The Dangerous Seduction (15 page)

He has to come clean. He has to tell her. Even if—with Joseph—even if Joseph fires him or dumps him or tells him it’s over tomorrow, he still has to come clean. He can’t carry on like this, with this guilt gnawing and biting at his insides, pushing aside every positive feeling he ever felt for her and replacing it with a dull heavy resentment and this never-ending guilt.

“Ryan, are you okay?” She sounds concerned, her eyes wide and soft and worried. She leans over the table, hand outstretched to take his own. He jerks his hand back and her expression clouds over, looking hurt. “Ryan, what is going on?”

“I have to tell you something.” He’s staring into her face, he’s staring so hard he’s not really seeing her, everything is blurring over, his eyes burning.

She looks really worried now. She raises her hand to her throat. “Don’t,” she whispers.

“I have to. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”
It’s beyond my control.
The words flutter at the back of his throat, like a trapped insect in a jar, ready to erupt as soon as he pries off the lid. The urge to laugh churns in his belly; a terrible hysteria threatens to overpower him. He tries to grasp for the words, but he’s so completely unprepared. His mind skips and jumps and he keeps thinking about Joseph in his parents’ house, Joseph looking at his high-school pictures, Joseph drinking his momma’s lemonade and discussing the Cowboys with his dad. He thinks about pushing Joseph up against the door of his old childhood bedroom and sucking him off. He thinks about the two of them rolling and tangling in the navy-blue sheets on his old teenage bed and dry humping until they both come in their pants.

He knows nothing about Joseph except how he sounds when he comes, but he can’t stop thinking about him. He knows everything about Daisy, and he’s still going to break her heart.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and the words are so pathetic, so useless.

She’s already crying, tears rolling down her cheeks unheeded. “Ryan, I don’t get it. What is happening? What is going on? You’re upsetting me.”

“I’m sorry, but I just—I can’t.”

There’s someone else.

Say it… you have to say it. Coward, craven, pathetic piece of shit.

He forces the words out. He pushes them out with more force than he’d use to blow up a balloon. “There’s someone else.”

He can actually see the color drain from her face. Her lipstick and eye shadow stand out like an extra on a Halloween special as she stares back at him, dumbstruck and silent. Her body starts to shake. He stares down at the table, at her hands locked together over her place setting. She’s shaking like she’s having a seizure. She’s shaking like someone’s just died.

“Excuse me, is everything okay?” The waiter is hovering over them, looking wary.

He glances up, mutters, “No, we’re uh, we’re leaving. She’s not well; we’re leaving.”

He reaches into his jacket, takes out his wallet, and throws a handful of bills onto the table, not bothering to count them. He grabs up his coat, her purse lying under the table between their legs, and her coat draped over the back of the chair. He comes around to her side of the table and helps her out of her chair.

She lets him guide her out of the restaurant. She’s still shaking so hard he can feel it all the way through his own body. He flags down a taxi and ignores the driver’s bitching when he gives the address, only four blocks away. But she can’t walk and he can’t carry her. He shoves a fifty at the guy, which shuts him up, and he helps her out of the taxi and into their building. He props her up against the wall in the hallway outside their apartment as he struggles with the key. Their apartment—the apartment Joseph helped them get, the one she’s been so happy with over the past two months, the one that’s located so conveniently close to Joseph’s own place. He’s going to have to move out now and find a new place; he can’t stay here now. He glances across at her, and watches her slump down the wall, sliding in slow motion, her dress riding up around her thighs.

He fumbles with the keys and shoves the door open. Then he crouches down. He puts his hand on her cheek to turn her head. “Daisy, c’mon. Daze, please, honey. C’mon, get up. Gotta get inside.”

She blinks, seeming to focus and see him for the first time since they left the restaurant. “No,” she says, then again: “No, no, no. You… you can fuck off! You can fuck off, Ryan!”

