Closer (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

              The moment Inez stepped into the glass-paneled elevators, she knew she was trapped. 

              The transparent doors closed and the cylindrical cab rushed upwards along the metallic exterior walls of The Spire, launching them like a rocket ship into the air. 
Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty stories
…she backed away from the thin panels of glass and shut her eyes, halting her vertigo as the earth spiraled away from her. 
Sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety stories through the evening sky
.  After sixty sickening seconds, the elevator slowed its ascension and fluttered to a stop within the black abyss of the starry night—one-hundred floors above ground level. 

Loneliness
.  The odd, unexpected emotion seeped into her heart as she swept her eyes across all the adjacent skyscrapers, studying their diminutive antennas twinkling below her.  There was nothing around them but constellations, and nothing else competed for her attention except the unnerving gusts of wind, rattling the glass panes, and the gentle touch of Sven’s hand, enveloping her own.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, observing how his black designer tuxedo, crisp and elegant, mirrored the evening skyline surrounding them.  He looked strong and intimidating with his hair slicked back, accentuating his sloping forehead and high cheekbones, and his rigid black eyepatch hiding his only hint of weakness. 
No, there was no weakness in him
, she corrected her own thoughts.  He was the man who had designed this fearless feat of structural brilliance, and it was not the work of a weak man.  It was the work of a genius.

Behind them, a set of silver-toned doors chimed open, inviting them to step out of the elevator and into unparalleled thrill of being at the top of the world. He took her by the hand and led her with confidence through a stunning atrium lobby, its curling metallic walls shimmering like mirrors.

“Please tell me you planned that?” she said, her eyes rising to the unobstructed view of the full moon, reigning over them with celestial perfection.

He smiled at her and kissed the curve of her hand.  “The only thing more beautiful than the moon is its dependability.”

His gaze dropped to the flashing glint of her emerald choker necklace and the satin of her evening dress, its lilac sheen made scintillatingly white in the wake of the lunar glow.

Following the pulsing rhythm of the live band, he guided them through a grandiose spherical entryway and into the elliptical ballroom.  The vaulted glass and steel ceiling threw a shadowy pattern of endless hexagons onto the white glossy floors, drawing the guests into its seductive web.  Within its oval shape, the ballroom had no formal walls or windows, only curved panels of glass offering a breathtaking vista of the sleeping city to the west and the endless evening horizon of Lake Michigan to the east.  If Inez thought she had experienced every part of Chicago, she was now proven wrong.  She had never experienced the city—
her city
—this way, like an angel marveling at its beauty from the heavens.

Sven halted them every few steps, exchanging handshakes and accepting the murmurs of praise from men in black tuxedos and women in sequin and lace evening gowns.  He confidently made his own way through the crowd, distinguishing each face through the iridescent glow of the chandeliers. 
He no longer needed her
.   It was a strange, fleeting thought that whispered through her mind when he turned his back on her to greet an older man with a long mustache and his wife.

“Such lovely things shouldn’t be abandoned.”

A chill shuddered down her spine as a masculine hand skated along the small of her back.  Its owner pushed his chin over her shoulder, allowing her to catch a whiff of his breath—garlic liver pâté. 

“I’ve hardly been abandoned,” she replied coolly, feeling the imposing build of his chest crowding into her personal space before she turned to face his menacing eyes and the flashy smile that matched the pearly sheen of his white tuxedo coat.

“Well, you certainly aren’t being...” Eliot Watercross paused and shifted his eyes to the half-circle of guests huddled around Sven. “…well-taken care of.”

As a waiter rushed by them with a tray of champagne flutes, Eliot relieved him of two glasses and handed one to her.

“I’m an independent girl, Mr. Watercross.  I like to take care of myself.”  She returned the flute to the tray of another passing waiter and ordered herself a drink. “A French Martini, please. Extra Chambord.”

