot him down... not like that, not as abruptly. By gosh, I should be with him and dismiss the asshole who keeps invading my dreams day and night, I thought. Maybe I said it out loud. I don’t know. I was drunk.
“Is it that rich motherfucker? You deserve better,” he said.
“I know, Maurice,” I say, but even as drunk as I was, I was completely aware that I was looking at him with pity in my eyes. “I know.”
Maurice was everything a woman could wish... but I just couldn’t. He didn’t make my internal machinery go crazy. It was a real shame. But it couldn’t be helped.
I knew I deserve better. But I wanted much worse.
“Well,” Maurice said, “we’re here now, so we can at least enjoy the night. This is the best night of all. I wish it would never end.”
It ended two seconds later, when my cellphone started ringing. It was Theo, of course.
“Get ready,” he said, without even taking the time to say hello. “We leave for London at 6 am.”
THE WAY
OF THE SHARK
I’m not like this.
I repeat it to myself, trying to make it sound true.
My hatred is a blunt weapon now. My heart has been sharpening a different instrument, and it’s designed to hurt me instead of him. It hit me right in my center, like a professional assassin.
I can say the word now that it’s all over. Love.
I love the entitled asshole that’s sitting beside me on this plane. And I’ve never been like this.
He’s sleeping soundly, even snoring once in a while. To me, the sleep just won’t come, even though I’m incredibly tired and I’ve had too many beers last night. I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I’ve been kept awake by troubling thoughts like this: I hate Theo Lambert, I despise Theo Lambert, but I love Theo Lambert as well.
I look inside me in search for the strength to take my revenge, but all I find is a craving for his sweet caress. I’ve been taken over. It doesn’t matter how hostile the process was. It’s done.
I’ve been bought, in more than one way.
When I was a kid, my mother took me to an aquarium. We stood in front of a huge tank where a majestic shark came and went, turning around in the blue water, coming at us, then receding, paying no mind to the other creatures swimming around beside him. There was plenty of fish in the tank, and all of them could be his prey, but he was content just swimming around looking important.
“Mom, is he not a bad shark? Won’t he eat the other fish?” I asked.
Mom explained it to me.
“If this tank was the sea, and this shark were swimming among all these other creatures, they wouldn’t last long,” she said. “He’d eat them all in a few minutes, and the water would turn red. But here in the aquarium, they keep the shark well fed. In fact, they give him more food than he wants. They stuff him with food every day, to make sure he’s never hungry. That’s why he doesn’t want to eat any more fish.”
I opened my mouth wide as I looked at the aquatic monster.
“So he’s bad? Like the other sharks?”
“Sharks are not bad, sweetie. Sharks are sharks,” mom said. “They have to eat a lot. They need to kill. They’re predators. It’s their instinct. They wouldn’t be sharks otherwise. If they stopped stuffing this one with sea food, you’d see how savage he can be. He’d eat all the fish in the tank in an hour. Even though they feed him every day, his instincts are still there. He will always be a shark.”
Years later, I came to realize that mom was not just talking about literal sharks. People had instincts too, and beneath the mask of civility that we all wear, some people were hiding the essence of a wild beast. They would hunt, break, kill and conquer as soon as nobody was checking on them. They would live by the laws of society, like the rest of us, but deep inside they would always be like sharks. The way of the shark is to take what he wants, no matter what it costs or who gets hurt.
What have I done? I ask myself as tears run down my face. I’ve been stupid, stupid and blind. I’ve fallen victim to the most dangerous predator in the world. He’s bitten me, and he’s going to keep chewing on me until there is nothing left.
And why do I crave for it? Why is this torture so sweet?
There’s only one thing to do now. What I set out to do in the first place. Destroy this man, somehow, even if it feels like I’m destroying myself.
And then this will all be over.
THE LOCKET
He booked the Ritz.
And then, he left.
I’ve had dinner alone in the restaurant of the hotel, I’ve meandered a bit around the hall, and then I’ve come back to our suite, where I’m now lying on the bed. It’s well past midnight and I’m sleepless again. I’ve slept a bit before landing at Heathrow, but it was not nearly enough. I’m still tired, but sleep won’t come. And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.
I guess Theo will have a busy day tomorrow, with meetings all over the city, like he does every time he comes to Europe. But he hasn’t told me anything about it, and the trip came as a surprise. He hasn’t given me any instructions on what to do once we arrived here, so all I can do is lay here and try to sleep, while I wait for him to come back.
During our flight, when he woke up, I asked him about the our agreement. More than two weeks have passed since he offered to cancel the takeover, but things aren’t moving, and the few members of the board who still answered my calls invariably tell me there’s nothing new going on.
