Chapter 23 #2
He’s brought me back, another good sign he’s doing okay, but how much time has passed since? Again I lie in bed, worried. One more time won’t hurt. I’ll simply check to see if he’s breathing okay.
This time when I open his bedroom door, Luke turns over in bed. “You’re back,” he says.
“I can’t—what if something happens to you?—”
“And I can’t go to sleep because I keep thinking you are uncomfortably squeezed on that chair giving yourself a neck cramp again.”
We’ve come to a crossroads with no obvious solution, but based on our spent and darkened eyes, further exhaustion can’t be the answer.
I cast a pitiful look at the armchair. “It’s not that uncomfortable…”
Luke exhales and rolls off the bed.
“I didn’t mean you should use it!”
“I’m not.” He straightens his sheets and comforter until they are neat again as if proclaiming no one should use the bed.
But that’s not it, because after it’s been tidied, he lies back down on top of everything.
Then he reaches over and lifts the cover on the opposite side of the bed, holding it open.
“You can’t mean—” I start.
“If it’s the only way, we get rest, yes. I’ll turn the other way. It will be like we’re in separate beds.”
To my fatigued and desperate brain, this makes sense.
It’s the only way I’ll stop worrying and how he’ll be able to get some rest too.
That’s why I go and ease my way under his sheets.
After settling in, I turn to ask Luke if he’ll be okay sleeping on top without a blanket, but he’s already giving me his back.
Okay. I turn away, too. Everything is fine.
This will work. Being in bed together is no big deal, and we’ll fall asleep immediately because we are so very tired.
Minutes pass by, and I keep hoping.
More minutes expire, but they are not peaceful.
We both keep shifting around.
When one stops, the other begins, and vice versa.
Eventually, Luke’s vexed grumble prompts me to face him. He also rolls onto his side, and with how the moonlight is refracted through the blinds, a glowing triangle highlights his eyebrow raise. “Yes, Rita?”
“We can’t sleep.”
“Obviously.”
“I’m sorry.”
His eyebrow ticks higher. “And why would this be your fault?”
“But it is. This whole thing is .” I reach over and pinch the pillow between us, my thumb playing along the seam.
“You wouldn’t have had to come get me, if I hadn’t gone to the party like an idiot.
And not only that, but I keep thinking about what Sistine said.
How much is the fight going to cause you problems? ”
“My sister worries too much.”
“But she’s right, isn’t she? Especially if it’s caught on the security cameras somewhere.”
His hand stills my restlessness. It forces my eyes up to his.
“Don’t lie to me,” I beg him. “Whatever you say, I’m going to have you swear it. So don’t lie. I want—need the truth. How much could the fighting cost you?”
“Two billion.” I feel the color in my face drain. When I try to turn away, he captures my arm. “Wait. Listen to me, Rita. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“But the security footage of you fighting—” I say.
“I’ll get to that. But first, you might be wondering why Sistine was at the party tonight.”
“I don’t want to judge.”
He laughs, big and from the gut. “You should, that place was full of terrible people. And the reason she goes is that when powerful people get drunk, their secrets come out. It’s her way of gathering information to use against the very kind of assholes we grew up with.”
“That’s—”
“Dangerous, yeah. But my sister doesn’t have a self-preservation gene. That’s why I’m bloody glad she takes Adam. He looks after her.”
“You…don’t go to them? The parties?”
His thumb rubs the underside of my wrist. I wonder if I should tell him to stop. I don’t.
“My methods are different,” admits Luke. “I don’t bother with pawns.”
“How do you mean? ”
“The merger. If it goes through at the conference, it will be two billion dollars split up.”
“So, that’s what you’re afraid of losing?”
“I won’t. Mr. Duncan calls them the white whale, but the world knows them as Intel. If Intel and Abbot Industries merge, my board will have no choice but to aggressively restructure itself. The pieces are in place. And Rita?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t lose.”
Something stirs in my memory. “Isn’t Intel well-known? And…good? Haven’t they publicly stood against everything your company stands for?”
“They are internationally lauded for pursuing a socially conscious portfolio. Everything my father loathes.”
“And he won’t try to fight it?” I ask. “Your father?”
He takes a long time to answer. So long I think he won’t but then he does. “He has dementia. He’s got little fight left in him.”
I press a hand to the side of his face. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”
“Don’t be. He’s a rotten bastard, and I wish he had his wits about him so I could see his face when I take it all away from him. That it’s his very own blood inviting Intel’s lawyers onboard the ship.”
“Won’t your board put up a fight?”
“By the time they find out, it will be too late to stop it.”
“Why is the conference so important in all this?” I ask, inching closer to him, wanting to understand. Wanting to help in any way. It’s the least I can do.
“When you make big business deals like this, you gamble on the person across the table. They need to make sure I’m solid.” His eyes glint in the darkness around us. “They need to make sure that I don’t do business like my father, stabbing people in the back.”
“Mr. Duncan wants me there.” I shake my head because I can’t believe it.
“To humanize me,” says Luke. “They need to look me in the eye, and believe I’ll sign the paperwork. Because who would let their own company tear itself apart when it’s already a cash cow. Why go through all this work, when I don’t have to? When I can exist as a king on top my black throne.”
I want to know too. “ Why are you doing this? Was your dad…that bad?”
“My father is a right bastard, and he raised me with those same ugly beliefs. To use for your gain, to never trust anyone, to squish those lesser and weaker than you under your boot.”
“You were a child,” I murmur.
“Until I wasn’t. When I got older and my shoulders started filling in, my dad said it was time for me to be a man and join our cause.
He took me to a camp full of like-minded people.
