Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

“
We are going to go to that bar, right there,” pointing just behind her to the Admirals Club. ”We are going to have a cocktail, maybe two, we are going to calm down, catch up and everything is going to be fine. I am so glad you are here, I have missed you so much, Sophie!” She pulls me in for a hug and squeezes so tightly it is hard to hold on to any emotion other than relief when she finally releases me. That is an offer I cannot refuse and she knows that well.              

Inside the Admirals Club deep overstuffed leather chairs arranged in small groups face a wall of windows that look
s out onto the tarmac. A heavy mahogany bar anchors the large room, with a walk in humidor behind and a floor to ceiling wall of wine with a petite, divinely dressed waitress climbing an old fashioned rolling library ladder, allowing her access to the farthest bottles. The air is slightly scented by cigar smoke and breathy scotch, the faintest sounds of classical music floating over the hidden sound system.  Everything in the room feels rich, with me being the obvious exception. The host greets Olivia, kissing her hand, and leads us to the farthest corner and a deep round booth. The banquette is sunken and looks out onto a private stone patio, above hangs a frighteningly large crystal chandelier. 

“Sophie, sit down. What shall we drink?” Olivia pulls me back to the moment and into the sunken leather booth.

“I think champagne is appropriate, don’t you?” I open the wine list intending to treat my best friend to a glass of champagne. My eyes pop and the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end as I get a glimpse of the bottle prices and the fact that there is no “
bubbles by the glass
”. Are we in an airport bar or the Ritz? I begin calculating in my head when the waiter appears with a silver bucket full of ice and a bottle of Moet. Oh My God! I choke on my own breath as he places the bucket into a stand and proceeds to present the bottle to Olivia.

“Courtesy of the gentleman in the corner,” he gestures and our eyes follow him to an overstuffed chair against the farthest wall. There is a cluster of suits buzzing about, the man sitting amidst the chaos nods at Olivia and tips his glass of amber liquid. 

“I’ll be right back,” she blurts at me and quickly slides from the booth heading towards the swarm of gray suits and cell chatter. I watch her cross the room, her beachy blonde hair swaying in time with her hips. She is like a force of nature; tall, thin and blonde. If yoga was an Olympic sport she would be a gold medalist. The whole swarm of suits watches her approach, but his eyes seem to be locked on me. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is standing behind me, nope, just me in this corner. His attention is focused. His intensity wafts from across the room like the smell of aged pipe smoke and well-worn leather. His face is chiseled and rugged with pale skin and full peach lips. His square jaw covered by the slightest hint of maybe one day’s shadow. He furrows his brow and shakes me off just as Olivia approaches him.  They exchange words as Olivia hugs him and points me out. She waves, expecting me to wave back? Awkwardly, I raise my hand and wave like a parade float princess.
Aargh! What is wrong with me?
Olivia giggles and leans in to whisper something in his ear. He is polite, smiling graciously, but hardly gets a word in the whole time she is talking to him. I pull my attention from his chiseled face, back to the glass of champagne in front of me and decide I may need a little liquid help to get through the next few days. I quickly toss back the champagne with my back to the rest of the room and refill my glass before Olivia returns.              

“That,” she pauses with her mouth turned up, “is Rhys, Matthew’s best man. He said to send his regrets that he couldn’t come over to meet you, but he is off to New York. He should be back by morning, and then you two can meet and get to know each other.” Her sly wink puts me on alert, while she sips her champagne.

“I know what you are doing, Olivia. You cannot expect that man to be interested in me.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them and her jaw falters, slightly.

“Sophie! Why would you say that? You don’t even know him.”

“I can see him.” He is striking and I watch his lips take in the last drops of his drink, the ice reluctantly pushed back with his tongue, sadly clinking to the bottom of his now empty glass. His long fingers casually wrap around the crystal glass, tapping a mindless rhythm as he listens to one of the suits chatter about something. He looks in our direction and catches me dead in his sights. I watch him put the glass down, his eyes locked on me. His fingers caress the rim of the glass, around and around in slow circles, his fingertip slides across the fine crystal while he watches me. With every turn of his fingers a knot tightens deep in my belly. A small crooked grin raises the corner of his knowing mouth before we are torn from the moment by another of his suits handing him a cell. He turns his back to me and I snap back to the table, back to Olivia.              

