Arranged (19 page)

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Authors: Sara Wolf

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BOOK: Arranged
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She shoos me out the door and closes it in my face. There’s no going back now. I have to go to this party. I have to face him, even if it feels like my insides are being chewed by nervous rats. I ruined this. I need to fix it. That’s what growing up means; fixing the stuff you broke instead of sweeping it under the bed where no one will see.

I shake my head and smile. Now I’m starting to sound like Riley.

I hail a cab. The night is dark and smoggy – I can’t see the moon or stars. The Hilton glows like a bright, warmly-lit candle against the night. Christmas lights and trees line the driveway. The loading zone is swamped with people in suits and gorgeous dresses getting out of cars and making their way inside. I get out, suddenly horribly self-conscious about my dress. I know I look out of place and immature compared to these people - like a kid in her mother’s clothes. But I shake the anxiety off. I don’t care about these other people. I’m here for Lee. To apologize. Nothing else matters but him right now.

I follow the stream of fancy-dressed people through the lobby and to a ballroom. Its doors are flung open – sprays of fresh red and white flowers everywhere. A concierge checks and double checks invitations at his podium before letting guests in. I can see dozens of white tables clustered around an open marble dancefloor. A quartet plays in the corner, the sweet sounds of the violin and cello mingling with the chatter of the crowd. Some people are already dancing in pairs – ballroom dancing, the type of dancing where everyone moves in sync and knows the right moves. I swallow. You couldn’t pay me to go anywhere near a ballroom dancefloor, and especially not tonight. I’m just here to tell Lee my feelings, and then I’ll leave. I spy a menu next to the door. Crab in butter sauce and herb penne with foie gras. Black forest truffle cake and mango-raspberry sorbet with mint relish. My mouth waters. No! I’m just here for Lee. Who cares about food? I have to find him as quick as I can.

And that’s when I see him. Farlon. He’s standing by the bar, sipping a whiskey and looking much taller in his suit. His salt-and-pepper hair and his oily smirk are even more noticeable. Why is he here? I shake the mystery out of my head and walk up to the main desk. A pretty woman in a suit smiles at me.

“How may I help you?”

“Hi. I was, um, told to ask about the room reservation under Montenegro?”

“Ah, you must be Ms. Jensen.” She smiles and hands me a keycard. “Penthouse suite three, last floor. Enjoy your stay.”

Penthouse? I take the elevator up to the eleventh floor. Why would Lee rent the penthouse? Since when did he have that kind of money? I could see
Grace
renting a penthouse. But not Lee. The rats gnawing my insides turn to chewing tigers as I get out on the top floor and open the door to the suite with my keycard. The suite is nicer than anything I’ve been in – the bed is huge and hung with a dark canopy, like a bed out of a fairytale. Dozens of pillows are stacked on it, and on top of the biggest two pillows are a stack of chocolates tied with gold ribbon. The lights are dim but warm and welcoming. A huge plasma TV sits opposite the bed, and the balcony is almost as big as the suite itself, and has a hot tub on it.

“Lee?” I call out. No answer. He’s not here yet, if he intends to come at all. I sigh and slip my shoes off, letting the soft carpet caress my tired soles. I forgot how much work heels are. I munch on the pillow chocolates to ease my nerves as I check out the rest of the room. The mini-fridge is stocked with tiny bottles of alcohol, cookies, and chips. The bathroom is huge – the tub nearly the size of the bed and a shower stall with glass walls beside it. The room service menu sits on the bedside table, and a card says I get a complimentary massage in the spa downstairs. Like any of that matters. I’m too nervous to think about anything besides my impending confession to Lee.

I sigh and lie on the bed, staring at the canopy. What is this all about? Is Lee going to come up here? Why did he invite me to the function if he told me to come up here first? The bed feels so heavenly I feel my eyelids drooping. The beeping of the door jolts me awake. There, in the hall, stands Lee. His tall, lean frame is accented by the sharply tailored suit he wears, and his usually messy dark hair is slicked back. His dress shoes are polished. My heart wrenches around in my chest when I look into his golden eyes – the same coldness. The same gauntness in his face. He looks so sad. No, it’s more than sadness. It’s hopelessness.

