The Apartment

by Danielle Steel

  “You do the same to me,” she whispered, and he began driving again before they could get carried away in the car. He teased her about it, and they both laughed.

  “You make me feel like a kid again, a very badly behaved kid at that. I’m sorry, Claire.” But she wasn’t—she loved being with him.

  He parked the car at the edge of a forest, and there was a small lake with swans on it. They got out and walked for a while. It was chilly—autumn had already come to New England, although it wasn’t as cold yet in New York.

  They went to a small country inn he knew for lunch. They were both sleepy after that, and George glanced at his watch. “I guess we should head back, if you want to get back to New York tonight.” He looked at her mischievously then, like a naughty boy. “Or…we could stay here. We don’t have to, I didn’t plan anything, but now that we’re here, I hate to leave. It’s up to you, Claire, you’re the boss. I’ll do whatever you say.” It was only their second date, and she wanted to be reasonable. She wasn’t a slut, and didn’t want him to think she was. But the inn where they’d had lunch was magical, and all she wanted now was to be with him, and never go back. She hesitated for a long moment as she gazed at him, and then whispered as he held her hand.

  “Let’s stay.” He closed his eyes for a minute as though the words were too sweet to hear and then opened them and looked at her.

  “I love you, Claire. I know that sounds crazy to say so soon, but I think we’re meant to be together.” And she was starting to feel the same way. She didn’t feel panicked, or terrified now—she wanted to be with him. He went to the front desk, and reserved a room, and then he called the crew and told them where to stay that night. And then, laughing like two kids, they went to the local drugstore to buy toothbrushes, and whatever else they needed for the night. Neither of them had planned to stay in Vermont. It wasn’t a seduction scene he had sprung on her, it was a decision he had let her make, so she felt comfortable and not forced. And then they rushed back to the inn, and checked in to their room. It was an adorable little room with a fireplace and flowered chintz. There was a big antique four-poster bed, with a down comforter.

  George and Claire couldn’t get their clothes off fast enough, as their bodies intertwined, their hands searched desperately for each other, and they kissed frantically as they got into the big comfortable bed and began to make love. It was the most passionate sex Claire had ever experienced, born of desire and need and a desperate hunger and thirst for each other.

  “I’ve been looking for you all my life,” he said to her as he kissed her, and only moments later was aroused again. They made love again and again that night, and she held him in her arms against her breasts as he fell asleep. It was the deep peaceful sleep of a sated, happy man. She had sent a text to Morgan earlier saying only that she wouldn’t be home that night, she was in Vermont for the weekend and everything was fine.

  They hated to check out the next day, after making love again. They stood next to the four-poster bed, feeling as though it had become their home. It was where their love had been born, and their life together had begun, and they both knew they would never forget it.

  They flew back to New York late that afternoon, and before they landed at Teterboro, George smiled at her and kissed her.

  “Thank you for coming into my life,” he said to her.

  “I love you,” she responded. They had proved it amply the night before.

  “This is just the beginning,” he said to her as they flew over the lights of the city. Everything looked so beautiful. She felt as though she were seeing it through new eyes. The plane landed gently a few minutes later as they held hands. And whether she had wanted it to or not, Claire knew that a whole new life had begun.

  Chapter 8

  Alex and Sasha were trying to spend time together whenever their schedules would allow, which wasn’t as often as they liked. They had lunch in the cafeteria, met for midnight snacks when they were both there at night, and had dinner on their days off. It was working pretty well so far, and they even went to a movie, which they both enjoyed, and congratulated each other for staying awake. And if dinner out constituted a date, they agreed that they were up to date five or six, and it was going well.

  Neither of them wanted to rush anything, they were in no hurry, and they wanted to learn everything about each other so they knew fully who they were involved with.

  When Valentina came back from Dubai, she asked about him, and Sasha said primly that they were dating.

  “That means you’re fucking, right?” Valentina asked bluntly, and Sasha groaned.

  “Isn’t there some other word you can use? I don’t mind it when I stub my toe, or something goes wrong at work, like they cancel my day off, but I hate that word as a substitute for making love.”

  “Don’t be such a prude,” Valentina said to her. It was always the word she preferred, and in her case Sasha knew it was probably the right one.

  “And to answer your question, no, I’m not. We don’t want to rush it.”

  “Is he gay?” Valentina looked shocked, and disappointed.

  “Of course not. We just want to get to know each other.”

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “I don’t know, a couple of weeks. It depends how you figure it.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Neither of us wants to make a mistake.” Sasha looked sure of what she was saying, even if it sounded like Chinese to her sister, who always rushed in where angels feared to tread, especially with men.

  “So what if you do? Then you end it and move on. It doesn’t have to be The One every time.”

  “Maybe it does for me, and for him,” Sasha said to her. She respected Alex for how he viewed it, which was how she felt too.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Valentina said, rolling her eyes. “How long has it been since you got laid?”

  “None of your business,” Sasha answered. And her sister was right, it was longer than she wanted to admit. Now there was Alex, so there was hope on the horizon, all in good time. “So when am I going to meet Jean-Pierre?” She changed the subject. They were in Valentina’s apartment in Tribeca, on Sasha’s day off.

