Whatever happened in her past was profound and upsetting enough she is determined to shut me out. She’s attracted to me, though. She’s affected by me, deeply, I suspect. But it doesn’t matter; her need to protect herself is stronger.
Clearly, my selfish expectation to have her fall at my feet simply because I willed it to be so was the egotistical blunder of the decade. An even bigger blunder was putting my car in reverse after she challenged me, blowing me that damn kiss… Once again, the memory makes my spine tingle. But it may have been the smile afterward that did me in. God, she was so beautiful in that moment. If only I had maintained control and continued on, sticking to my original plan, I might have had a better chance. Instead, my ego took over and, in the process, handed her an army of reinforcements to stand guard outside the fortress she had already constructed. Fucking brilliant.
Now that I have some insight to go on, I need to rethink my strategy, backing it up with patience and precision. Slowly picking off each soldier, one by one, like a sniper hidden in the forest. When the last one falls, I will scale the walls surrounding her, then destroy every one of them from the inside out.
Nine
Charlotte
I’m finally alone, curled up on my sofa in my favorite pajamas, a blanket over my legs and feet. I’m so drained after what happened with Ian today, I feel like I’ve been drugged. It was a struggle to even get through the rest of my day, but I had too much to do and ended up staying past five.
It didn’t help that I can’t seem to part with the portrait he drew for me. I find myself staring at it, like I’m doing now, while the rest of the world no longer exists. It draws me in, holding me there, ensnared by its beauty and potential meaning. Did he know it was going to have this effect on me? After all, he was masterfully aware of the effect he would have on me when he kissed me mindless then sent me over the edge with an unexpected nipple pinch. Was this portrait his second play at completely fucking with my head, making me aware that I am really not in control of myself… he is?
I’m probably overthinking it, and I really don’t want to put any negative thoughts or energy toward my portrait. I love it too much. I feel happy when I look at her, and I wonder—is this really how Ian sees me, how he imagines me in his mind’s eye? If so, no wonder he thinks I’ve cast a spell on him.
Dear God, when he told me that I almost died! The look in his eyes, his touch on my lips, his voice all deep and sleepy sounding, his expensive woodsy scent swirling around me, putting me in a trance. I could hardly grasp what he was saying. All I knew was that ‘dealing with the consequences’ sounded so erotic coming out of his mouth, I nearly fainted. Laying my head back on the cushion, I stare at the ceiling, wondering how I will ever get past my embarrassment.
My phone rings, and I almost jump out of my skin, even though I was expecting the call. It’s Erika downstairs with takeout. “Hey! I’ll buzz you in.”
A few minutes later, she’s walking in with food that smells delicious. “Ohhh…this is what I need, stress food!” Leaning in for a hug, she squeezes out the rest of my words. “You’re my savior. What are we having?”
“It’s Thai, can’t you smell it? I’ve been craving this all day, and after the little bit of information I got out of you earlier, I decided some sake was in order as well.” She holds up several bottles of our favorite unfiltered, sweet goodness that not only goes perfectly with our meal, it goes perfectly to our heads.
“Yes! Let’s open that first!” I do the honors of pouring us each an oversized glass. Screw it, I need a good buzz right now. Erika sets up our plates—apparently oversized food portions are in order, too. Fine by me.
As if on cue, Erika takes the opportunity to make a toast. “Here’s to Mike the Magic Nipple Twister and whatever fun games he had up his sleeve—or maybe your skirt—today!” She winks as our glasses clink. I always tell her she missed her calling as a comedic writer, but she insists she’s happy climbing her way up the ladder at one of Miami’s biggest advertising agencies.
Taking a healthy sip, I laugh at her insinuation, shaking my head. “If only. That honestly would have been a more ideal situation considering what I was blindsided with.”
