Tempted

Hailee

I wish I could say my first week of dating Alex was magical, but apart from sharing a bed, we didn’t see a lot of each other.

He had warned me that this first week was all business. He’d come back to the hotel room at three a.m., smelling of cigar smoke.

He’s told me to keep it hush-hush, but Blackwell is bidding on its first uranium mine in Uzbekistan. Apparently, the project takes a lot of lunches and backroom deals to get done.

I’ve had a good time by myself during the day. Geneva is a beautiful city, and I was able to find an English bookstore. Between books and hikes and a few solo trips to museums, I’ve kept myself busy, but I’m not having a blast. I wish Alex had been with me during all these little activities.

Today is supposed to be different. We’re taking the train to Interlaken today before leaving for the Riviera.

I don’t quite know what to expect in Interlaken. A scene out of The Sound of Music , probably. A village of timber houses, carpeted with green pastures, cut by sapphire streams, and framed by the soaring peaks of the Alps.

Something like that.

I’m alone at the train station, listening to a woman with a very perfunctorily tone announce arrivals and departures in Swiss.

Alex is supposed to meet me here after seeing off some business associates at a final brunch. Our train is already parked in the terminal, and I don’t wait for him on the platform. I board with the ticket he’d emailed me, and an attendant smiles and gestures for me to follow him.

At first, I think it’s just Swiss politeness, but he walks me to a private car and opens a door to our very own cabin. There’s a bed and a bathroom and a small table in front of a large window that takes up nearly the entire wall.

On the table is a vase of tulips and a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice. There’s a note on it.

, I knew you’d beat me here so have a glass. It’s still nighttime in New York.

– Alex

I smile, and the attendant steps forward and nods down at the bottle. “Yes,” I say, and he picks up the opener in his white-gloved hand and skillfully uncorks it before setting it back in the ice.

“Thank you,” I say, and he leaves me in the suite. I sit on the bed and look up.

The ceiling is one big window too, no doubt to let in views of the Alps. I pour a couple splashes of wine into the glass and sip it with one leg crossed over the other. I’m wearing jeans and a gray rollneck sweater.

I’m still not dressed like these old-moneyed Europeans. I’m not sure I ever want to be. It’s nine a.m., and a lot of women on the streets of Geneva looked like they’d been up since six and sat in a makeup chair for hours.

Or they wore it to bed. It isn’t hard to picture some of these uber-wealthy women sleeping fully clothed in caskets and with their arms crossed and then rising to face the day.

I’m just out of my element. These are some of the richest people in the entire world, and I can’t help but feel judged every time I go out. Like there’s some contest I don’t know about.

I like looking good and dressing up, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not going to spend two hours of effort first thing every morning.

Women who put on a full face of makeup just to go to Target scare me.

I down my wine and pour another mouthful. Alex and I haven’t had sex since that night in New York. The first two days I was too sore. My penis-less-ness was something I had to recover from gradually.

Then he was away too much on business errands. I tried one morning, but we were interrupted by a very noisy call to the hotel room’s phone. It’s just been madness, that’s all. The French Riviera is going to be a different speed.

We’ve kissed though. At times I’ve felt like we were maybe going to kiss for twenty minutes like teenagers, but Alex has always pulled back first and mumbled something about some meeting.

I’ve still savored those moments. It helps that whenever we’re close enough to kiss, I’m left with the smell of his cologne on my skin.

Out the window, I can see the time displayed in orange LEDs on the terminal clock. It’s 9:57.

The train leaves at ten. Alex is rich, but I don’t think he could call to have a train delayed, and I don’t think this Swiss train is going to leave a minute early or late.

I’m suddenly anxious. Alex is punctual… I think. The world usually waits for him.

Cars. Planes. Meetings. In most of his life, nothing moves without Alex’s say. I guess I don’t know how he fairs with public transit.

I begin to get anxious. He’s going to miss this train, isn’t he? Worse, he’s missing it on purpose. Sending me away in style with a bottle of pinot as a parting gift. What was I expecting, dating a man like this? A bed of rose petals?

The Swiss woman’s voice gives what I imagine is final boarding, and the suited executives on the platform flick out their cigarettes.

He’s not going to make it. I pull out my phone to see if I missed a text from him, but there’s nothing.

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare towards the station doors he would come out of. I keep my eyes fixed on them even as my stomach lurches and stays behind as the train glides forward.

This must be how he gets rid of his women. At least I have a full bottle of wine to drink. I’m not properly processing my emotions. I don’t know whether I’ve been abandoned, forgotten, or if Alex did have some serious hangup that didn’t let him text.

