Chapter 10
The Sobering Truth
I blink as I slowly become conscious. The blankets are tucked around me. Once again, I’m alone. Vincent must be an early riser. I drape my legs over the side of the bed. Every part of my body is sore. There’s a lot of muscle fatigue and gymnastics involved in ceaseless sex. I’m in desperate need of a shower; it’s been three days since my last one. The warm, fluffy sheets still call my name, but I need to move forward.
I leap to my feet and trot to the dresser to check my cell phone. Monroe knows where I am, but it just dawned on me that Charlie might be worried since he’s at my apartment. Charlie must have alerted Jack because he’s left three messages.
“Where are you, Mags? Something’s happened. Call me.” That’s the first message, the calmest one.
“Charlie’s at the apartment. You’re not there. Call me, Mags. Put me at ease.”
“Got a hold of Monroe.” Pause. “Are you alone with Vincent Adams? Did you turn your cell phone off? Call me as soon as you get this.”
I recognize that tone. He’s miffed. I call him back right away.
Jack answers on the first buzz. “Mags, are you with Vince?”
“Yeah,” I sing in the sweetest, most innocent voice I can muster.
“Why did you power off your phone?”
“I was asleep.”
“I called you yesterday.”
My response is a hard sigh. Sometimes Jack can be overbearing.
“Mags, he’s engaged. I had a feeling he was into you, but I took a chance.”
All of a sudden, I feel as if I’ve just been smacked in the heart with a bulldozer. I try to keep myself from falling apart because Jack can detect the smallest change in my voice.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I say. “We didn’t do anything. You don’t have to worry. I love my job. I want to keep it. We would’ve flown back three days ago, but we had to wait out the snowstorm.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Jack is silent. “Okay.”
I sigh in relief. He bought it.
“Daisy and I are in New York.”
“So soon?”
“She’s in the hospital,” he says.
“Oh shit! What happened?”
“She fainted, and she had some cramping. We thought something happened to the baby.”
“You thought?”
“The doctor said she needs to relax more. Her high stress levels are stressing out the baby.”
“Jeez. You’re on your honeymoon. How stressful can that be?”
“She’s been working. We’ve both been working. But she’s stable now.”
I heave a deep sigh of relief. “Okay, well, the storm has passed, so we’re returning today.” The pain of Vincent’s betrayal returns with a vengeance. “I’ll cab-it to the hospital as soon as I land.”
“No, I don’t want you out that late. Go home and get some sleep. You can come in the morning.”
“Right.” I still intend to go to the hospital when I land.
Jack tells me which hospital they’re at before we disconnect. I sit for a while with my eyes closed, battling back tears. My heart hurts. Of course Vincent lied to me, but the truth is sobering. I’m a big girl. I made a decision knowing he wasn’t available, and it’s time to suffer the consequences.
“This is about your job,” I whisper. “Your future. Hey, Vincent’s not the last man on Earth.”
There, the pep talk worked. I spring to my feet, take a shower, brush my teeth, and put on my dress. My panties need to be rewashed. I stuff them into my bag. I’m not the kind of girl who wears sex-stained underwear.
I creep into the hallway and listen for Vincent. It’s so quiet that I wonder if he’s home. The silence reminds me that we’ve reached the end of our affair. I put on a stone face and walk down the hallway.
“Vincent?” I call.
I take the stairs. He’d said we’re tethered by a strange energy, and it’s odd, but that mysterious force leads me past the living room and in the opposite direction of the kitchen. I pass the glass room where we first made love and descend a set of short steps at the end of the hallway.
“I know!” Vincent shouts.
“Don’t f*ck this up, Vince,” a man on the speakerphone says.
Vince blows out a deflated sigh. He catches sight of me. “Maggie’s here. I have to go.” The man on the other side starts to say something, but Vincent ends the call. “Catch-up meeting with Robert,” he explains.
I clear my throat and try to suppress how sad I feel that my presence prompted him to hang up. “What time does our flight leave? I just spoke to Jack.”
Vincent stands. He looks scrumptious in the bright white T-shirt and blue drawstring pajamas. “You spoke to Jack?”
“Daisy’s in the hospital. She had some complications, so I need to get back.”
“I understand.” He cracks a tiny, lopsided smile. “You’re dressed.”
I snort bitterly. “And you’re engaged.”
He sighs as if my new knowledge has knocked the wind out of him. He holds his arms up, beckoning me to come to him. “Come here.”
I shake my head. “No. Look, you wanted to have sex with me. I wanted to have sex with you. We’ve gotten it out of our systems.”
“You’re not out of my system. Am I out of yours?”
I glare at him. His fiancée is a barricade I can’t demolish. I picture the woman I saw at the office in Daisy’s white wedding dress and Vincent standing beside her in Jack’s suit. “What’s her name?”
