Jazz drove into the garage, and Alexander lifted his face. He put his phone away and looked at me.
I looked out the window, not at him.
We unbuckled and I got out of the car myself.
Jazz watched me with brown eyes without saying anything. I shut the door and followed Alexander.
He walked ahead of me on the way to the elevator, and pushed the button.
I waited next to him. As patient as I could. Tonight was weird given I didn't know what we should and shouldn't do.
The elevator arrived and Alexander put his hand on my back, guiding me inside.
I could walk alone, but if that was his only way to acknowledge my actual presence then it was okay.
We rode the elevator up to the top floor like last time.
The room we stepped into was just not the hallway with the conference room like last time.
It was a big living room, coldly decorated. White walls, light wooden floors, glass dining-table with black chairs. White leather couch, it appeared, glass coffee table. The kitchen was white. There weren't a piano, something I had thought. There were windows with a panoramic view of the New York Skyline.
Wow.
"White wine?" Alexander asked.
"I don't drink," I said, looking at him.
He was behind the kitchen island. "Water?" He asked.
"Still, please," I smiled a small smile.
He came over with a bottle of mineral water, and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.
"Nice view," I remarked.
He watched me a moment before his eyebrows cast his blue eyes in shadow.
I looked at the skyline again.
He unscrewed the lid and put the bottle to his lips.
I watched him out of the corner of my eyes.
Okay. I unscrewed my own lid and took a sip. It was cold water.
"The stylist will be here at five," he said.
"Then why come here so early?" I asked quietly.
He looked at me. "If you wanted to shower." He said.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to shower here. But it would probably be for the better if I had a quick shower. That way I wouldn't have the workday on me.
"This way," he said and started walking.
I followed him and he opened the door into a white room. As white as the living room.
"The bathroom is in there," he said and nodded towards a white door.
"Thanks," I said.
He watched me, the eyebrows made his eyes dark and guarded. "I had a personal shopper choosing your clothes." He said. "There is lingerie amongst."
I swallowed. "How do you know the size?" I asked.
It produced the smallest possible smile on his lips. "Qualified guess," he said. "I'm always right."
I nodded slowly.
"The clothes are in the wardrobe," he said and left. "I'll be in the living room," he mumbled on the way back.
I shut the door, locked it and checked the wardrobe. I put my bag on a conveniently placed chair.
There was a long dress. Floating fabric, emerald green. It was tight fitting at my chest with wide straps and a V-neckline – or was it sweetheart neckline? I loved the color, truly loved it. It fell in soft waves from the waist and down.
Okay, I had to shower first, otherwise I'd never leave that dress.
I checked the bag on the floor.
Lingerie to match. It eased me uncomfortable feeling a bit that he had a personal shopper picking the clothes and hadn't done so himself. The thought that he knew what was underneath my dress wasn't one I wanted to entertain.
The lingerie was lace underwear in the same shade as the dress. The bra would be hidden, but it had the same green color. I loved this color. Green was my favorite color, not that I could pinpoint the exact shade.
I grabbed the lingerie and went to the bathroom.
I locked the door and undressed to my underwear. I had to work on getting the temperature right with the water before I put my hair in a bun. I wouldn't have my hair wet. It was too long, and too thick, to dry fast.
I checked I'd locked the door before stepping out of my underwear. I adjusted the water a bit again before stepping under the steaming water. I let the warm water ease all tense muscles.
Now that I had said yes I might as well do it properly. I used soap, rinsing and got out of the shower cabinet. There were big, fluffy, white towels. I dried off and got into the new underwear – it actually fit me perfectly. It was scary he'd looked at me long enough to be able to guess it.
But that took me right back to my thoughts on whether he had a hidden agenda, like he was some Christian Grey type. Dominant with a hidden BDSM chamber hidden somewhere – and that he'd watched a lot of women, thereby being able to guess my size.
I kept the towel wrapped around me and left the bathroom. I folded my underwear and clothes and put it in my bag.
The door was still locked.
It was time to get out of that book. What was the point in comparing him to Christina Grey? I wasn't some innocent maiden in danger – damsel in distress.
I checked the price on the dress. Okay, it was several hundred dollars, but not several thousand which I'd almost feared. I snipped off the price tag.
I put the towel on the back of the chair with my bag and put on the dress. It fit perfectly, and I loved the feeling of the fabric against my skin.
