Legally Obligated (5 page)

“But all we’re doing is talking around it,” Raisa said. “We could have chatted in the park down the street.”

“Actually, this is part of the interview,” Lance calmly responded. “Did you really think I was going to start off by asking you what your goals are and how you feel you’d benefit the company?”  He laughed and shook his head. “Or maybe you thought I would give you some absurd aptitude test, as if a few inane questions were capable of measuring someone’s true potential?”

“Maybe that is what I thought,” Raisa said. “Why did you bring me here?  What is this place?” She glanced around at lounge. “Is this some kind of ... “

“This ‘place’, as you call it, reeks of history,” Lance said. “It started off as a speakeasy before becoming a brothel and subsequently a private club. This building possesses a soul, a memory of the extraordinary minds that have sat at these very tables.”

Raisa blinked at Lance. Judging by the behavior around her, she could only wonder if brothel was present tense as opposed to past.

“You’re stalling, Raisa. Stop over-thinking. Stop over-speculating. Can’t you just tell me what you want?”

The abruptness of Lance’s tone startled her. “You know what I want,” Raisa said. “Why do you keep asking me the same question?”

“Do I?  You mentioned wanting to repay me for my help. Being the gentlemen that I am, I didn’t want to press the matter of financials considering your situation.”

“I need to find another job.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Raisa felt her frustration surge. The situation had suddenly become impossible, yet she was indebted to Lance for helping her. The alternatives would have ruined her life, but she didn’t like this bizarre game he was intent on playing.

“But I just answered you,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice calm.

“Bullshit. You told me what you need. You either didn’t understand or listen to my question. I asked you what you
want
.”

Raisa blinked. She suddenly felt very suffocated by the decadent opulence surrounding her and wanted nothing more at that moment then to flee into the fresh air. Taking a deep breath, she sipped at her drink and felt the potent alcohol soothe away her anxiety.

“I want to be financially independent,” she finally said. “I want to have a career, not just a job, and I want to be successful at it.”

Lance smiled, clasped her hand and raised it to his lips. The gesture was so unexpectedly gentle that Raisa could only stare at him.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? A simple answer to a simple question.”  He paused to take another deep sip of his Martini.

Raisa followed suit, finding her taste for the cocktail growing. Noticing this, Lance glanced toward the bar. Though Raisa saw no one actually acknowledge him, the waiter that had earlier served them magically appeared with a tray of fresh Martinis.

Glancing at the waiter, a slim, somewhat effeminate man with pale cornsilk hair and dove gray eyes, Raisa noticed the tip of a colorful tattoo peeking from the gold braided collar of his smart black uniform. His right ear was also multiply pierced. Though he glanced only fleetingly at Lance as he collected the empty glasses, Raisa noticed a vibe between the two that implied a more intimate connection.

“Would you like to order something, Raisa?” Lance asked, catching her scrutiny. “Everything on the menu is quite delicious.”

“No ... thank you,” Raisa said uncomfortably. “Maybe later.”

She sipped her Martini and tried to focus, her head already beginning to feel fuzzy. Like it or not, she was Lance’s captive as driving was no longer an option, but in reality, she had nowhere else to go. Perhaps the day could still be salvaged if she could get past Lance’s confrontational behavior. It was certainly no mystery why he was such a successful attorney. Like a shark, he could easily shred anyone’s defense.

Her phone buzzed softly from her purse. She reached over to retrieve it when Lance slammed his fist on the table, startling her.

“This is a phone-free zone,” Lance said. “Here we deal only with face to face, as uncomfortable as that may be.”

Raisa grabbed her purse and rose. She had been through enough the past few days and Lance’s presumptuous arrogance was more than she wanted or needed to deal with. Anger suffused her, but it was directed more toward herself than Lance. Once again she had placed herself in a vulnerable position, and once again she had fallen on her face like a clueless child.

“Thank you helping me, Lance,” she said, “but I don’t think there’s anything more left to discuss.”

“Sit down, Raisa.”

The silken steel of Lance’s voice pinioned her to the spot. Agitated, her face flushed from the Martini, she glanced around at the oblivious staff and patrons as if seeking help from a friendly face or concerned look, but no one seemed remotely interested in her little outburst.

“I said, sit down. Now.”

Raisa whirled around. “Who the hell are you to give me orders?” she cried. “You don’t own me. I don’t even know you!”

Lance stared appraisingly at her a moment before a taunting smile lifted his lips.

“Thank God,” he said. “I was wondering how long it was going to take to finally drag the butterfly out of her chrysalis.”

Raisa sank back into her chair. “Would you please tell me what’s going on, Lance?”  She shook her head. “You keep talking in metaphors and all were doing is just going around in circles.”

“You’re the one making things difficult, Raisa. All I’ve been trying to do is get a simple answer to a simple five-word question. Tell me what you want.”

