by Sage Rae
“Everything still seems magical to you, doesn’t it?” Carter said. “I wish I could bottle it.”
“Would you sell it to the highest bidder?” Winnie laughed, feeling her cheeks burning.
“No. I don’t think it should ever be associated with money,” Carter said. “It’s a shame someone like you even has to worry about money. It seems like you want a more pure life. Something like what you might find in your songs.”
Winnie had never felt so seen. She dropped her eyes to the breadsticks between them, biting at her bottom lip. God, she had to stop her racing mind. “That’s really beautiful of you to say,” she stammered. “I don’t. Um. I just hope. I hope someday…”
Luckily, the dinner arrived, and the two could bury their heads into it. The meal was sinful in the best way, coated in cheese and sauce and meat. They poured wine goblets down their throats and grew increasingly silly, drunk. Winnie found herself cackling at Carter’s jokes, surprised at his humor. It wasn’t something she associated with billionaires.
A few hours later, Cosmo picked their drunk selves up from the restaurant, his eyes large—potentially marveling at how easy Carter and Winnie joked with one another.
“I was going to order two desserts, one for both of us. But Winnie insisted—no! No! I simply can’t! I’m just a little girl—blah blah blah,” Carter said, cackling. “But then I looked the other way for one second, and she’d eaten half the cheesecake!”
“I did NOT!” Winnie shrieked, smacking him on the forearm with a light, yet drunken, hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, sure. Keep lying to yourself and others, Winnie. That’s the way to get to the top,” Carter said, winking.
In the back of the car, Winnie felt another urgent wave of desire to lean against Carter’s muscled body, to allow her eyes to close as they rushed through the night. But again, she held back, forcing her head to remain upright. A professional woman. A secretary for one of the richest men in the world. She wouldn’t give into her emotions.
Tug of War
Three days after the night at the Italian restaurant, Carter purchased a group of office rooms in the same high-rise as their New York client, to ensure that he, Dan, Winnie, and a group of future employees could have a space to work as they built this first building, as well as collected other clients across the city. Carter buzzed with excitement at all hours—feeling the artistry of the city’s architecture, and wanting to dive in, to be a part of the texture of it. He imagined himself listed among the greats in the city’s history books. A man who pushed the story of New York along, instead of allowing it to remain stagnant.
Remarkably, Winnie had become a real part of this earnest desire to succeed. He’d found himself opening up to her about how he’d felt stagnant back in Texas, about how he’d gotten into this business for honest reasons and now felt that he was falling into the trap of the billionaire. “I found myself not giving a fuck about anything for a while,” he told her over another dinner the night before, feeling his eyes burn. She’d sipped her wine, falling forward. Again, he’d had the intense desire to kiss her. But he’d forced himself to yank back, knowing it would only complicate things. He needed her as a kind of partner. A person to bounce ideas off of.
After purchasing the office rooms, he texted Winnie, telling her to meet him and Dan at the new space that afternoon. She’d mentioned that she wanted to shop for a few new clothing items, since she’d come to New York with very little (and the trip was proving to take a bit longer than expected). For this, Carter had given her an early bonus, sending her on her way with Cosmo. This would give him time to settle into his New York office. Think about decor. Think about next steps, as he created New York into one of his kingdoms.
At the office, however, he found Dan already taking laps across the room Carter had chosen for himself. Dan hummed, an earpiece in his ear, holding a pingpong paddle. He swatted it around, speaking to whoever was on the phone.
“I don’t know, okay? You can pick it out. You know I don’t give a damn about carpeting. It’s just going to take your wine stains, isn’t it? It’ll be polka dotted by the end of the year,” Dan said.
As Carter entered, Dan gave him a cruel smile, then rolled his eyes. Carter knew already he was talking to Penelope, who was plotting the decor of their new New York apartment. Carter himself was in the market, hunting for something big and open-space and artsy in Brooklyn. Dan and Penelope were going for Upper West Side, where the old money was. Of course, this was Penelope’s background, and she wouldn’t have anything else.
