Chasing Vivi(17)

     



 

I head to the kitchen to put away the food. "I'm not sure if you ate enough. I can keep this out if you want," I call out.

"That's okay." She walks around slowly until I lose sight of her. I let  her explore where she wants. If she feels comfortable here, maybe she'll  want to stay. Grabbing a bottle of merlot, I uncork it to allow it to  breathe. Then I wait.

A few minutes pass and she returns. "You live here alone?"

"Yeah."

She eyes me skeptically. "Why do you have such a large place?"

"I found it during the pre-construction phase and it was a great deal."

"I'm pretty sure your idea of a great deal and mine are radically different."

I won't gratify her with an answer.

"Besides fucking me, what is it you really want, Prescott?"

"I want to help you. I don't want you living in that slum. It's highly  unsafe." Vivi's not stupid, though. She'll see through any excuse I  offer. So I decide to be straightforward. "And I do want to fuck you."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I don't think it was a difficult question. Why do you want to fuck me  when you can have any woman in Manhattan? Let's be honest. I don't have a  penny to my name, which doesn't exactly put me on your level. So why  me?"

Isn't that the same thing I've been asking myself lately?

"You intrigue me."

"So you want to fuck every woman who intrigues you?"

"No. I only want to fuck you."

She steps into my space, which actually shocks me. "Guess what? You're  not going to get the chance." Then she walks over to one of the sofas  and sits down, crossing her legs and arms. That tells me something.  She's not game for letting me in.

"Would you care for some wine?"

"No, thanks. I have to work tomorrow, and I need to get going."

"You can't leave."

"This is the way I see it. Either you let me go tonight, or I leave  tomorrow when I go to work. One way or another, I'm gone. You don't own  me, Prescott. I realize you have money, and from the looks of this  place, you must have a lot. But you can't kidnap me and keep me  prisoner."

"You sure about that?"

Her eyes dart about the room as her face pales. I didn't mean to  frighten her. I wouldn't force her into anything, even the silly dare I  proposed.

"No, Vivi, don't be afraid. I was only joking."

"I don't believe you." She stands and heads to the door. "I'm leaving now and don't try to stop me, because I'll scream."

"Look, I swear to you I'd never keep you here against your will. I just  hate to see you go back to that awful apartment. Let me put you up in a  hotel if you're not comfortable staying here."

"I can't accept that from you. My debt is-"

"I don't give a goddamn shit about your debt!" I yell. "It's your safety  I care about. If you go back there and something happens, I'll feel  responsible. Just one night, that's all, until we can make other  arrangements. I promise not to do anything inappropriate."

"This is awkward," she says.

"Only because you're making it that way."

"I don't want your charity."

I'm about to strangle her. "It's not charity. It's one fucking night,  Vivi. We'll find you an alternative place to live. I own rental  property. It won't be charity, because I'll charge you rent. I'll  fucking charge you what your current rent is. Then when you get a job,  I'll raise it. Does that satisfy you?"

Her lips purse as she thinks. This is a damn good offer and I'm not sure how she can refuse it. She'd be crazy to.

Then I add, "Why don't we do this. Let me check you into a hotel and that way you can sleep on it."

"Yeah. Okay. No pressure, though?"

"No pressure." At least not until she's moved in and things have settled  down a bit. Then I'll try again. Maybe she'll be softened up toward me  by then.

Then I stop and think. Since when did I become Mr. Considerate?





Chapter 11





Vivi





Prescott takes me to The James. It's not very far from his place. I've  never stayed in such a luxurious hotel. He books me a room for three  nights. When I try to object, he says it may take me that long to make a  decision.

"Vivi, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I don't have any clothes."         

     



 

"Give me the key to your apartment. I'll send my driver over and he can pack a bag for you."

"No, that's too much."

"Vivi." He uses that warning tone of his. Then somehow, I'm rummaging through my bag and handing him the key.

He smiles then and suddenly I'm grateful for what he's doing. I have  that check for the bracelet tucked inside my bag and it's a relief to  know I don't have to go back to that horrid place tonight.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And order room service or whatever you want. Charge it to the room. Money is no object, Vivi."

I don't know how to respond to that. When you dig through the bottom of  your handbag, searching for loose change so you can buy a meal, it goes  against the grain to live like this.

He must read my mind because he says, "I can't begin to understand what  it's like to be poor. I won't pretend either. But I've never thought  less of people who didn't have money, if that's what's running through  your mind."

"No. That's not it at all. I was just thinking how  …  oh, forget it. Promise me something."

"What?"

"Don't ever take having all that money for granted."

He gives me a quick smile in response and leaves.

The desk clerk asks if I'd like assistance in checking into my room.  Since I have no luggage, I decline and take hesitant steps toward the  elevator, observing the clean lines of the decor on the way. It's modern  but inviting.

Although no one gives me a second glance, I still feel uncomfortable in  my casual clothes here. I know it's my imagination, because there are  other people hanging out in jeans and not dressed up at all.

I walk into the elevator and then notice my room is one of only two  rooms on the top floor, or a penthouse. He's booked me the best in the  house. When I enter, I can't keep the smile off my face. I've never  stayed in anything so grand. There are magnificent views of Manhattan  from both the bedroom and living room. The bathroom is amazing, with  every amenity imaginable. The shower is decadent, having two rainfall  showerheads and two handhelds. There's also a gigantic bathtub on top of  that. I'm in heaven and never want to leave.

There are robes in the bathroom and I contemplate taking a shower, but  decide against it in case the man shows up with my clothes. I may as  well enjoy this place, though, so I flop out on the couch and turn the  TV on. I'm just getting into an episode of one of my favorite shows when  there's a knock on the door. I open it to find Prescott standing there.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

He's carrying a duffle bag from my closet. "Here." He hands it to me.

"Thanks. That was fast."

"Mason doesn't waste time."

"Mason?"

"He's my driver."

I peek inside the bag to see an array of things. Not that I own much but this will get me by for the next couple of days.

"Hey, thanks for setting me up in here. This place is awesome. I've never seen a bathroom like the one in here."

"That nice, huh?"

"Yeah." I laugh. "I can't wait to take a shower."

His chest rumbles with laughter. "I can help you with that if you'd like."

"Funny guy."

"I try."

"So, Prescott, where do we go from here?"

"I'll show you a few properties tomorrow and you tell me what you think."

I rub my forehead. "Um, I have to work from eleven until seven."

"We can do it after."

"Okay."

He gets ready to walk away, then turns at the last minute. "Vivi, you  think the worst of me. But we used to be friends-or sort of anyway. At  least I thought we were." Without another word, he leaves.

I suppose it makes sense that he did think we were friends. In some  ways, I guess we were. Only I dreamed of more, which was a problem.

Now he wants more, too, but only in the way of fucking. I know if I give  him what he wants, I'll end up with a broken heart. And that's the last  thing I need right now.



The next morning, I stop at the bank to deposit the check and end up  arriving at work a little early. Eric's already there, prepping tables.  He gives me a full-on smile and I shake my head, remembering the drink  catastrophe from yesterday.

"Did you get cleaned up when you got home last night?" he asks.

"I was so sticky. I swear my bra was glued to my skin. Ugh."

"You're not the first person that's happened to and you won't be the last."         

     



 

"Well, I'd prefer not to go through that again. So I'm still shadowing you today, right?"

"Yep. Today and tomorrow. After that, you're on your own."