Stuck with Him (4 page)

"How much did Mr. DuFour pay you?" "Are you upset that he's already left you for another woman?" "Is it true that you are about to lose your job?"

They shoved microphones in my face and pressed against me. The circle became tighter and tighter until I had nowhere to go. I couldn't run away if I tried. I was a trapped animal.

"Please be quiet!" I yelled. "I have something to say!"

But it was no use. I could barely even hear my own voice over the crowd. No one stopped to hear me.

Then, somewhere behind me, someone pushed. I fell forward. The concrete rushed up towards me and I closed my eyes. My hands jutted out to brace against the impact.

But they didn't find concrete. Strong arms wrapped around me, and I was surrounded by the scent of a familiar cologne.

"STOP."

The voice was strong, not scared. Not even angry. Just a matter of fact. As if it was only a given that this crowd of wild animals would listen to him. And they did.

In a moment, everything was quiet. I looked up, and it was him. Of course it was him.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said.

Tears came to my eyes and I buried my face into his chest.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay?"

"Okay," I said again, "I'll go with you. Just make it stop!"

Matt was quiet for a moment, and then he kissed the top of my head.
 

He bent down to whisper close to my ear, "okay."

I floated into the air as Matt picked me up. He walks towards the street and the crowd parted for him like he was some celebrity. Well,
of course
that's what he was.

There was a car waiting. As soon as Matt came near, someone came out and opened the door for him. I could see a momentary flash of confusion on the driver's face, but then he bowed and averted his eyes as if his boss wasn't carrying a strange black woman in his arms.

"Hastings," Matt said, "take us home."

"Right away, sir."

Gently, Matt lowered me onto the leather seat. He closed the door behind him and came in on the other side. After that, we left the crowd behind. A few of them followed, snapping pictures, but most of them just watched as we drove away.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked.

Without looking at him, I answered, "fine."

I didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk to him. Sure, he saved me, but being so close to him made my head spin. And that was bad. Already, I had my mind made up. Even if I let Matt protect me, I was
never
going to let him in. I couldn't. Love was out of the question.

As we drove, the neighborhood started to change. The buildings morphed from the unkempt complexes near my apartment to fancy houses. They were taller, sleeker, shinier. They had little canopies with valets standing outside, ready to help at a moment's notice.

A totally different world.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the window. Sure, I'd seen buildings like this on TV, but we kept driving to fancier neighborhoods. Soon we were near a building that was more impressive than any I had ever seen. Just
looking
at it gave me vertigo. I thought we'd pass it, but we didn't. The car stopped.

Hastings came out and opened the door for me, but I hesitated.

"Where
are
we?" I asked.

Matt laughed. "Weren't you listening? I
said
we were going home."

Chapter 7

I don't think I had ever been so happy
not
to be wearing a hoodie and tennis shoes. Of course, even with my dress and makeup, I still wasn't quite prepared for all of
this
.

The huge glass doors slid open and revealed the most impressive hotel lobby I'd ever seen. The place was filled with soft, warm light. The floor was either covered in rich, golden wood or creamy slabs of marble. Everywhere you could look, there were places to sit, chat, relax. This was the sort of place for people who had time to sit and do nothing.

I looked up and realized that the ceilings soared above me. It looked like it could swallow my whole apartment building in its height. One of the walls, near the bar, was completely filled with bottles of high-end champagne. Another wall, near what looked like a reading nook, overflowed with books.

As we walked forward, every single person in the hotel greeted us. Well, they greeted
Matt
.

"Welcome home Mr. DuFour," they said.

He didn't answer them. He just nodded and kept walking in the direction of the elevators. When one arrived, he held the door open and then entered behind me.

"Is
this
your home?" I asked. I still couldn't believe it.

"Well, no. I just stay in an apartment here from time to time," Matt said. Then he paused, and lowered his voice as if he didn't want me to hear, "but I
do
own the building."

For just a second, I lost my breath.

Matt took a special key out of his pocket and waved it before a scanner on the elevator. Once he did, the elevator jerked. I toppled in my heels and fell forward. He caught me.

"You really have problems with balance, don't you?" Matt asked. He laughed.

My body was pressed against his chest. I looked up with Matt and our eyes locked. He pulled me closer, but I pushed away.

"Why doesn't it show where we're going?" I asked, pointing to the elevator's screen.

"Well, they don't exactly like to advertise my penthouse to the regular customers," he said.

"You live in a penthouse?" I asked.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Instead of a hallway appearing before us, we were right in the middle of someone's home.
Matt's
home.

"Yeah, you could say that," he said.

My mouth dropped as I stepped out of the elevator. It felt like I could never get used to the amount of luxury he seemed to take for granted. While Matt kicked off his shoes, I was afraid my old heels would scuff the shining floor. My eyes darted everywhere, but I was afraid to move. It wasn't
my
home, after all.

Matt must've noticed my hesitation.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said and spread his arms out wide.

Humble
? Yeah right!

"Go ahead and look around. Get comfortable," he said. "I have some calls to make."

I watched as he walked over to a door that seemed to lead to some kind of office. He took out his cell phone and started to dial some numbers while closing the door behind him. Then I was all alone.

My eyes circled around me again. How in the world did I end up in a place like this? It seemed crazy. How could this be the same city? It didn't make sense.

The penthouse had huge glass windows, looking over the city. I walked up to them and gazed out. Below me, the people on the street seemed infinitely small. Tiny. Like ants who didn't even know about the kind of world I was experiencing now. Like me, just a few moments ago.

A bitter feeling developed in the pit of my stomach. I stepped away from the window.

The apartment had all the normal things: couches, a TV, a kitchen. You know, standard stuff. I guess Matt wasn't the kind of guy to have a waterfall in the middle of his living room.