“All right, Penelope. My idiot brother is here, and we’re going to have a throw-down about who gets the bigger office,” Dan said, his eyes sparkling. “Get whatever the hell kind of carpet you want, okay? And don’t ask me about it again. You know I don’t give two shits.”
Dan removed his headpiece, drawing his arms wide on either side of his body, like a cross. His smile was strange and bright. Carter realized he hadn’t been alone with Dan in several days; he’d always had Winnie by his side. Now, his stomach churned with a feeling of dislike.
“What do you say, brother? I did take the clients out last night. I’ve been hustling my ass off, up here, while you’ve been running around the city with what’s her tits,” Dan said. “I don’t normally play this game, but I think it’s my turn to take the big office.”
Carter’s throat tightened with anger. For one, he’d been the leader on every single meeting—setting them up, articulating the plans for the coming build, and making contacts with future clients. Sure, Dan had taken the clients to a steak dinner and a strip club the night before.
“I told you. I wanted to run some of my architecture plans past Winnie, so she could make notes for me. I haven’t been able to work alone well, lately. Having her there as a kind of sound-board…” Carter began.
“Sure. Sure. Just say it, Carter. You just want her to be another notch in your belt. I get it,” Dan said, his eyes glittering.
“I don’t,” Carter said. He sensed the hesitation in his own voice, but tried to mask it with anger. “And the fact that you’re speaking about her like some sort of object is absolutely disgusting right now. She’s a damn great secretary. She’s brought more organization and insight to this stupid company than…”
“Oh goodie. So you’re saying I can sleep with her?” Dan asked, cackling. “Because I’ve been craving that little lady. Winnie. I mean, she’s clearly inexperienced, right? She looks at me with these scared eyes… If she has fucked anyone, it was probably some asshole from her farm town. Ha. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you, Carter? You know that this isn’t her world…”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Carter said, his nostrils flared. “I don’t want some pompous person to come in here and act like money grows on trees. She—she sees the world in a way we used to, Dan. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten all about that. Where we came from.”
Dan chortled, smacking his hand across his lips. “Oh, my darling Carter. Listen to yourself. You’re absolutely in love, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off, Dan. I’m not in love,” Carter said. He marched to the end of the office room, standing at the floor to ceiling window. On the 33rd floor, the taxis below looked like buzzing bees. He pressed his lips together, trying to stop his anger. But having Dan speak about Winnie this way—it made his hands turn to fists. He imagined blasting one of them into Dan’s cheek, making the blood spurt across the window. Back in their teenage years, Carter had punched Dan only once, for taking his car without asking when he’d had a date with Evelyn Scott. He’d walked her to the ice cream parlour, and she’d eaten her vanilla cone with dead eyes. Carter hadn’t gotten laid.
They both heard Winnie’s heels clacking lightly from the hallway. Dan’s smile grew more gruesome, showing the pink gums. “There’s our lady,” he said, loud enough for the words to echo down the hallway.
Winnie appeared in the doorway. Immediately, Carter’s hea
rd surged with feeling. She was dressed in a light yellow dress, belted with a thick brown belt, and had curled her hair in big swirls around her sunny face. She smiled at him, her eyes glowing and shy.
But Dan cut between them, walking toward her and placing his hand on her lower back. Carter knew Dan was toying with him. Dan sensed the emotions brimming between them, and wanted to be the one to blow them out. He’d done similar things before—sleeping with the girl at the club Carter was into, trying to steal his girlfriends. But this was too much.
“What do you think of the new digs?” Dan asked, not moving his hand for a moment too long. “I was thinking this big office here would be mine. What do you think? Think it looks better on me, or on Carter here?”
He moved toward the window, standing alongside Carter. Again, Carter’s hand itched with desire to punch him. The asshole had it coming.
“Um. Well, you both are partners, so…” Winnie began, her eyes burning into Carter’s. It was clear she was confused. She’d arrived here to take notes for the upcoming meeting. Not play tug of war.
