Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

For Sale

The law firm’s receptionist, a beautiful woman who looks like Adriana Lima, blooms and flutters and melts and smiles the moment she sees Aiden. I think even her tongue is wagging a little. It’s not until the clearing of his throat that she comes back to earth and leads us to a large conference room, her hips swaying a little more than natural movement allows.

Six lawyers stand up in unison the moment Aiden enters. They’re all in suits and I’m sure they’re quite wealthy in their own right. Yet, by the way they simper at the sight of him, he owns them. Aiden keeps his customary physical distance even when they shake hands. He introduces me as “Elisa Snow, a friend”.

I memorize the lawyers’ names, especially the oldest, Bob Norman, who is the chair of the firm’s immigration law department. He has a Santa Claus belly and fluffy white hair, and is about seventy years old. His smart gray eyes twinkle in his gentle face. The others seem to be regular suits, probably surprised to be called into this urgent meeting only to face a young woman instead of an army of immigration police.

Aiden leads me to the wall side of the enormous, black marble table, and we all take our seats. Another pattern chooses this moment to fall into place. I’ve never seen him sit with his back exposed. Not even in his home. Hmm… I file this observation under the ever-expanding Aiden Hale file for later.

“So, Elisa,” Bob starts with an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and I can see if we can help.”

“Thank you, Bob. And thank you to the rest of you,” I say, grateful that my voice is calm and betrays nothing of the jungle inside.

I tell the lawyers everything. The hundreds of forms, the tens of applications, the three visa types, even my illegal modeling at Feign Art. They scribble furiously, Bob nodding most of the time, his eyes wide. In the end, there is a very long pause. I look at each of their faces as they stare at the download of information on their notepads. Finally, Bob speaks.

“My dear girl! You’ve really done your best, haven’t you?”

I don’t know why my throat tightens all of a sudden. Perhaps it’s his twinkly eyes, his wheezy voice that reminds me of Grandpa Snow or his kind words. Whatever the reason, I cannot talk without my voice shaking so I simply nod and doodle atomic orbits on my notepad.

“So that leaves one mystery,” Bob probes gently. “Surely if you know enough to have done all this, I suspect you know the only options left.”

“I think so, but you’re the experts.”

Aiden speaks for the first time. “I insisted, Bob. I don’t know the options and I’d like to be thoroughly briefed on all alternatives.”

Bob nods again. “Well, in a nutshell, she’s in a real bind. She came here on an exchange student visa, which makes sense because she was partially funded by Oxford, but it deprives her of some avenues open to other students. So now she only has some temporary options and three permanent options.”

“What do you mean by that?” Aiden’s voice is hard. It’s obvious that he is out of his depth and that this is rare for him.

“Well, temporary visas are for those who don’t intend to live here and, like her student visa, eventually they’d all expire. And when they do, she would have to return.”

“That sounds ludicrous.” Aiden states the obvious. “Why go through all that if she’ll be in the same spot down the road?”

Bob turns to me. “Elisa, am I right that you want to live here forever? Immigrate, as it were? Instead of these temporary options?”

“Yes, that’s what I want. But if I have to leave, I’d rather do it now. Later would be much harder. More connections…” I don’t risk looking at Aiden, but I can feel his eyes boring into me as my voice trails off.

“On the other hand, it may buy you some time. Time to pursue one of the permanent options,” Bob suggests kindly.

“What are the permanent options?” Aiden demands again.

Bob looks him squarely in the eye. How much has he guessed about our relationship? “Marriage to a U.S. citizen, Mr. Hale, a million dollars or an act of Congress.”

Silence follows his words. I peek at Aiden.

“Marriage is
not
an option,” he says through his teeth so sharply that the lawyers fall back in their chairs.

His tone is so cutting that I turn my face away reflexively like he just slapped me. Not because I was expecting him to marry me, but because of the way he said the words. With a bitter edge of anger, almost revulsion. So public too. He would never react like this if he saw even a glimmer of potential for us.

