Scandal in his arms

Before touching the door, I knew something was wrong.

The feeling started in my stomach and slowly spread. Soft laughter floated out. It was a woman's, followed by his, low and easy, the laugh he would use to get people to like him.

I opened the door.

Red stilettos were on the coat rack. They were sharp, expensive. Definitely not mine. The Achard cologne he always wore mixed with a strange perfume filled the room. A silky blue scarf was tied to the back of a chair.

The Bedroom door was open half way. I headed there.

The people in our bed were her and Liam.

The woman covered her naked body with a silk sheet. She was probably younger than me. She was more composed then me, more put together, more polished. Liam was nearly asleep against the wall, gray T-shirt still on and looking bored.

"Valerie, you're back early," he said.

There was a part of me that had spent the last three years making excuses that suddenly stopped.

"Who is she?" The naked woman asked looking pained and confused. "I think she's going to pass out."

"She's my girlfriend," Liam said, looking bored. "Don't worry. She won't do anything."

He still had the look on his face of a kid being yelled at and asked what he thinks he'll do about it this time.

"You bring them home now?" My voice was weaker than I wanted it to be.

Liam let out a long sigh, like I was the inconvenience. "You're never here, always working those little jobs. What do you expect? A man gets lonely."

For three years, I had covered for his lies, kept our lights on with double shifts that I came home too late from. I'd tell myself the coldness in his voice was stress. Every lie and every sullen voice note from Liam meant three more years of me forgiving him. This time, he brought the other woman to the bed.

"We've been together for three years. Three years of me forgiving you. And somehow I'm still the one who should apologize?"

The woman began to shift, clearly uncomfortable now. Liam merely looked amused.

"You always make everything dramatic."

The first time he caught me, he cried, and he said it meant nothing. The second time, he took me out for dinner and bought flowers. After the third time, he got drunk, and started to blame the alcohol for it. Ever since then, he stopped apologizing to me. He didn't need to. I always stayed.

Because there was nowhere else to go.

Because since Liam was my only safety line after my father's business failed and everything else disintegrated, I kept myself dependent, mistaking it for love. I could no longer tell the difference.

I approached the table by the door to place the spare key, which he gave me many years ago when I thought this apartment could one day become something secure. I could feel my hands begin to shake as I placed the key on the table and heard it gently click. He began to sit up.

"So you're leaving?"

This time, I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, so I packed in silence.

From the closet, I pulled out my small suitcase that I had been keeping hidden behind my clothes. Two pairs of jeans, a few cottons, my charger, and my docs folder which I hid on the bottom most part of my suitcase. It holds all of my most valued papers, my birth certificate and the last documents of my Dad (he's not here anymore), and all of the papers I refused to surrender to him.

My client watched in silence as I finished packing. I was planning on taking a lot more, but urgency won this time.

"You'll calm down this time too," I heard Liam say, with confidence returning to his voice. "You always do. Where are you even going to go?"

He truly believed that I would come back this time, tired as usual, defeated, accepting whatever version of him I would be able to tolerate, rather than being forced to face the world on my own.

This time though, he was wrong.

I closed my bag, and just as I grabbed the handle, the woman spoke for the first time.

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend."

I looked at her for the first time. There was an awkwardness to her, an almost guilty feeling. There was nothing to hate her for. I never hated any of the women he was with, it was always about him. He made me feel small, let him.

"It's fine." I said while acknowledging how small I felt.

Liam made a difficult to appreciate eye roll. "This is not a murder situation, can we just stop acting like it is."

When he said that, it made it easier to leave.

"She'll be back." He said right before I left. "You always come back and I'll be here."

He was right, I had nowhere else to go.

I started closing the bedroom door behind me when the dizziness started. I leaned against the wall when he tried pushing me forward.

I kept telling myself the stress caused all the exhaustion, along with the numerous late shifts. But there was an envelope that I completely ignored in my purse all day.

The results were in.

Finally being told face to face was better than dealing with a phone call to answer the question I was putting off. Now all I had to deal with was the new heartbeat in one of the pockets of my bag.

