Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (29 page)

When I went downstairs at five, Calvin was already waiting in the lobby. No show-stopping gown was necessary for looks like his. A classic tuxedo brought out his best. I gave a low wolf whistle. Calvin turned, smiling, eyes brighter than I’d ever seen them. His dark hair was slicked back, and he was freshly shaven, accentuating his strong jaw.

“You sure clean up nice, Mr. Chambers,” I said, winking at him coyly as I approached.

“You’re gorgeous in that,” he answered, pulling me toward him, lowering his lips to mine in a long kiss. “I’ve been thinking you in that dress all day. You don’t disappoint.” His eyes drank in the form-fitting silk, clinging to my every curve.

“Are you hungry?” he asked gently when he pulled away.

“Actually,” I said, “I am.” I was relieved to discover that it was true. I was hungry—not famished, not craving six steaks and a three-pound side of potatoes—just hungry.

“Good. I have reservations at the best sushi restaurant in town.” He took my hand and led me out of the lobby where a sleek white limo waited for us. Calvin was in an incredible mood, smile never leaving his lips. He was more playful, seemed less troubled than he often was, and I felt myself want him even more.

When we were done with dinner, I resisted the urge to stretch and rub my tummy, given my formal getup. I wanted to, though. “You weren’t kidding. That really was the best sushi I’ve ever had,” I said, sucking the last drop of sake out of my glass. “Thank you for tonight, Calvin; I’ve had a great time.”

“Tonight? The night’s barely started.”

“There’s more?”

“Absolutely. Do I look like a man who’d take his date home after dinner?” His lips twitched playfully. “Especially when you’re dressed like that?”

“No,” I agreed. “You do not. So where are you taking me then, if not home?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever been to the opera?”

I sucked in a fast breath. “Don’t tell me you’re taking me to the Met! Seriously!” I couldn’t repress a squeal. I’d always wanted to go.

“I had a feeling you’d approve,” he said with an adorably smug smile. “We should be on our way.” The Met took my breath away. It was lit from within, a giant lantern, lighting the city. The bubbling fountain in front drew us in, invited us, escorted us. It was a monument to the arts, the performing arts, that I’d always wanted to see. And in life, it was overwhelming. No postcard has ever done it justice.

And you might think it promises too much. You might imagine that the interior couldn’t possibly live up to what the exterior hints at. But it can, it does, and in fact, it exceeds what you expected. Sophistication, yes. Was I full of awe? Yes. But I was also comfortable. Welcomed. Caressed by the warmth and beauty all around me.

Calvin wouldn’t tell me what we were seeing until the curtain rose, covering my eyes as we went past posters, hiding the program from me. When the orchestra raised their bows, touched their wands to the string, I recognized the music at once.

“My favorite!” I whispered excitedly.

“I know,” Calvin answered with a mischievous smile, lacing his fingers among mine and squeezing. “I did a little research.”

I sat up in my chair eagerly, squeezing back, thrilled to experience
Turandot
. It was one of my favorites, a haunting love story about an ice-hearted princess and her resilient suitor. I was spellbound for the entire performance. When the curtain fell, the audience, myself included, clamored to their feet, filling the theater with thunderous applause. 

The audience poured out of the theater, the cool night welcoming us into its arms, smelling crisp and alive. “Tired yet?” Calvin asked, eyes twinkling.

“Not even!” Quite the opposite in fact. I felt energized, awakened after the opera, the powerful librettos still ringing in my ear.

“Good,” he said, holding the door of the limo open for me. “We have one more stop.”

Our limo arrived at a tall, geometric hotel where we bypassed a line that wrapped around the street block. Hundreds of people, women in short dresses, men in sport coats, bouncing impatiently, shivering in the chilly air. Apparently, Calvin wasn’t up for that kind of wait. He nodded to the bouncer, who lifted the velvet rope, welcoming us to Shade. We stepped into a glass elevator and rode to the top floor where an open-air, rooftop bar buzzed with intoxicating energy.

A private lounge had been set in the corner of the swanky space, featuring a smoldering firepit. As soon as we were seated, a waiter appeared, offering me a glass of champagne, while Calvin selected a red wine for himself. The stars glowed in the sky. It felt like a dream, a good one this time, no nightmare. The air was chilly, but heat lamps lined the perimeter of the space, creating an envelope of warmth.

“Here’s to you,” Calvin said, raising his glass to mine.

It was difficult to believe that, the night before, I’d been sitting in a dark, dank jail cell. I clinked my glass to his with a smile. But it faded as I ran over the events of the last couple of days. Things felt perfect now, but the nightmare wasn’t necessarily over.

“What’s wrong?” Calvin asked.

“
Chloe betrayed me, she’s the one that slept with Brandon,” I whispered.

“Your best friend? This just keeps getting worse and worse. Look, I’m sorry that it didn’t seem like I was honest with all these other betrayals around you, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I know you will,” I said. “But I want to just forget about Chloe. Besides, I found out this morning I have a court date in three weeks,” I said quietly. “For the hearing. I feel so stupid. What if I’m convicted? If this goes on my record…”

“It won’t,” Calvin said confidently. “As you said, it’s your first offense. You have a clean record, and I happen to have the best lawyer in New York. I’ve already arranged for him to represent you. He’s never taken a case he can’t win.”

“But what if—”

“No what ifs. He’ll take care of you.
I’ll
take care of you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want you to worry about it, Sabrina.”

I hoped he was right, comforted by his confidence. I forced an optimistic smile. “OK, I won’t think about it. Let’s talk about something a little more exciting.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Calvin agreed.