Raisa sighed, realizing that she either played the game or sat drinking Martinis until she ended up going home in a cab.

“I guess ... I thought things were going to be different when I moved here,” she finally said.

Lance leaned toward her as though finally hearing something of genuine interest.

“Go on.”

“My parents weren’t too happy about me relocating to the East coast. They thought I’d find a local job or at least something within a reasonable commute.”

“Let me guess,” Lance said. “They were afraid of the big bad wolf?”

Looking at Lance, Raisa could only wonder if he did indeed exist.

“It was the distance more than anything,” she continued. “We’ve always been a close family. They just weren’t happy about not seeing me very often. My younger brother graduates from college this year and he already has a job lined up in San Francisco.”

“So both chicks have flown the coop, so to speak.”

Raisa nodded. “If I tell them what happened ...” She let the words trail away.

For the first time, Lance smiled with genuine warmth.

“Love binds us in so many ways, doesn’t it?” he said. “Whether the shackles are silk, steel or rope, they restrain us just the same.”

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” she said.

“That’s the only way to put it. If we stopped acting like shadow puppets and expressed ourselves truthfully, we wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences.” 

He paused to take a sip of his drink. Raisa marveled at how unaffected he seemed by the alcohol that was now giving her a distinct buzz.

“So what do you want, Raisa?”

She hesitated, the words somehow difficult to express.

“I want to be free,” she said, “but I don’t quite know what that means.”

“Take your time. I’m not going to grade you on your answer.”

“I always wanted to travel,” Raisa continued. “When I was in high school I went on a class trip to Europe. It was one of the most exciting experiences of my life. I decided I wanted to pursue a career that was both creative but also offered a chance to travel.”

“What happened?”

“The economy happened,” she said after a brief pause. “My dad lost his job but managed to find another one, but parents told me if they were going to pay for my tuition, it had to be for a degree that I could use.”

“I see. And how did they define a ‘useful degree’?”

“Something that would enable me to find work regardless of the economy; something under the corporate umbrella.”

“As in the job you were just fired from?”

“I wasn’t fired,” Raisa bristled. “The entire department was laid off. The company’s moving to a smaller location.”

“Bullshit politically correct terminology,” Lance said. “You were fired. Let go. Laid off. Company downsized. All the same definition.”

Raisa could offer no response. However it was phrased, she was still out of a job.

“What do you parents do?”

Raisa hesitated. “Dad’s a financial manager. Mom’s a CPA.”

Lance grinned wolfishly. “What a surprise. And baby brother?”

“He’s going into architecture.”

“I give him points for creativity,” Lance said.

“What’s so creative about being an attorney?” Raisa challenged.

“Good question, Raisa,” Lance said, rolling the ‘R’ of her name. “Perhaps if you recall how I got the charges against you dropped this morning, you’ll understand that being a truly successful advocate involves creativity, psychology and a Shakespearean sense of drama.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you,” Raisa said.

Lance’s eyes twinkled. “Exactly my point. This is what I’m trying to teach you. Did you think that losing your job might have just opened the door to the opportunity you’ve been looking for?”  He motioned toward the other members. “Take a look around you. Who do you think they are?  People off the street, looking to have a quick drink before they rush like lemmings back to the office?”

“
They look successful,” Raisa said, glancing around. “I can see by the way they’re dressed, and to be a member in a place like this can’t be cheap.”  She faltered, disconcerted by the two young men at the far table openly kissing, their behavior eliciting no response from anyone but her.

Lance studied her mixed reaction. “Something else on your mind?  Perhaps your own sexuality, which I’m willing to bet is about as vanilla as it gets?”

Raisa shook her head, noting that Lance’s shock value was beginning to lessen. Though she hated to admit it, perhaps there was some logic in what he said.

“You think you know me that well?” she asked. “You really are one of the most arrogant people I’ve ever met.”

Lance laughed heartily. “I take that as a compliment,” he said, taking a generous swig of his Martini. “Raisa with fire in her eyes, now that’s a sight to behold!”

He set his glass down, rose and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s continue this upstairs. We can be more comfortable there.”

Feeling the firm grip of his hand, Raisa hesitated. “Upstairs?” 

“I live in the penthouse. I own this building, which has been in my family for two generations.”

A tiny voice protested deep inside her mind, but Raisa quashed it as Lance led her toward the elevator. Though she felt eyes following her, no one raised their head or even looked at them as they stepped into the mirrored interior.

Lance pressed an illuminated button indicating the penthouse. The elevator ascended slowly and quietly, the silence augmented by Lance’s proximity to Raisa. Standing against the mirrored wall, she tried not to squirm as she felt the heat emanate from his body. Sensing her reaction, Lance pressed himself closer until barely an inch separated them.