Eliot eyed her disposal of his drink.  “I can see that, and I admire it.  But—” he countered, edging uncomfortably closer to her and murmuring his whisper against her ear. “The only time I ever believe a woman who proclaims her independence is when she’s angry about being left alone and I’m there to fill the void.”  He slowly pulled away, but not before passing his nose over the scent of her hair.  “Did you enjoy the opera?”

Inez glared at him, remembering exactly the one thing she didn’t enjoy about it. 
Seeing him
.

“The flower girl dies at the end,” she managed to say, impatiently throwing a glance at Sven. 
Still showboating
, she sighed, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that he hadn’t even noticed she was no longer by his side. 

“The girl never fares well in a Puccini opera,” Eliot commented, throwing back all the champagne in his flute.  “I much prefer the female lead in Bizet’s
Carmen
and her…fiery disposition.”

“I’m pretty sure she dies, too.”  She challenged him with her glare.

“True,” he said with a playful snap of his teeth. “A stab wound from her jealous lover.  Such a shame.”  His insincerity oozed from his playboy smile.

“Heartbreaking,” she seethed with sarcasm.

“I suppose the moral of the story is…don’t be too tempting.”

“Or have too many lovers.”

“And certainly not jealous ones.”

He reached out and slid his long finger down the contour of her bare arm.  “You know, I received a phone call earlier today from Hans, saying that Sven has decided to move forward with us on the Li Long Towers.  He said he thought you would be traveling there with him.”

Inez bristled from his touch and avoided his gaze.  Like divine intervention, a waiter appeared with her martini.  She slurped it down, savoring its syrupy sweetness as it relaxed the tension in her shoulders.  She even reconsidered her decision to kick Eliot Watercross in the balls if he touched her again.

“Sven will be very busy when he’s in Shanghai,” Eliot continued.  “It’s a big job and there’s not a lot of time for...recreation.”

“I thought your only concern was whether or not Sven designs your towers, not how he spends his personal time while he’s there,” she shot back, betraying irritation in her voice.

He threw his head back with a grating laughter. “Oh, I don’t care how Sven spends his personal time.  Only that he’s not torn between entertaining you while he’s working for me.”

Inez crossed her arms, quelling her urge to shiver and suddenly feeling nauseous at the prospect of being at the mercy of more than one rich and powerful man while in Shanghai.

“I’m fairly certain she’ll be well-entertained,” Sven replied, cutting in from behind them and sweeping Inez away from Eliot.  He locked eyes with Watercross and clasped her hand.  “I apologize for being detained.  I can see it wouldn’t be wise to let it happen again.” 

His arm stiffly encircled her waist, like a band of steel.  She winced.  It wasn’t his typical tender embrace, but rather an assertion of his possessive authority over her.

“Probably not.” Eliot smiled slyly, goading him.  “It’s never a good idea to keep a woman waiting…is it, Miss Sanchez?  Especially not one who can obviously take care of herself.  But I was happy to make her aware of all her…alternatives.”

He handed off his empty flute to Sven while deliberately shifting his focus directly onto Inez. 

“I’ll be on the lookout for those tickets for Bizet’s
Carmen
in Shanghai.  Maybe we’ll plan a night to attend—together.”  His tiger eyes shifted across the ballroom to the upper libation balcony.  “In the meantime, it looks like I’m being summoned by Harvey Zale.  We’re finalizing the terms of the sale of The Spire over a thousand-dollar bottle of premier Trinidad Rum.  You and your lovely companion should join us to celebrate after the public dedication, especially since we’re going to be spending so much time together in Shanghai.”

He sauntered away through the buzzing crowd towards the live band and across the illuminated dance floor, paneled with translucent panes of crystal, sparkling with glints of water undulating beneath it. 

Inez turned to Sven, attempting to shake off the discomfort of Eliot’s advances.  “You’ve already told him that we’re planning on going to Shanghai?”

