As he stalks off rancorously, I spare a minute to mentally lambast both Levi and his brother. Why couldn't Levi just keep his mouth shut? Why did he have to provoke the beast?
In this scenario, would that make me beauty? a little voice pipes up, and I scowl. This is no fairytale. And even if it was, Wolfram would never be the prince.
"Levi," I try again as I catch up to him, but he shakes my hand off his arm and continues walking towards the entrance. The hostess, seeing the mutinous look on his face, opens her mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it. "Levi," I plead, digging my heels into the tile floor, pinching his sleeve with my fingers.
Finally, he stops, but he doesn't look happy about it. "This was a mistake." His voice is low, pained. "I'm just going to get a cab and go home."
Before he can wrestle out of my grip, I yank him to the side and haul him against the wall next to the men's restroom. If I'd manhandled Wolf like that, I would probably be subject to a caustic comment about how expensive his suit is, but Levi's eyes just widen with alarm.
"Wolf's a dick," I say in a patient voice. "But you don't have to ruin Graeme's engagement dinner."
"Like she's been such a swell sister to me," he retaliates churlishly.
Feeling very much like I'm mediating in a tantrum between two small children, I sigh. "Maybe not," I allow, "but you've gotta be the bigger person, here."
"I've been hearing that all my life," Levi says, lips twisting into a wry smile. "In kindergarten, when someone took my crayons and I tried to get them back. In middle school, when someone called me a bastard for the first time and I hit them. Everyone always tells you to be the bigger person, but what they don't tell you is that it means setting yourself up to be a doormat for the rest of your life by letting people get away with shit."
I bit my lip. Some part of what he said resonated with me; hadn't I been the bigger person five years ago when I let bygones be bygones? I could have told Xander everything and walked away victorious, but instead, I forestalled the drama and anguish it would have undoubtedly caused him by keeping silent and never telling him what I had overheard.
The same memory must flit through Levi's memory, because his voice lowers even deeper. "You know I'm right."
"I don't know that," I respond promptly, but the fight has gone out of my voice.
"Let's face it," he continues, face glum and resigned, "being the bigger people has gotten us nowhere."
"Except a great view from the high road," I say with mock cheerfulness, achieving my aim of coaxing a grin out of him.
"If I wasn't so pissed right now, I'd congratulate you on a good joke."
"It was a fantastic joke," I deadpan. Then, pressing my advantage, "Let's go back."
"Or you can join me in a self-loathing pub crawl on Fifth Avenue?" he hopefully asks.
"I can't." I offer him a small, apologetic smile.
"Because of Xander," he says, sighing.
"Even if," I say, "Graeme and Wolf don't care whether you're here or not, Xander does. I do."
I'm so close to him, I can count the flecks in his eyes, see the pores and lines of his face, and the faint lines on his lower lip as it curls into a smile.
"You do?" he asks, putting his hands on my shoulders.
Mutely, I nod. It's easy to get lost in the sincere expression on his face, the hopeful widening of his eyes, and the gratefulness that lurks within them. Levi has a lot of friends, but none that he can talk to about things like this. To them, he's Levi the artist, mellow, laid-back, and suave. Like the Owen Wilson of the art world.
If he hadn't been publicly acknowledged as Marcus' son shortly before the man's death, half of his "friends" wouldn't be his friends. When you live in New York, people want to be your friend either because they want to leech off of your fame, your popularity, or your family name. For Levi, it was all of the above.
"Charlotte?"
The spell is broken. Surprised, I lurch back, almost stumbling if Levi hadn't extended both his arms to catch me.
"Thanks," I mutter to him, turning to face the person who had interrupted us.
Shit.
It's Liza Donoghue. Her face is etched with surprise and she awkwardly moves forward, hand held out for Levi to shake. "I'm Liza," she starts to say, but then clams up. "Sorry, I guess you wouldn't know about me, would you?"
"Should I?" Levi gives her hand a polite shake, but he glances at me in confusion.
