Damaged

Sophia

The security presence is crazy the rest of the time we’re in Egypt. Karim sent some guards out of good will, and now James and I have men with rifles escorting us everywhere.

I’m not a fan. The whole thing makes me nervous, and whenever I see the guards, my stomach feels like it flips. To top it off, I don’t see much of James.

It was all downhill after that kiss on the forehead. I can tell he was caught up in the moment. He let go of my shoulders soon after and turned cold. Professional.

But it didn’t stop my belly from burning with what felt like hot embers.

It’s stupid. There’s a difference between attraction and affection, and my brain can’t seem to figure it out.

When we went to the pyramids afterwards, James gazed up at them with his hands in his pockets with all the interest of an unimpressed teenager. His mind was elsewhere.

On business. Or perhaps regretting how close we’ve gotten to each other on this trip. Still, there’s a wall there. One I doubt he ever breaks.

We haven’t talked much since that morning by the river.

It’s our fourth day in Egypt, and this morning I get to our private breakfast bar late to see James not in his usual suit. He wears a blue dress shirt tucked into khaki pants. Black aviators hang off his shirt’s first button.

“It’s done.” He raises his coffee mug in a toast.

“The artifacts deal?”

“And the sale of software to the defense ministry,” he says and smiles. As distant as the rest of his body language has been, he’s been doing that more around me lately. Smiling. I don’t grow tired of seeing it. Kind, wide, disarming. The way it brightens his eyes makes my heart forget its tempo.

“Great.” I look away from his eyes, afraid I was staring at them too long. “Are we flying back today?”

“Well… that’s something I wanted to discuss with you. I was going to meet some younger business associates and his friends at my place in Morocco. It’s on the sea, north of Casablanca,” James adds. “It’s a bit of celebration, but I’m looking to shore up another contract, and I’d be lying if I said you weren’t instrumental in closing this artifact deal. Your estimates were perfect.”

“It was just research,” I say. “Anybody could’ve done it.”

“Don’t discount yourself. You’re free to join me in Morocco or head back on the next flight to New York. But if you fly, Brock goes with you.”

I can tell James is still paranoid about my safety. Maybe that’s why he’s inviting me to Morocco. He still doesn’t want me out of his sight. At least while we’re still overseas and I’m his responsibility.

“It’s a big place,” James adds. “No one would be sleeping on the couch.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to not sound so eager. “I’ll come.”

We land in Casablanca in the late afternoon. There’s no white Rolls Royce this time. We get into a van that smells like new car and drive up the coast while the sun sets over the Atlantic. It’s gorgeous. So pretty that we both just look out the window, no words needed.

We pass beach resorts and golf courses and take a windy turn down a cobblestone road towards the seashore. At the end of it is a massive Spanish-style mansion. It’s lit up bright by exterior lights.

“This place is yours?” I say, my mouth hanging open.

“I have a small portfolio of vacation rentals. It pays the bills and lets me keep them guilt free.”

A porter takes my luggage upstairs while I stand in the foyer admiring the place.

The inside is beautiful, with bright-white walls and dark wooden beams in the coffered ceilings. The tiled floor is brick red, and the art on the walls is bright. Tasteful.

The paintings are powdery pastels of fruits, sacks of bright market spices, and the aqua blue sea.

James comes in behind me. “The others will be arriving tomorrow. I have some work I’ve got to finish up. Take any bedroom on the second floor. Mine is on the first. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, James.” I deflate a little as he walks away. I have a feeling that’s all I’m going to see of him this evening. All I’m going to get of him alone before his associates arrive.

This place feels like a much more intimate setting than the refrigerated hotel suite, and he can sense it, too. That’s why he’s sticking to business tonight.

What was I expecting? A walk on the beach? A movie on the couch? We’re business associates, too. Ones who touch each other an awful lot.

But of course there was going to be a level of intimacy and trust to our relationship after he saved me from heat stroke. Doing something with that intimacy is another thing.

And he knows better than I do that it would be a mistake.

