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“Stealing is so permanent. It’s guaranteed to be gone forever.”
“And how would you know I’d ever get them back? What if St. La Vie never called?”
“As if that would ever be a possibility. Plus, if that were to happen, I’d steal them back.”
“How brazen,” I replied, relishing the confidence he always maintained. Correction. It wasn’t just confidence; it was an absolute.
“I knew you’d get them back. No one steals from you, and no one especially steals from me. Whatever gets taken, always gets returned.”
“Is that true for everything?”
“Everything,” he answered, his words as stimulating as the tickle from my champagne. “Because what’s mine is mine, Gemma, that includes you. And be glad Iborrowedthose. Your talent is far too valuable not to be shared.”
My expression softened, ignoring the compliment, but focusing on how he claimed me.
In his mind I was his.
I belonged to him, and nobody could take me away.
It made me so nervous.
“Yours, too. Like you said before, we’re not so different.”
“So, you finally agree?”
“In some ways… yes,” I conceded.
“Told you so. But like I said, you’re better, Gemma. Your talent is from something that you love, and I admire that. Don’t do anything just to survive, not like how I did.” He made eyes towards the leather-bound menu that sat by my side, waiting for me to pick it up. I looked at him suspiciously before opening it, causing a thick magazine to fall out onto my lap. I stared for a long second. “This is just the beginning. I know being here is a little silly. As you’ve said before, no self-respecting New Yorker comes to Times Square. Getting this close to the crowds has always been a concern, and maybe it’s symbolic, but I chose this place for a reason. To show you I’m not afraid to go where I’m uncomfortable… so long as it’s with you, because this is the new me.”
In my hands was an unreleased issue ofNew York Prestige, its cover graced with the enticing lure of Alejandro’s face, an impressionable look I first saw months ago on a billboard while running barefoot through New York. My feelings for him had changed since then, no longer angry, but excited, enamored by him in a tuxedo, his fingers steepled to his lips. In bold white letters against a smoky backdrop read:Say My Name, ALEJANDRO RIVERA-MARQUEZ: Meet the Man Who Killed Alex Rivers.
My words couldn’t come out fast enough, “Is this—”
“That’s right,” he resisted the most handsome of smiles. “I won’t feed the world what it wants, or be the man they think I am. I’m taking it all back, once and for all.” He sipped his champagne, his sincerity delivered like a promise. “Tomorrow will be different as well, after the Tonight Show, I’ll be hosting a party for the magazine’s release of my issue; however, it won’t be like the ones I’ve had in the past.” He looked out to Times Square, at the sheer madness of lights and colors. The large crowds gathered, laughing amongst pitched horns that blared in traffic. He stared at it, as if it were his last time, saying goodbye, not to the place, but rather the aesthetic of his wild life. This wasn’t running away; this was standing his ground. No more chaos, no morenoise. “It’ll be a black-tie affair, invitation only to the socialites of bothourworlds, New York and L.A. Sophisticated and calm; no bullshit.”
It all made sense now. This magazine—the reveal of his name—it was all the prelude to a new man, the same one I knew he was all along. Tomorrow he’d walk the red carpet, not as Alex Rivers, but instead, Alejandro Rivera-Marquez, wearing the suit thatIdesigned for him, the very thing that brought us together, a chapter to our story that was finally coming to an end.
“Page forty-two,” he directed. “Paragraph three, line four.” I immediately looked down, agreeing to his command as I flipped the pages, “Read it out loud.”
“Alejandro Rivera-Marquez isn’t the only shocking news to hit the celebrity world by storm. Not only does the man have a new name, but also a new girl…” I stopped, my mouth dropped open.
“Keep reading…” he requested sweetly, as I focused back on the page.
“Gemma Harrison is a rising designer, set to be featured in Alejandro’s future looks, and rumored to be in possible collaboration with the world renowned St. La Vie. Alejandro has declared himself officially off the market, stating he’s never been happier than with the‘Gorgeous Gemstone’Gemma.”
Officially off the market? My heart both fluttered and sank, the article being far too surreal to be true. I promised to be his, but being his was still such a unique place to be.
It was clear I wasn’t supposed to be shared or stolen, and as much as I wanted that to be true, things were much more complicated now, especially after the Hamptons. I picked at the corner of the magazine’s thick, glossy page.
“Is this true?” I smiled, still overwhelmed.
“Of course it is. I wanted it to be true since the moment I saw you, when I noticed that there was purpose in everything you did. You couldn’t imagine my intrigue, discovering the most beautiful puzzle I needed to solve, the one person who was hidden like me, like an actor in disguise trying to be someone else. And to say I was desperate would be an understatement. It’s the very reason I drove out to Bushwick, hoping it’d bring me closer to you, that I’d capture some small piece of who you were and where you came from.”
“There was never anything out there for you to find.” I admitted to myself, reluctant to acknowledge all that he did, and the beautiful, unapologetic intention he set forth.
“That’s not true. Remember these knuckles?” he asked. “Remember how bloody they used to be? The story you read about me online?”
“About you and the DJ from Bushwick.” I answered vaguely, avoiding the name I knew he probably hated.
