Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (10 page)

Du Cheval gave me a curious look. Probably bewildered by my lack of composure. I doubt the man had ever felt anxious in his life.
. I don’t have time for this
, his eyes said. “If there’s an emergency, call me.” I wondered what would constitute an emergency to Du Cheval. At least I could probably count on him to show up if I broke a heel… he took fashion seriously, if nothing else. He pressed an iPhone into my hand and disappeared into the crowd of people. 
OK. Fine. I don’t need him to babysit me; I’m perfectly able to mingle with partygoers.
If my mother had taught me nothing else, it was to be a gracious guest. Determined to enjoy myself, I headed to the bar where a small group of people congregated. I waited quietly in line, surveying the room. Most people were dressed in business attire, with the men in suits and women in pencil skirts and fabulous blouses. I assumed they had come directly from the office. Sixty or seventy people must have been present, and I wondered whether they all worked for Chambers. A sexy jazz beat hummed through the party, and small clusters of people chatted conspiratorially over their cocktails.

“Champagne
, please,” I told the bartender.

As he filled a tall, thin flute with bubbles, a woman elbowed her way from the line gathered behind me, banging her empty glass on the bar. She wore an ivory silk shell and wide-legged wool pants, rich brown hair swept elegantly into a tight chignon. Tiny diamonds glittered in her ears, complementing her sparkling wristwatch.
Chanel.
I could tell from her plump pout that she’d had a bit of work done, and I guessed her to be in her early forties, although it was difficult to tell. A Restylane grin, my mother would say meanly, making the two syllables rhyme, but I suspected she began the augmentation process herself. Everyone over thirty in Dallas had her plastic surgeon on speed dial.

“Excuse me!” she laughed warmly. “I didn’t mean to bump into you like that, but I just got off the phone with my mother and couldn’t wait another moment for a refill on my Scotch. The woman is a nightmare!”

I smiled politely as I stepped to the side with my champagne, making room for the bartender to pour her a drink. Tipping her glass toward the bartender, she turned back toward me. “I’m Juliette Andrews, Director of HR for Chambers Funds. I haven’t seen you before.” She had a blunt, no-nonsense way of speaking that somehow didn’t come off as rude.

Swallowing my champagne, I extended my hand, “I’m Sabrina Clarke. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Juliette shook my hand firmly. “Likewise. Are you new to the company?”

“No,” I began. Calvin hadn’t instructed me on how to address our relationship, so I wracked my brain for an appropriate answer. “Calvin is a friend of the family,” I said lamely. “I’m visiting from Dallas for a few weeks.”

Juliette eyed me quizzically but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she reached out and gave my arm a little squeeze. “Well, welcome to the city. First time?”

I laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“I recognize a kindred spirit,” she said, smiling. “Another lifetime ago, I was young and wide-eyed like you are, fresh off the bus from Indiana.”

She sighed, lost in thought. “I called my mom after three days, crying, begging her to send money for a flight home. She didn’t, thank God. Otherwise, who knows where I’d be. Probably barefoot with eight kids, making mac ‘n cheese and Hamburger Helper with a fat husband.”

We both laughed, and I took another sip of champagne. Already my glass was almost empty. “How long have you worked for Calvin?” I asked.

“I’ve worked for him for seven years,” Juliette answered. “Before that, he worked for me for two.”

“What?” I laughed. “I can’t imagine him working for
anyone
.”

She chuckled. “Which is why it was so short-lived. When I worked at Goldblatt Financials, I recruited him right out of college. Right off the bat, I knew he would do amazing things. You can’t hide that kind of brilliance. He spent every waking moment of those two years in the office, soaking up every bit of information he could find. When he put in his resignation to start his company, he asked me to head his HR department. I accepted on the spot.”

“He was that convincing, huh?”

“I’d already watched him powerhouse his way through Goldblatt the two years prior.  He didn’t have to do much persuading. His work spoke for itself,” she said, smiling.