Her eyes widen, knowing it had to be major for me to make that comment. Especially after we spent the weekend debating the pros and cons of pursuing anything with Ian McAlistair. Of course, Erika thinks I should just use him for sex. Which would be great, but that’s not me. My heart tends to get involved too easily, and if anyone understands why I’m overly cautious about going there, it’s Erika. “Oh, Erika…I think he may have topped Friday’s sexcapade with today’s little treat.”
She looks shocked. “Are you kidding me? You had another spontaneous orgasm? What the hell did he do this time, suck it out of your big toe?” She’s completely serious, and I can’t help but throw my head back laughing. I absolutely love how crazy she is.
“Erika! You’re such a freak! Where the hell did that come from? Suck it out of my big toe? Yeah…right there in the lobby!” I’m laughing at that ridiculous image, but the look on her face says, What? I was serious.
She continues with, “Hey! I’m not putting anything past Orgasm Man,” then busts out laughing at her own joke. “Oh, God…I just had a visual of Superman, but in all black and red with a big O on his chest.” Her tempo is going up as she laughs through her words.
Here we go…
“With sparkles swirling around his fingers, and a huge bulge in his pants!” We’re both cracking up, wiping away tears. “Oh, this has endless possibilities… The Caped Crusader of Climaxes saves the day as a big smoke ring slowly rises over the city.” I can see her brain working; she’s not done yet and can barely talk she’s laughing so hard. “And his little sidekick, Foreplay, is there: ‘Holy cunnilingus, Orgasm Man, she was a squirter!’”
I’m done. I am laughing so hard, no noise is even coming out and my stomach muscles burn. This is a full-on ugly laugh, and we’re both in deep.
A few minutes later, I’m finally coming out of my laughing fit. “Oh, my God, that was hilarious! Now the next time I see Ian I’m going to picture him in his skintight superhero uniform, a big O on his chest with his cape blowing in the wind as he stands there with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out.” Still laughing, I mimic the stance. Maybe that visual will protect me from whatever mindfuck he’s got in store for me next time.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she adds, “This could make the best porn series ever! Can you imagine?”
“Yes!” I agree with enthusiasm. “I would actually watch that! Although, I can’t really picture his best friend, Jackson, as Foreplay. He’s seriously way too cool to play that character.”
“I’m writing this shit down,” Erika declares as she starts typing into her phone. “Too bad Ian’s not the porn producer we originally thought he was. That could have been our in!”
“Oh. Yeah. That would have been fantastic,” I respond with zero enthusiasm, remembering how grossed out I was at the thought of Ian being in the porn business.
After riding out the high from our ugly laugh, we finally come back to reality. We finish up dinner and take our plates to the kitchen. Erika pours us each another glass of sake, and we make our way to the living room to get comfortable, each taking an end of the sofa where I finish telling her what happened.
“I was totally prepared, ready to be professional and act like it’s no big deal, just another day, just another client. But no, it can’t play out that way. That would be too easy. First of all, he looked good enough to eat and smelled good enough to scramble my brain right out the gate. Add to that the intensity of…him. It’s so overwhelming! Then he tells me that Jackson recommended he bring me a bouquet of flowers as a peace offering and so I wouldn’t think he was a total jerk. He said that was too cliché, and he doesn’t do cliché…so what does he do instead? Goes about as far from cliché as possible and asks me if I knew the word Fey also means faerie.”
She loo
ks as confused as I felt when he asked me.
“Yeah…I know,” I say, agreeing with her expression. “So then he explains that when he found out my last name is LeFay, he had a vision of me as a faerie.”
Her mouth drops open and her head tips down, basically saying what the fuck?
“Oh, it gets better. He proceeds to describe this faerie vision of me, and it was the most sensual description of a faerie you can imagine. I was almost to the point you could knock me over with a feather, and then he hands me this.” I grab the portrait sitting face down on the coffee table and hand it to her.
Her eyes widen as she puts down her wine, then covers her mouth with her hand. She looks up at me, mouth agape, and I think I see a little pity in her expression. I understand why. How do you not fall for a guy that gives you something so beautiful? “Charlotte…he drew this for you?”
