By Appointment Only

by Lisa Eugene

  “Good. This is her first time performing and the poor girl shouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

  I stopped and leaned on the broomstick, facing Mom who was sorting socks on the couch. “I just don’t want her to feel pressured.”

  Emmy seemed to genuinely enjoy playing and I wanted this to be a pleasant experience for her, wanted her to get absorbed in the magic of the music as she’d done in the classroom. When she played it seemed like all the emotion she kept locked inside, poured out.

  Mom looked up, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she regarded me curiously. “Last Tuesday, you forgot to pack Emmy’s Dora pajamas. We were half way home when I realized and came back to get them. You weren’t here.”

  My stomach lurched. I’d headed off to the city shortly after Mom had picked up Emmy. Not liking the way my perceptive mother was eyeing me, I resumed sweeping.

  “I must’ve run out to the grocery store.” I shrugged, keeping my head down.

  “The grocery store.” Mom seemed to taste the words. “Is that where you go every Tuesday?”

  My gut twisted tighter. I didn’t want to get into this with her. Certainly I couldn’t confess that I was going to the office of a distinguished politician, climbing on his desk, and playing with myself while he watched. And I couldn’t tell her it was exciting, and amazing, and made me feel powerful to see his response and how hard he struggled to control himself. One day he’d lose the battle. It was simply a matter of time.

  “Dani . . .” She prodded. “Are you okay? Are you in some kind of trouble? I know things have been rough—”

  I looked up, lips forming a smile. “Mom, I’m fine—really. I run errands. Since you have Emmy, Tuesdays are the best time.”

  I kept sweeping, assaulting a particularly large dust ball clinging to a corner. Mom obviously thought there was more going on. Her gaze never wavered, but I ignored it, focusing intently on my attack.

  ***

  CHASE

  Shoving through the door to Robert’s office, I ignored the ardent protests from his secretary as she sprang up from her desk. What I had to say couldn’t wait, and at this point, I didn’t give a fuck about secrecy.

  “What the hell is this about?” I waived the latest reports I’d received from the scientists that I’d hired to do testing on the ground soil in Thailand. The reports were incomplete. According to the team leader, Los Lobos was making things difficult.

  “I thought you were done working with those criminals?” I confronted Robert.

  He sat behind his massive desk, phone to his ear. Scowling deeply at my intrusion, he cut his call short. With a level stare, the older man sighed patiently. He’d known I would come.

  “I told you we still need them. The area is crawling with reporters. Those environmentalist lunatics are camped outside the plant. And we can’t fully trust our workers. This shit needs to be handled. If the American government—”

  “If you’d just done the right thing in the first place, Flex-Steel wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!” I shook the reports in his face.

  Robert pushed out of his seat, eyes seething with anger. “I did what I had to do—what I’ve always done to keep this company profitable!”

  “This is different, Robert. People are getting hurt. Don’t you care about that?”

  Robert scoffed, the grooves of his face deepening. “Don’t give me your sanctimonious bullshit! This company has made us both very wealthy men, and we’ve both given back in spades. You’ve got your charities and that damn school—mine has been a bit more personal, but don’t make me out to be the unfeeling monster here.”

  Robert was a philanthropist. He probably gave more than I did to his various charities. I knew it was personal for him as he had a disabled son, but he was greedy. He would do anything to turn a profit. That was the difference between us. He cocked his head and eyed me through narrowed slits.

  “It seems your moral compass is only for the direction of others and doesn’t apply when it comes to yourself.”

  A fearful silence hushed my entire body. Blood throbbed sluggishly in my ears as I searched his face for his meaning.

  Does he know about Dani? Does he know what we do in my office?

  “Senator Kensington is a powerful man,” he continued, “and he’s using his influence and connections to get you elected as mayor. You haven’t had a problem with the doors he’s opened for you, the people he’s strong-armed, or the favors he’s called in to help you.”

  A shaky breath of relief slid from my body. True, the senator had been throwing his weight around to garner support for my candidacy. I wouldn’t be where I was without him, but that was politics, and nothing compared to the crimes Robert were committing.

  “Look,” Robert said, throwing up his palms in surrender. “Los Lobos is simply protecting our interests. We can’t afford to shut down that plant.”

  “Well, tell them to step the fuck off and let my scientists do what they need to do.”

  After a pause, he conceded softly, “I’ll instruct them to do just that. You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about this. I heard you were at Beth Israel last week. How is everything? How are you doing?”

  Tunneling my fingers through my hair, I exhaled a tired breath. At one time I would’ve believed he cared, but now his insincere concern was transparent. This was a topic I refused to discuss with him, knowing he’d only use it to his advantage.

  “I’m not stepping down until this is fixed, Robert. Stay out of my fucking way.”

  Crumpling the reports in a tight fist, I pivoted and left his office. Fuck! I needed to relax. I couldn’t even think straight. I needed to focus on my campaign, but had to ensure the problems at Flex-Steel were resolved. Robert was playing with me, Kensington, although he meant well, was trying to orchestrate too much of my damn life, and worst of all, the doctors at Beth Israel were worried.