I’m staring at the cursor blinking in the text box and wondering what to type, when the suite door opens, and I turn.

A tall figure stands in the entrance. Tailored suit. Thin camel hair overcoat for the early morning chill. Eyes hidden by sunglasses.

Alex.

I don’t try to hide my elation. I rush to him and press my face against his chest as we hug.

“Think I left you, rabbit?”

I tilt my head up to look him in the eye. “Maybe.”

“That was it,” he says. “The last of the bullshit business. And I have a peace offering for it.”

“I didn’t know we were at war.”

“Shit. Then I suppose it’s a thank-you.” Alex puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet bag. I lean back, and he sets it in my palm. The bag is heavy. What did he just give me? Gold coins?

I open the little drawstring and pull out a silver watch. It’s absolutely stunning.

It has a small square dial tastefully inlaid with brilliant diamonds. The second and minute hands are a sapphire blue that reminds me of Alex’s eyes.

It’s a Cartier.

“I wasn’t going to let you leave the watch capital of the world without getting you one.”

“It’s beautiful. Oh, Alex.” I put the watch on. I’m about to look up to kiss him, but his hand is already on my chin.

He puts my top lip between his. Perfect amount of pressure. Perfect amount of time, I guess. But I wouldn’t mind if he held my lips in a kiss for the rest of the train ride. We part and smile.

He takes his sunglasses off and walks to the table to inspect the bottle of wine and flowers, as if making sure the rail company got his request right.

“It’s French, but believe it or not, they make them here.”

“The wine?”

He nods at my wrist. “The watch.”

“It’s gorgeous. Seriously. Thank you, Alex.”

He hangs his coat up and takes off his tie. I love it when he undoes the very top button of his dress shirts and lets it hang open. I like seeing the tan skin of his upper chest surrounded by his tailored suit. It’s like he’s wearing armor.

We have croissants and coffee for breakfast, and once finished, we get back to the wine.

The Swiss Alps surround us. The villages we pass are out of a storybook. Yet I still have trouble splitting my view evenly between the outside world and Alex.

He looks lighter this morning. Not quite happy. More like he doesn’t have a fifty-pound weight strapped to his back.

“So… what’s the plan for today?”

Alex sips his wine. “That’s a surprise.”

A surprise. Today sounds like a date date. It makes my heart jump, and I talk without thinking just to stop myself from being awkward. “What is it? Horseback riding?”

His brow twitches. “I said it’s a surprise.”

I lean across the table. “Does it make you mad when I guess?”

“The concept of someone not knowing what a surprise is annoying. Yes.”

I’m not going to lie. I like Alex a little mad. Not yelling mad. God. I don’t even want to picture that. But the ice that frosts his blue eyes makes me a little weak in the knees.

“Interesting,” I say. “So what is it? Wine tasting? Mountain climbing? Drag racing?”

He stares at me incredulously. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You want me to spank you or something.”

I blush and look at the table. “Um…”

“But I’ll have you know these suites aren’t soundproofed. So we’re going to have to be very…” He stands and grabs his tie from where he hung it on the coat hook. “Very quiet.”

He pulls me out of my chair and holds me at the top of my neck as we kiss.

He lays me back on the bed, and before I know it, my pants and underwear are off, his tie is in my mouth, and he’s going down on me.

I tilt my head back, and between blackouts of pleasure, I watch the granite peaks with their crowning wisps of white clouds soar by.

I’m waiting to wake up on the sidewalk in New York. Waiting to realize that I was in fact shot and this was all one big, long dream.

We sleep after sex.

The train ride is only a few hours, but I’m still jet-lagged and lulled by wine and orgasms, and with Alex’s heavy arms around my shoulders and no Ritalin in my blood, it’s easy to fall asleep.

I wish this train ride wasn’t going to end so soon. I stay pressed up against Alex under the sheets. I’m not able to fully fall asleep.

I can only doze, just waiting for the PA announcement that our stop is next. It finally comes, and I cringe, but it doesn’t last long. Alex plants a kiss on my neck and then cheek and forehead. He kisses me faster and faster until I’m smiling and laughing.

“You’re going to have a fun day, rabbit.”

“You’re saying this isn’t what you had planned?”

“Was train sex a surprise?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Come on.” He pulls me out of bed with him, and we both dress. We take turns in the mirror making sure that it’s not completely obvious what we did with our privacy.

When we step out on the platform, it’s around lunchtime and T-shirt weather in the sun.

“Are we going to the hotel?”

“No.” Alex looks at his watch. “Our luggage will be delivered there. We’ve got a couple miles to cover and not much time. I can’t even change. Can you ride a bike?”

