Dear Readers,
As always, any feedback, good, bad or ugly, is welcome. Again, this chapter is more relationship development and nothing too erotic, but it is primarily Denny and Alessa. Hope you enjoy it. And thanks again to Alreadytaken for taking the time to edit for me :)as well as priceless advice.
Enjoy!
Titania
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CHAPTER FOUR
I assume that your heart's been bruised, I'd like to know you
You don't know if I can draw at all, or what records I am into
If I sleep like a spoon or rarely at all, or maybe you would do? Or maybe you would do
If you walk my way I will keep my head, we will feel our way through the dark though I don't know you
I think that I would do
I don't fall easy at all.
"I Don't Know" -Lisa Hannigan
The crunch of the small gravel beneath her sneakers. The rushing breath out. The pulsing drum of traffic. Birds singing to the morning sun. Alessa heard none of those things that filled the park Sunday morning. She only heard piano keys playing in quick succession of each other, each measure building a more discordant feeling than the last, each building towards a crescendo that never seemed to peak. And then her phone rang, interrupting Philip Glass.
Alessa was more often than not inclined to ignore phone calls during her run. After all, it was her time for solitude, her only moment of relief from her racing mind. If her feet moved fast enough, her mind slowed and allowed her to just be. No more planning, no more fretting, no more calculating and devouring. Just stillness in the movement of her legs. But she was back to Fulton St and her run through the park over anyway.
"Yes," she answered in a huff, trying to catch her breath.
"What are you doing? Please tell me you're not at the office," Lou said on the other end.
Alessa didn't smile, but almost. "No, I'm not at the office. Just Sunday morning chores," she answered as she jogged across the street and into the Richmond district.
"Well, how about Sunday morning brunch?"
"I'm not going out to Oakland today," Alessa declined.
"No worries. I'm in the city. I know a fabulous little place, not far from you I think. Great Americanos. Interested?"
For a moment, Alessa was about to refuse, socializing with work colleagues wasn't exactly her style. But then she thought of her day; her work was finished, her run over, her apartment spotless, her groceries bought, the novel she'd been working through now complete. She had nothing.
"Alright," she agreed somberly, knowing she'd need to eat anyway. "Where? And when?"
Alessa took note of Lou's directions and agreed to meet her at the café in nearly two hours, though Lou's habit of arriving late more than likely meant it would be closer to two hours and forty-five minutes. Her walk back to her place was quiet, as it was relatively early yet. She had shut off her music, but kept the earbuds in to muffle any sound and instead tuned into the ever-decreasing pace of her heart beating in her ears.
Mr. Cho was out in his yard watering his plants when she walked up the drive. He called out to her and smiling, she went over to chat with her old landlord. Though he was in his mid-eighties, Alessa would have sworn he was no more than sixty-five, what with his smooth Chinese skin, glimmering eyes and verve of youth.
He asked how her run had gone, to which she replied invigorating.
"And your job good, too?" he inquired.
"Yes. It's a lot of work, but I'm enjoying it."
"Good, good. But still no boyfriend?" he asked sadly, frowning and shaking his head slowly.
She took a deep breath and smiled. "No. Not right now. I'm working too much."
"Aw, you girls are lucky. When I was young, my father choose for me to marry, but you have choice." Alessa considered his words, not knowing before he had had an arranged marriage. "But, I tell you truth. My wife, she very lovely, and I loved her instantly. Never once angry I marry her. A man is supposed to marry a woman. Just like he should have two arms. He can live with only one arm, but he is not complete."
Alessa felt cornered, and so gave an uncomfortable smile. "Oh, Mr. Cho, I didn't realize you were such a romantic."
"No one immune to love," was his simple reply.
She was quiet as she considered his words, but quickly tucked it all away and granted him a smile, and dismissed herself saying she had to get ready to meet a friend for brunch. As she showered, they crept in, those disloyal thoughts that reasoned if she had been correct, if her belief that love was merely a sham, why should she feel a longing that only it could satisfy?
Thankfully, though Lou had arrived predictably late to their agreed time, her vivacious behavior and funny stories of her weekend rescued Alessa, pulling her from the deep, dark of her mind. After, Alessa was tempted to go to the office and fill her time working, but decided instead to stop off at the used bookstore not far from her place. She grabbed a Jules Verne she hadn't yet read, and spent the rest of the day reading, finishing it that night before she went to bed.
On Monday, Alessa happily opened an ever-expanding task list at six-thirty that morning. Two hours earlier she had woken up with a clear mind that was voracious to be filled with whatever she could find, and so, instead of trying to go back to sleep, she dressed and headed to the office. She was pleased to find her responsibilities were fast-growing as more and more of the senior staff were beginning to rely on her for their research and memos. Two of them had even selected her to be part of their team for their new clients. Though she chastised herself for the thought, she hoped Denny noticed her success. She put it off as wanting to gloat that she had been the best choice despite his initial hostility toward her and her choice of school, but she couldn't quite squelch the accompanying desire to have him stroke her hair and praise her for it.