“So guess what I did this morning.” A grin itched to spread across my face.

“What?” Calvin asked, taking the bait. He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“I met with a realtor,” I said, unable to contain the smile. “She showed me a few apartments that just came on the market. I’m thinking of putting in an offer on one later this week. She said she had two or three more to show me, but there’s this one—it’s perfect. Two-bedroom,
huge
living room—huge for New York, anyway—and it’s right over this tiny Italian restaurant, so when you first walk in, it smells like rosemary and garlic. It’s not as new as some others I saw, but it felt like home.” I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his response.

“Wait—,” Calvin interrupted. “You’re going to buy a place in the city?” His face didn’t give away much, but I thought I saw a flash of warmth in his eyes. “What about Boston?”

I shook my head. “That wouldn’t be for another two years, anyway, after graduation. I still need to finish undergrad, so I applied to transfer to NYU. Their dance program is light years beyond SMU’s. If I get in, it’ll open so many more doors for me.” I paused before continuing. “Plus, Dallas is too far from
you
.”

This time, Calvin didn’t try to disguise his pleasure, bringing his lips to mine in fierce approval. I could feel him smiling through his kiss.

“I take it that that’s OK with you,” I said when he pulled away.

“Yeah,” he said, studying me intently. “It’s more than OK.” My eyes stayed on his lips, on the small smile that lingered there.
Bliss.

“And you really aren’t worried about being sued by my dad? I feel like this is only going to add fuel to the fire.”

“No, I’m handling that. His money’s already been returned, and my lawyers have contacted his firm to negotiate a settlement. Without the money in my possession, there’s no real case against me. He’ll be advised to drop the suit. It would only be a waste of money and time. He can’t simply sue me for sleeping with his daughter.” He chuckled.

“Good,” I said. “He can be so stubborn. Vindictive, even.”

Calvin flashed another smile. “Nothing to worry about. I know how to handle men like that.”

At this point, it felt as if there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about my family, but I couldn’t say the same about his. “I’m glad you took me to meet Donna,” I said slowly, looking for the right way to ask him for more details.

“She loved you, just as I told you she would,” he said, leaning against the banquette and taking another sip of his wine.

“Is she your father’s sister or mother’s?” I asked.

His eyes seemed to darken, but his face remained impassive. “She’s… she’s on my mother’s side.”

“I feel as if there’s still so much I don’t know about your family…” I trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“There isn’t much more to know. My father was an abusive sociopath; he hated me from the moment I was born. It wasn’t long before I reciprocated the sentiment. When he went to jail, it was …” Calvin stopped for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“It was a relief,” he finished quietly. His voice was cool, businesslike, but his eyes were sad. “It’s not really a pleasant subject.”

“Sorry,” I said softly. “I just—”

“It’s fine, there’s really not any more to it, anyway.” We were quiet for a moment, Calvin staring into his glass of wine. He tilted the glass back, finishing it before meeting my gaze.

“Have I turned you into an opera fan?” His tone was light, but I could hear it was forced, his eyes revealing he was still thinking about his father.

“Absolutely!” I nodded a little too enthusiastically, wanting to make up for bringing up such a painful topic. “Oh, it was even better than I imagined. The costumes, the sets! The singing! It was—”

“I’m sorry, Sabrina,” Calvin interrupted. “I’ll be right back.” Abruptly, he stood, glass of wine in hand and strode through the crowd toward the back of the lounge.

I sat silently, picking at the array of fruits and cheese set before us. I hadn’t meant to upset him, rouse any sleeping demons, I just wanted to know more about his past, the “more” Donna had alluded to.
You and your big mouth, Sabrina. You just had to go digging. Way to ruin an evening.

Amid my self-deprecation, my cell phone rang, a sweet country melody reserved for my parents’ landline.
Home
the screen said. How ironic. How unhomelike it had become. I hesitated before answering.
What if it’s news about Brandon?
I thought before pressing the accept button, I had to make sure he was OK.

“Hello?” I said tentatively.

“How
decent
of you to finally pick up the phone,” my dad snarled.

Fantastic.
“Hi, Dad.”

”What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked, his voice cool. I could feel his contempt through the phone.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I answered calmly, proud of myself for maintaining my composure. “I don’t think there’s much I
can
say. You, on the other hand, could apologize for setting me up, for paying Calvin to bid on me.”

“Apologize?” he erupted. “
Me
apologize to
you
? To the person who’s embarrassed her entire family? Do you know how devastated your mother is? How humiliated we both are?”

“Right, Dad. Because this has been about you two all along. My feelings never were a thought.”

“I hope you feel ashamed, Sabrina! I hope you understand what you’re doing to your family, to the people who care most about you!”

“Care about
me
?” I scoffed. “Do you even hear yourself? You don’t even
know
me!”

“You know what I know?” he bellowed into the phone. “If you don’t get your disobedient ass back to Dallas this instant, we’re through with you. You’re out of this family!”

I felt sickened by his lack of empathy, his willingness to disown me so easily. When I spoke, my voice came out clear and steady.

“Dad, I’m going to say this one more time. I’m not coming back to Dallas. That is
my
decision. I’m not doing this for you, or for Mom, or for Brandon. And I’m not doing it to get back at you, either. Not anymore. But for
me
. You won’t like this, either, but I’m finishing school out here. Finishing my
dance
major. I know—another disappointment that I didn’t decide to pursue business or economics, but something I
love
, but I am an adult. I will make my decisions. I’m
happy
here. I’m happy with Calvin, and if you don’t accept that, that’s on you. If you can’t—if you
won’t
—try to understand, don’t bother calling me again.”