I put my hand on my stomach without any control of the situation. The fear that had been lingering in the background finally came front and center.

Suddenly, Liam cheating on me wasn't the worst thing that could happen this night.

If the test was positive, I would be stuck with him for good.

Empty street in both directions. I took my pick on direction and got moving with the luggage knocking against my shin at every step.

I lingered a little unnecessarily, the luggage pulling on my arm, and surrounded by the thick night. The hardest part was the leaving; I now needed to figure how to keep going.

Out in the night air, it was cooler than expected and I had a luggage in my hand and no plan, stand on the sidiawk with no going back upstairs; no longer an option I could bare to do in the morning.

Leaving felt almost unnatural. I was so used to making myself small that every step away from the building felt second guessed even when I made it.

A pair of people went passed me, laughing at a joke I could not hear, their voices almost seemed to belong to a completely different life. I clung to the edge of the luggage and started walking.

The luggage bit into my palm and I walked till the building was fully behind me with the street now stretched out in front of me. I was going nowhere but I had made certain that staying there would have meant I lost myself.

I stood on the street corner, three blocks removed from the apartment I'd just left, staring at the sealed envelope in my hands. I'd stood here a thousand times before. But this time, it was me three blocks from my place, instead of him. This time, it was my name, printed neatly and formally, on the outside of the envelope. As I stood there, street light flickering, I unsealed the envelope.

By now, you know I'm thorough in repetition. So, I'll do it again, just this once. Focused this time, my eyes slowly scanned the text.

Negative.

Stress Related Hormonal imbalance.

I was now free. That thought had bounced around in my mind, like a stone in a pocket, for days. But now the stone was gone. There was an unknown void in its place. What was I supposed to do now? Media covered the gala. Celebrities had talked to the press.

My phone lit up with a notification. Liam.

You know you'll never make it out there without me. Save my number. You'll be back.

I blocked the number, and then quickly looked over the message.

My eyes wandered back to the street light as brass horns sounded from a distant car. I took a deep breath and let the importance of the moment sink it. I pressed the paper to my chest and let out the first real breath of air I'd taken in weeks. These had been the worst weeks of my life.

At last, I was complete free.

I received a call shortly after I posted the ad. They ask, "Valerie Quinn? Silverline Events?" I noticed it was a different number than what I applied to last week. I asked myself why I hadn't heard back from last week. They said there was a huge gala tonight, they were very short staffed and were curious if I was available.

Of course, I said yes before I had a chance to think rationally. I needed the money. I could always sleep on the streets.

Eventually, I received the job offer by email. I grabbed a taxi with the last few dollars I had and proceeded to the address they sent me. I passed the time by staring out the window at the amazing lights of the city.

Once I got there I noticed how pretty the lights around the area were. Soon enough, I could see people in elegant clothes walking in fancy clothes and slow moving up the steps probably never having had to think about how they were going to pay their bills this month. I found the entrance for staff and was offered entrance by a woman who had dark circles under her eyes, also implying that it was likely she had not slept in a few days.

"Serving crew?" asked the woman. I nodded and she tossed me a maroon dress. "Katrina has shoes. Change fast. You're already late."

It was the most nerve wracking room I had been in, but I changed and entered the room they magically appeared in.

The ballroom was another dimension. Crystal chandeliers pierced the darkness and beamed gold light across the marbled floor. Women in gowns more expensive than the last three months of my rent gracefully danced to the music as though they owned the very air. Men in suits laughed effortlessly, a sign of the ground never having swallowed them. Easy music mourned the sounds of well-mannered people.

I carried a tray and kept my head down.

I was lost in my own troubles. That is, until the spill. Wine dribbled onto the table cloth and onto the lap of the gentleman politely wooing the elegant blonde sitting by his side.

The room gasped collectively.

"How dare you?" the blonde's mother said, her voice setting each an every spore on fire. "Out!"

I froze in panic. I could lose my new part time job and end up with just the clothes on my back and a blocked phone number.