"I maintain the confidentiality of all my clients, Liza," I reply smoothly, trying to figure out a way to extricate us from this situation without making it too obvious we're brushing her off.
Too late.
Her eyes widen. "Even from your husband?" Then, for the first time, she seems to notice my hand. No ring.
Double shit.
"Are you here with Dash?" I ask, desperation driving my voice up an octave. Dash is supposed to tell me in advance where he's taking dates, and after his initial check-in after the first date with Liza, he hasn't set up a time and place for the second.
"Oh, no." Liza blinks owlishly at me. Even in this dim light, it's obvious that she hasn't bothered to set her hair or wear makeup. She's wearing a dowdy skirt that hits mid-thigh and a paisley blouse with a matching headscarf.
"I'm here with my mother," she elaborates. "We were just leaving. I just needed to"âshe glances at Levi discretelyâ"powder my nose first".
"Right," I say. "It was so great to see you again, Liza." I begin pulling on Levi's arm, but she stops me.
"Actually, could I hang onto her?" she asks sweetly, pausing when she realizes she doesn't actually know his name. "I didn't catch your name...?" she hints.
"We really should be going," I say, knowing that I look as terrified as I sound. The back of my neck feels damp and sweaty, and my armpits are probably in the same boat. Even the hollow behind my knees feels sick with terror.
"It'll just take a second," Liza promises, this time sounding hard and angry, all pretense of sweetness fading away.
Levi looks at me with concern and since there doesn't seem to be any other option without creating a scene, I nod at him. "It's fine," I say, forcing a smile to my lips. "Like she said, it'll just take a second."
"Nice meeting you," he says, courteous as ever, giving Liza a suspicious look. Eyebrows still drawn together with uncertainty, he tells me, "I'll come find you if you're not back in five minutes," while tapping the face of his watch.
"Don't worry, I'll get your wife back to you safe and sound," Liza chirps, her voice sounding downright villainous.
Levi's eyebrows shoot up, but he keeps mum.
The moment he turns the corner, Liza rounds on me, face a thundercloud. "How could you, Charlotte?"
"Liza, please." My heart is thudding in my chest so hard that for a second I worry it'll actually pop right out. If word of my gaming my clients gets out, becoming a social pariah will be the least of my troubles. My business will go down the drain and who knows if I'll be able to get another job with the stigma of liar and cheat stamped across my resume?
"I can't believe you're cheating on your husband," Liza bursts out, grabbing my hand and turning it, palm down. She glares accusingly at my naked ring finger.
Suddenly, I see my out. She doesn't think I'm cheating on her, she thinks I'm cheating on my imaginary husband! That's the lesser of two evils, so I force what I hope is a chagrined, ashamed facial expression.
"That's so low," she continues, dropping my hand like it's a decaying limb. "I mean, your job is to bring couples together, for fuck's sake. And in your personal life you..." She stops, shaking her head. "You just aren't at all who I thought you were."
"Well, it is my personal life." I can't squash myself from saying that; as much as I planned to play along, I can't help that little spark of rebellion.
"Wow." Liza gives me a tragic look, her lips downturned and unhappy.
"I'm sorry," I finally manage to say. "I don't make a habit of doing this. I really want you to believe me."
She just folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow, the universal gesture for you'll have to do better than that.
Forcing a piteous whine to my voice, I say, "Please, Liza, can we keep this between us?" Lowering my voice, I add, "Things just haven't been good with me and my husband lately."
A sympathetic gleam enters her eye. "I'm so sorry to hear that," she whispers.
For a moment, I almost feel bad about tricking her. I bite my lip. "It's just been very difficult and I..." I hang my head. "...I've been weak."
"It's not too late to make it work with your husband," Liza says earnestly. "If he loves you and you love him, nothing else matters."
The belief in her voice is naive and hideous. Does she really believe that anything in this life, love included, is that simple? Still, I give her a watery smile, tears blinking in my eyes. "You're right," I say, voice gracious. Better let her think she's the one who helped me walk on a more righteous path.