“He is pretty… intense,” I agreed. My glass was now empty, and I wanted another. That’s the problem with really excellent champagne… it disappears too quickly.

Juliette nodded in agreement. “But don’t let him intimidate you, Sabrina. I don’t know whether you’ve seen it yet, but there’s another side to him. A sweet, kind side. He has a heart of gold.”

I flushed as I remembered how his eyes softened when he looked at me. “He’s been very generous so far,” I said.

“Good,” Juliette said. “If he decides to give you a tough time in any way, you come right to me. OK, doll? I hate to be the type to say, ‘I knew him when-‘” she paused, laughed, and continued,”
No, actually, with someone as impressive as Calvin, I like saying it.” Her smile was warm and full of straightforward good humor.

“Deal.” She was a
far
better ally than Du Cheval was.

“Excellent. Come on, then, Sabrina. Let’s snag a refill, and I’ll introduce you to some others in the company.”

As if on cue, a tuxedoed waiter appeared with a tray of champagne flutes, followed by two dapper-looking men.

“Brent, Eli! There you are!” Juliette exclaimed. “I was just coming to look for you.”

The older of the two, a broad ex-military type with graying temples, extended his hand first. “Sabrina Clarke, I’m Brent Stokes. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” I asked. “It sounds as though you already know who I am.”

He nodded, his weathered face stern. “I’m Head of Security. It’s my job to know who you are. I’ve been keeping a close eye on you since you arrived in New York. I’m working closely with Du Cheval to monitor your safety.”

I was taken aback. I had no idea that Calvin had arranged for me to be under a protective watch while I was with him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stokes.” How long had he been monitoring me?

Stokes nodded and adjusted his earpiece. “If there’s anything you need during your stay, I’m available.”

“Thanks,” I said.
I guess
. I still didn’t know why Calvin thought it was necessary to have his Head Security waste his time on me.

“And I’m Eli Lambert, Financial Director.” Eli grasped my hand and shook it enthusiastically. He reminded me of an overeager schoolboy with his curly back hair, mischievous grin, and red cheeks. “Glad to have you here with us this evening, Sabrina,” he said, grinning at me. I smiled back, pleased to see that Du Cheval seemed the only one who openly despised me.

“Welcome to the Boys’ Club,” Juliette said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Don’t let their suits fool you, Sabrina. They’re just big goofs.”

As the evening continued, Juliette was a perfect hostess, introducing me to Calvin’s staff, making sure my glass was always full. My mother would have been impressed. I enjoyed myself immensely, letting my guard down and bantering with various guests.

Around 11:00, Juliette looked at her watch. “I hate to do this, but I have to head out. I have an early-morning conference call I have to prepare for. Will you be OK, Sabrina?”

I nodded, and Eli, who had rejoined us a few minutes earlier, piped in. “Go on, Juliette. We’ll be just fine.  I’d like Sabrina to meet a few more people, anyway. I’ll take it from here.” He gave me a friendly wink and an easy smile.

“All right, then,” Juliette agreed, kissing me once on each cheek. “I look forward to seeing more of you!”

“Me, too,” I said. “Thank you for everything tonight.”

“Pshh,” she answered, waving me off with her hand. “It was a pleasure, doll. Take care.” She blew us both kisses and headed toward the elevator.

“Come on,” Eli said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s make our rounds.” He introduced me to the rest of his team, a group of men closer to my own age, still reeking of frat boy cologne, though their pricey watches and beautifully tailored suits spoke of success.  Growing up on Wall Street, I supposed.  Logan Pierce, easily the best looking in the group, brought my hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. “The infamous Sabrina Clarke,” Logan said smoothly. “It’s about time we met.”

“Infamous?” I asked, feeling slightly panicky. Had he seen my story on
TMZ
?

“Chambers told us that a very special guest would be joining us this evening. I’ve been looking forward to it all evening.” He smiled charmingly, and I could see he had no trouble with women. His thick, stylishly unruly blond hair and blue eyes made him seem like a cleaned up surfer boy.  Relieved to hear that my virginity was still a secret, I smiled back, exhaling slowly.