The gentleman looked up. "Calm down, Camille. It was an accident." His voice was indeed calm, but it carried absolute power and control over every single person in the room, including mine. The room seemed to become aware of my existences once again, and all once looked down and away.

Without saying a thing, he placed his jacket on my shoulder. The blonde's mother's red wine soaked most of him. His white shirt was now heavily stained. "I'll come back with your jacket cleaned." Awarded with the most polite gently hushed applause, I quickly exited.

He only nodded. But his gaze stayed on me slightly longer than it should have. I could almost see the files he was creating.

The rest of the night was spent tip-toeing around, emptying glasses, and going out of my way to avoid that table. Every time I was close to it I could feel his eyes on me. It wasn't the hungry attention I was used to from Liam. There was a level of thoughtfulness this attention had that made it feel uncomfortable.

When the event mercifully ended, and I got my payment, and my folded jacket in my bag, I was almost at the back door when he spotted me.

"I think that is mine." He said.

I turned, it was nearly silent without the ballroom and he was much taller than I realized. The stillness that I thought came from nervousness was much more pronounced.

I gave it to him and said 'thank you' again.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Valerie." I said.

He repeated my name slowly like he was thinking of something. "Do you want to get a drink?" He asked.

This was when my stomach chose to really speak its mind. I turned bright red. His almost smile was almost reluctant.

"Come on." He said.

I should have said no. I had built so many careful instincts over the last three years. It screamed at me to run as soon as I received payment. But I took the expensive wine, and dove into a black car tinted with windows to ride off to where he chose.

The silence in the car initially felt strange after the chaos of the ballroom. He poured wine that I guessed was over two months rent down my throat.

He finally broke the silence. "You looked like you were barely holding yourself together earlier."

I almost gave him the real reason. Millions of thoughts flashed through my mind about the envelope I received, the key, the apartment, the years of shrinking myself, and almost, almost, I said the truth. "I'm better now".

He carefully rested his hand on my cheek. He was waiting to see if I would push him away. "I want you to feel better, Valerie."

He said my name in a way that made me feel something low in my chest. Not a demand, but an offer. I had totally forgotten about these things. "Do you want to leave?"

Go ahead, get in the nice car with tinted windows, wine, and a man who wants to make you feel something. Do you want to feel better?

I replied pretty quickly, saying "yes".

As the car started to move, I was looking out of the window and could see some of the city lights as beautiful lines of gold and white. I was sitting next to a stranger and there was this weird feeling that I was more comfortable with that than with having to go back to the apartment and most importantly with Liam waiting for me to come back.

I wasn't quite aware of this at the time, but he was actually the one person there that could erase what little life I still had.

I couldn't stop thinking about the moment the wine glass spilled, the eye contact, the way he offered me the jacket. Now I thought about everything that had happened that night, and for the first time something I had once believed was unfortunate, was now something I was afraid of. I was more afraid of that than I was of the empty street.

Cassian," he said, as the city passed us by.

That was all that mattered. No last name, no company name, no reason why the man who owned the ballroom was taking a waitress to his hotel. I nodded and was silent. I'd given him my name, and it felt like enough.

The hotel looked like the pictures I'd seen of fancy places. Marble lobby, soft lights. The wait staff was polite and acted as if they weren't letting their eyes wander down to my dress. Cassian did not fail to show the same grace as he did in the ballroom, like the world readjusted itself without hesitation to him and his appearance.

The suite had more room than my apartment did. Floor to ceiling picture windows looking down over the city. A bed that was bigger than my room rested on one wall. I was told to order whatever I wanted and he left to the bathroom.

I stood in the room for a long moment and felt like an intruder. My stomach then reminded me that my last meal was sometime the day before. I ordered enough food to feed two and still felt like I was being wasteful.

I opened the door barefoot, trolley bemused, straying water lines now gently disappearing beneath the towel now covering Cassian's chest. The attendant had a split-second lapse in the professionally-friendly mask, a half-smile I may have actually enjoyed.