“Lee –” I stand from the bed, chocolate wrappers scattering around me. “I –”

“You look beautiful.” His face never changes as he says it.

“I don’t care about that! I came here…I came here to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I listened to Kiera but I never asked you. I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry. I was just…you’re just so
different
from me, Lee.”

He snorts. He might as well have stabbed me in the heart with the sound, but I won’t stop now.

“You’re handsome, is what I mean. And kind. And funny. And you always know what to say, and you’re a good listener, and you’re popular, you make me feel…right. I never even knew I wasn’t right until I met you. You showed me what I was missing out on. You showed me a whole other world. And instead of repaying you, I betrayed you.”

“Stop,” He sighs. “You’re pathetic.”

Those words rip the air from my lungs. I fight to keep breathing, but the tears I swore I wouldn’t shed are starting to overflow.

“I know that! I
know
. You have every right to hate me. I didn’t come here to try to get together again. I know after what I did that’s impossible. I want you to move on and find someone better. Someone nicer, and prettier. Someone who trusts you a lot,” I laugh weakly through the tears. “I have no right to want anything for you. But I want…I want you to be happy. With someone better than me.”

I can’t disguise my tears anymore, so I let them spill.

“I like you.” I force a smile. “Boys don’t like me. They cheat off my tests or borrow my notes from class, but they don’t really like me. I’m only good at studying, and carrying around stupid dreams about bakeries. I’m no fun.” I laugh and say it louder, like I’m cementing it into place. “
I’m no fun
. I can’t make anyone feel good, or feel happy. I can’t even make them laugh. I couldn’t even support my family when they needed me. I’m not a good friend, or a good person. But you know how to make people feel special. And you know how to make them laugh. And even though your Dad is a jerk, you stick by him faithfully. Someone like you with someone like me…it just doesn’t make sense. So. So it was nice when you liked me. Even if it was only for a little while. I can move on, as long as I can keep the memories, you know?”

He doesn’t say anything. I wipe my face and laugh.

“We weren’t even together that long. It’s stupid. It’s stupid how much I like you for how short a time we were together.”

I stand up and smooth my hair and grab my purse from the bed. I’ve said what I wanted to, and he doesn’t seem to want to talk. I might as well leave before I break into full-on sobbing and embarrass myself.

“You’re right. I’m pathetic. I’m just going to go.”

I pass him by with a sinking regret swallowing me up. I thought apologizing would make me feel better. It’s only torn the hole in my heart bigger. But I’ve done all I can. I’ve said all I can. I don’t know how to make it better. I can’t make it better. So I have to walk away.

The grip on my wrist is familiar. Lee pulls me back, eyes boring into mine.

“You’re pathetic,” He says again. “For thinking I could ever hate you.”

Before I can blink he pulls me into his chest and crushes me with a hug. His fingers claw at my back, like he’s trying to absorb me, fuse us together. His breath is hot in my ear.

“I will never hate you, Rose. You’re a better person than I’ll ever be.” He breathes deep into my hair and my tears leak onto his suit.

“Sometimes, when I was younger, I’d lie awake and think about you. Sometimes I’d wonder what it’d be like to hold you like this. I’d wonder what your voice would sound like saying my name, or laughing, or what your smile would be like. What your hair would smell like.”

He covers my blush in kisses.

“I wanted to talk with you about everything – people, emotions, religion, our goals, movies - until sunrise. I wanted to protect you from anybody who called you anything less than incredible. I wanted to make you see just how beautiful you really are.”

“What’s with all the past tense?” I murmur.

He smiles, sadly, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what? You’re making me nervous, Lee.”

He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. “Let’s just enjoy this - this moment - while we still can.”

Now that he’s near me, I can barely breathe. It was so much easier when we were apart – no, that’s a lie. It was
brutal
. But now that we’re sharing the same space at the same time, my body aches for him all over again. His mouth is on mine, tongue aggressive and lips holding a cinnamon-burn aftertaste. His crisp suit wrinkles against me, strains to accommodate his chest pressed into mine. I kiss back with all the weeks of longing I kept buried in my heart, pushing him gently into the wall. His hands roam up and down my back until he finds the zipper of my dress, working it off me. When it’s a pool of silk on the floor, he hefts off the wall and pushes me in turn, into the bathroom, where he pins me against the towel rack and ravages my neck with kisses. I work his belt off and snake my hand down his dress pants, freeing his cock to the cool bathroom air. He hisses and bites my neck softly as my hand pumps around him fast and hard. There’s no gentleness, no slow, sensuous moves – just the inferno of weeks of pent-up desire for each other searing our flesh.

