Forever Lies

5

“I don’t suppose you’ve decided to bring anyone,” my mother prodded questioningly. “It would keep things even, that’s all.” Of course, I should have known. “Yeah, Mom. Your question has nothing to do with you wanting me to get married and make babies.” “Of course not!” She paused, and I knew what was coming. “Not that it would be such a bad thing.” “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get right on it,” I muttered. “You do that, and make sure he’s Catholic—that makes everything easier.” “Alright, Ma. I’m in the middle of eating dinner, so I’ll let you go.” She hated the use of the term ‘ma,’ but I threw it in there just to rib her. Every other New Yorker used the term, but not our family. My mother had always said it sounded like a dying sheep and demanded we girls called her Mom or Mother. “I heard that.” “I’m sure you did. Love you, Mom.” “Love you, baby girl.” I hung up and sighed aloud. Every bit of tension I’d eased out of my shoulders had snuck back in and begun to pulse in my temples. My parents loved me unconditionally—I knew that. That knowledge should have been enough, but somehow, it wasn’t. I wanted them to respect me and be proud of me. Maybe they would say that was the case, but I always felt a dollar short—like who I was and what I did was never quite enough. When my mom would sneak in a reminder while I was in college that I could always find a man and quit school, it made me feel like she didn’t believe in me. I was sure she simply wanted me to know I had options and didn’t want me to feel pressured to be a working woman, but that’s not how it felt. The same went for my dad. When I first brought them to my apartment after I’d bought it, he suggested I could buy the unit next door and combine the two to give myself more room. Instead of simply congratulating me, there was always a suggestion on how things could have been done differently. It was my own fault I continued to seek out their praise, but I didn’t know how to break the cycle. I had always been the parent pleaser; I didn’t know how to be anyone different. That was the part of my personality that made dealing with my boss even more difficult. Confrontation was not my strong suit, but I was going to have to start learning. I wore one of my more revealing work dresses the next morning. I normally didn’t risk wearing it, but Roger would be out of the office, so I was free to dress as I pleased without fear of harassment. The designer dress was a rich shade of crimson, perfectly accenting my dark features. The boat-neck top and knee-length hemline were not an issue—it was the low-cut back that would have been a problem. The dress wasn’t excessively provocative for work, but with Chester the Molester for a boss, wearing it wasn’t normally an option. I wore my dark hair pinned up to highlight the low back and picked out the perfect black-patent, red-soled stilettos to match. The dress clung to my curves without being painted-on and made me feel amazing. Hopefully, one day soon, I’d be able to wear what I wanted to work, rather than what was the least eye-catching. I could feel the weight of people’s eyes on me as I entered the lobby, and it felt great to show off the figure I worked hard to maintain. I took extra care not to let my heels get stuck on the escalator and walked to the elevators. Just as I approached, the doors on the nearest car began to close. “Oh! Wait!” I thrust my hand between the doors and scurried inside as soon as they reopened. When I turned to press the button for the tenth floor, I froze. It was him—the stunning man from the lobby the day before. He was even more striking up close. The eyes I’d been too far away to see were so dark, they were almost black, and they were boring into me as I openly gawked at him. How could I not? He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He wore a dark grey suit, similar to what he’d worn the day before, and still had a dusting of hair along his strong jawline. Towering over me, despite my four-inch heels, he owned every square inch of the small elevator car. While he was only a few years older than me, he had the powerful presence of a much older man. When the doors closed behind me, they jarred me from my trance, reminding me I’d been unabashedly devouring him with my eyes. My lungs released a whoosh of air, and my heart began to jackhammer in my throat as I turned and pushed the button for the tenth floor. Stepping over to the wall opposite him, I kept my eyes cast down to the floor and his shiny black dress shoes. As if my hormones weren’t already running amok, the scent of his musky cologne wrapped itself around me, making me hungry for something far more delectable than any food. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a cat in heat! The poor man had probably felt violated I’d perved on him for so long. My eyes darted around with embarrassment, looking anywhere but at the gorgeous man directly across from me until I realized I could feel the penetrating touch of his eyes. I didn’t have to look up to know he was staring at me, daring me to meet his gaze. Unable to ignore his unspoken command, I lifted my eyes and peered at him through my lashes. When my gaze reached his face, one corner of his lips quirked up just a fraction. Had I not been so keenly aware of the man, I would have missed the fleeting movement. Leaning back against the wall, hands clasped casually in front of him, he was perfectly at ease, amused by my flustered reaction if his smirk had been any indication. I, on the other hand, was coming apart under his scrutiny. Why was I so affected by a man I’d never even met? He was nobody to me. What did I care what he thought of me? There were loads of attractive men in the city, but this one was different. His commanding stare stripped my defenses and left me raw and vulnerable. People display a persona when they meet someone new for the first time —some might call it putting their best foot forward. The woman I would normally call forth to impress a new acquaintance evaporated into a thin veil of smoke under his heavy gaze. All that was left was the real me, stunned and uncertain what to do when her protective shell had been obliterated. Just as I thought I would blurt something to fill the uncomfortable silence, the elevator jarred to a stop, and the lights flickered. My hand darted out to catch myself against the wall, and I gasped in surprise. The man, on the other hand, needed no such balance assistance. Aside from a glance around the elevator car, he was seemingly unfazed. Of course, he was. Why should the laws of physics affect someone so clearly not of this world? “Looks like we’re stuck,” I murmured after it became clear the doors were not opening, nor were we resuming motion.