I stay up watching Casablanca in the living room, because to be honest, I’ve never seen it and it feels like a good time to do so. I keep expecting James to come out of the depths of the house. Out of whatever study or library he’s working from. But he doesn’t show, and the plot and romance of the movie is lost on me.

What has love ever done for you? James’s words replay in my head.

I can’t argue with him. Nothing.

I turn off the movie and go upstairs to bed.

I wake to a light wind off the sea and bird song. It’s like I’ve died and awoken in heaven. Even the smell of the sea is sweet. So different from the brackish reek of the bay in New York.

I roll over in the crisp sheets and stay like that for a good while before I go downstairs. There’s a breakfast bar in the kitchen just like at the penthouse. A woman in an apron gives me a tight smile.

“Good morning,” I say brightly.

“Good morning,” she says back.

I pour a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and step outside barefoot onto the short grass of the yard. I walk out from the shade of the house until the sun shines warm on my back. I don’t enjoy myself for long.

James is sitting on a beach chair in the distance, and across from him is a brunette with long white legs. The woman notices me and starts to wave. I look over my shoulder at first, not entirely confident this stranger wants my attention, but she does.

I start to walk over.

James is in navy chinos and a flowy white linen shirt. The woman is barely in anything at all. She wears a bathing suit with a shawl on top of it. Her breasts are intimidatingly large, and from the relaxed way they sit in her bikini top, I think they’re real.

Is this how men feel when they meet a guy much taller than them? Maybe I’m just insecure, but I feel a little bit outgunned, and we haven’t even shaken hands.

She reaches out her hand to mine. Red nail polish. A faint scent of perfume. We shake. “Hello,” she says in what I believe is an Italian accent. “I’m Alessia.”

“.”

“Nice to meet you, . James was just telling me about your adventures in Egypt. I’m sorry you got caught up in his shit.” She takes her hand away to what looks like a glass of orange juice, but it’s in a champagne flute. It must be a mimosa.

“Oh,” I say and look at James. He’s looking off towards the ocean. He’s wearing his sunglasses and I can’t see much of his face, but I think he’s bothered that the two of us are meeting. “It was… scary, yeah.”

“I heard you could handle yourself.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“That’s a good trait to have for someone who works with James. I hear you’re his new assistant? Yes?”

“Yeah. We work together.”

Alessia rests her elbow on her knee so her arm is straight up. She angles her hand down, fingers together so it looks like the head of a swan, her arm the long neck. It’s a dainty position, something you’d see old royalty do. Maybe that’s what she is.

“What did you do before?” She curls her fingers into a fist and rests her chin on it.

“I was an assistant gallerist.”

“Ah. Before that?”

“College.”

She tilts her chin out at me. “Where?” she says, as if I should’ve added this information myself.

I’m not enjoying this interrogation, and James must think it’s gone too far. He finally turns to us and interrupts. “Is there champagne in that?” He points at my orange juice.

“No.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to get my own. How’d you sleep?”

“Great. Much better than Egypt.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“How about I get you some champagne, James? I could use a top off myself,” says Alessia. She sets her hand on James’s shoulder as she stands and lets it linger there possessively.

My heart plummets, even though I can tell from James’s sour expression that he’s not happy about it, I know these two have history.

It’s early. It’s possible that Alessia got in late last night and spent the night with James. Of course he was going to be with a woman here. I’ve been his neighbor. I’ve heard what he does. I should know better than to think James would be celibate just because I’m around. I’m an employee. Not a girlfriend.

I’m surprised to feel that the thought is like a shot through the heart.

“I’ll be right back,” Alessia says. She makes sure to put extra sway in her step as she walks back to the house.

“Girlfriend?” I ask.

“God, no,” James responds. “Old friend. She dates a buddy of mine now. Who… I would not describe as a lucky man.”

“Ah,” I say. The relief I feel is embarrassing. They’re not together now, but I was right that they have history. She wouldn’t have put her hand on him like she did otherwise. “How many friends do you have coming?”

“Six.”

“Nice, a party.”