“Yes. Can you?” The image of Alex on a bicycle is still not something my mind can conjure.

“Of course. I won the Tour de France in 2019.”

“Seriously?” It takes me an extra second to process his sarcasm. Alex is such an enigma, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually had.

“Come on.” He doesn’t look at his phone as we walk down the winding narrow streets. I’m busy taking in the quaint charm of this village while Alex walks like a man on a mission.

We get to a shack. A bike-rental business. A pimpled teenage boy with white-blonde hair stands at the counter and gives us a confident smile. “ Hoi ,” he says.

Alex responds and begins speaking to him in Swiss, not surprising. Before I know it, the kid holds two bikes by the handlebars.

He holds only one helmet. It’s like half a watermelon. If watermelons were bright orange. Alex gives it to me.

“How come you get to be Mr. Cool?” I ask.

“Because I’m responsible for your life, according to your brother, at least. Put it on.”

I buckle it and tighten it under my chin. The feeling of the polyester strap under my jaw takes me back to being twelve.

I don’t see him pay, but the kid doesn’t seem to think this is a problem, and Alex kicks off. He’s still in his navy suit jacket and dress pants. On the cruiser bike with his slightly unbuttoned shirt and sunglasses, he looks like he’s in a music video. I smile in amusement and follow as we pedal through town.

He still hasn’t glanced at his phone, but he seems to know exactly where we’re going. It’s not long before we leave town and start down a dirt road. I’m trying to think of what his actual surprise might be.

A picnic under the Alps? Probably not. Maybe it really is horseback riding. Again, that doesn’t feel very Alex.

I’m clueless as we ride through some trees and arrive in front of a short metal tower with metal cables running up the mountain.

A cable car station. So, we’re going to the top of one of these mountains.

He dismounts his bike and gives me his hand while I do the same. He’s speaking Swiss with an employee of the cable car company. Again, no money changes hands.

Alex moves like a mob boss here.

We walk across the wood platform and get in the empty cable car. I would expect it to be packed.

Maybe it’s the season or the location. There looks to be another cable car across town. I can see the scar of it even from here, slicing up the mountain in the distance.

“So, are we going to have a private mountain?”

“No. Sebastian is waiting for us.”

I don’t ask who Sebastian is. I’m not necessarily afraid of heights, but the ascent of the cable car over the valley makes me nervous.

I meet Alex’s eye. “Won’t it be cold?”

“Sebastian has our coats.”

I stop asking questions. They’re just going to lead to more questions. It’s not the clearest day anymore. Lower clouds settle in the valley, and the view vanishes as we’re pulled up into them.

The cable car creaks to a stop, and the doors open to reveal an alien world of jagged granite and fog. There is no attendant waiting for us. No Sebastian in sight.

I follow Alex into the fog, and we walk left down a short trail of rocks and packed dirt. The ground is uneven, and I keep my eyes on my feet until Alex stops about five minutes in.

It’s windy here, the air is thin and cold, and I’m beginning to wonder if this is how Alex gets rid of his women. I trust him but don’t understand what the hell we’re doing up here.

Suddenly a figure comes into sight. I don’t believe my eyes at first. A man with a stubble beard and aviator’s goggles is standing still in the fog, smoking a cigarette. A hawk is perched on his shoulder.

“Alex,” he says in a thick French accent. “You are late.”

“That cable car gets slower every year.”

“Yes. Yes. It’s a piece of shit. But Daphne doesn’t like to be still in the cold.”

“Sorry, Daphne,” Alex says, presumably to the bird.

“Here.” Sebastian turns around and hands us a pair of heavy Arc’teryx coats. We put them on, and then we’re given gloves and hats.

I have to resist asking what the fuck is happening.

“So you’re ready?” Sebastian asks and gives two thumbs-up.

“Yeah,” says Alex.

The three of us walk forward, and then it appears from the fog.

I stop, not sure if I’m feeling excitement, amusement, or doom.

A hang glider rests in front of us.

We’re going to fly.

Alex looks at me. “You up for it?”

“Um…”

“Here’s how it works.” Alex puts one hand on my shoulder and points with the other. “We both clip into two places. We’re locked tight. So don’t worry about falling off. I steer, and you ride on my back.”

As terrified as I am, I’m smiling. “Like you’re Superman?”

“Sure. Like I’m Superman.”

“Have you done this before?” I ask.

“Plenty of times. Never this sober, though.” He looks at Sebastian, and Sebastian shakes his head like this is also as little as he’d had to drink before soaring off a mountain.

“So, it’s safe to do in the fog?” I ask.