"Of course I am!" She grabs my hand again, giving it a squeeze. "You really need to end this affair, Charlotte. It's not fair to any of you, including that poor boy." She clucks her tongue. "I probably gave him the shock of his life when I assumed you two were married. Does he know about your husband?"
"Um." I wrack my brain. "No."
"You need to tell him," she says, still holding my hand. She gives it another severe squeeze. "It's the right thing to do."
"You're right, Liza," I say, trying to end the conversation. "Thank you so much for helping me."
"I'm just glad that I was here to help!" Liza beams.
"...Yeah." I give her a half-smile. "Me too."
"I forgot that I needed to pee," she says abruptly. Smile still in place, she bumps the women's restroom door open with her butt and walks in backwards, waving at me as she goes. "By the way, I loved that new guy you set me up with. I can see a real future with him."
"That's great," I say, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to actually care about what she's saying. My heart's still beating furiously and my entire body feels flush with heat. "See ya, Liza."
"Bye!"
A moment later, the door bangs shut behind her. I take the opportunity to flee, careening wildly back to our table. Shit, that was so close. Too close. I've never come that close to being caught out before.
All four heads swivel in concern as I approach, Wolf jumping to his feet to pull my chair out. With a mumble of thanks, I collapse into it, feeling my knees go weak.
"Who was that girl?" Levi asks at the same time Xander says, "You look terrible, Char, are you all right?"
"I'm fine." I press my hand to my forehead. "I ran into a client."
"A client?" Graeme wildly turns in her seat, looking in all directions. "Who? Where?"
"She saw me with Levi and assumed..." I trail off, letting them fill in the blanks.
"She thought you were married?" Wolf gapes, staring at my bare hand. "No ring," he realizes. "Shit."
"My sentiments exactly," I say, releasing a tired sigh. "I had to play along just to get her to keep quiet about what she saw. If she tells anyone...my livelihood is a goner."
"Should we call it a night?" Xander suggests, breaking off when Graeme gives him a scandalized expression.
"No way," she says, voice shrill and offended. "This is my engagement dinner."
"Yeah, but Charlotte," Xander starts to say, but Graeme slams her wine glass down hard enough that the table to our left turns to stare.
"Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte!" she snaps. "Can tonight please be about me?" She pinches her lips together. "You know, your fiancee?"
"Graeme," Wolf says, frowning.
Turning to me with an apologetic look, Graeme sighs. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. It's just that I really had my heart set on a nice time here with you all, and it just...hasn't been what I had hoped for."
"I'm sorry," I say, equally apologetic. My face twists. "I didn't mean to steal your thunder."
"I guess you didn't mean to," Graeme replies, grudging. "I forgive you," she says with a magnanimous smile. "All of you," she adds, bestowing her smile upon both her brothers.
Wolf just grunts, but Levi lights up.
"Can we order?" Xander asks, lacing his finger through Graeme's on the tabletop. "I'm starved."
"Your champagne, sir," a waiter murmurs, appearing out of nowhere at Xander's elbow.
"What?" Distracted, Xander blinks at the champagne as though he forgot all about it. "Oh, yes. Thank you."
"I'm so sorry, but I still feel like she's in here watching me," I mumble, covering my glass with my hand when the waiter approaches. "None for me, thank you."
"I don't see her anywhere," Levi says, craning his head like a giraffe to scan the restaurant.
"I know but," I stand up, "I don't think I'll be great company tonight, anyway."
"I'll take you home," Wolf says with a voice like melted butter. He stands. "I'm sorry to run, but I'll make it up to you. Why don't you all come for dinner this weekend at my place?"
The others exchange glances, with the noticeable exception of Levi, who seems to innately know that the offer was not extended to him.
I clear my throat.
"You too, Levi," Wolf bites out, forcing his face to relax into a pleasant expression.
I resist the urge to smirk. Much better.
"Yeah, sounds good," Xander agrees. "Levi, you don't have to leave. Why don't you stick around and help us finish off this bottle?"
"Sure," Levi says readily. "Unless you want me to head back home with you now? Wolf was our ride."
