Love’s Healing Redemption

Chapter 2 The Ride

Downstairs, a black car idles at the curb, tinted windows, luxury spelled out clearly. Val, standing beside it, checking his phone, looks up and smiles. He sees her emerge-bag slung over her shoulder, suitcase at her feet, and the small French Bulldog behind her-his expression shifts. Softens. He asks, “Ready to go, need any help?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose, and no, I’ve got it, thanks,” she replies apprehensively as she gestures for Enzo to jump into the car. Vale’s gaze drops to the dog-small, loyal, at odds with the world he inhabits, much like Val himself. He crouches slightly, extends his hand without pressure. Enzo sniffs; his head rubs Val's hand. She moves to put her things in the back along with Enzo’s bed, but Val takes it from her and says, "Don’t worry, I don’t mind helping. Let's put the bigger stuff in the trunk, hand it over.” He says sweetly. Zora is supersized by his gentlemanly ways. She was not expecting him to be kind.

The leather is soft, expensive. Everything about this screams money and power-but his eyes stay on her, watching to see if she’s truly ready to cross this threshold. He steps aside, gesturing for her to settle into the back seat. She looks up at him and slides over with Enzo on her lap and says, “I hope you don’t mind him, but I won’t leave him as a packaged deal even if it’s a trial period,” and then she looks down, looking a little defeated, nervous that he may not want to let her take her dog.

Val looks at her and says, “Of course, he comes too. My place has a courtyard. He’ll be fine, better than fine. I know what loyalty looks like. I respect it. Don’t worry, he’s welcome. I can relate to him; he’s cool, I like dogs. I actually like all animals. They have a genuineness that people don’t normally have. They are real, no hidden agendas.” He glances at Zora, reads the worry etched in her face. She looks over at him and sees the truth of this statement and agrees with it but says nothing.

Val slides in beside her, the door closing with a soft, expensive click. The car pulls smoothly into traffic. He replied: “A packaged deal, good. I like that about you-you don’t abandon things that matter. Enzo stays. No trial period changes that, and neither do you, Zora. Not unless you choose to.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand settles near hers on the seat, not touching but present. The magnetic attraction was palatable… The city blurs past the windows.

His voice drops lower. “And stop looking like you’re heading to an execution. You’re not.” She stutters, “...I…I… I’m sorry; I just don’t know you or what to expect. I’m nervous. I suppose this is happening so fast I can’t think straight. I just don’t know how to process all of this. It’s such a strange situation.”

He chuckles when he says, “Nervous is smart; you should be nervous around me. We don’t know each other. I hope that will change in time, that you will learn to trust me, and it won’t seem so crazy, but Zora fast doesn’t mean reckless. I’ve had three months to think about this; you’ve had two hours. So we go at your pace now, no pressure. No expectations beyond tonight being… comfortable. Ask me anything. I’ll answer truthfully, no secrets.”

He reaches over, takes her hand. His palm is warm, calloused in places that speak of a life lived harder than she expected. He doesn’t squeeze-just holds it in his. Enzo shifts on her lap, sensing the tension. Val’s thumb traces her knuckles slowly. He glances out the window as the car climbs toward the penthouse district. She says, “Very well, where are we going exactly? I know we are going uptown, but where, and what are your plans? What is expected of me?”

She asks in all earnestness, genuinely curious about what his plans are. As the car drives through the city, glass towers reflect neon against the darkening sky. Val’s penthouse overlooks everything-a kingdom of concrete and ambition. He keeps her hand in his as he answers her questions. The Residences at Rainier Square, the 58th floor, the penthouse. “My place has a view that’ll make you forget why you were ever nervous. Plans? Umm, I suppose we start with dinner, conversation. A guest room is being prepared for you. Where you and Enzo sleep tonight if that’s what you want. Tomorrow, we figure out what comes next. Together. No ambush, no games, just… us learning about each other. I truly am interested in you, Zora. I want to know more if you’ll let me.”

She looks over at him, genuinely confused. “But I thought I was supposed to be payment for my father’s debt. "How can that be if we’re in separate rooms? Is there something I’m missing? Is there some kind of job I’m supposed to do?” She says totally sincerely and without judgment. He stills; her question-innocent, logical-cuts through every carefully constructed boundary he’s built. He turns to face her fully, Enzo warm between them. His voice is rough as he swallows hard to answer her. “The debt clears regardless. That was never conditional on...this. I lied to myself about why I needed you close. Told myself it was business. But separate rooms-that’s me trying to prove I’m better than the man who stalked you for three months. You’re not payment, Zora. You never were. The debt was just… permission to want you without it being insane.”