I nod my confirmation.
“Oh my. I’m…stunned. This is magnificent.”
“I know. I was so taken aback when I saw it, I got a huge lump in my throat and my eyes filled up with tears. I didn’t even know what to say! Now you know what I mean by blindsided. If he wasn’t wrong for me, I think I could have let myself fall in love with him in that moment.” What a frightening thought.
“Yeah…I think I just fell in love with him.” We both smile, not really able to laugh.
For me, this is serious, and she knows it. She knows that in my mind, Ian falls into the same category as my father. Over-the-top good looks, charm, success…everything a girl could dream of and more. But after the truth about my father was tragically revealed, destroying my mother’s beautiful soul, my life was never the same. Once I mourned the loss of my parents and my storybook life, I swore I would never fall for a man like that—a man like Ian McAlistair. He may have every characteristic a woman could dream of, but there is no way a man his age and with his experience doesn’t have a long list of women, probably spread all over the country, that are a simple phone call away, ready to do his bidding. The thought of it makes me sick, and I could never be secure or truly happy in a relationship that left me wondering if he was with someone else.
“I can’t believe how much this looks like you. I mean…it is you. And the wings and that damn pink flower. My gosh, Charlotte…what did you say?”
“At first I could barely speak. I was caught off guard… Can you even imagine? Knowing that he actually drew it, and the reality of that alone was enough to knock the wind out of me. Adding to my torrent of emotions, the look on his face and this…almost…shyness about him was enough to twist my heart into a bloody knot. He literally asked me if I liked it!” My tone suggests that it was the dumbest question possible. “Of course, I let him know my feelings went well beyond liking it, and he was so pleased his smile seemed almost boyish.”
“Wow, Charlotte. This guy throws it at you from all directions.”
If she only knew what it was like to deal with him face to face with your mind saying one thing and your body saying another.
“Ha! He throws it at me from all directions, all right. As I’m standing there, still dumbfounded by everything that encompasses this drawing, he reaches up under my chin, nudging my head back so I’m forced to look at him. His thumb starts gliding across my lips when he says in a deep, sexy voice, ‘You’ve cast a spell on me, Charlotte LeFay. Now, you have to deal with the consequences.’” I lamely try to imitate his voice.
Erika’s hand goes directly to her forehead, her mouth dropping in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. That is beyond panty melting! You cast a fucking spell on him, and he drew that…that masterpiece for you! Oooohhh, girl, good luck with this one. I told you he wasn’t giving up easily.” Here we go, Erika’s thrown in the towel, again. Traitor!
“No…you don’t understand how bad this gets. Erika… I was so overwhelmed with everything. Him, the intensity, everything he does to my senses, and then the freaking faerie portrait and the whole ‘You’ve cast a spell on me’ declaration…” I put my head down in shame as I finish in a quiet voice, “I almost passed out. Literally, not figuratively. Thank God, I was aware enough to sit my ass in a nearby chair and get my head down enough so it didn’t quite go that far, but it was close. Very close.” I look up at her, seeing the concern and understanding in her eyes. “And I’m so embarrassed I could die.”
She reaches over and grabs my hand. “Honey, you’re only human. You’d have to be dead to not be affected by him and his twisted, magical fuckery. That guy is like a damn reincarnated wizard or something.” She laughs, trying to lighten the vibe. “Boy, your road rage really got you in a pickle this time. Way to whack the hornet’s nest, Charlotte!”
Yeah, it’s more like Sibel got me into this pickle. I noticed she was in hiding during today’s show-and-tell with Ian. Coward that she is.
“Uuugghh…I don’t know what to do. I know he’s going to be there tomorrow, and something tells me he will make it a point to cross my path again and again. Most women would think this is fun, but it’s completely exhausting me. He’s relentless on a level that scares me. I wish there was some way to just tell him why I can never be what he is looking for.”