Once her tasks were organized, Alessa dove in, her mind craving the activity. She was thankful for the increased case load, hoping somehow it would fill her mind with thoughts other than Denny, and perhaps give her an excuse to beg off late night work sessions. However, she soon realized that wasn't the case; throughout the week, she had several meetings with the Mingo team, and at each subsequent meeting, she felt like a python's prey, hypnotized by the sight of his sculpted forearms, or the smell of his crisp and musky cologne as he leaned near, or his fingers raking in his hair, or those eyes unsettling her with ever gaze. Her growing attraction fast became an irritant in her mind.
It was the Wednesday afternoon lull, and Alessa knew if she was going to make it until at least eight-thirty she would need to have a caffeine fuel-up. She was standing before the expensive and slightly complicated espresso machine in the employee lounge when the sound of feet approaching behind her slipped just under her consciousness. And then she smelled the spice that was him.
A warmth seeped into her chest as she felt his presence behind her. And for reasons unknown to her, she was frozen, unable to move, unable to acknowledge him, but allowing him to invade her very personal space. She waited, but for what she could not have named.
His right arm moved from his side and reached around her to the cupboard, his chest hitting her shoulder as he leaned in to retrieve a double-walled, glass mug. After setting it down, his left arm followed suit, reaching past her into the opposite cupboard. This time, more than his chest brushed her, and when she felt her entire back come into contact with his firm front she nearly whimpered and leaned forward, placing her hands on the counter, thinking to escape, seeking support to hold her upright. But her movement didn't create any space between them as he only followed, pressing insistently into her. Grabbing the box of tea his hand had been searching for, he lowered his mouth to her ear, and in her surprise, she half turned to him, causing his lips to graze her skin. She shuddered from the electricity sparking down her spine.
"Your coffee's done," he informed her in a husky voice she could only think was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. And then he moved away from her, standing at the end of the counter to turn on the electric kettle. She stood, her body filled with a fine tremble, her anger, her confusion rising as she watched him open the box and rip open a packet and place the bag in his glass mug. He dispassionately watched the kettle until its button flipped, indicating his water was boiled. He poured the steaming liquid, the tea bag contents bleeding into the clear water with tendrils of gold. Denny picked up the cup and, as he turned to leave, looked her squarely in the eyes. His expression wasn't light and smiling. It was intense and challenging. "Alessa," he murmured with a nod of acknowledgment, and then left.
For the rest of the day Alessa felt brittle, keeping her head down and eyes cast up, watching out for him. But he kept his distance, and in his absence, she convinced herself her reaction had merely been an overreaction. She didn't know what was worse, the possibility that something significant had happened, or that she was merely too sensitive to him.
The following day, the entire team regrouped for another meeting. Alessa's mood was darkening considerably when she forced herself to believe he had meant nothing by his invasion of her space, and she had reacted like a silly, flighty schoolgirl with an over-romanticized crush. But at the meeting, Denny once again asked her to stay late that day to work on more translations and to begin drafting proposals for the Seoul office.
She was inclined to say no, to flat out refuse, but she couldn't. Not really. Not when she knew this case-her very first-was positioning her to begin serious advancement. And so, biting her cheek, attempting to refrain from scowling, she nodded, and then turned and left the conference room. This time she didn't even attempt to force herself to work. Instead, she immediately grabbed her running clothes, changed and hit the pavement hard. She was just emerging from the elevators when she bumped into Denny.
His surprise at her sweaty, red-faced appearance was evident, before he silently slipped past her onto the elevator, his appraising gaze never leaving her. Alessa stood, watching him watch her, and did not try to hide her scowl this time, which only served to make him smile in a dark, smirking fashion.
Damn! In that one look he had stripped everything she had just gained from her run. Quickly changing and getting back to her desk, she attempted to get back to her work, but the smell of his cologne, the feel of his chest pressed against her, those eyes kept resurfacing in her mind, making her dread the coming evening. And then, before she was even truly aware of it, she was up and marching to his office. She knew he wasn't there, but still her eyes darted about, making sure he wasn't about to reappear.
"Hi, Clare," she smiled brightly, feigning ease. "Mr. Ashbury isn't here, is he?" she asked, trying to sound hopeful.
"No, he left about thirty minutes ago," the middle age blonde informed her.
"Will he be back soon, do you think?"
"No, he's at a deposition the rest of the afternoon. Can I help you?"
Alessa tried to look disappointed. "Well, it's only that I knew he wanted me to work on some more of the Mingo translations this evening. I was hoping to get them done A.S.A.P. You couldn't help me out could you?" she looked hopeful again.
