Under His Spell (The Miami Tycoon) (9 page)

BOOK: Under His Spell (The Miami Tycoon)
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“Night, Erica.”

Erica watched her drive off, partially to gauge her driving abilities to make sure she wasn’t lying about not drinking, and partially just to take a breather from the night’s developments. After Ashley disappeared from view, Erica headed back to the club. Definitely time for a well-deserved drink.

Manny and Emily were nowhere to be found by the time she returned. Erica had a niggling fear in the back of her mind that she’d run into Jill, but no such thing occurred. After getting another mojito, she made her way back to the table on the patio without any interruption.

Jess and Anthony were standing in a large group of people, chatting and drinking.

Anthony called to her as soon as he spotted her. “Hey, Erica, come meet some fellow real estate agents. These guys work for Sunwillow.” Erica smiled at the group. “I thought you guys were our rivals,” she said cheekily. A large blond man answered her. “Hey, no office politics here. We’re all just having fun, talking a little shop. We can be rivals on Monday.” He grinned at her. “I’m Ethan. I hear you’re a rookie agent?”

He shook her hand. “I’m Erica, and yes. Nice to meet you, Ethan.”

“Likewise. Listen, I was just telling Anthony and Jessica here that I’m throwing an after-party at my place. It’s real close to here, about a five-minute drive. Interested?”

“Hmm. Depends. Will there be mojitos?”

“I shall personally guarantee it,” said the Sunwillow agent.

“Well, then, certainly,” replied Erica.

After a few more rounds of introductions and small talk, the group of around fifteen meandered towards the cab stand. Erica took one with Jess and Anthony.

“Deep in the heart of the enemy, huh guys?” she said, once they were underway.

Jess laughed. “Yeah. Some of them really are nice, though, and I want to see Ethan’s house. It’s supposed to be insane!”

Anthony chimed in. “I’ve been there before, it is crazy. There’s an awesome hot tub.” He squeezed Erica’s thigh. “You in?”

“Maybe. Hot water does sound good right now. I don’t have a suit, though.”

“Oh, that works for me.” Erica elbowed him. “Ouch!”

“Come on, I wouldn’t have to do it if you’d just behave like a gentleman.”

“I can’t help myself, you’re just so gorgeous, Erica...”

“Both of you two quit it,” Jess said. “I cannot deal with any more shit tonight. We are going to have fun and then I am going to go to bed. No shenanigans from either of you. At least until the end of this cab ride,” which was ending as she spoke.

The house was insane, in a gaudy, McMansion sort of way. It had a columned porch, four stories, a huge ballroom and stairs that looked like they’d been taken from the Titanic. Business must have been good at Sunwillow.

The party itself, though, was boring. Anthony led her to a deserted couch (Louis XVI, by the looks of it) and fed Erica nonsense about how special he thought she was, how much more gorgeous and interesting than any of the other women at the party, even some bullshit about how he could see himself spending the rest of the life with her.

Erica felt languorous and tired, and didn’t protest too much to any of it. It was flattering, and it was pleasant to lean on Anthony’s shoulder and have her hair stroked. “This is nice,” she said, for the second time that night. What she meant was, ‘This is adequate,’ or, ‘This is better than nothing,’ but Anthony took it to mean, ‘Kiss me, I beg you.’ So he did. Lightly at first, then more insistently. Erica allowed it for a moment, but a wrongness hummed in her ears. As his tongue began probing further in her mouth, she pushed him away and sat up. “I’m sorry, Anthony. You’re going to have to take things slow with me. I’m sorry.”

Anthony tried to hide his disappointment. “Hey, no worries. we can take it slow. I’d do anything for you.” Erica put her hand on his. “Thank you. You know... You’re right. I do need to get over the Maxwell thing. And I will. Just... not quite yet. Can you wait for me to figure it out?”

“Sure thing, Erica. But I’ve been shut down twice tonight, so I’m going to go hang out in the hot tub and nurse my ego a little. Is that all right?”

“Yes,” said Erica, who then gave him an impulsive peck. She had finally decided to let go of her misgivings and trust Anthony. It was time to stop with the self-destructive crush on her boss, and Anthony was a good man, so she thought. He looked surprised and pleased about the peck, and winked at her as he got up to go.