I looked down at myself. Okay, this dress was seriously pretty. I truly liked it.
Shoes? I probably should've brought my own heels so I knew they didn't pinch my toes.
The bag with lingerie was empty, I double-checked, and I double-checked everything. No shoes.
Then what?
I hadn't brought perfume, I had a deodorant in my bag if the day required it.
But it didn't get any better than that?
I looked at my bag for a long time before leaving it. Then I'd have to go back and fetch it. I lifted the skirt of the dress, in order not to step in it, and left the room.
The living room was quiet.
I reached the living room. He was sitting on the white coach, reading a bunch of papers, a pen in hand.
He looked up when he must've caught me in his field of vision. "The shoes arrived in the wrong size," he said.
I let go of the dress so it was touching the floor.
"Your size is on the way."
"My size," I muttered.
He nodded. "I had Trisha check the size on the shoes in your drawer."
I smiled. So it wasn't a qualified guess? No foot-fetish. Jesus Christ! What was going with me?!
He looked down at the papers for a long time before looking up at me. "Make yourself a home." He said.
I nodded. That would be impossible when the space lacked any semblance of hygge. I walked around the couch and carefully sat down, one leg across the other.
There was a deep slit in the dress, I learned. I covered my leg. Now, I had shaved armpits and legs before going to work that morning. Better be on the safe side.
He turned his attention back to his papers. I probably should've brought my bag so I could use my phone.
"What's behind the E in your name?" I asked.
He finished writing something in the margin and looked at me. "Elias." He said.
I nodded. Alexander Elias Greene.
He looked at something behind me before shaking his head ever so slightly.
I looked towards the kitchen, and Jazz left the living room again.
"Did the clothes fit?" Alexander asked.
"Yes," I said.
His eyebrows dived down.
"I love this dress," I volunteered.
It had that funny smile reappear on his lips. "Good."
I hesitated.
"Has the bruises healed?" he asked.
I nodded.
He looked back down at his papers.
Should I try more small talk or did I just give up and we could sit in silence? Had there just been music, but there wasn't.
He turned the pages, put the pages on the coffee table and stood.
I watch him before noticing the TV in front of the couch. There was a fireplace beneath it. Fake, or so it looked.
He reentered the living room a moment later with a tall man without more than a two millimeter buzz cut of hair.
I stood.
"Christina Kierkegaard," Alexander said with his American accent and gestured towards me.
The man looked at me with kind blue eyes. "And that dress," he said and looked me over. "You mentioned jewelry?" he said and glanced at Alexander.
Alexander went for the kitchen island and handed him a few boxes. Jewelry boxes.
"Okay, sweetie," the man said. "I'm Elias." He said.
I smiled.
Alexander directed us soundlessly to the room where I'd changed.
He left as soon as I'd sat down.
"What to do here?" Elias asked and ran his fingers through my hair. "Naturally blond?"
I nodded.
He produced a hairbrush and combed my hair. "Silky, what do we do with it?" he asked. "Not too tight," he mumbled and turned the chair in which I was sitting.
I was facing him.
He looked pensive before asking me to close my eyes and started doing my makeup.
I could do makeup though I usually didn't venture further than mascara, a little blush and maybe eyeliner if it was a really good day.
He knew how to do makeup, or so it felt.
"Have you brought perfume?" he asked.
I opened my eyes. "No." I said.
He smiled a crooked smile. "When we've finished I have a few you can choose between."
Thank you.
He turned the chair so I could see myself.
"Wow!" I said. It wasn't too much, and that even though he'd spent a long time on it.
He smiled behind me. "What I'm living for, honey," he said.
I wouldn't be judgmental, but he had to be gay. He had long, slender fingers and he was way too good with makeup brushes and the hair brush he was using again.
I didn't say anything as he started combing my hair and securing strands with hairpins. He let some fall down, curled my hair a bit, secured another strand with a hairpin, pulled soft curls to highlight my face.
My face looked older than I was. Not much, but a little. I had a baby face, so maybe I just looked my age, twenty-three? And that I wasn't aware of it?
He put my hair in a soft bun, leaving a few softly curled strands to caress my face.
"Just remember not to put it behind you ears, and all will be good." He said.
"Thank you," I said. "It's so pretty."