“Well, yes…I phoned Hans this morning to let him know that I was interested in moving forward on my designs of the Li Long Towers, and that we’ve decided to travel together.”

“But have we decided, Sven?” she pressed him.

“Haven’t we?” he said impatiently.

He met her eyes, but there was an edge in his voice and a distance in his demeanor that reminded her of old moody Sven.  His vision had been restored for less than a day, and already everything seemed different between them.  A fleeting whisper of fear flickered through her mind—
he no longer needed her
.

Hans mounted a translucent circular platform and the crowd erupted with unrestrained applause as he ascended effortlessly above them.  A sharp spotlight reflected off his flaxen hair and indigo blue tuxedo and he calmed the gasps of surprise and delight with a reassuring hand and flashes of his boyish smile.

“We all know why we are here tonight, right?”  His distinct Dutch accent reverberated through his headset microphone like an echo through a canyon.

“Premium Beluga caviar!” a voice playfully heckled him.

The crowded tittered with amusement, but Inez frowned and swept her eyes around the overcrowded ballroom, studying the men and women in formal attire.  It felt more like a Northwestern homecoming dance or a wedding bankrolled by the father of the richest girl on campus rather than a prestigious gala for one of the most influential architectural achievements in Chicago.

Pretending to welcome the interruption, Hans winked and nodded in the direction of the jokester. “We are here because we believed that the City of Chicago deserved a building that was unlike anything the world had never seen.  And we are here tonight to celebrate that achievement.  Our achievement at Van der Meer & Associates.  The achievement of our faithful investors of Watercross Capital.  And my own brother’s achievement through his ingenious structural design of the tallest building in the country.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to present my dear brother, the genius
and
the asshole of the family, Sven van der Meer…”

Inez knew Sven would have to leave her again.  He had warned her on the car ride there that he would be placed in the spotlight for the public dedication, expected to deliver a speech to his guests.  He released her hand, and for a brief moment, she hoped to receive a good-bye kiss on her cheek or a promise that he would return to her as soon as possible.  But instead, he abruptly turned away and mounted a second translucent pedestal, elevating him like a god amongst men.  As he confidently addressed the crowd, she fought an uneasy sickness seeping down her throat.  His classic black tuxedo, gelled hair, and freshly shaved jawline gave him an air of distinction, but his cocky grin and inappropriate jokes transformed him into a stranger.

The old Sven.  He was becoming one of them again
.

“Doesn’t Sven look so handsome and happy, standing up there, presenting his life’s work.”  Celeste grasped Inez’s forearm with her bony fingers like they were sisters. “I’ve heard you finally persuaded Sven to go to Shanghai to work on the Li Long Towers.  I didn’t believe it at first, considering how much you seem to despise The Spire.  But then again, there seems to be many things about you that I’m inclined not to believe.” She tightened her grip and settled her chilling blue eyes onto Inez’s emerald necklace.

“You know, I had a very interesting chat this afternoon with someone you know well.  He’s an artist-in-residence at the Art Institute. 
The Tribune
sent me to cover his current exhibit.  And wouldn’t you know,” Celeste continued with singsong glee. “To my surprise, I found out we have more in common than our love of art.”

“Was it your love of infidelity?” Inez shot back.

Celeste’s head flung back with laughter. “Well, we certainly discussed the curious intersections of our love lives…perhaps more than you would have preferred.”

Inez pursed her lips and stared straight into Celeste’s gaunt powdered face.  Whatever Enzo said about her, whatever details he had shared about their relationship, she refused to be intimidated.

“Of course, he was very surprised to hear that I believed you were some sort of curator at the museum.  He seemed quite insistent that you’ve never worked there, much less had a job that wasn’t more than just a glorified secretary.  But what I found
most
interesting was how forthcoming he was with the source of his…inspirations.” Celeste rolled her single strand pearl necklace back and forth along her swan neck.  “In fact, I’m fairly certain he even mentioned that you two share a baby.”