Anthony borrowed a pair of swimming trunks from the host and got in the hot tub on the deck at the back of the house. In the ballroom, people trickled in and out; pop music hummed from somewhere deeper in the house. Erica almost got the sense she was living in a quieter version of one of Jay Gatsby’s parties: the low-grade boredom that comes from having too much money and nothing to talk about. She had half a mind to go look in the library and see if the spines on any of the books had been broken. In any case, she wasn’t interested in schmoozing with other attendees.

She decided to snoop around the house a little. In the library, a huge baby grand sat on marble floors; there were shelves so high they had those little sliding ladders to reach the top. It looked like something out of a French chateau. Or the Disneyland approximation of a library in a French chateau. And, Erica noted drily, the spines on most of the beautifully leather-bound books looked pristine. She played a few notes on the baby grand, then looked out the window. She was beginning to feel like she was on a movie set. Anything but a library—she was almost sure no actual reading had gone on there. What does this Ethan guy think his house says about him? she wondered. Does he know it seems absurd? Erica hoped silently she’d never have to sell a house like Ethan’s. It was all show and no heart; it didn’t feel like anyone was doing any real living or loving in it. It’s Phony Estate, not Real Estate, she thought to herself. God, Erica, when did you start making bad puns? Time to stop drinking.

She heard heels clicking on the marble behind her, and turned to see a tired-looking Jess, whose latest objective was to get Erica out of the party before seeing what Anthony was up to in the hot tub. She’d spent the night babysitting her coworkers and now simply wanted to get home without further incident.

“Hey, doll. What do you say we blow this joint?” Jess said wearily. “It’s way past my bedtime. Not even champagne and caviar could keep me out a minute longer.” Erica smiled in agreement, and said, “Where do you live? Let’s split a cab.”

“Sure. I live really close,” said Jess as they left the library and went back to the front of the house. “Okay, we’ll drop you off first,” said Erica. “Oh, I’m going to go say goodbye to Anthony first, ok?” She hurried up to the porch, and missed Jess’s protest: “Erica! Wait! Don’t go up there!”

Anthony was in the hot tub, and was nursing his ego. Unfortunately, he was nursing it with a bikini-clad girl in each arm. He was kissing the neck of the one on his left when Erica marched up to the side of the tub. “Hello, you worthless fuckface,” was her opener. The girls looked nervous. A thought occurred to Erica. “Ladies, ladies. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you, not harm you. Our friend Anthony here lied to me and hid his test results, which I just found. Good thing I never slept with him, or else he’d have exposed me to his fucking chlamydia like the diseased mongrel he is.” Erica’s eyes were narrowed to slits. She was looking dangerous. “So careful, girls, because hot tubs just breed bacteria.” The two women clambered out of the tub like it was boiling acid. “Bye Anthony, thanks for the empty promises.” She walked away without another word.

Jess didn’t even try to speak to Erica as they got in the cab. She was visibly fuming. Jess wondered if steam would come out of her ears. Erica let Jess out at her house with a murmured good-bye, then directed the cabbie to her own apartment, which was about a half-hour away, and resumed her angry thoughts.

She was hardly shocked, but it didn’t make her any less pissed. It was so boring, she thought, to be constantly treated like shit by men. Men themselves were boring. The banality of their flaws and defects. Erica was tired of it. That’s enough, she thought. I’d rather die alone with cats than put up with any more of this nonsense. She sat in silence the rest of the way, wondering if Marina would allow her to get a kitten.

When she reached the door to her apartment, she dug around in her bag for her key ring. It took a few minutes (due to the considerable size and fullness of Erica’s purse) to determine that she didn’t have her keys. The time was 3:23 AM. Erica willed herself not to cry in frustration.

She must’ve forgotten them in the office, in the flurry to leave and get to the bar. She didn’t want to call Emily and interrupt her and Manny’s first night together in weeks; she didn’t want to call Jess, who’d been so tired when she dropped her off. She certainly didn’t want to call Anthony. Nor Ashley nor Ryan, for that matter. That left one person. The one person she probably, really, should not be texting at 3:23 AM on a Friday night.

Are you awake? she texted Maxwell. He wrote back within seconds. Yes, he replied. Why?

Because I left my keys in the office and I don’t have anyone else to call. Can you come get me? Again, he replied almost immediately. Of course. Be there in a few.