“I can’t worry about that right now, sorry,” he told me, and fell silent for the rest of the flight. I hated him more than ever then.
Now I’m here, waiting for him to come back, wondering what’s the use of my being here in the London Ritz, why Theo Lambert brought me to England if there’s nothing I’m supposed to do. As I drift off, his clear blue eyes seem to stare at me mockingly.
* * *
It’s the next morning and he’s still not here. I get out. I’ve never been to London before so I guess some sightseeing is in order. I let the human current take me to Piccadilly Circus first, then I walk around and get to Chinatown, from there I go back to Mayfair and let the city fill me with sights and sounds. I drift off towards the river, trying to decide whether I should visit Westminster and the Buckingham Palace or go back and walk through Hyde Park. Hours pile up as I meander across the big city, talking to people sometimes, asking for directions, buying little things. Everyone is extraordinarily nice, or maybe it’s their accent. My anger starts to subside as I walk around peacefully, surrounded by people from all the corners of the world. I have lunch in some small downtown bistro (food is something the British could certainly improve) and I sit for a while in a bench as I wait for Theo to call.
When he finally does, his voice is soft, almost amiable. Which is certainly surprising.
“Where are you?” he asks.
I tell him I’m walking back to the Ritz. He tells me to take a taxi to Kensington Park instead. He has something for me, apparently. He doesn’t mention anything about business.
When I get there, he’s standing on the corner, waiting for me. It was a sunny day when I left the Ritz, but it’s cloudy now, and it looks like we’ll have some of that famous English rain. Theo’s face is cloudy as well, but his eyes keep their clear color, two blue spots in a greyish landscape.
“Hi,” he says. There’s something strange in his voice, but Theo is strange in so many ways that I don’t even think of mentioning it. “This is for you.”
He opens his hand to reveal the most beautiful locket I’ve ever seen lying on his palm. It’s shaped like a horse, and it shines with a mixed glow coming from the white and red gold strips composing its surface. A tiny ruby is located where the eye of the animal would be, and the tail and mane are peppered with emerald dust. The hole at the center of the thing is minuscule. The locket is attached to a silver necklace, so thin that it almost looks like a spiderweb, spilling over Theo’s hand.
It’s literally breathtaking. For a while, I can’t say anything because I’m out of breath. Theo stares at me, trying to decipher my reaction.
He reaches for my hand, grabs it, and gently deposits the locket on my palm. His touch sends an electrical current all over my arm, shooting pheromones directly to my brain. Talk about chemistry between the two of us.
I can’t allow myself to get sucked into this kind of thing. I remind myself that I was trying to hurt Theo Lambert, not give in to his charm. Yeah, I can’t deny that he means something to me; I’ve been mature enough to admit that to myself. But in the end, other things have to prevail. Family and honor are above mere infatuation.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally ask, and I feel as if I’m about to cry. “Do you always do this?”
He looks a bit offended. “What? Of course not.”
“Not even with Vanina?”
He buffs, annoyed. “That woman traumatized you,” he says. “She doesn’t matter. She never mattered at all.”
For some reason, I believe him. “Thank
you, then.”
“Will I ever see it on you?” he smiles. I felt like I’m melting inside, and I hate myself a bit more.
“Please,” I whisper, too softly for my taste. This is wrong, I think, as my brain tries to hate him again. But in this instant, I just can’t. He takes the locket from my open hand and puts the delicate chain around my neck. The gentle touch of his fingers on my skin sends quivers down my spine and all around. I feel my nipples hardening under the delicate texture of my dress as his chest grazes mine in a most stealthy way. The tiny weight of the locket feels like an anchor that sets me on the ground, on this moment, right here and now, with him.
“That’s it,” Theo says, stepping backwards to contemplate it. “It looks fantastic on you.”
“So,” I ask again, “will you tell me why are you doing this?”
“Well, you’re here,” he says.
What does that even mean?
“I know I’m here. You brought me here. I’ve yet to discover why.”
“I’m so, so happy that you’re here,” he says, so out of character that I’m afraid he’s going to do something crazy, like killing himself.
“Why am I here, Theo?” I can’t wait to know the truth. “Are you having any meetings? Do you want me to go over a proposal or...”
He looks down, and as his irises are hidden by his brow, it seems like the whole scene gets a bit darker. The air is chilly. Maybe it’s already starting to rain.
“My father died,” Theo says.
“What?”
“My father died yesterday. He was living here in London. I’ve just come from his wake and burial.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. So this trip... there was no business to be done here. And yet... why has he brought me along with him? I look at the locket, its beautiful lines, the way it shines under the severe light of the cloaked sky.
A Vote For Lust: A Bad Boy Political Romance Page 15