“Come on, Winnie. If you had to choose one person to take over the big office, wouldn’t it be me?” Dan asked, leering. “Remember that your answer will be remembered, and discussed in our trial review of you. So answer wisely.” He cackled, sounding like some sort of movie villain.
Was this Dan’s way of flirting? Carter stepped forward, wanting only to save Winnie from this strange balancing act. “Listen, Winnie. Dan’s going to head out, I think. Penelope has some sort of trouble with the carpeting, wasn’t it?” He glanced back, giving his brother a menacing look. “Why don’t we run out and have a drink before dinner? I can update you on everything that happened today.”
“That’s fine,” Winnie said, seeming to fall into herself with relief. “I mean, Dan, I’m sorry you have to run off but—“
“No, no,” Dan said, chuckling. “Carter’s confused. I’ll come with you for that drink. It’ll be fun, won’t it? I haven’t been a party to any of your intimate dinners as of yet. And damn, I’m thirsty. I’ve only had a few cocktails so far today, and I’m ready to get this started.”
In the previous evenings, Carter and Winnie had only gotten happy drunk. Nothing bad had happened. His hand had slipped along Winnie’s lower back once; another time, her head had skirted along his shoulder in the car, before she’d yanked it back up. But with Dan there, Carter had the urge to drink—and drink and drink and drink. And he wasn’t sure what would happen, then.
He had to control himself.
“Fine,” Winnie said, giving Dan a strange, shadowy smile. “Shall we?”
Dan suggested that they head to a nearby rooftop cocktail bar. He hailed a cabbie, not wanting to wait for their drivers, and bragged to the driver non-stop about their new office in the high-rise on the corner; about their new building project. All the while, Carter seethed, knowing that Dan was getting the credit for something Carter felt he’d had most a hand in creating. Dan’s major in college had been business, which meant he’d binge-drank his way from Tuesday to Sunday, each and every week, before graduating with honours after four years. He’d had the mind for the game of the business world. Carter had had the talent.
The cabbie dropped them at the corner. Winnie slipped out of the car, all but shivering with apprehension. Carter longed to draw his arm around her, hold her against him. Whisper in her ear that he would get Dan out of their hair, so they could return to normalcy. But Winnie stepped far away from him, creating a crater between them. Carter glared at Dan, feeling another wave of anger crash against his heart. He couldn’t remember feeling so volatile toward his twin. Not in all the years since they’d gone into business together.
The rooftop bar glittered with sunlight. Flags of all colours flickered in the light breeze, over the top of some of the richer sect of Manhattan locals—Wall Street businessmen, their girlfriends and wives in clacking heels. Dan strutted through them, pounding his fist on the counter to order them three aperol spritz drinks—what he explained to Winnie was “all the rage” in Italy. “I was dating this Italian model, Win. God, a true beauty. Nothing like you, of course. Fake tits. But in any case, the sex was insane. Drunken and wild on this rooftop in Rome. You could see the coliseum glowing in the distance…”
Carter watched Winnie’s eyes flicker. He tried to read her expression. Was it excitement, at the prospect of Rome? Was it fear, at the mention of sex? Carter shoved his shoulder into someone he almost recognized, a rather wealthy businessman with a thick, grey beard. The man clapped him on the shoulder, called his name. “Carter! Damn, it’s been years.” But Carter’s eyes remained with Winnie, studying her. Seconds later, her lithe fingers gripped her Italian cocktail, and her lips curled around the straw. Carter’s head spun with jealousy.
Dan paid their way to a corner table, with a gorgeous view of the city. Winnie sat between them, her eyes downturned. It seemed she was studying the ice cubes as they rotated through the glass, clinking. Dan had begun to tell another story about his past, about his riches. Carter could hardly focus.
“And anyway, that was that time we were in Tokyo, remember, Carter? God, the lines of coke were miles and miles long. I remember your face. You looked like you were coated in snow. Looked like the goddamn middle of February or some shit. You ever thought about doing cocaine, Winnie?”