He pauses to read my expression. “Gabrielle.”
I gaze out the window at another spectacular view of the mountains. People are skiing the slopes. “I wonder why Linda didn’t mention that you were engaged.”
“Your assistant?”
“Yes.”
“Not very many people know we’re engaged.”
My face molds into a frown. “Why not?”
He walks toward me, and my stomach turns flips. His arms have become the most solid place in the world for me, yet I have to halt him when he reaches for me.
“Why not?” I insist.
“It’s complicated.”
“What’s so complicated about it?”
“It’s business, Maggie. That’s all.”
“I don’t understand.” A knot of sadness is lodged in my heart and hurts so much.
“Gabrielle’s father is our business partner. Maggie, please…”
He holds me before I can object. I give in to my need and rest the side of my face on his chest. Vincent kisses the top of my head.
I look up to gaze into his eyes. “Could we please leave? I really need to get back. I’m worried about Daisy.”
“I’m worried about us.”
“As long as you’re engaged, there is no ‘us.’” I take a backward step out of his grasp.
“Don’t do this,” he says, still embracing the space I left behind.
“When do we leave?” My lips are clenched. I want to rip his eyes out and kiss him at the same time.
His eyes caress my body and then my face. He gives a pained sigh. “In an hour and a half.”
I nod stiffly and scurry out of the office before he thinks to catch me, throw me on the floor, and make love to me. If he did that, then I wouldn’t be able to stop him or myself.
An hour later, we’re in the car on the way to the airport. Vincent is dressed in a pair of black slacks that fit him like a perfect glove and a black V-neck sweater. He looks yummy, and I want to make out with him. Our arms and legs are touching, but we haven’t spoken a word to each other since I thanked him for opening the car door for me.
I rest my head against the seat. Vincent surprises me by kissing my neck. Stupid me, I turn toward him. Our mouths meet.
He boosts me up onto his lap, stuffs his hand under my skirt, and finger-f*cks me. I whimper against his lips. The driver is probably in the most uncomfortable position on earth, especially when Vincent flips me onto my back. I lay on the seat with my legs spread and his face between them. I shove the driver seat to brace myself as warm breath and a warm tongue stimulate me.
I open my mouth wide and release an unrestrained scream when I climax. Vincent finger-bangs me until I calm down. I thought he would be done after that, but he starts all over again. Leather crunches as the driver squirms uncomfortably in his seat. Vincent sucks on my p-ssy lips. He likes doing that. His thumb rims my ass as his tongue stimulates my *oris. I can hardly take it.
I think I feel the car speed up. I come so hard my whole body trembles. Vincent climbs on top of me and unzips his pants. He doesn’t make love to me. Vincent f*cks me, giving it to me hard.
He rolls his tongue around my lips. “Taste yourself, baby.”
I take his tongue into my mouth. He bangs me and bangs me until he shouts as he comes. Once it’s all out of him, he collapses on top of me.
“We’re here,” the driver announces in a shaky voice.
Vincent helps me up. I pull my dress down over my legs, avoiding contact with the eyes in the rearview mirror. What just happened?
Vincent zips up his pants, takes out his wallet, and gives the driver a five-hundred-dollar bill. “For your trouble.”
The driver gladly takes the inflated tip. Hell, he earned it.
Vincent and I sit beside each other on the airplane. As soon as we buckle our seatbelts, he holds my hand, and that is how we stay. Occasionally we gaze into each other’s eyes. We do a lot of kissing but no talking. I can’t deny that I feel something that just won’t go away for Vincent Adams. Our flight touches down four hours later. One last kiss, and I let go of his hand.
“Wait,” Vincent says and reclaims my hand. “Just wait.”
“I have to get to the hospital.” There’s no use in prolonging the inevitable. I want him out of sight. Hopefully that will keep him out of my mind.
“It’s complicated, Maggie.”
Having my hand in his feels natural.
“I bet,” I say after a long period of silence.
The door to the airplane opens. I don’t let him hold my hand or touch me when we exit. A car awaits, and I have no option but to ride into the city with him. It’s a little after eight p.m. Vincent has the driver drop me off at St. Anne’s Hospital.
There’s no better feeling in the world than coming home after a trip to somewhere that’s the antithesis of Manhattan. The buildings, the lights, and the people pounding the pavement offer comfort. They all remind me that I can get back to the life I had before Vincent f*cked me and ruined it. The car rolls to a stop in front of the hospital entrance.
“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” Vincent says.
I watch how the light streaming in illuminates his miserable expression. He’s good looking to the extreme. One would think that he would use it to his advantage, but he’s just gazing at me as if his entire world has come crashing down upon him.
“Okay. Thank you. I had fun,” I say.