“I am, I will, I promise. I’ll go, I promise. But please, come inside first. And call someone. Call—”

He doesn’t get to complete the sentence. Her hand comes out and belts him across the face. It’s her left hand, the one with the diamond engagement ring, and he forgot that she’s left-handed. He stumbles back, raises his hand to his burning, stinging face, and stares back at her, at the fury in her eyes. He can feel blood trickling down his cheek from where the ring caught him. His mouth starts to ache with an even, bone-crunching throb.

Her eyes narrow in triumph and her hand comes out again. This time he’s ready, jerking his head back so her fingernails scratch against his nose and chin, the damage minimal.

“You bastard!” she snarls. “You fucking piece-of-shit bastard! Who is she? Who’s this whore you’ve been screwing around with?” She struggles to her knees, reaches out for him, grabbing onto his suit jacket and yanking him in.

He stares back at her uncomprehendingly. The pain in his face is throbbing so much he’s finding it hard to find words. He doesn’t recognize this Daisy. This isn’t his Daisy, his sweet, kind girl. He struggles and wrestles with her hands, trying to pry her off him.

“Tell me the truth!” she spits.

He wrenches out of her grasp and staggers to his feet. “Okay,” he says and he tries to make his voice as calm as possible. “I’ll tell you everything, but inside. Gotta be inside.”

She refuses his help, pushes her palms against the floor, and forces herself up. She staggers against the wall, reaching out to steady herself on the doorframe. She’s walking like a drunk person, her body still shaking as she staggers inside and collapses onto the couch.

He sits down on the armchair and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to call Marie. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“What? ’Cause I might kill myself? Don’t flatter yourself, Ryan. You should be more worried about what I’m gonna do to you.”

“I told you, I’m going to go. I think it’s best.”

She laughs, hysterical and high, her body arching off up the couch. “This is a fucking joke! You get to be all calm and morally superior when you’re the one who’s been cheating on me!”

“Daisy, I’m not, I’m not being superior. Believe me. I really fucking hate myself right now. But I… I had to tell you. I just… I had to….” He trails off uselessly, thumbing the phone in his hand.

She stares back at him, disgust and hatred in her eyes. “You told me ’cause it made you feel better. ’Cause you can’t live with the guilt. And now you’re gonna dump me and move on, but that’s okay because at least you were honest with me. Just call Marie, then get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see your face ever again!”

He waits until Marie gets there, numbly packing up a couple of bags. He’s got enough suits at work to see him through for a couple of weeks, so he packs casual stuff—work-out gear and jeans, underwear and T-shirts, some books he never has any time to read, his notebook computer, work laptop and work files, and finally, his shaving kit, deodorant, and toothbrush. Everything else can wait. Everything else she can keep. Marie arrives while he’s wrapping the power cable around his notebook. He hears Daisy get up and let her in, then the sound of their voices and loud, unrestrained sobbing.

His stomach lurches and he raises his hand to his burning cheek. He swallows and quickly zips up his bag.

Daisy’s lying on the couch with her head in Marie’s lap while Marie pets her hair and glares at him with a stare that could kill at a hundred yards.

“Leave the keys,” Marie says coldly.

He hesitates, glances at Daisy’s white-and-red tear-streaked face, and his chest clenches in pain. He nods and drops the keys onto the TV stand by the DVR. He turns his back on them and hurries out of there as quickly as he can.

On the street, he shoulders his duffle, picks up his laptop bag, and walks. He heads downtown, deliberately thinking of nothing. His cheek burns in pain, the cold not helping at all. He doesn’t even realize where he is until he passes the convenience store on the corner of Joseph’s block. He goes in and buys a can of coke and a pack of cigarettes. He smokes and drinks and stares across the road at Joseph’s building. He takes out his phone, stares down at Joseph’s number, and presses Send.

“Hey,” Joseph answers. “I think I might’ve persuaded him.”

He forces out a grim smile. Of course. Of course his father would say yes to a complete stranger before he would to his own son. “That’s great news. Really,” he says, trying to sound happy.

“Yeah, it is,” Joseph says slowly. “So, why’d you just sound like someone ran over your dog?”