  How many more days until Tuesday?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Chase made an appearance on a popular morning show. I stood in my living room, pressing Emmy’s clothing on a rusty ironing board when I caught his segment. I smiled when I saw him walk on set and wave to the gushing, almost all female audience. Immediately, I thought of our time together the previous week and my body heated. He’d asked me to pleasure myself while I’d bent over his desk. It had been decadent, lush, and sensually explosive.

  He seemed more at ease on the show, and was even friendly to the host who shamelessly flirted with him. Jealousy pricked my gut and I scolded myself, realizing I had no claim to the emotion. He looked exceptionally handsome in a charcoal gray suit with a light-blue button down shirt and a trendy, silver tie. I couldn’t help my satisfied smile. The only thing he looked ready to repossess was someone’s heart. That thought brought on another terse round of scolding.

  He talked about his platform and his current position on the Council. When the subject of Flex-Steel arose, he handled it with aplomb, but I could discern the minute changes in his posture and the tightened muscles of his face.

  He was in a difficult situation. He could step down from Flex-Steel as he’d planned, but that would mean leaving the company in the hands of his corrupt CEO. He could expose what his CEO was doing, but would most likely sacrifice himself, and possibly kill his political ambitions with the scandal that would ensue.

  I was sure he would make positive reforms as mayor. From what I’d read, he’d already proven himself with his record on the City Council. Footage of him at his rallies and phone banks depicted an energized public who saw him as a candidate to unite New York City and lead its citizens into an age of progress and prosperity.

  I was collapsing the ironing board when my cell phone buzzed. I hummed, singing along with the encouraging ringtone while snickering in my head. Things certainly weren’t getting easier, but they’d definitely become more interesting.

  Digging my phone out of my purse, I froze when I saw Steven’s number. Images of the night he’d barged into my apartment dev
eloped in my head like Polaroid pictures, becoming more vivid by the second. Along with them came the fear I’d had for Emmy.

  I let the call go to voice mail. The phone rang back twice. My relentless ex would keep calling unless I nixed this.

  “Stop calling me,” I answered sharply.

  “Listen, please,” he sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry. I know you must be angry.”

  “You need to get help.”

  “I—I know that. I’m trying to get my shit together. Really. I need a favor.”

  I snorted. “After what you pulled?”

  “Please. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

  About two or three grams of coke . . . I thought to myself.

  “I’m really trying,” he continued at my silence. “I listed you as a reference for a job I applied for. I need you to vouch for me.”

  “Me?” I frowned. “You have to be kidding!”

  “Please, Dani . . .”

  I couldn’t believe what he was asking. And I hated when he called me Dani. Chase had called me that, producing an entirely different feeling.

  “If I get this job, I’ll be able to start paying you the money I owe you.”

  Although that sounded like a bus I should jump on, I wasn’t buying a ticket. If he hadn’t seen fit to pay me in two years, I doubted he’d start paying me now. He most likely needed money to fund his addiction. There was no way I could vouch for him, or lie to a potential employer. He was irresponsible, unreliable, and the last time I’d seen him, he’d been violent. It was best to stay out of it, and clear of him. Hopefully one day I’d be able to afford a good lawyer who could fight for what was rightfully Emmy’s.

  “You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me!” He ignited, heating from deferential to enraged in a matter of seconds.

  “Stop calling me!” I yelled into the phone before hanging up, realizing that blood was charging through my veins.

  I stood for a minute biting my lower lip, then startled when the phone rang back. Knowing Steven, even with all his faults, he’d probably get that damn job. Meanwhile, I’d been pounding the pavement for weeks now, and nothing. I only had one month of rent left from the jewelry I’d sold and very little for living expenses and utilities. I’d applied for unemployment, but had yet to see a dime. Marie was fighting it all the way. I had to find something soon.

  A week later, I received a surprise visit from Mrs. Lawson, Emmy’s caseworker. She was a large, jovial woman who I liked a lot, but the impromptu visit had my nerves ringing with apprehension. Mrs. Lawson explained it was just a routine visit, but the timing was suspicious.

  By Tuesday, my stress level had reached its peak. I was an occasional smoker, reserving the vice for when things really hit the fan, but this week I’d blown through the pack in my glovebox. Thank God I couldn’t afford to buy more, or I’d be lighting up like a chimney.

  I gave serious consideration to skipping my weekly appointment, but the thought of not seeing Chase dulled my spirits even further. I’d hardly slept the night before, wasn’t eating, and was exhausted, but on Tuesday evening I found myself on the number seven train heading into the city.

  I walked into Chase’s office and found him sitting behind his desk pouring over paperwork. As always, the sight of him had my pulse thrumming just a little faster. He needed a haircut, his thick dark waves were overgrown and unkempt. An errant curl fell over his brow as he bowed his head. I got closer, and he looked up, pushing back his hair. His face relaxed and his eyes smiled. The blue seemed to deepen. God, he was gorgeous.

  I stopped in front of his desk and his face changed. He frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Startled, I stepped back. I’d been determined to leave my worries on the other side of the wooden doors. I’d been looking forward to a temporary escape from the troubles plaguing me all week. Maybe I hadn’t done such a good job of masking my emotions. Or maybe, Chase was learning to read me and my moods like the Sunday paper, to perceive between the lines. I’d have to more carefully guard my feelings.