” He shuts his eyes. “The crap they spewed about the world made me sick to my stomach. That was the first time I looked around with horror. God, not before that, but then I did. And all of a sudden, I was ashamed. I wanted nothing to do with any of it. The money or the power.”
I’m stroking his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. You grow up trusting your parents to teach you what is right.”
“I didn’t fight him. Even after I knew it was wrong. I hated him, but not as much as I hated myself for not fighting back. Because anger doesn’t go in a straight line. When he was upset with me, his anger zigzagged into the direction of my mother.”
He tries pulling from me, but I hold on tighter. “Not your fault,” I say again. It’s not. Doing anything you can to stop your mother from getting hurt, I can’t imagine it. The burden.
“I couldn’t leave her behind, and she wouldn’t run away with me. And then she died. Drove herself into a tree, on too many medications.” His voice is hollow and I no longer like the surrounding darkness. I want him to be in the light.
He continues, “After the funeral, my father looked at his two children. Join me or you get none of this privilege, wealth, family name, status. My sister walked away. I stayed. Because he didn’t deserve to get away with it.”
“I’m so sorry, Luke.” I don’t know what else to say. My words don’t feel enough.
“The dementia diagnosis,” Luke sneers. “Someone up there is playing God on me. Laughing. He won’t even know I’ve finally used his own company and twisted it around on him. I won’t get the satisfaction of ruining everything, because he won’t know.”
With that, he stops talking. I don’t say anything either.
He sighs. “I’m a monster.”
“No.”
“Why wouldn’t you think that? I’ve made enough public appearances in support of my father that I look like scum. The public thinks every project I do is an image rehabilitation one. This conference will appear like one, too. Intel will think I’m playing them, but I need them to sign.”
“We’ll make them see,” I promise.
“We?” He takes his thumb and tilts my chin so I get a good look at him. “How can you hear everything I’ve told you, and still want to help me? I’m not doing this because it’s the right thing to do. I’m in it for vengeance. You should get out of here. You should run the other way.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You won.”
“I won? I won what?”
“Me,” I say. “I’m on board. I believe in what you are doing. I believe in you.”
He flinches. “Don’t make me out to be what I’m not.”
“I’m not,” I tell him. It’s the truth. “You have selfish reasons to do something with good consequences.” My dad comes to mind.
“I’ve experienced the opposite. A person with good reasons whose actions have selfish consequences.
So yeah, I’m okay with your reasoning. And don’t try to convince me to run away.
I’m using you for your apartment and kitchen, remember? ”
It is, I realize, the right thing to say. Luke is now fighting back his amusement. “Use me how you like, Rita Singh.”
“We’ll use each other,” I proclaim.
It doesn’t escape me that we’re saying these things to each other while sleeping in the same bed.
It also does not escape my body. Despite the heaviness of our conversation, hearing Luke say Use me how you like causes a reaction.
I wish I could squirm my thighs together, but Luke will notice. There isn’t much room between us.
Incorrigible to be thinking these thoughts.
Especially after what he has shared.
I twist myself so I’m lying on my back again, and facing the ceiling. I hear him do the same. A lot has been shared. A lot has been promised. His secrets are intimacies drawing us together.
This—this is heartrending. I’m still hurting over his past, but I’m also wanting him too. What a helix of sensations that should not coexist. Not to mention the unprocessed trauma dancing around in my head around my own adventures tonight.
The best thing to do is to view all this from a professional lens, Rita. You’re the chef. He’s the millionaire who needs your assistance. Forget today. Forget the past. Focus on the future. How do both Luke and I reach our goals? How can I help him fully, too?
“Mr. Duncan said you have a better chance with me by your side,” I say to the ceiling.
“He did.”
“As your friend—or something.”
“Something.” Luke’s voice drops. “In his wildest dreams, he wants us to be fake-engaged.”
“The credible family man, Luke Abbot.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
In the dark, the sounds of our breaths echo. He seems to now be holding his.
I try to keep my voice casual. “If the video of you fighting gets out there, you are going to need more help than a friend. A person is judged by their friends, but they are judged even more by the partners they choose. I… Shouldn’t I be your pretend fiancée?”
I’m only suggesting it because it will strengthen his cause, I tell myself. It’s a professional improvement for his cause.
“Will you be able to sell it?” asks Luke. “To stomach being tied to me, even if we are pretending? After you’ve heard everything I’ve told you today? After you’ve seen me—” He lifts his battered knuckles and holds them up.
Yes. I can more than stomach it . The answer is a gong in my head. Clear as daylight.
“We’ll have to practice,” I say.
“Practice?”
“To make it look real. And there’s not a lot of time left so?—”
“We’ll practice tomorrow.”
I try explaining, lest he thinks I want to spend more time together with him for other reasons. “People will need to think we’re in love, you know? It will come off way worse if they assume your fiancée secretly hates you. I’ll have to put on a good show.”
“In business, we run mock scenarios,” Luke says. “We could do those.”
“I think so too. So tomorrow when we wake up, we’re going to be engaged. If we don’t treat it like it’s real?—”
“Then we won’t get comfortable around each other. ”
We’re soldiers talking about a game plan.
That’s it. Any squirming in the bed is because I’m trying to get settled in.
My thigh accidentally brushes against his.
Luke whips his body away, jerking himself to face the wall, giving me his back.
I guess it’s time to sleep. There is no looking at each other.
All I get is his giant shoulders, the nape of his neck, and the blonde strands of his hair.
My hand lifts up. It wants to trail a line down his back. To feel the warmth and strength my eyes are telling me he possesses.
I don’t.
I shut my eyes and sleep.
Before we drift off, I hear Luke say, “Thank you.”
I whisper back, “Thank you. For saving me today.”