“I use the word friends loosely. I’m close with two. The other seven are people I entertain and rub elbows with in exchange for connections. And they wouldn’t say much different of their relationship with me.”

“So, this is another business trip after all?”

“In a sense, sure.”

“Do you ever take a vacation?”

“Does this not count?” James gestures at his feet for emphasis. “I’m sitting on a beach chair.”

“I guess it depends on your definition.” I look over my shoulder towards the house. I don’t want to be here when Alessia comes back. I have a feeling the interrogation will begin all over again.

“I may not be on vacation,” James says. “But the day is yours to do with what you please. There’s a study on the first floor with books. If you want to eat, there are hotels on either side of us with restaurants.” He points up and then down the beach. “You can walk on the beach to get there.”

I can’t see the hotels from where we are. The house here is surrounded by thick palm groves that slope uphill on either side. James doesn’t say anything else, and I suddenly feel uncomfortable. Is he trying to get rid of me? He seemed eager to invite me here. Eager enough.

He could’ve just sent me back to New York and said he had more business overseas, but here I am.

“Are there dinner plans?” I ask.

A shadow passes over his face. Alessia is walking back with a mimosa in each hand. “Yeah. It’s going to be outside under those string lights.” James points to a circle of perfectly manicured grass near the kitchen door I walked out of. There’s a long wooden table in the middle of it.

“What time?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Here you go.” Alessia hands James his drink. “I know you only like scotch neat, but there are only a few ways to drink in the morning without looking like a drunk.”

She clinks his glass with hers, but James doesn’t take a sip. He’s looking at his phone as it vibrates. “I’ve got to take this. Be nice,” he hisses at Alessia.

“I’m always nice. I’m the nicest,” she says, laughing like this is hilarious, but James just walks away. “Hmm.” Alessia hums as she watches him go. “He’s quite the man, isn’t he?”

I just lift my brow and sip my orange juice.

“Too bad he’s your boss. But I know how that can be. Be very, very careful. That one will chew you up and spit you out.”

“Good to know,” I say shortly.

“I’m just trying to help you. I saw the way he looked at you when you first appeared outside. I’ve seen him give many girls that look.” She cups her hand on her cheek and faux whispers, “It never ends well for them.”

“Why do you say that? Because he gave you that look once?”

“Oh he gave me more than a look. But he’s a villain, darling. Dangerous in more ways than one. And you seem like such a precious little thing.” There’s nothing nice about her tone. It’s patronizing. “I bet you’d like to try him out, but… you must be this tall to ride.” She levels a hand and smiles. “Or you’d get hurt.”

“It sounds like you got hurt.”

“I knew what to expect. It doesn’t look like you do. No offense. You may think you’re different. That it would be different with him. But I’m warning you, he’ll crush you, too.”

I pause for a moment and let the breeze fill the silence. I finally shrug. “Maybe I’m a better fuck.”

Alessia stutters. She’s in shocked silence. I’m not very good at being a mean girl, and I start to laugh, genuinely. She laughs, too, and shakes her head.

“Perhaps I misjudged you.”

“Didn’t you hear? I stomped on that kidnapper’s foot.”

“I thought you were delicate for not getting him in the balls,” Alessia says with a slight smirk.

I laugh again. I don’t like to have enemies. Alessia might not be the most pleasant person, but I’d rather not duel it out with her. Besides, I pity her in a way. She’s stuck in this world of the ultra-rich. The ultra-pretty. A world of literal sunshine and rainbows. And vicious, petty bullying.

“I’m going to go eat breakfast,” I say, standing. “I’ll see you around, Alessia.”

“Of course, darling.”

I start to walk back to the house.

“And watch out for Kate,” Alessia adds.

“Sorry?” I stop and turn back, but she’s looking out at the ocean, acting like she didn’t hear me. I want her to elaborate, but clearly, she isn’t going to.

I have a feeling that was the warning I’ll find most helpful. The useful advice she decided to give after she changed her mind about me.

I go back inside. I’m nervous, but this time it isn’t because of James. It’s because I feel like I’ve been dropped into a pit of vipers.