  “In about ten minutes,” Valentina answered with a grin. “He said he’d be here, and he wants to meet you too. He’s going to Paris tonight. I’m meeting him there next week while I do a shoot for French Vogue.” And she’d said that the shoot in Tokyo had gone well.

  The doorbell rang a few minutes later, Valentina went to answer it, and a moment later, Jean-Pierre walked into the living room, looking as though he owned it. He was a tall, powerful-looking, heavyset man with gray hair and piercing dark eyes. If Sasha had met him on the street, she would have said he had a mean face, but he was wreathed in smiles when he gave her a hug and kissed her on both cheeks and looked like a teddy bear. A teddy bear who would eat his young. The smile was wide, but the eyes were fierce.

  “I’ve been wanting to meet you,” he said effusively to Sasha and sounded as though he meant it. “The beautiful young doctor who delivers babies. Your parents must be very proud.”

  “Not really,” Sasha said, smiling at him. “Our mother wanted me to be a lawyer—she thinks what I do is a pretty messy job. And my father is very proud of Valentina. His wife was a model too.” He brushed off what she said as though she were joking, although there was truth to it, and he put an arm around Valentina and kissed her. She was wearing a black leather skirt that barely covered her crotch, and thigh-high black suede boots with high heels. Sasha thought her outfit looked a little S&M, but Jean-Pierre seemed to love it as he slipped a hand up her skirt. Sasha was used to men who behaved that way around her sister, they all did, and Valentina liked it. If Alex had done that to her in public, she would have slugged him. And she smiled when she realized he hadn’t done it in private yet either, which suited her just fine.

  “I am very much in love with your sister,” he told Sasha with a soulful look. “She’s a wonderf
ul woman and she makes me very happy.” Sasha tried not to think of what that meant. “I have not been this happy since I was a young man.” To Sasha, that meant he was using Viagra, but she didn’t want to think of that either. He looked a little more respectable than Valentina’s usual consorts. He was wearing a serious business suit and a dark tie from Hermès, and he was a tad younger than her last boyfriend, but there was still a toughness to him that scared her, and she knew instinctively that it would be dangerous to cross him. And Valentina had no idea what he did for work.

  “Do you do business in the States?” Sasha asked him, fishing, but he was too smart for that.

  “I do business all over the world. The world is very small now. Your sister and I were in Dubai last week, and we’ll be in Marrakech in two weeks, for a little vacation.”

  “How fun,” Sasha said, trying to look as though she meant it, but something about his eyes truly scared her. He looked like he had X-ray vision. And she wouldn’t have trusted him farther than she could throw him. He hadn’t said or done anything wrong, but something about him just didn’t feel right.

  They chatted for a while, sitting on the couch in Valentina’s apartment, and finally Sasha got up and said she had to go. She was meeting Alex at the apartment. The others would be out and she had promised to cook him dinner, which she had warned him he might regret, but he said he was game. She told him he was a very brave man.

  Jean-Pierre hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks again when she left, and Valentina was beaming at her, convincing herself that Sasha loved him, which was not the case. Sasha just didn’t know what was wrong about him and what to object to, but she was sure that something was wrong. But hopefully Valentina would never find out, and he’d be gone long before he caused a problem. Whatever he did for a living, she was sure that he was good at it, and if it was illegal, maybe he wouldn’t get caught.

  She took the subway north to Hell’s Kitchen, and Alex arrived at the loft a few minutes after she did, carrying the groceries they’d agreed on for dinner. He looked at her closely after he kissed her and asked if everything was okay. She seemed distracted.

  “Yeah. I just met Valentina’s boyfriend, and I can’t tell you what’s wrong with him, but something didn’t feel right. That always happens with her, and later we find out they were dealing heroin to small children. This one’s a little better, or a little smoother maybe, but he’s got the meanest eyes I’ve ever seen. The good news is that they never last long. She’s crazy about him, but that doesn’t mean anything with her.”

  “I don’t know how twins can be so different,” he said as he unpacked the food. “It doesn’t get any more different than you and your sister.” And he thought that was a good thing.

  “I know, it’s weird,” she agreed. “She’s crazy, and she has the worst taste in men in the world, but I love her anyway.” Alex understood that, and he had been respectful of her and was careful of what he said.

  The two of them started to make dinner, enjoying the night because they knew the others would be out, so they had the place to themselves.

  —

  Claire still hadn’t told anyone but Morgan, but the romance with George was going well. They were going to Palm Beach on his plane the following weekend. There were suddenly a million plans that all sounded like fun to her. He wanted to take her to the Super Bowl where he went every year, the World Series, skiing in Courchevel and Megève, Aspen, Sun Valley, the Caribbean, and the South of France in the summer. There were a thousand things he promised to do with her, and in between he told her he wanted to spend his life in bed with her. Claire was trying not to be, but she was distracted by him. Every time she sat down at her drawing board, at home or in the office, her mind drifted off, and she could see him naked in front of her. She had even done a sketch of him, which she had hidden in a drawer at work. And all he kept saying to her was that he knew that this was it. And even though she didn’t want to believe it yet, she knew it was true. This was it. She just hadn’t expected him to come into her life so soon. She wondered sometimes if this was what had happened to her mother, when she had fallen head over heels in love with Claire’s father, and followed him to San Francisco. But Claire also knew that this was different. George was a legendary success on Wall Street and a brilliant businessman. People said he had the Midas touch. And he would never ask her to give up her career.