I signed the receipt awkwardly and let the trolley roll behind me, shoving food into my mouth.

Cassian observed all this with apparent relish. "Feed the wolf, don't let it starve," he said, rubbing my back. "You'll choke."

I didn't care. It is far easier to feed the wolf than it is to face hunger. With every bite I toyed with the thought, would he find me as beautiful as he does now if he sees that I will be sleeping on an empty street tonight?

The thought was shooed away. I did not come here for a pep talk.

He indicated the bathroom. "Shower. Take your time."

I let the hot, never-ending water pour down on me. I stood under the shower until I had satisfied my need to cry. I let the tears fall, a release of all the pain and heartache I had kept hidden behind a strong, brave front since I placed the key on Liam's table. I had just begun what I feared would be a long journey but already felt I had lived an entire lifetime. Finally, I had to shut the water off and grab one of the fluffy towels to cover myself. When I went back into the room, Cassian was waiting for me.

"How do you feel now?"

His question took me by surprise. Surprisingly, I was now worried about his concern. "Why do you care? We will probably never meet again after this."

His eyes showed something, but now that I was left to figure it out myself, I could not read him. "You are correct."

That last statement should have been reassurance, but it hurt me to listen. He was never going to say he cared, that this would have an effect on him. He wasn't going to say this was not a one night stand. He couldn't. He knew better.

"Come closer"

I made my way to him. He put his hands on my hips, and positioned me between his knees. He cupped my hips, and I leaned closer to him. His palms were warm and steady.

"Tonight," he said looking at me, "Tonight, I want you to feel how it's like to be cared for." He's not looking for a deficit. He wants to give it."

It was perhaps the first time in a long time, perhaps the first time, that someone said words like that to me. Liam's words were always accompanied by an expiration date, a withdrawal clause, and the subtle, fear-inducing suggestion that the love that he extended could leave at any moment that he deemed convenient. That was never the case.

My eyes started to burn and I chased the sting away with a couple blinks.

His careful, polite first kisses were replaced by something unstoppable and deeper, as he pulled me into him with the newfound freedom of the towel now on the floor.

He was like a balm to the things I couldn't see, the things I feared would be tomorrow's burden. He gave incarnate to the things I felt and the space that I felt I deserved. He put me above everything.

He looked at me with so much gentleness, and ran his hand through my hair as I nestled into his chest. "How do you feel?" he asked, now in a whisper.

"Better" I replied.

He made a low sound of approval. I dozed off to the pulse of his heart and the undersound of the city.

I woke up to the morning light coming in at the corners of the window. Cassian still slept next to me with his arm resting where I was. In sleep his face looked younger and more exposed.

I stared at him for a minute as something twisted inside me. Fear, Want, the desire to run before I could ever want to stay.

I kept saying I'd wait for him to wake up, but I also knew I needed to change.

I was going through the newspapers in the corner when I saw them. Stale mainstream newspapers left by guests or housekeeping. I wrapped the bedsheet around me and went over, out of restless boredom and something resembling curiosity.

All the headings were the same, state news about state politics. Then there was one that stopped me in my tracks.

Billionaire Heir Cassian Rowe Announces Engagement to Camille Armitage.

The other man standing next to the elegant blonde in that photo was the man who was sleeping next to me just hours ago. They both had a sheen of professionalism and certainty about them, something that announced them as belonging in the world of crystal chandeliers and black cars.

My hands went numb.

The name, the face, everything came together with that one photo with that one woman who was in the room that night just weeks ago.

It was her.

I snuck out quietly in the morning while he was still sleeping. The hallway was bright. The elevator took way too long. When I finally made it to the street, my pulse was racing, and the early morning air felt thin.

I just spent the night with a man that was not mine, and the entire city was going to find out.

Finally, a cab stopped. I gave the driver Charlotte's address, and I put my arms around my suitcase and got comfortable in the back seat. I watched the hotel fade away in the back window.

I didn't look back. If I did, I would have gotten back into it, and that would have been a mistake that I could not take.