He bites his lip, lowers his head, watches the cigarette smolder in his right hand. “I just broke up with Daisy.”

Joseph lets out a long, low whistle. “Whoa. Okay. I didn’t see that coming.”

“I couldn’t keep lying to her, Joseph. I couldn’t do it.” For the first time that evening, he can feel the prick of tears behind his eyes, the burn at the back of his throat. He takes a drag on his cigarette.

“You didn’t tell her about—”

“Relax, I said nothing about you. She knows there’s someone else, but she has no idea who it is.”

“Right,” Joseph says, but he sounds unconvinced.

“Your precious reputation is fine.”

On the other end of the line Joseph sighs, “Ryan—”

“I need somewhere to stay,” he says, cutting him off. “I’m homeless right now and I don’t want to go to a hotel and I can’t think of anyone in Manhattan I can go to, which I know, is totally pathetic. But I’m standing outside your building and I’m wishing that you were here right now instead of in fucking Houston with my fucking parents so I can go on in there and fuck you and just… just forget about everything. Forget about this fucking horrible night and how I’ve just ruined my girlfriend’s life and how I’m a complete dick, and just… if I’m fucking you then none of it matters, it’s just you and me, and God, Joseph, I want that. You have no idea how much I need that right now.” He lets out a shaky, breathy laugh, and hangs his head. “Christ, I’m such a fucking mess right now.”

“Ryan, listen to me; go into the building. Speak to Sergio downstairs. You know him; he’s the concierge, the one that always says hello. He’ll recognize you, he never forgets a face. Tell Sergio to call me on this number and I’ll speak to him and tell him to let you into my apartment. You can stay there tonight. And tomorrow, well, I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll figure something else out.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” he says. He swallows over the lump in his throat. “Thanks. God, thanks, Joseph.”

“Yeah, okay,” Joseph mutters. “Just go on in there and do what I say, okay? And Ryan, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“W
HATEVER
YOU
do, don’t tell your parents about your engagement being over,” Joseph says as they wait outside the meeting room at the Houston St Regis. “Not until your dad signs his statement.”

“Come again?” Ryan peers through the glass into the meeting room where his father is sitting. He’s reading through his statement with the same kind of concentration he used to give to fixing Ryan’s bike tires or coaching him at math or playing one of his beloved chess games.

“I’m assuming that he’ll be angry. When he hears about the break-up?”

Ryan nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah, that’s a given.”

He startles when Joseph clamps his hand down on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “It’ll be okay, Ryan. He’ll sign.”

He wets his lips, glancing at Joseph’s face. For a moment there he thought Joseph wasn’t just talking about the case. He tries to swallow down any disappointment.

“So far he likes me,” Joseph continues with one of his wide fake smiles. “So let’s make sure he doesn’t find out that I’m the one who destroyed his son’s marriage prospects, hey?”

“It wasn’t you,” Ryan says, though he knows it’s a lie, or at least, it’s partly a lie. If he hadn’t met Joseph; if he hadn’t cracked his head on the bathroom tiles the last time they were at the Houston St Regis; if he hadn’t gone to Joseph’s room that night; if Joseph hadn’t made it so blatantly clear to him that he was attracted to him, and if he hadn’t felt the attraction right back, then maybe he’d still be engaged to Daisy right now. Just the thought of it makes something that feels a lot like relief well up inside him. He’d never truly realized before just how much he was dreading the idea of being married.

Joseph looks unconvinced by his denial, but he squeezes his shoulder again and pats him on the back before he goes back into the room.

They say good-bye at the airport. His father insists on driving them both to the airport, then actually accompanying them inside the terminal, even though he usually complains about the short-term parking fees. But his dad is seriously enamored with Joseph, clapping him on the back and shaking his hand and talking twice as much to him as he does to Ryan. Joseph disappears to buy snacks in the terminal, leaving Ryan alone with his father. Immediately his expression hardens, the smile dropping off his face.