He smiled and opened the three boxes Alexander had handed him and presented the content for me. A gold bracelet, which he clasped around my wrist, a necklace which, accentuated the neckline of the dress. And earrings in gold. They almost brushed my shoulders. Thin earrings with tiny feathers. Feathers in gold. The necklace and bracelet were also feathers.
I had a spray of perfume or three, form Elias, and he packed up his stuff and looked at me. "Lipstick," he muttered and pushed me back down on the chair.
He applied lipstick, removed the excess color and smiled.
"Las us see if Alex agree," he said and grabbed my hand.
I followed him out of the room and into the living room.
Alexander was waiting in a midnight black suit. He looked back at us.
"It went well," Elias said, giving my hand a squeeze. "Have nice evening." He said.
"You too," I said.
He went back to the room to fetch his stuff.
Alexander wore black and white. That was it.
"Your shoes," he said and walked to me. He grabbed a pair of heels off the kitchen island. I hadn't noticed them.
They had the same shade of green as the dress, with a small strap around the ankle and they were high heeled. Very high heeled.
He bent down on one knee before me and opened strap before looking up at me.
I stepped into the shoe, and he secured the strap. My hand was on his shoulder when he let me step into the other shoe. He secured the strap, and I felt really elegant. And a bit too tall.
Alexander stood, adjusted his jacket slightly and looked at me. "Are you ready?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Jazz!" he called loudly.
Jazz appeared a moment later.
"Five minutes," Alexander said.
Jazz nodded and left again.
Alexander was looking at my face, only my face.
"What can I expect of tonight?" I asked. In these shoes I wasn't that much smaller than him. Maybe an inch?
His eyebrows put his eyes in shadow. "Good food," he said. "Most of the time. Money being flashed, speeches and dancing. Can you dance?" he asked me.
"A bit," I said. "I know the basics of the classical dances." Waltz and the like.
He looked at me. "Waltz? Foxtrot?" he asked.
"I'm a fast learner," I said.
He hesitated a moment. "Okay." He said.
"Is dancing unavoidable?" I asked.
He put his head a little to one side. "Because you're supposed to be my flirt, girlfriend, whatever the media says, then yes," he said and left the living room.
I remained standing.
He looked back when he reached the elevator. "Come on." He said.
I sighed and walked to him.
The elevator arrived with a pling.
He put his hand on my back, and I followed him into the elevator. We rode down in silence.
"Have you ever brought a flirt before?" I asked.
"Once," he said, gloomily.
I looked at him.
He was watching me, his eyes dark under his eyebrows. "Why?" he asked.
"How would it seem less awkward," I muttered.
He didn't answer.
We reached the garage and I followed him to the car. Jazz opened the door for me and I got in, with the dress and all, and covered my leg.
Alexander got in next to me, his phone in hand.
I buckled up and looked out the window.
"It was awkward and strained the last time," he said and handed me his phone.
Surprised I accepted his phone. A BlackBerry. And a picture filled the screen. Alexander with an arm around a girl with short, black hair and dark eyes. She didn't look happy, and because she was almost turned away from him, the headline seemed fitting.
Money isn't enough!
I handed him back his phone.
"Don't look as if you hate me," he said.
I nodded. "Got it," I murmured.
He didn't say anything else, and I wasn't sure how this deeply awkward silence should be broken.
Jazz didn't say anything, and Alexander started talking on the phone.
I should've asked for a clutch or something. But no. I stared out the window.
There were blitzing cameras, and I didn't think I'd actually thought about what I'd said yes to until this moment. Of course there would be cameras.
"I'll open your door," Alexander said. "Stay seated."
I nodded and unbuckled.
Jazz pulled up to the curb, and cameras were directed at the car. What the fuck had I agreed to? Why did I do this? I'd never been super ecstatic about newspapers. Not since the article about Mom.
Alexander got out of the car and walked around the vehicle.
The door was opened and he looked in at me.
He reached in to take my hand.
Okay, I could do this.
I put my hand in his, gathered my dress, and got out of the car without flashing anything.
Alexander shut the door and put his arm around my waist. It almost felt comforting.
"Just pretend you don't hate me," he said against my ear.
I smiled. "Okay."
They yelled for him, and I couldn't stop myself. I looked at him, and even though he wasn't smiling, his eyes weren't in shadows by his brows.
We reached inside the building and he let go as he'd gotten an electric shock.
I looked at him.