“Totally safe,” Sebastian says, although there’s something in his tone that suggests it’s still frowned upon. But there’s something about this man’s wild look and hawk named Daphne that makes me trust him with my life. “What is the fog level, Alex?” Sebastian asks.

“About eighty-five-hundred feet.”

“Perfect.” Sebastian wags a finger. “We are only in trouble if they made a new mountain in the last few hours, but over this cliff there is nothing but valley.”

I nod. And Alex starts to clip into the hang glider. Once he’s in, Sebastian gets me hooked up. Our legs go in bags so they’re supported behind us. Alex’s hands grip the bar to steer, and mine are already digging into his shoulders. Sebastian checks the clip connections one more time and gives a thumbs-up.

“I’ll see you at the bottom.”

I frown. I had thought he was coming with us somehow, even though there’s no room.

Sebastian whistles, and the hawk flaps its wings and starts to leave his shoulder. Then I watch in horror as Sebastian takes a casual step off the cliff and is swallowed by the fog. Daphne dives after him. He must be wearing one of those flying squirrel suits.

“What the fuck?” I say, but a gust of wind comes at the same time.

“Ready?” Alex shouts.

I clench my eyes shut. “Ready,” I repeat without the question in my inflection and then tense like he’s about to rip off a Band-Aid.

When the glider leaves the cliff, my stomach doesn’t plummet like I expect it to.

I frown and open my eyes. We’re simply gliding. There’s nothing terrifying about it. I guess the experience is in the name—we’re hanging and gliding—but still, the height and altitude and wind had me anticipating some adrenaline-fueled plummet to the bottom.

The fog speeds by us, and just as I’m thinking how beautiful this would be if we could see the mountains and valley, Alex angles the glider down so we descend. I’m waiting for the fog to thin, when we exit all at once.

Alex levels the glider out as my jaw drops. Flying in the middle of the mountains was far different than gawking up at them. The green valley below burns almost fluorescent against the dark-gray granite of the cliffs.

“Woo….hoo!” I yell and pat Alex’s back.

He angles us left so we gain speed as we’re taken by the wind. The skills here are not all that different from sailing, I suppose.

We swoop down into the center of the valley and cruise on the wind so it almost feels like we’re frozen in space.

We sway back and forth, and then Alex plays with the wind a little. Nothing too daredevil, but enough to make my insides tumble as we race into a quick descent before pulling up.

I’m on his back like he’s Superman, and the wind ruffles his thick hair. I’d pictured Alex’s idea of a good time as plotting a hostile takeover just a few weeks ago. I’m sure that’s still a pastime of his, but he’s far from the corporate robot I accused him of being.

I see a yellow parachute deploy a few thousand feet below us. Sebastian. I grin and shake my head. What an odd day, and it’s hardly past one.

We keep gliding for another twenty minutes before we lose more altitude and prepare to land on a soft runway of grass. The wheels bob down gracefully, and we roll to a stop after a hundred yards.

“Oh my God,” I say as Alex begins unhooking himself from the glider. “Can we go again?”

He gets out while I’m still suspended from the glider. I don’t even begin to know how to free myself. My legs are held up in a sack, and I can’t reach the snap ring.

“It’s one thing to get the glider down. Another to get it up.”

“Darn. Then can ya untie me?”

“You’re not tied up.”

“It feels like I am.”

“Hmm. I guess it kinda looks like it, too,” Alex says with a smirk.

“Come on.” I wiggle my legs back and forth in the sack for emphasis. “I look like a caterpillar.”

“A vulnerable caterpillar.”

I shake my head and smile as he undoes the clips. And I let out a little shriek as he lets me fall before he catches me. Next thing I know, I put my hands on his chest, and he lets me push him down into the grass, where we fall, laughing.

“What if I was afraid of heights? Would you have made me ride on your back with my eyes closed?”

“You work on the top floor of a skyscraper,” Alex says, like it’s obvious I can’t be afraid of heights.

“Worked, remember? And okay, but it’s not like I was looking down at the city the whole day.”

“Your desk was literally against a window.”

I’m an idiot. I’d blush again if I wasn’t starting to get more comfortable with him. “Shut up,” I say, and we smile and kiss. It’s not just a quick smooch. He rolls me so I’m on my back and kisses me passionately. The sensation sends me on more of a ride than gliding at nine thousand feet did.

It sends little eruptions bursting from my heart, and my skin that is under his fingertips feels like it sparks.

I don’t want it to end. I want to make love right here on this grass.

Make love? My brow raises in surprise while I’m still kissing him. That’s what it would be, wouldn’t it? At least for me.

