12. Mara
12
MARA
A squeak pops from my lips when a voice behind me says, “Ark had the locks changed earlier today.” I recognize the voice, and although he’s been nothing but kind to me, a snippet of fear still runs down my spine when I realize I’m trapped in a room with no viable exit. “He hates not being able to deadlock every entry point of his home.” Rafael moves to the side of the living room, clearing the exit, before folding his arms over his chest. “You weren’t sneaking out, though, were you?”
“No, of course not. I just need so-some air.” Since my last sentence is honest, it sounds that way.
Rafael has been the perfect party host, and although the conversations he encouraged me to participate in rarely veered past skincare lines and eyewatering endorsement deals I could only dream of, he ensured I was welcomed into Ark’s team with open arms.
I still feel like an outcast, though.
The women filling the ballroom-like den of Ark’s multi-floor apartment are glamorous, and the men are gorgeous, so I shouldn’t be surprised that I didn’t stumble onto a single person not wearing a custom piece of jewelry that cost more than I earn a year, but I am.
Very much so.
I’m swimming in waters out of my depth, and the drowning started the instant Ark left the festivities.
That was a shameful forty minutes ago.
Rafael knows I’m lying, but he pretends he’s clueless. “That’s good, because I would have hated to interrupt Ark’s self-care ”—he air quotes his last word—“routine again for the second time today.” After banding his arm around my shoulders, he guides me back to the party. “I haven’t had time to replenish his shampoo yet, so he’d be extra grouchy if I were to interrupt him now.” He stops walking, his brows furrowing. “Unless…” My heart launches into my throat when he hands me an invitation out of nowhere. “We’re about to head out for a bite to eat. You should grab Ark and join us. Last I heard, he was heading to his third-floor office.”
“I—”
I lose the chance to get out another word.
As quickly as Rafael snuck up on me, he points out Ark’s office like I’m unaware of the floor plan of his apartment before he races into the den to tell his guests it is time to eat.
They’re nowhere near as apprehensive as I am. They gather their coats almost immediately and file out of the apartment until only two people are left—Ark and me.
I contemplate leaving as well, but I’ve yet to do what I set out to achieve fifty minutes ago, and it would be rude to leave Ark in the lurch as to where his guests went.
I’ll tell him of Rafael’s plan, hand him back the dress I’m praying hasn’t been poorly crinkled enough to require dry cleaning, and then leave. It is the polite thing to do, the right thing to do, and the very thing I don’t want to do.
Ark’s guests are out of my league, but when Ark was eyeballing my arrival, it was nice to pretend I was in the top one percent of the country.
Elite is too tame of a word to describe Ark’s friends. They’re top tier in all the rankings—looks, personality, social status, and wealth.
The reminder slows my steps toward Ark’s office, their lack of briskness not a contributor to the wailing of my heart when I rap my knuckles against his office door.
“Ark?”
I knock again, louder this time. Rafael mentioned shampoo and self-care in one sentence. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I am reasonably sure that was code for Ark being in the shower. With all the showers in this apartment designed the same way, he won’t be able to hear my knocks.
When my request for entrance is denied with silence, I press my ear to the door and listen for any signs of life.
I get that and so much more.
I hear my new boss moan my name—twice.