“No worries, Sophie. I promise not to interfere. Rhys is a distraction guy, not someone you want to get involved with.” She winks and raises her glass. “He is a short term kind of guy; you are a long term kind of girl.” What was that? Olivia is a master at backhanded talk and compliments laced with acid, but I let it go, washing it down with a sip of champagne. “I am so glad you are here.” 

“Thank you, Olivia. I have missed you and I am so excited to be here!” And down the hatch goes my second glass of bubbles. I look over to see Olivia finishing her glass in one gulp, as well, and I’m comforted again by our familiar ways. “That was so nice of him to send us such a nice bottle, we have to finish it, right?!” I whisper, a Cheshire grin slowly spreading across my face. I haven’t been on the ground for an hour and already my head is swimming.

“Of course!”
Olivia proclaims with another toast. “Then we will head back to the hotel. I have dinner with Matthew and his parents tonight. Will you be alright to entertain yourself? I know the girls want to meet you. Kylie and Melissa, remember?”

“Yes, I remember
and I will be fine. I will most likely have to sleep off this champagne!” A champagne fueled giggle pops out. I love being back with my girl. There is such comfort in friends that you have known your entire life. 

                                            ***

Once at the hotel, I get checked in and Olivia and I head up to my room. The hotel is beautiful, light marble floors and walls accented by dark wood and heavy furniture. Elaborate blown glass chandeliers hang throughout the lobby. Tall palms and other tropical foliage are fed by the sunlight that filters through the glass walls and ceiling of the inner lobby. The elevator is glass and looks into the lobby from one side and out onto the white private sand beach from the other. Everywhere I look I am overwhelmed by beautiful things and beautiful people. When we arrive on the sixteenth floor, we turn down the hall and find my room. The furnishings are light and airy, as you would expect in Miami. The entire back wall of the room is windows hung with gauzy curtains blowing in the warm salt air. The room overlooks the private beach. A terrace, three floors down, has a bar and chaises with private cabanas and an infinity pool. I turn to Olivia completely speechless. I have never been anywhere like this.

“I know, it’s amazing and it is only going to get better! These next few days are going to blow your mind so just take it in and enjoy, ok? You deserve this trip, Sophie, and I want you to enjoy every minute.” She hugs me tightly and turns to go. “You will be surprised at how fast you get used to all of this,” she says, waving her hand about the room. “I have to go get ready for dinner. If it’s not too late when we get back I’ll call you.”

“Sure.” I try to sound reassuring. “I’ll be fine, go. I am just happy to be here and I am so happy for you, and a little wiped out.”

“I am so happy you are here, too, I love you! Wish me luck!” And with that she was out the door. 

    
                            ***

“Rhys, I am so glad I caught you.” She breezes through my closed office door like an unwelcome draft, a heady cocktail of Chanel No. 5 and stale cigarette smoke. Just her presence in this office sets my body on high alert. To think of all the memories, all the surfaces we have fucked on. She is everywhere. I need to redecorate. 

“You didn’t, Nadja. I am out the door, I am on a plane. I am in Miami.” I grab my duffle, slip my phone into my pocket and walk past her to the elevators. I was called away from the wedding festivities once already for this bullshit. I will not miss another minute of Matthew and Olivia’s celebration. Not for Nadja, not for her father, but I know her too well to think she will let it go. And as predicted when the elevator comes, she slides in next to me, thinking she has me trapped
, no doubt. She needs some new tricks.

“Rhys, please.” Her faded Russian purr rattles down my spine like nails on a chalk board. “You know that this company is everything to my father. You cannot let this happen. Help him. Help him and I will do whatever you want.” She sidles up to me, her breath sickly sweet, an attempt to cover the smell of cigarettes and vodka, no doubt. I put my hands in my pockets and stare forward, determined not to give her an inch. “Please, for me?” Running her fingers down the lapel of my jacket, her eyes glow with an unearned triumph. I
hate her ego, I hate that look. Batting her hands away, I push her into the corner and loom over her slight, stick like figure.