Continuing, I admit, “After my near-fainting episode, I had to get away from Ian, so I asked Jackson to take me to my office so I could clear my head. In an attempt to make him understand, I ended up telling him everything that happened when I was seventeen and how my life got turned upside down in the worst way possible.” I take a long sip of my sake to wash down the emotion. “It seemed like the right thing to do, and he was so understanding… I’m actually glad I did, but it brought a lot to the surface that I work hard to keep buried,” I finish with my hands fidgeting in my lap.
Erika puts down her glass and scoots over to me, pulling me into her arms. “Come here, babe. I know that was hard for you. Really hard. But it’s good for you to talk about it, even if it’s to someone you barely know. It worries me sometimes how you keep it balled up inside.” She rubs my back as I relax and I’m pleased that only a few tears escaped. “You may not want to hear this, but do you really think it’s fair to punish Ian for your father’s mistakes?”
“That’s funny, Jackson basically said the same thing. And the truth is, no, I don’t. But right now, at this point in my life, I can’t change the fact that Ian McAlistair makes me feel like I’m falling off a cliff and there isn’t a safety net to catch me. Sadly, that is the same image I have of my mother right before her life ended.”
That night I dreamt of Ian. He stood in front of me, staring at me with a look I couldn’t decipher. I knew he wanted to tell me something, but there were no words. I tried to speak, but nothing would come out. It made me anxious, like something was getting ready to happen and it was vital that we speak. I started to panic, screaming at him to tell me something, but still there was no sound. My stomach started twisting and turning, like I was falling, making my panic worse.
Ian was calm, but his eyes were sparking with emotion. What does he want to tell me? Ian! Talk to me! But my voice was only in my head. Finally, he handed me a piece of paper. What I found there instantly stopped my panic, stopped the sensation of falling. It was a drawing and it was breathtakingly beautiful—of Ian standing there shirtless, muscles strained with me lying across his arms, staring up at him, as if he had caught me, saving me from my fall.
“Ian…” was all I whispered, but its meaning was so much more. Then I realized I could hear it, that I could finally speak. I looked up to thank him and ask him why he was there, but he was gone.
Ten
Ian
I may need to change my routine. I was out an hour early this morning to run the boardwalk through South Beach and got to enjoy the sun rising over the horizon. I see it from my balcony almost every morning, but this was different. To be outside, exerting myself, deeply breathing the fresh air off the ocean surrounded by the orange glow as it gradually took over the sky…it was awesome, like I was in it and not just observing it. I’m not sur
e why I haven’t been doing it that way all along. I am more energized than usual, a welcome bonus considering how edgy I’ve been.
Last night I kept waking, tossing and turning, my mind busily trying to solve a problem. A problem that has nothing to do with today’s meeting and everything to do with a certain blue-eyed enchantress with a penchant for messing with my head.
Mindlessly navigating my way to the office, I think about my next encounter with Charlotte and how to keep it from blowing up in my face, again. Maybe I should show up with a dozen—no, two dozen—roses and tell her I’d be honored if she would join me for dinner. Or I could just say screw it and go back to my kidnapping idea and hide behind a tree, nail her with a blow dart laced with a tranquilizer, throw her over my shoulder, and go enjoy a few weeks of getting to know each other in the Bahamian sunshine and salt air.
God, that sounds fucking amazing!
I don’t have much time to contemplate that superb idea before my phone rings. “Good morning, Nana. How is my favorite person in the world?”
“Good morning, Ian. Your favorite person is getting old and feeble, but at least I’ve still got my looks going for me. You should have seen it yesterday when I was exercising at the Y, they couldn’t keep their eyes off me!”
Ever since Nana turned seventy, she’s been bragging about how good-looking she is. Though she’s always been a beautiful woman, I think it’s her way of doing a little reverse psychology…on herself. She’s wise enough to know you can’t fight the inevitable, but she’s also witty enough to make the best of the ride.
The Essence of Fate Page 9