He sniffs with disdain and tears his eyes from my face. I scoot out of the car and hurry into the hospital. I want to look back to see if the black car is still parked along the curb, but I fight the urge.
***
Vincent Adams
Vincent watched until Maggie cut a sharp left and disappeared out of sight. He’d hoped she would turn around, run back into his arms, and say a lot more than what she left him with.
“She had fun.” Is she f*cking for real?
What a way to make a man feel cheap. It was more than fun for him. Their encounter had changed his life, changed his mind. Vincent couldn’t articulate those changes. He could only say that he was different.
Sure, he’d placed the calls to make their trip to Aspen happen. Maggie was right that Reginald Champion was the point of contact. He ran the show from his office in New York. He’d given Vincent the “it’s too late” bit, but to change his fortune, Vincent promised Reginald two free commercial spots on Prime D TV and paid double the amount of the highest sponsorship for the End of March Powder.
To say that Maggie received preferential treatment would be an understatement. He never would’ve paid into the event for anyone else. However, Reginald said he couldn’t fly out on Monday to give him a tour of the site because a storm was rolling into Aspen. Vincent had asked Reginald if he had a contact already in Aspen. That’s how he got Darius’s number.
Vincent had to get Maggie to Aspen on Monday for two reasons. He’d thought Maggie had made plans to meet up with some guy later that night, and Robert had suddenly become interested in coming into the office to work after bumping into her at the polo match. Vincent knew Robert had designs on Maggie, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of another man making love to her.
When Vincent saw Maggie at the wedding, he’d thought he was hallucinating. He recalled her face often over the years. Every time one of his relationships went bust and he needed to figure out why, he reminded himself of the butterflies that had fluttered in his stomach the first time he laid eyes on her.
At the wedding, she’d looked just as miserable as she did twelve years ago. He figured Charlie had something to do with it. In high school, they used to walk down the hallways bickering like an old married couple. Vincent couldn’t quite get the gist of their arguments, but he did make out a few of the topics. Once they fought about him “sending mindless debutantes” to her classroom. Another time, Charlie didn’t back her up in an argument she had with her mother.
Vincent had often wished to be in Charlie’s shoes. The way she ripped into him was cute. It appeared as if Charlie enjoyed pushing her buttons. Plus, Vincent wanted to know everything about the rare bird that flew into town but she didn’t say much to anyone except Charlie and a couple of the teachers.
Vincent had watched her as much as he could. He had never been jealous of another human being until he found out she had a thing for Rob. Sabotaging the possibility of the two of them becoming a couple was instinctual. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it if they had started dating.
Vincent rolled down the window to get a whiff of New York air. It smelled and tasted like life. The time had come for him to power on his cell phone. Ten seconds later, it chimed. He checked the number. He hoped it was Maggie calling to ask him to return to the hospital or stop by her apartment later. He needed to make love to her, and the sooner the better.
A cloud of disappointment settled on him as he slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. “Gabrielle.”
“Vincent, why the hell did you cut your phone off? I’ve been calling like crazy.”
Vincent closed his eyes to breathe in the final traces of Maggie’s peach-scented hair and their sex. “Sorry. I’m tired, Gabrielle. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Did you forget about tomorrow?”
“What am I supposed to remember?”
“Saint Tropez?”
He slapped his forehead. “Shit. Can we reschedule? Something came up.” The car stopped in front of his building in Midtown.
“No, we cannot reschedule! What the hell’s wrong with you? You didn’t call me for three days, and I couldn’t reach you. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Vincent wanted to just say it. He wasn’t in love with her and never had been, which they both knew was a fact. Her father, Peter Rossetto, was holding a rifle to his head in the form of a contract. He’d threatened to pull his money out of A&Rt Media Group, which would immediately bankrupt them, if Vincent didn’t marry Gabrielle. A&Rt was merely a financial investment to him, and he stood to gain a hefty profit if he backed out of the contract, which they stupidly gave him the option to do. Back then, he and Rob were young, eager and not as astute as they are now.
“No,” Vincent forced himself to say. “We’ll stick to the plan.”
She sighed with relief. “That’s what I want to hear.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’ll see me tonight,” she purred, laying it on thick.
Vincent looked out the window and up toward his sixty-fifth-floor penthouse suite. “Are you at my place?”
“I’m in your bed.”
“Shit. Gabrielle, I’m still in Colorado. I fly back early in the morning.”
“What? No,” she whined.
Vincent took a deep breath. “Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Vincent ended the call and powered down the phone. He was in hell. He had to spend a full week alone in Saint Tropez with Gabrielle.
“Maggie,” he whispered.
“Vincent, are you going up?” the driver’s voice said over the speaker.
“No. Take me to the office?” He would work for an hour or two and then walk over to the Waldorf Astoria to stay the night.