I kiss the corner of his mouth and it undoes him, emptying into my hand with a soft grunt. He watches me lick my fingers clean with slow, taunting enjoyment. Something in him snaps, and before I can finish he turns me around and growls.

“Don’t move.”

I stay perfectly still, listening to my heartbeat and the rustling behind me. His cool hands unclip my bra and slide my panties down. He nudges my thighs apart and leans himself over me, his bare chest flush against my spine and his face in my neck. Something white moves over my head and laces around my wrists, drawing them together and tying them to the towel rack. It takes me a second to realize it’s the sleeves of his dress shirt. He ties a firm knot I can’t slide out of. When he’s satisfied it’s tight enough, he teases my nipples with his fingers as he hilts inside me with one fluid movement. My eyes roll and I relish the sensation of being filled by him.

His pace is unforgiving. I can barely inhale a full breathe before he fucks it out of me. Every thrust is magnified by the way I can feel each of his ridges and veins rub inside me. He plants sloppy, desperate kisses along my back, marking a pattern, a message, a story that tells me just how much he missed me, that he craved me as I craved him – no, that he craved me
more
. I want to touch him, kiss him, but the knot around my wrists binds me in place. I can’t move an inch. He has total control and he’s taking me against the wall at his pace, and the fact I can’t do anything about it makes me even wetter. The pleasure creeps up like a glorious shadow, sparse at first and growing darker as it gets closer, finally eclipsing my vision in throbbing black euphoria. Lee’s thrusts become even faster, but his withdrawals get slow, agonizing, and almost tender in the way he drags each pull out.

“I love you,” He pants. “I love you, Rose Jensen. Don’t you ever fucking doubt that again.”

Between his words he snaps his hips hard, and on the last word spurts inside me, his whole body shuddering as he furiously kisses and nips the back of my neck. We stay like that until our breathing calms. Lee’s the first to move, pulling out slowly, so slowly, like he wants to stay inside me forever. He gathers up his clothes but leaves the shirt tied around my wrists. When he tries to leave, I make a pleading noise, and he leans down and kisses me on the forehead, whispering.

“Come down to the party. There’s something you should hear. And I love you. Don’t forget that. No matter what happens from now on – never forget that.”

I hear the room door open, then close. I’m alone, alone to savor the last dregs of my high. But it’s not the same without him here with me. My legs are useless jelly, my thighs and wrists a little bruised. Why couldn’t he stay? Why couldn’t we talk more? We could go down to the party together. He could’ve at least untied me! I bite my tongue in concentration and try to wiggle free of the knot. As I struggle, warmth slides down my thighs and drips white on the tile. I blush and work the knot harder.

Bastard
.

What did he mean by ‘don’t ever forget that’? It sounded so final – like a goodbye. My stomach sinks as I glance at the clock. The invitation said nine o’clock for dinner. I’ve got ten minutes. Just enough time for a shower and learning how to walk right again.

~~~

LEE

~~~

I can’t get Rose’s smell off me.

It’s all around me – on my skin, in my mouth. She’s here, even in the silence of my hotel room.

It’s not really my hotel room. It’s ours. Mine and Kiera’s.

I laugh, bitterly, and run a hand through my hair. Kiera and I. I should get used to saying that, I guess.

The hotel door beeps and I duck into the bathroom before Kiera can come in and smell her on me. That would break our deal; me never seeing Rose again in exchange for the purchase of Rose’s grandpa’s house, the payment of her tuition, and the payment of my father’s outstanding bets to the loan sharks. Everything solved. All the people in my life I care about, happy because of me.

Rose will be fine. That guy I saw with her when I gave her the invitation – Brando. He’ll take care of her. He didn’t seem like a bad guy. And she seemed to like him.

I laugh a bitter laugh that echoes in the bathroom.

I jump in the shower and slather myself with soap. Kiera knocks on the door and opens it slowly. I can see her through the mottled glass of the shower. She’s stripping.

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