  Finding a smile, I gave a casual shrug. The last thing I wanted to do was unload my problems on him. He had enough to deal with. The past few weeks, we’d discussed Flex-Steel, weighed some of his options with dealing with his CEO. That was safe territory. My performance for him was safe territory. Getting lost in the sound of his voice and the pleasure he made me feel was safe territory. My chaotic life with its constant hurdles was not. I never volunteered information about myself, preferring to keep my business private. I’d satisfy his occasional inquires with stumped responses, but that was the extent of any personal revelations.

  Trying to change the subject, I asked, “Have you had any updates from the containment company handling the cleanup?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “The scientists are using catalytic DNA technology which has detected very low ppb levels in their field tests.”

  “Huh?” I laughed. “English please.”

  He smiled. “The clean-up is going well.”

  “That’s great news!” I exclaimed. “You must be relieved.”

  Smiling, he scrubbed a hand over his face, but I couldn’t help but notice his muted excitement. He continued, “I’m worried about the damage that’s already been done.”

  “I know, but it’s a start.”

  The corner of his lips tilted up. “Yes, my lovely optimist.”

  I chuckled. That was something I’d never been pegged for. I was always the first to see the potential disaster in every situation—the product of a life filled with one setback after another.

  As if reading my mind, he asked, “What’s bothering you?”

  Shaking my head, I looked away from his incisive stare.

  “Tell me, Dani,” he commanded softly.

  I knew he wouldn’t let it go. Smoothing my palms down the front of my jeans, I relayed, “Emmy’s caseworker came to see me. And with everything going on, with losing my job, I’m worried that . . . that . . .”

  “She’d think you can’t take care of your daughter,” he finished.

  I looked away, feeling as brittle as delicately blown glass. I was used to being strong, toughing it out despite the odds, but the thought of possibly losing Emmy was unbearable. I hated for Chase to see me like this, hated how my voice had cracked open with trepidation.

  Chase stood and crossed to the bar. I watched him fill two tumblers before he returned and offered me one. He handed me the glass, and I could’ve sworn he was careful not to touch me.

  “Drink,” he ordered, sipping his own. “You’re shaking.”

  Was I? I tossed back the amber liquid, fighting the urge to cough when it scratched a hole in my throat.

  “Scotch,” he nodded. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

  I raised a brow and finally gave in to a rickety cough. “Take the edge off what? My lungs?”

  His lips twitched before he turned toward the sitting area. “Come.”

  I followed behind, my steps uncertain. I’d never ventured into this part of his office. My activities had always centered around his desk, on top of his desk.

  “Lie down. Relax.”

  He indicated the couch and with a leery glance I reclined on the black leather, biting back a moan when I melted into its buttery softness. This was infinitely more comfortable than his hard desktop, and would feel wonderfully supple against my naked skin.

  He claimed the recliner close by, extending his long legs in front of him. His gaze glided slowly down my body, inducing a delightful quiver.

  I stifled a yawn and stretched languidly, my body melting from the heat of his gaze. Shooting him a glance, I started unbuttoning my blouse.

  “Wait,” he instructed, leaning forward.

  My fingers stilled. I met his gaze, confused.

  “Why does Emily have a caseworker?”

  Surprised at the question, I took a moment to answer. Dropping my
arms to my sides, I cleared my throat.

  “My neighbors called The Department of Child Protective Services about a year ago. They were angry and vindictive after one of Emmy’s screaming bouts. They made ridiculous claims that I was abusing her. It prompted an investigation.”

  I swallowed hard, recalling the ordeal. Child Protective Services had swooped down on me like a flock of vultures, ready to pick my life apart for signs of abuse. It hadn’t helped that a few years before that my apartment had been raided by the DEA.

  “It’s criminal that your neighbors can get away with that.”

  I nodded, not bothering to contain my yawn this time. The scotch warmed my body, loosened my limbs and my tongue.

  “Mrs. Lawson came to my apartment a few times. She needed to make sure it was safe and Emmy wasn’t being mistreated. Of course, CPS didn’t find anything, but it was nerve wracking. I was shocked when she showed up this week.”

  “Do you think someone called her?”My lids felt heavy. “My neighbors, or maybe my—” I stalled, not wanting to mention Steven.

  “Your what?” he asked evenly.

  I laced my fingers over my abdomen, fatigue seeping in to lower my guard.

  “My ex-husband,” I admitted on a sigh, then opened my eyes when empty moments ticked by. I sensed him grow still.

  He lounged in the chair. His eyes stared and his face appeared calm. It was only when I noticed his white-knuckled grip on the tumbler that I realized his anger.

  “Are you still seeing him, sleeping with him?”

  His question made me visibly shudder. “Oh God, no. Our marriage ended four years ago, and probably even before that.”

  He was quiet for some time before he said, “I don’t want you with any other man. Only me. Do you understand?”

  His words made me frown, his reaction confusing me. It wasn’t that I was seeing anyone else, but I didn’t feel he had the right to make such a demand. We had no real relationship, weren’t lovers—really.