Page 37 of The Accident

She looks down, then up, and there’s something wild in her eyes.

“I’m not pretending,” she whispers. “I’m trying. For you.”

I smile, the first one all night.

“Good,” I say. “Because I want you. Every inch.”

She bites her lip, then nods, surrendering the last little bit of dignity.

I step back, sweep a hand to the bar. “Drink up,” I say, “You’ll need it.”

She picks up the glass and drinks, this time without a flinch.

I watch her throat work, then catch her eye as she sets the empty down.

She’s ready, or as ready as she’ll ever be.

I let her stew for a second, then turn away, walking back to the window.

The city is still there, glimmering below, but I don’t see it at all.

We make a little more small talk, desultory and light. She’s still on the sofa, perched on the edge, legs pressed together, dress so tight her breasts are almost busting out. She’s cupping a glass of white wine now, which I poured her just to see if she’d be able to drink it without spilling. She can’t. Each time she raises the glass, her wrist trembles just a little and she has to set it down again.

I stand by the window, scotch in hand, city lights flickering through the glass behind me. There’s music playing, something soft and sensuous, low enough to barely register. The penthouse is big, but I keep the lights dim. I want it to feel close. Intimate.

Kayleigh babbles about the drive—traffic was a disaster, the parking garage is scary at night, she almost got lost trying to find the penthouse. I let her run with it, nodding at the right moments. Her voice is different when she’s nervous: higher, all the words bundled together as if she’s afraid they might escape without her. She avoids eye contact, picking at the rim of the glass.

I ask about Victoria and Henry, and her face brightens—her default, I realize, is to please, to perform. “Mom’s busy with the bachelor auction,” she says. “She’s on the planning committee. She said you’re going to be one of the bachelors. Is that true?”

I shrug. “Didn’t know I had a choice. They needed someone who could fill a tux, I guess.”

Kayleigh laughs, but it’s brittle. She sips her wine and this time manages to swallow. “You’ll go for a million dollars,” she says. “There are a lot of wealthy ladies in Minneapolis, and I’m sure you’ll raise a lot of money for the charity.”

I think about this, then set my glass on the side table and cross the room. She tracks me with her eyes, blinking hard as if to clear them.

“Yeah, but I don’t even know which charity we’re supporting.”

Kayleigh looks stumped.

“You don’t?”

I cross my arms over my chest, lazy and relaxed.

“Nah, that shit doesn’t interest me. I’m here to make money, not to waste it on whatever non-profit Victoria thinks is deserving. I’ve never been interested in that shit, but you have to do what you have to do just to fit in sometimes.”

Kayleigh rolls those words over in her head for a moment.

“But do you struggle to fit in?” she asks in a slow tone. “I mean, you’re a successful CEO and billionaire. You can do whatever you want.”

I shrug.

“Maybe, but we all have roles to play and responsibilities to carry out. Which brings me to a good point. You know why you’re here, right?” I ask, stopping just in front of her, arms folded.

She looks up, her mouth a perfect O. “I—yes, I think so.” She laughs, but it sounds like panic.

I let the silence settle in. When I do speak, it’s slow and careful, each word its own small cruelty.

“I want to continue our conversation from this morning, and to fulfill my responsibilities,” I say, and her cheeks go pink, her gaze sliding away to the skyline.