He took several deep breaths before putting his hand on my lower back. Lower than in his apartment. But this seemed more intimate, and that even though he was a long way from hitting my butt.
I followed him, he exchanged trivial small talk to men in suits, and women who only had eyes for their respective men in suits.
If I should be his flirt then I guess I had to look at him too? I looked at him, and his blue eyes met mine.
"Dinner is served," he said and nodded to something behind me.
I looked back towards a number of tables that were arranged so all were facing the small stage.
He had his hand on my back, still.
I followed him quietly, and he didn't release me before pulling out my chair.
Okay. Carefully I sat down, and he sat down next to me.
There was a lady next to me. She was probably fifty, ish, and wore a suit.
She smiled.
I smiled back.
"Fiona," she said and shook my hand.
"Christina," I replied.
"I haven't seen you here before," she said.
"I came with..." Did I call him Alexander? Or Green? He was my flirt. "Alexander." I said.
She looked at him. "Interesting," she said. "I did see the pictures. He doesn't strike me as anyone who'd risk that much by abusing a woman."
"He didn't hit me," I said. Or tried to strangle me.
She put her hair behind her ear. It went to her shoulders, straight and gray.
The starter was served.
I looked at the plate. It was actual food. Four small thing, almost too pretty to eat. A small pancake, blinis maybe?, with smoked salmon shaped in a rose. Why not?
A small something tied together with a slice of cucumber and chives.
Three slices of vegetables on top of each other. Was the bottom one watermelon with grill stripes?
The last thing was something, decorated with a flower. Then it didn't get weirder.
Alexander leaned into me. "The outermost fork and knife," he said in a low voice.
I smiled at him. "Thank you," I said, equally quiet. And grateful. Dad might have money, but it wasn't exactly this I'd grown up with.
Wine was served, and water. I didn't drink of principles I wouldn't elaborate now.
To make the food last, I ate small pieces.
It was good, it wasn't that, but I was hoping for a bigger entrée.
I heard what Alexander discussed. Business.
Fiona was in a discussion with her dinner partner.
I focused on my food and my water.
The starter was taken out and the entrée served. It was beef, there were potatoes and vegetables. Okay, then the starter could be weird for all I cared.
After the entrée, it was time for speeches.
Alexander held a speech. Something about how good a cause this was, and that he'd helped secure houses for women who'd been exposed to domestically abuse. There were also places for men.
Round of applause.
He sat down next to me and looked at me.
I smiled, and he gave my hand a squeeze, now it was on the table.
Fiona stepped onto the stage.
I had no idea who she was.
Alexander was far more influential than I'd anticipated.
Fiona was the founder of the organization, Alexander one of those who donated the most money. She had been on the receiving end of domestic abuse. First by her father, and later by her boyfriend. She would spread awareness and ensure that neither men nor women should live under such circumstances.
I didn't know what to about myself when she returned to her place next to me.
She didn't mention any examples, but I was sure that if I googled her I would find something.
There were an additional three speeches, and then dessert.
It appeared to be ice cream, but I honestly didn't know.
We ate, and the dessert was cleared off the tables.
Donations, if you wanted your name up there.
Alexander's name never appeared.
He had barely touched his wine. A small sip of each glass was what he'd tasted. I hadn't touched mine at all.
He leaned into me. "Dance with me?" he asked.
I nodded. "Okay."
Fiona smiled when he stood and help me out of the chair. He returned the chair to its original position and put his hand on my lower back.
Now would be the time to ask why he supported this project, but it would be too artificial now he wasn't talkative.
The dancefloor wasn't loud and noisy, and other couples danced a variety of different styles of classical dances.
He grabbed my hand and looked at me.
I put my hand on his shoulder. Okay.
"Waltz," he said, his voice quiet, and pulled me closer.
I tried to remember the exact steps. It should be possible.
He led me, I followed him step by step. It was simple steps, a lot of the basics, and I looked at him when I got it.
He blue eyes were shadowed by his brows.
I had my hand in his, the other on his shoulder. He pulled me a bit closer and twirled me around. Right or left turn I had no idea, but we twirled.
Somehow I had a billion questions to ask, but I had no idea what to ask.
He led me around the floor. Around and around.
And then the seventh song came to a halt.
Unconsciously, I'd counted.
Alexander twirled me around as a stop and looked at me. "Thank you," he said and put his arm back around my waist.