Erica walked to the sidewalk to wait. As promised, Nicholas Maxwell’s Range Rover pulled up to her within minutes. He must’ve been fairly close by, to have arrived so quickly. Erica’s face as she stepped up into the car was filled with relief.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. He looked extremely tired too. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve been out almost all night. You had good timing, though, I was just about to go home when I got your text.” His voice was kind but ragged. Erica hoped he hadn’t had to deal with any real emergency. “How was your night?” he asked her. “Oh, garden-variety disaster. How was yours? You left pretty quickly, earlier. Was it serious?”

“It was, actually. It mean, it’s kind of personal, but... Erica, do you mind if I tell you? I don’t want to burden you with my troubles, but I’d really like to let you know what’s going on. If it’s ok, that is.”

Erica was touched he trusted her enough to say whatever it was that was on his mind, although she was sure he was going to tell her about his wife. “Of course,” she said.

“Okay.” He pushed his hair back out of his face. “It’s kind of a long story. I... well, the beginning is a long time ago. My father was a construction foreman his whole life. So, as soon as I turned fifteen, I started working with him. I’d been working on his crews for years by the time I was nineteen, and that year we were building houses in Coral Gables. And that was the first year a woman worked on our crew. She was a couple years older than me, gorgeous, and she knew what she was doing.”

Maxwell’s face was lost in the memory by then. Erica kept listening, but her heart was sinking. “We started spending all our time together, and not just while we were working. We would sneak onto construction sites and night and sit on the rooves we’d built that day, and talk about our dreams. Mine was to stop making houses and start selling them, you know, be the guy behind the desk, not the guy working outside all day. My mom always told me that, you know, get a job that doesn’t use your body because one day, your body will fail you. I loved my dad, obviously, respected him, but as he got older, well. He agreed with my mother. Anyway. Her dream was to restore old houses, and her other dream was to get her parents over from Cuba. She’d come over on a student visa, but they were pretty old, and didn’t have much of a shot, without, well...”

He trailed off, and looked straight into Erica’s eyes. “I thought she was it. I thought she was the one. So we got married.”

Erica smiled weakly at him. “I know. Anthony told me you were married.”

For a second, Nick was about to agree, then his face scrunched in confusion. “Wait, what? He said I was... what? I’m not married anymore.” He shook his head. “We got a divorce. A long time ago, actually. Anthony knows that.”

“Oh, god,” Erica said, already fuming. “He lied. I shouldn’t even be surprised, really, considering all the other shit he did tonight, but really.”

Nick’s face now turned from surprise to anger and suspicion. “What the fuck? Why would he lie to you? And what else did he do tonight? Tell me.”

Erica smiled, genuinely now. “It’s actually really not important. You were telling me where you went tonight, the big emergency. I want to hear the rest.”

“Right. Okay. Where was I. So I was nineteen and married, and we had to do the whole immigration interviews and proof of our love and everything, but eventually we got green cards for her parents. Things were good, really good, for a long time. We were both working a lot, and we lived in a duplex with her parents. We all got very close. But then, about seven years in, everything started to fall apart. We stopped having things in common and started resenting each other for it.”

He seemed distressed; Erica resisted the urge to touch him, comfort him. “Things had already gone south, and I don’t blame her so much anymore, but she cheated on me. That was the end, for me anyway. We stayed married long enough to make sure nobody would get deported, which was hard, but then we got a divorce. We’ve stayed on good terms, especially in the past few years, but now... Her dad, Gabriel, had a stroke tonight. That’s where I was, at the hospital.” He sighed. “It’s tough to see him like that. My ex-wife is really torn up about it. I think he’s going to pull through this one, but he’s very old. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be around. So. That’s where I was tonight. Heavy stuff, I know. Now tell me what happened to you.”

Erica hardly knew what to say, so much new information was flooding her mind. So he wasn’t married after all... Suddenly her own troubles seemed impossibly inconsequential. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d been cheated on by a significant other of seven years whose father was now dying. She decided to say as little as possible.

“Well. It really isn’t a big deal, comparatively. I’d decided to trust Anthony, and I thought we’d mutually agreed to try and pursue something between us, but then I found him in a hot tub, kissing another woman. Which was, you know, disappointing.”

BOOK: Under His Spell (The Miami Tycoon)
10.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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