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“I’m there if you need me, Gemma.” He removed his eyes from my phone and back onto me, “No one gets hurt, unless it's him. I promise.”
CHAPTER 9
Ihad no idea what to expect. Being around Alex amongst other people was difficult as it was, but alone, in his own private suite, how would he be? I straightened my posture, catching my reflective face in the elevator door. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prepare how I looked, wearing a tight, turquoise, high-necked mini dress with bellowed sleeves and covered cleavage. I kept my glam toned down to neutral golds and a rosy cheek, tightening my hair into a conservative bun. My message was crystal clear, spoken through fashion as I only knew how: I was a capable stylist and a total professional.
If Alex was as sly as Parker mentioned, I knew I had to be ready, to be astute to his movements and the things he’d do or say. I didn't want to be caught off guard, especially since he had managed to do so in every interaction thus far. I was never prepared for the things Alex said, how he rescued me from Gerard or how he scolded me like a child. I may not have had a father growing up, but the way he wielded his expectations made me imagine how it might’ve been. This was not to say he was the light of fatherhood, but rather, he was persistent, expectant, and held an authority that made many want to please, including myself, in the most professional sense of the way.
I wanted to be told I did a jobwelldone.
The Cassowary itself was a pillar of glass and steel, a beacon for millionaires in Midtown, Manhattan. It made sense for Alex to be here, amongst the polished marble and crystal decanters, but not in Bushwick. That thought stuck in my chest like a loose and broken bone. I couldn’t ignore it, especially since I had time to think, stuck in a speeding elevator that took forever to reach the top. His penthouse was on the last floor, the eighty-ninth to be exact. I smoothed out the sweat of my palms along the bottom of my dress as the elevator slowed down.
Be cool, Gemma, stay calm, stay professional. He’s your boss, his interests go only as far as you let them.
The elevator jerked, softly stopping as the doors opened. My heart raced as I stepped out, instantly immersed in a massive foyer. At first, I was silent, startled as the elevator doors pinched from behind, my body still in its way. I listened for Alex, but only heard the faint melodic beats of soft music.
“Hello?” My voice echoed. No response. The steps of my clicking heels bounced down the hall as I entered the living room, intoxicated by the view of inferior skyscrapers. The tips of my fingers tingled at the sight, almost daring myself not to get too close. I faced away, as to not fall, redirected towards a large kitchen with sleek stone counters. It was hard to escape the surrounding glass walls, made not for an observer, but for a god to peer down, his garden being Central Park, manicured with dots of light and tiny people. It was both beautiful and consuming, fitted for a man like Alex.
He knew I was coming, but perhaps he was late, as often as he was. I expected him to appear at any moment, watching me like a lion in the dark. It was a thrilling thought, but also made me nervous. What would he see if he saw me now, a mystified girl, lost in his home? That alone made me vulnerable, but I assured myself I’d feel him soon enough, considering his devious eyes had a way of pricking at my skin.
A familiar box caught my attention, resting on a black table by my side. It was his pack of cigarettes, the name unbeknownst to me, burgundy and black, printed with a man in a headdress. I studied its label, almost metallic with a reflection, reading the unfamiliar Spanish word,Tranquilo’s.I looked over my shoulder, then back at the pack, curious to smell the cherry scent as I had before.
I opened its top, removed a cigarette and placed it between my fingers. I tried to remember how he held it, mimicking its position, placing it near my lips, but not touching them. It allowed me to enjoy the scent that gave me chills and was different than Claire's. The fruity smell was unique, almost raising the hairs on my neck, a contrast to Alex’s eyes which often put me on edge.
It was funny to think how he had such an effect on me, how he could be both, calming and scary, enjoyable and frustrating. I saw those traits in him, so how could he see himself in me? I wanted to understand it, and the clues around his house felt like a good place to start.
A slight shine glistened from the coffee table in the living room. I looked around, hoping to be quick enough to snoop and avoid being caught. Behind me was a large staircase, and its black railing stretched to the second floor, where I knew Alex surely was. I wanted to shout out again but also wanted this moment to sneak around, so I remained quiet. I inched closer to the table, looking down, lifting an unexpectedly heavy pair of handcuffs.
I swallowed, my mouth dried at their sight, what they implied. They felt so sturdy, so permanent, their clasp slipped into place, locked as if on my wrist. Who were these for, and what would they feel like secured around me?
“A prop.” Alex’s deep voice buzzed in my ear, startling me as I spun around. I screamed, simultaneously dropping the handcuffs and clutching my chest.
“Jesus, Alex!” I screeched already losing all professionalism, caught spying around the boss’s house. I realized his cigarette was still clutched in my hand, so I hid it. I sheltered it in the ball of my fist, keeping it close to my waist. “I said hello, but you didn't answer.”
“So you went searching for me?” He motioned towards the coffee table, “Maybe I was hiding under the cuffs?” His voice hummed with a tease. He could have scolded me, and I would have taken it, but his smirk let me off the hook. A small gesture of kindness I wasn't expecting.
“I was… just surprised.” I replied, not answering his question. I was flustered, caught in the current state of Alex’s shirtless body. Sweat dripped along his strong jaw and shoulders, tempted to be licked like salted caramel ice cream. Not an ounce of him was soft, each inch sculpted with careful intent; arms that could wrap around me, hands that could consume the entirety of my face. He was far sturdier and equipped, more so than my knees, which suddenly lost their stiffness.
“I’m either wearing these, or putting them on someone. Just depends if I’m the villain or not.” Alex bent over, picking up the cuffs, catching the glance I stole. I was drawn to his chest, reminding myself of the womanizer he was. It was the angel wings, the ones of an assumed lover, whose initials twitched from the flex of his firm muscle.
“Which do you prefer?” I asked, mentally moaning at the stupid question. “I mean, in your movies, that is?” I hated being caught off guard, especially with Alex. I wanted to be as calm as he was, but I lacked the skill upon his surprise. It felt as if he enjoyed watching me squirm, forming me into this shy girl. I watched as he stretched, presenting the V-cut of rippled dark abs, their presence further implied, but lost in the trim of loose black sweats.
“I guess you’ll find out.” He tossed the cuffs onto the couch. “Thirsty?” He asked, walking into the kitchen. The question asked implied more than intended, and for that reason, I almost said yes. But I shook my head at the sudden thought, me in a compromised position, hopelessly pinned below his bare body. I rejected it.
“No, thank you, Mr. Rivers.” I answered, following behind. His back puckered, drawn with renewed definition and sweat. He opened the fridge as I slipped the cigarette into my purse. My palm was damp from nervousness, and I was unable to put it back where I found it.
“No formalities, Gemma,” he commanded softly, pulling out a pitcher of water. “It really is overdone.” He tipped the pitcher over a glass, then raised it up to his lips. His gruff voice was tantalizing, his eyes stoic and dark.
“I’m not comfortable calling you by your first name.” I maintained, setting a new precedent.
“Unless I scare you, then you call me Alex.” He reminded, pointing out how I first addressed him when he startled me earlier.
“That was different.”
“It was, and I liked it. Maybe I should scare you more often.” He reached up with his hands, both of which were wrapped in white tape. I was reminded of his knuckles as he bit down on the strap, his pristine teeth clenched as he pulled it off.
“Are those bandages?” I asked softly.
“It’s a wrap. It protects my hands.”