But even though everything was
recognizable
, it wasn't
really
normal. It wasn't cluttered, like my mom's place, and it wasn't empty like mine. His decor was all sleek, clean lines, like it had just come out of an interior design catalog.

I walked up to the couch and ran my hand over it. What I felt was the softest leather I had ever touched in my life. My fingers simply sunk into it.

There were a bunch of open doors, and I walked through one of them. As soon as I entered, my heart jumped. The entire room was lined, from top to bottom, in books. Besides the books, they were only two other things in the room. A few lamps, and some comfortable cushions big enough to lay on. My eyes opened wide. It was like a scene out of my dreams!

There were authors that I knew, and even some that I didn't. I scanned the stacks, pleased that the books weren't just for show. Most of them had cracks in their spines, post-it notes, paper stuck between the pages. For some people, that would be sacrilege. For me, it was a sign of real love. (For the books, of course. Love for the books. )

Suddenly, I saw something. There were many rare books in Matt's collection, but one of them stuck out. Actually, when I first saw it, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I reached out and pulled down the book, my hands shaking.

Then there it was, on the first page:

Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, And Tragedies. Published According To The True Original Copies. On To Which Is Added, Seven Plays, Never Before Printed In Folio.

My eyes scanned down.

The Fourth Edition.

Once I had read it, I almost dropped the book. A fourth edition folio? It was worth more than I had ever made in my
entire life
! Over $200,000, and it was just sitting here in Matt's library?

As carefully as I could, I placed it back on the shelf and caught my breath. I looked around again at the books lining the walls. Just what kind of treasures did he have here? How many libraries would kill for a collection like this?

It was all too much for me at once. I walked out of the library.

"I was wondering where you had gotten to," Matt said.

He sat on the couch. On the table in front of him were a teapot, two cups, and two sandwiches. I walked over to him, looking at the food. My stomach grumbled. Had I been hungry all this time?

"Did you make this?" I asked.

He looked away, a little embarrassed, and ran his fingers through his hair.
 

"Yeah," he said. "I've been teaching myself to cook. My mom doesn't know how they never taught me, but I don't want to become one of those people who can't do anything for themselves. You know?"

No, I didn't know. I'd always had to do everything for myself. As the oldest daughter, I started cooking when I was only seven, standing on a stool.

 
When I didn't answer, Matt started to push the food to the side.

"Normally I have a chef make the food because I don't have time, but I sent all the servants home today. But if you don't want this, I can call them back –"

"No!" I said.

I hadn't meant to be so forceful. It was just that everything was so strange already, I didn't need to deal with other people too.

"No," I repeated, "this looks great."

I sat down and together we drank tea and ate the simple sandwiches. He wasn't a culinary genius, but my stomach didn't care. I was surprised by how much more relaxed I felt with my stomach full. Once we were done, I leaned back in the couch.

"So what would you like to do now?" Matt asked. "I took the day off to be with you, so we can do anything. We can stay here, or head out…"

The crowd of paparazzi flashed in my mind again.

"Let's stay here!" I said

As soon as I said it, I regretted the words. What was I supposed to do all alone with a man I barely knew? Of course, it wasn't like that hadn't happened before. But
that
time… I blushed, remembering just how intimate we had gotten. No. That wasn't happening again.

"Let's… Make it a movie night!" I said. Great. Good idea. "We never
did
get to watch Netflix."

Matt smiled at me, and I felt myself weaken for just a moment. He seemed amused.

"Great, I'll make the popcorn," he said.

I was impressed by his set-up. Instead of having to lean over a tiny laptop screen, he had Netflix built into his TV. All I had to do was click around to find a film. That was the problem. Every other thing I saw was a romance. Just what kind of guy watches this many chick flicks?

When the popcorn was done, I joked with him.

 
"You have a really girly taste in movies," I said.

He poured the warm, buttery goodness into some bowls.

"Oh, that's not me. That was my ex," he said. "She loved watching those things."

My stomach sank. I felt the smile leave my lips. What did it matter to me anyway?
Of course
he had ex-girlfriends. And I wasn't his girlfriend anyway. Not really. That's just what the paparazzi thought. Still, it was hard to shake the disappointment.

I forced a smile. "Maybe
you
should choose something."

We ended up watching a French drama. I don't think I had ever actually spent time with someone who would willingly choose a movie like that. Normally I was the one forcing my friends into the situation. It was like a trade-off: this time we would watch an existential French film, and next time we would watch the latest superhero flick. A good trade, right?

Before I knew it, we were both relaxed in front of the TV. We talked back and forth, joking about the characters and their situation. I wasn't even certain how many bowls of popcorn I had eaten. Once the movie was over, we couldn't stop there.

Matt found his favorite TV series and convinced me to watch it from episode one. In the blink of an eye, we had finished an entire season.

We were just about to start another season, when Matt paused. He looked out the window, and I followed his gaze. Somehow, without us noticing it, night had fallen.

"Guess we were having too much fun," he said.

My stomach growled and I clamped my hands over it. Maybe he didn't hear?

"I'm feeling kind of hungry," he said. "What about you?"

My cheeks burned, but I forced a smile. At least he was polite.

"It's definitely time for some dinner," I said.

"There is a three star Michelin restaurant in the neighborhood. If you want to, I could reserve the place for tonight. We'd have it all to ourselves."

He must've noticed the way that my hands were starting to shake already, because he added, "Or not. What do you normally have?"

"…Chinese," I said.

"You mean something like Momofuku Ko?"

"I mean take-out."

Matt was silent.

"Delivery," I said.

"Oh!" A wave of recognition came over Matt's face. "I've never done that before."

"Done what? Eaten Chinese?"