She looks away from him and says quietly, “So this was just a ploy to get me here.” He nods slowly, “Yeah, you’re right, it was a ploy, but somewhere between the first time I saw you and now, the ploys stopped mattering. All that mattered was getting to be able to spend time with you and for you to be here, for you to see me…to know me...maybe learn about each other, I don’t know… I just wanted a chance for us. There’s no special job. I don’t expect you to sleep with me, although I really want you too... eventually that is...”

He admits, embarrassed, a slight blush creeping onto his face. She turns and looks out the window and thinks to herself for a long while, and, as the silence stretches, Val gets nervous and asks, “Are you ok?... I know that this is very strange and not what most sane people would do to start something with someone I… I didn’t know how else to start this conversation with you after watching you. I couldn’t stop watching, and then your dad- it allowed me to talk to you.”

She looks deep into his eyes and understands his fear and insecurities behind the man of power, but says, “Why threats at all? It's just what you're used to using power plays to get your way?" Val, "You're right, this is weird, and I am a bit frightened to tell the truth. We are going into the city, and I hate the city. It’s a place to go for the day, not to stay, and I know nothing about who you really are, and what’s going to happen. Plus, I have a job back home in a few days. If you don’t bring me back, what then?”

Val sees he’s f****d up, and he doesn’t want it to get worse, so honesty is the only choice. “OK, your dad was drunk. He didn’t really make a sound choice. It was easy to push him. I knew who he was. It was just a way for me to get to you, nothing more- so there really isn’t a debt; it was just a way for me to start a conversation. I’m sorry I see that I f****d up. But I know I was just grasping at straws. I knew I couldn’t continue just watching. I had to actually meet you and have you meet me to see if maybe just maybe, this could go someplace. I knew if it stayed that way it never would. Please forgive me. Can we just start fresh?”

She looks at him again as they start to pull off I-5 and enter the city; she stutters, “... I... I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or what to do. Can we just start with dinner and see what happens with that?”...

“Yes, yes, of course. He says I can do that for sure... I’ll cook something simple: pasta and meatballs, bread, a small salad, and we’ll talk more. You do like pasta, correct?” he asks in all Serenity. She tilts her head to the side in a mock gesture and says jokingly, “Well, who doesn’t like pasta, I mean really.”

The city lights shine brightly as the car moves through the city’s streets, rolling hills and crowded sidewalks. The drive into the city’s neighborhood, Rainier Square, is bustling with activity, with the mall nearby and the square full of tourists looking at the affluent buildings. Rainier Square towers are a sight to behold. Zora had been to the mall, but never inside the buildings, and as they pulled up, her heart started to pound, out of place and underdressed. As they arrived at the Residences at Rainier Square, the concierge opened the doors for her, and she stepped out into the evening air, looking up at the towering building in awe.

Feeling small in comparison, the building is a shimmering spectacle with a wavering line; it was like designed after a wave of glass up to a sheer, tall empire. Val and his man step out as well and go to grab her and her dog's things. She thanks them, then gestures that she can help, but is shooed away by the concierge with a smile. They head towards the elevator in tandem. The lobby shines in glass and marble with a water-like textured floor, blue and white waved marbled tiles. The elevator ascends in silence, mirrored walls multiplying them endlessly. Val meets her eyes in the reflection, nervous energy ever-present.

The doors open onto marble and floor-to-ceiling windows, an open floor plan. A sheepskin rug drapes the floor in front of a pristine white sofa and a fireplace that seems like it could swallow you… The city sprawls below, tiny like something he owns, and apparently he owns most of it.

He moves to the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, looking more boyish than ever before. The city glitters below like scattered diamonds and says, “What do you think?” Zora looks out the window and goes back to him again and says, “Wow, it's overwhelming. Beautiful in an overpriced exotic way. I love the view.” She says. She sets her coat on the back of the couch, and Enzo comes running over to the windows.

He chuckles and nods in understanding, then leads her through the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the city. Modern furniture, expensive art, everything sterile and unfeeling until they reach the kitchen. It’s warmer here-lived in. A copper kettle on the stove. Fresh herbs in a window box, and he starts. “Would you like something to drink? The restroom is down that hall. It was a long drive, if you need to use it, and the kitchen is right here, as you can see. I’ll get started with dinner; make yourself at home.”

He gestures with his arms wide open, welcoming. Zora shakes her head and walks back over to the window to take in the view as he walks into the kitchen. She asks, “So you must stay in here a lot. It seems more loved, more homely than the rest. Do you like to cook?” She asks, wanting to know more about the man who is turning her world upside down. He looks at her and laughs genuinely and says, “Very much, so this is where I live in this kitchen.”