Winnie’s nostrils flared as she shook her head, her cheeks turning bright pink. Carter sensed she’d never even been around drugs—had probably never considered taking them. Dan was trying to intimidate her. Winnie gripped her drink and sipped it for a long time, as Dan blabbered on through another tale. Carter finished his drink, and immediately ordered a whiskey from a passing bartender. The bumping beat from the DJ filled his head, turning his thoughts to chaos. If Dan didn’t stop his constant talk, Carter would shove his fist into his skull…
“Why do you always have to bring up that story?” Carter asked Dan, his eyes widening. He gave his brother a wry smile, knowing he was poking the beast.
“What do you mean? That’s a great story,” Dan said. “Winnie loved it. Didn’t you, Winnie? This is the kind of life she left the farm for. I mean, can you imagine when we were nobodies, what we would have thought of that story?”
“Sometimes I wish we still were nobodies,” Carter said, scoffing. “Maybe you wouldn’t be such a fucking asshole around new people.”
“Winnie’s not new, Carter. She’s one of us. She might as well hear out all of our tales of drunken disorder. And women. She’s our secretary, so we have to trust her more than anyone. Isn’t that right, Winnie?” Dan said, almost cooing to her.
Winnie nodded, giving Dan a false smile. Again, Carter’s heart seemed to dip deeper in his stomach. He prepared to retort—planning millions of little ways he could jab his twin brother in the ego. But suddenly, Dan bolted to his feet. He’d finished his second cocktail, and pointed toward the setting orange sun. It cast its light across the city, drawing deep shadows along the roads below. Carter wished he could find the beauty in it, but felt too agitated.
“Actually, darlings, Penelope is expecting us for dinner,” Dan said.
“Us?” Carter asked. He, too, thrust up from his seat, nearly knocking his empty glass to the ground.
“Absolutely. She’s been dying to meet our Winnie, so I’ve made reservations at this French restaurant a few blocks away. Killer escargot. Winnie, you’ve had escargot before, haven’t you?” he asked, drawing his fingers across Winnie’s curls. The motion was so sudden, so intimate.
Now, Dan was using Winnie to toy with Carter. She was akin to a Christmas present one had gotten that the other craved. Dan was falling into old habits. But Carter was too in tune with Winnie’s quivering eyes to play along.
“No, I mean,” Winnie spoke, her voice high-pitched and mouse-like. “But I—I have heard that they’re really good…”
“Really good is an understatement, my Win. As our secretary, you’re going to go all over the world, dis
cover all sorts of foods and wines and people. I’ll be your guide, okay, Winnie?”
Winnie’s eyes flickered back toward Carter, almost pleading. But then, she curled through the crowd after Dan. Carter followed, marvelling at his brother’s fucked-up mentality. He was his business partner, his supposed “best friend” and twin. But in these moments, Carter felt a pure level of hatred. One he couldn’t escape. If he fought his brother—actually, physically tore into him—what would happen to the business? And what would the press say? Russell and Russell would lose clients. Even their current dealing with the Short brothers in New York could fall through. “We know of your particularly horrendous track record with secretaries,” he imagined them scoffing. “But men need to be men, when it comes to business. And working with divided brothers, it’s just too risky.”
Carter felt shoved between a rock and a hard place, more helpless than he’d been in years. They marched the few blocks to the French restaurant, with Winnie shuffling along beside him. Her fingers flicked along his, just barely touching them, so that he wasn’t sure if it was an accident—or on purpose. Was she calling for help?
Carter wanted to reach around Winnie’s little waist, hug her into him, hail a cab. He imagined them on the first flight out of New York, darting across the ocean, as far away from Dan as possible. He imagined them giggling over champagne in Paris, in just a few hours’ time. He was a goddamn billionaire. He didn’t need to wait.
Just hang in there, Winnie. He hammered these thoughts toward her, trying to reach her. But her eyes remained straight ahead, almost unseeing, as they swept toward the French restaurant. In almost every way, Carter felt they were doomed.