"We'll drop you off," Graeme says. "Don't worry about it."
"I can get a cab," I protest. "You don't have to leave."
"Nonsense," Wolf replies, putting an end to the discussion. "Your chariot awaits."
The ride back home is silent. Wolf doesn't push me for conversation, for which I am grateful. All the same, the silence allows me to dwell with growing panic about the new Liza situation. Before, she was just a mousy, somewhat difficult client. Now she's a downright thorn in my side. I guess it's my own fault, keeping up the pretense of my happily married life, but who knew that New York really was such a small world, after all?
"Wait." I frown, twisting in my seat. "Wolf, you're not going the right way."
With infuriating calmness, he smiles. "Yes, I am."
The streets whizz by and my shoulders tense. "If I'd known you were going to be kidnapping me, I would have gotten drunk on free champagne first," I chide.
Wolf rolls his eyes. "Calm down. I'm just taking you to my apartment."
"Which," I drawl, "begs the question 'why'?"
"You've never seen it."
"And you thought now was a good time?" I blurt out, incredulous.
"Mhm," he hums under his breath, giving me an incorrigible wink.
Fuming, I settle against the seat, refusing to look at him. "Take me home."
He pulls to the side of the street, parking behind a small moving truck.
"Wolf, I mean it," I begin to say, then choke on the words. Is that my desk?
Two burly moving men are bringing my antique roll-top desk, a present from my grandmother, down the ramp of the truck. Another man follows behind with a cardboard box that bulges at the sides. "Is that my stuff?" I yelp, jolting forward in my seat to peer at the parade of moving men. "Wolf! What the fuck?"
"Honey," he says with an innocent smile, "you are home."
"I told you," I gasp. "I am not living with you! Get them to stop!" I reach for the door handle, intent on screeching bloody murder.
"Charlotte." His voice is quiet, and against my will, I relent, turning to look at him.
"What?" I snap, voice sharp.
"The way I see it, this solves both our problems."
"No," I reply, "you've just found a way to twist my problem into somehow aligning with your problem."
"Marriage is all about compromise," he says, an irrepressible grin crossing his face.
I grit my teeth. Before he can stop me, I roll the window down and shout, "Stop unloading boxes! Take it back to the address you took them from!"
They don't listen. They're probably too well-paid to adhere to the rants of random women on the street.
"Home sweet home," Wolf comments.
"Home sweet hell," I correct, sighing.
"Give me a chance. Get to know me."
I swing the door open and get out without giving him an answer. His words tug at me, but I refuse to let him see that. "I better have my own room," I growl, snatching my purse from the seat and shutting the car door with an almighty slam.
"Of course," he says, voice gentle and pacifying. "I knew you wouldn't have it any other way."
I watch as the last of the movers exits the van. As the metal door glides back up into a closed position and the latch clicks into place, I can't help the uneasy feeling that has slithered into my chest, like I've just signed my own death warrant.
"Wolf," I say, sighing. "You better have plans to feed me, or I'm outta here."
"So you'll stay?"
"You're not exactly giving me much of a choice."
"Yeah, but it's not in the contract that you have to live with me before marriage..." he trails off.
"Now's the time you decide to acknowledge your heavy-handedness?" I gape. "After you've weaseled your way into getting me to spend the evening with you?"
Wolfram shrugs. "Better late than never."
What have I let myself in for?
I pull my phone out while Wolf leads the way to the building's entrance.
Change of plans, I text to Levi. You wouldn't believe what your brother's done now.
Author's Note: Yoo hoo, guys :) Another chapter of AMOC for your reading pleasure! It felt great to actually write something since the last few days I've been feverish and feeling like crap. I actually felt a lot better today so I sat down and wrote out this chapter.
I would love to know your thoughts about this chapter! Do you think Charlotte made the right call in playing along with Liza's assumption? Do you think Wolf has turned over a new leaf? Do you think the truth about Charlotte's "marriage" will ever come out to her clients?
Please don't forget to vote and comment! :) Thank you.