“My friends!” I hear a Frenchman’s voice not far in the distance.

Alex pulls off me, and I watch as Sebastian approaches with his parachute trailing behind him and an entire bottle of red wine in his hand. Daphne is resting calmly on his shoulder again, like he didn’t just jump off a cliff.

“That looks like fun. May I join?”

I frown. Was this lost in translation, or did Sebastian just suggest a threesome?

“You wish,” Alex says, standing and taking the bottle from him. He takes a deep drink and holds it out to me. I haven’t shared a bottle like this since early college. I feel just about as young.

I just technically jumped off a cliff, too. I take a pull of wine like I’m six years younger and hand it to Sebastian.

“Salute!” he says and drinks.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Does that ever work? Asking to be a third?”

“Sometimes… yes,” Sebastian says with a far-off smile, as if he’s remembering the times that it did work fondly. “It’s just a compliment. You two are very beautiful. You’re probably on the cover of magazines back in New York.” He drinks more wine. “Am I wrong?”

Sebastian doesn’t look like the type to follow gossip. He’s just assuming, and he’s right. Alex and I exchange a look that he catches.

“Ah! That’s what I thought! Now… back to the village!” He holds an arm up like it’s a wind vane and points in what I believe is the wrong direction. “My friend Marta is having a party tonight. You two are the guests of honor. I won’t take no for an answer, Alex.”

Alex looks at me. “What do you say?”

I’m a little worried that this will mean we’ll be out until four in the morning like Europeans are apt to do. But at the same time, I’ve got that giddy excitement in my gut I used to have all the time as a kid.

Adventure. Unknown.

It’s going to a high school party with friends and knowing the boy you like is going to be there. That feeling has gotten further and further away. It’s not something I take for granted anymore.

“Let’s do it,” I say to Alex. He looks at me with a grin, and I don’t try to avoid his eyes. I gaze back at him. We share a moment of silence with no awkwardness. No immediate need to say something to fill the air. We just look at each other, happy.

“Alright, rabbit. Let’s get some lunch.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sebastian.” I go in to give him a side hug, but he backs up.

“Oh, very nice to meet you, too. But sorry, Daphne doesn’t like when I get cozy with other ladies. She gets jealous.” We reach to shake hands with our arms fully extended, and when we touch, the hawk tilts her head at me challengingly.

Her eyes are two black dots of hate.

“Okay,” I say, and I take a few quick steps back, ready to protect my eyes.

We leave our coats and hats, and Alex and Sebastian shake hands.

I tell Sebastian we’ll see him tonight, and the two of us start back toward town while our French aviator drinks the wine and begins packing away his parachute. The hang glider must be his, too.

It’s brisk at ground level in just my sweater. I’m still a little cold from being airborne. Alex notices I’m crossing my arms and takes his suit coat off and puts it over my shoulders and then drapes his arm over, too, for good measure. I lean into him a little as we walk.

I forgot he was hang gliding in a suit, and I smile at the absurdity of today.

Back home, even when I was still going out with friends, every weekend felt… routine. Scheduled. The whims of being truly young were mostly gone, and right now, I feel like I had them back.

Yes, I’ll sail off a cliff with you, Alex. Yes, let’s go dance all night.

That may be a stretch. I can’t see Alex dancing. I’m not a fan of the European propensity to stay out until the sun rises, but they do like to dance in a way that Americans don’t.

Maybe if I can get an entire room to peer pressure him with me, I can succeed and get Alex to dance. Or sign my death warrant. But I find myself fearing that deadly stare of his less and less.

It’s becoming familiar.

Dangerous? Oh, that’s just the look my man gets in his eye sometimes. Silly, sexy Alex making me think he wants to eat me like he’s a saber-toothed tiger.

Although, maybe we could roleplay that sometime. I wouldn’t mind getting chased.

I hear Sebastian curse behind us as he works with the gear. “Where on earth did you meet that guy?” I ask Alex.

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah.”

“At a Starbucks.”

“Is that like slang for something?”

“No. The man had a bird on his shoulder in a Starbucks. I figured he did interesting things.”

“Good point. So how can we possibly top what we already did today?”

Alex frowns like I’m asking a serious question and not just making a comment on how much fun I’ve had in the last few hours. “I’m as happy as I’ve been all day,” he says, meeting my eye. “Right now.”

I don’t have words. He just hit me with romance. He keeps walking with his arm around my shoulder. We walk at Alex’s pace—slow.

I’ve felt like I was Alex’s for some time before we slept together, but this is the only time I’ve ever felt like maybe, just maybe, he is mine, too.