An hour later, most of the party had cleared out, and because Du Cheval was nowhere to be found, I agreed to joined Logan and a few others on a cluster of couches in the corner.

“C’mon,” Logan said, grabbing a bottle of wine from the bar. “Chambers would kill me if he knew I let your glass stay empty.” Winking at me, he filled my glass with a generous pour. “You’ll love this; it’s a bottle of ’04 Hartford. Pinot.” He motioned for me to sit next to him on the couch.

He was right; the wine
was
fantastic. The heat of the wine spread through my stomach and warmed my core, loosening my limbs.
How many glasses of champagne had I had already?
I wondered.

“It’s like an orgasm in your mouth, isn’t it?” Logan asked, his gaze straying to my lips.

I blushed. “Um, what?”

“Ah,” he said, in a mock serious tone, “You must not have tasted it correctly. You know, there’s an art to wine tasting.” He demonstrated, and then explained. “Take a sip, holding the wine on your tongue, while you inhale through your nose, savoring the flavor and scent at the same time.” He grinned when he was finished, pleased with his high brow act.  I played along, trying to do as he’d instructed… I’d never had a consuming interest in wine, however.  And without much practice, I managed to flub the inhale and sputter.

He gave a good natured laugh and I joined him.  “I’m hopeless, Logan!”

“Good God, it’s fortunate you’re beautiful,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “You have the worst manners I’ve ever seen.”

”Oh dear,” I laughed, sputtering again as his comment caught me mid-sip. “You have to stop making me laugh!”

He shook his head. “You’re even more lovely when you’re laughing and enjoying yourself. I won’t stop if I can help it.” His eyes sparkled.  “It’s well worth the spilt wine, Sabrina.  But you
should
try the tasting again.  It sounds like a bunch of hooey, but you really do get more out of the wine. Although,” he said, his forehead wrinkling, “perhaps we should get a ten dollar bottle from the corner store just until you master not spitting it out.”

I burst into giggles again, then caught my breath.
      “No, no, no. I can do this,” I said, calming myself, and then managing to taste and swallow the delicate wine without mishap. I nodded in answer to his questioning look. “Yes, you were right, it does make a difference.”

Suddenly I wondered where on Earth Du Cheval was. He’d said he’d be back. Would he wait outside? Should I call him? 

I noticed Logan refilling my glass again. 
Last glass, Sabs,
I scolded myself.
You’re tipsy… at best.

Logan noticed me checking the time and took me by the hand as he stood up.  “Care for a bit of fresh air?” he asked. He didn’t let go of my hand. 
Is he being chivalrous or hitting on me?
I wobbled on the stilettos, and decided I was willing to err on the side of chivalry. 

“Fresh air sounds like a great idea,” I answered, setting my wine glass down on a side table.

“He guided me toward the back of the room, and I saw a door leading out onto a small balcony. 

“The city is beautiful,” I said. 

“You’re beautiful,” Logan whispered in my ear as he stood behind me.  His arms came around me and I froze, not sure what to do until I felt his lips gently kiss the curve of my neck.

“No… no, no, no.” I said stepping away quickly.

Logan looked utterly confused.  I’m sure he didn’t get turned down much. He stepped forward and took my hand. “What’s the problem, Sabrina? I thought we were getting along well?”

He pulled me closer.  “And we could be getting along even better,” h
e said softly, as his lips brushed mine.

I hadn’t made it this far as a virgin without being able to say no. I planted my palm firmly on his chest and pushed him back. “That’s enough. I’m not interested,” I said. I couldn’t fault the guy for trying, I guess, but I wouldn’t put up with him not taking no for an answer. Without another word, I went back inside, tipsiness completely gone. 

Du Cheval was waiting on the other side of the door, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Ready?” he asked smugly.
What the hell was he so happy about?