“You stay there
,” I demand, glaring at her. She lowers her eyes, as she should. Straightening herself, she presses her hands against the cool, stainless steel walls of the elevator and waits. I back against the opposite wall and drop my bag. Scratching at the stubble along my jaw rouses the blood in my fingertips, it’s coarse and soft. Not my usual look, but I need a change. She raises her head, looking me dead in the eye, defiant little wench, watching me with those piercing blue eyes, and an inscrutable expression on her face. Narrowing her eyes at me, she rakes over my new scruffy face, wrinkling her turned up nose at the tight, dark, two day stubble that covers my jaw.

“You need to shave.” Her disgust is palpable, that alone makes me want to keep it. 

“No, I don’t think I will. Now, I just spent the last three hours in meetings with Viktor and his investors. I am doing what I can to help him, within reason. I cannot take on a sinking ship, it is not good business. I am waiting for the final financials to come back. Once they do, we will have a better picture of what needs to be done. In the meantime, I am on my way to Miami. I will not be taking calls or working. I am a ghost for the next four days. I do not want to see you until I have to, do you understand?”

“What is in Miami, why go so early?
” Her attempt to disarm me with her coy questions only fuels my frustration.

“You know very well that Matthew is getting married.”

“Oh yes, to that all American white bread girl. I don’t know how she managed to tame him. Do you need a date?” I watch her dull eyes dance and wonder about her motives. “Are you looking for white bread, too, Rhys? To be tamed? I can do that. Is that what you think will make you happy? These American girls that stand by their man, someone to follow you around like a devotee? Is that what you’re hoping for? Maybe you’ll find one of white bread’s Middle American friends. They are sure to be dazzled by all that you can offer, all that you have. Not to mention the things you can do.” She stalks slowly towards me. “Things we taught each other, remember?” Her hands are raised in surrender, but she is pressing in, ever the aggressor. I meet her in the middle of the elevator, clutching her arms. My hands wind easily around her small, bony wrists, her blood surges, pulsing against my grip.

“Don’t!
” I growl, dropping her arms to her sides. “Do you want my attention, Nadja?”

“Yes
,” she breathes, pressing into me, arching her back. She is so predictable, so needy. Like dangling a carrot in front of a trotting mare, she chases what she wants, blinded to anything else.

“Then you shall have it.
If
you can follow my instructions, can you do as you are told?” A slight curve to her pouty mouth tells me she is game. “I don’t want to see you until Thursday. Do you understand?” She lowers her eyes and nods. “Nadja?”

“Yes, I understand,” her voice is soft, her body curled into itself, passively waiting for further instructions.

“Good.” I gather my duffel and make a beeline from the elevator, onto the curb and into the waiting Town Car, leaving Nadja in the dust. She infuriates me, her defiance, and her aggression. She is so manipulative, using her body to get whatever she wants. All of her lies, her utter betrayal. She made a fool of me. I was sure that I was her white knight, destined to save her from herself. But, I wouldn’t save her now if she was drowning in front of me. She has become so wicked and twisted, taking pleasure in other people’s pain in the extreme. She is predatory, but you would never suspect from the outside. Her beauty masks the vicious animal inside. The more fame and attention she gets, the more horrible she becomes. And now she has created this façade, this mask she wears. Always appearing to be on her best behavior, when behind it all, rages an out of control, sex crazed, selfish, sociopath.

I rest my eyes and try to distract myself as we wind through rush hour traffic in Manhattan. Shit, I may as well take a nap, or do some work. Or maybe consider my
pick for the weekend. Lord knows there will be a gaggle of willing ladies down in Miami this weekend for the festivities. Any one of them could help to distract me and occupy my time. Problem is, I have been with a good number of them already, and I don't like to double dip. As for the others, as I go over the catalog in my head my thoughts wander around to Sophie. Is that her name, Sophie? I'm not entirely sure. It is far too easy to tune Olivia out when she drones on. And, man does she drone on about this girl, Sophie, dropping none too subtle hints about me meeting Sophie ever since she invited her down to Miami.
You are going to love Sophie. Sophie is so
great!
I don't know what could be so great about a small town girl who graduated from a state school and works for a local paper. I would be willing to bet that she has never even left the country. What on earth am I going to have in common with this girl? Does it even matter?