  She was beginning to think of things she had never thought of before, like getting married and having children. He was opening new horizons and previously locked places in her heart. It was too soon to think about any of it, or making changes in her life, but she was falling madly in love with him.

  The following weekend, when he took her to Florida, they spent a night in Miami, and the second night in Palm Beach, and had even more fun than they had had in Vermont. They already knew each other better, and were learning more every day. He didn’t like talking about his childhood, but Claire had finally told him about her depressing father, and her mother giving up her career for him. It explained how desperate she was to remain independent and do her work. She never wanted to be dependent on a man, even him. And George understood.

  They went water-skiing in Miami off a yacht he had chartered for the day, and ate at all the best restaurants. She felt like a fairy princess living in a dream with him.

  —

  “What’s happening with Claire?” Sasha asked Morgan on Saturday morning, when they were making coffee in the kitchen. Abby was still asleep. She had been at her computer working constantly on the new play and staying up late, so Sasha and Morgan were alone at the kitchen table. “She’s out all the time, and away for the weekend,” Sasha commented. Morgan was quiet for a moment and didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know the details, but she was aware that Claire was with George for the weekend.

  “She’s seeing someone,” Morgan said simply.

  “Wow, she didn’t say anything to me. Do you know who it is?” Sasha asked her.

  Morgan nodded, trying not to look worried about it. “It’s George.” It took a minute to register, and then Sasha’s eyes opened wide.

  “Your boss?” Morgan nodded. “How did that happen?”

  “We had dinner at Max’s restaurant, George was there, and stopped at our table. I introduced him to Claire. And the rest, as they say, is history. They’ve been crazy about each other ever since.” It hadn’t been long, but it was intense. And Claire looked like she was walking on air whenever Morgan saw her. She just hoped it would last, but she wasn’t sure. George was hard to read, and even harder to predict.

  “Do you think it’s for real with him?” Sasha asked with concern.

  “I don’t know. It could be. One of these days, some woman will land him, and it might as well be Claire. He has a history of short relationships, but just from the little I know, and can sense from her, I don’t think he’s ever been this serious before.”

  “Wow,” Sasha said again. “Where is she this weekend?”

  “Florida, I think. They went on his plane.”

  “What a cool thing for her, if this works.” Morgan smiled at what she said, and hoped so too.

  “What about you?” Morgan asked her as they sat at the table with their coffee. “How’s it going with the young doctor?”

  “Nicely. Slow but sure. Neither of us wants to make any fast moves and screw it up.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “It works for us.” Sasha stayed in the kitchen after Morgan went to get dressed. She was going to help Max with his books at the restaurant. They all had relationships now, in various stages, three of them with good, interesting, worthwhile men. The only rotten apple in the barrel was Ivan, and all Sasha could hope, for Abby’s sake, was that she’d get rid of him soon.

  Chapter 9

  In October, when Morgan was going over research for a presentation, she asked for some files from accounting, and realized within a few minutes that they’d given her the wrong ones. She called them to have them
send her the right ones, and something caught her eye on the balance sheets while she waited for them to pick them up. There had been a transfer of a hundred thousand dollars, and a withdrawal of twenty thousand that didn’t look right to her. The money didn’t belong in that account. She could see that a week later there had been an unexplained deposit of the twenty, and the hundred thousand had been moved back again, into the right account. It didn’t make sense to her. She wondered if it had been an error in accounting that they had corrected. All the numbers looked right at the end, but there had been some moving and shifting that she couldn’t explain. She thought about telling George about it, but since the money had all ended up in the right place, it didn’t really matter. But it seemed odd to her. A lot of money came in and out of their office for clients, and she knew George had a remarkable head for numbers and a keen radar, and he kept a close eye on their books. It was important to do that in a firm like theirs, so maybe he knew about it, and had demanded the correction. It wasn’t really worrisome since no funds were missing, but she couldn’t explain it to herself. Just to be sure, if the subject came up later, she xeroxed the file before they came to pick it up, and she put the xeroxed pages in a locked drawer in her desk. And then she got to work on the research she had to do for the next day.

  The error in accounting slipped her mind entirely after that. They had a number of new clients, and she had a lot of work to do.

  She had noticed what good spirits George was in since he’d started seeing Claire, and he didn’t say anything to Morgan, but he looked like a man in love. She had never seen him as happy or as relaxed, and Claire was like a field of flowers in spring. She had even stopped complaining about her boss.

  And Sasha was happy too. She was busy, content, and at peace, and she and Alex were having fun. They laughed a lot whenever he came to the apartment, and they had dinner at Max’s restaurant at least once a week. And Alex and Max were cooking dinner together now on Sunday nights at the loft. Max was still the master chef, and Alex was the sous chef, anxious to learn new tricks from him. Alex fit in perfectly to their self-made family, and the others hoped that he’d stick. It was too soon to tell.