I wrap my fingers around my dad’s watch, trying to find my lungs or any part of my body that I recognize. I’m in too deep. Even though I knew this would eventually end, I allowed myself to feel this way. To fall this hard, this quickly.
Foolish Elisa.
I want to run as far away from here as possible. I should have listened to Javier. I should have listened to that little voice in my head.

Bob recovers first. “Well, in that case, Elisa, do you have any other marriage options?”

I want to look down but this is too fundamental to face with downcast eyes. I look Bob in the eye. “No, Bob. And I didn’t come to this meeting to wheedle a marriage proposal.”

My statement is meant for one man in particular and he knows it. As he must know that he just ended any chance we had together with his humiliating reaction. I don’t look his way.

Bob smiles kindly. “I think that’s very clear, dear. I don’t think a woman like you would be in want of a husband if that was her goal. And, in any event, I should tell you that marriage likely wouldn’t work here if you’re entering a brand-new relationship.” His eyes flit to Aiden and back to me. “You see, the CIS examines marriages to non-U.S. citizens very closely for fraud. If you only found someone now and were married in the next few days, your green card would almost certainly get denied. You need to prove some history before you can convince the government.”

I nod, ignoring a ramrod-straight Aiden next to me. Bob gives me a grandpa smile and turns to Aiden, looking a bit frosty.

“You wanted to hear the other permanent options, Mr. Hale, so here they are. She can try to get Congress to approve her to stay but that’s happened only a few times in the history of this country, it takes a long time and frankly, she has a better chance of winning the Powerball.

“The other option is that she does indeed win the Powerball or, said less dramatically, that she comes across one million dollars and invests it in an American business. She can effectively attempt to buy her green card that way.” Bob’s voice has none of the warmth it has when he addresses me.

To my surprise, Aiden relaxes and leans back in his chair. He must have heard something he likes because he is not biting the man’s head off for daring to address him in such a manner.

“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll just give her the money.” He sounds like he just bought a car. Or a prostitute.

Suddenly, it all makes sense. He said it himself when we were at Paradox. He is selfish. Only I was too lost in my own fantasy to accept it. He wanted to fuck the girl in the paintings. Well, he did. But then she became too real in the morning. And now, to ease any guilt he feels for using a poor orphan, he’ll just throw some cash at her.

Well, I don’t have much but I have dignity. I stand up. Everyone looks at me in surprise, but they stand with me.

“Gentlemen, I’d like to speak to Mr. Hale alone. Is there somewhere I can do that?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ghosts

“Sure, Elisa.” Bob recovers first and leads us out of the room. I follow, not bothering to see if the Wanker of the Century is behind me. If he is not, I’ll take the elevator down and go home. Bob shows us to a smaller conference room with no windows and leaves.

I walk in, keeping my back to the door. I hear it close and turn slowly, afraid that if I rush, I will rip off his head and maybe even his impressive dick. He looks wary. As he should be.

“All right, Elisa. Let’s talk about this.”

I grit my teeth together and glare at him. “Yes, let’s. Maybe you can start for once. Is a million dollars the going rate for a virgin these days?”

At first, he frowns and then all expression leaves his face as he turns to stone. “You think I’m buying you?”

“Forty thousand for a half-naked painting. God knows how much for the others. And the hymen—oh, that’s the crown jewel.” I put as much sarcasm and ice in my voice as I can.

Under my glower, his face changes to fury. Flexed jaw, flared nostrils, thin lips and narrow dark eyes.

“I’m
not
paying you for sex. I’m doing this to help you,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Help me?
Me?
Really? You gain no benefit from this at all?”

“That’s not the point. The point is—”

“Let me save you the trouble and the breath, Aiden. The point is to give the poor little orphan girl money from the overflowing coffers of the billionaire who only wanted to fuck her. You weren’t counting on conversation, on sharing more than a bed, meals and money. When she became a person, instead of a portrait, that ruined your fantasy. Only you’re too decent to take an orphan girl’s virginity and then dump her on the streets, right?” My body is shaking with anger. I have minutes, maybe even seconds, before the dams burst. “A million dollars for the luxury of believing that you did right by me must be quite a bargain for someone like you. You can keep your millions, Aiden. The sex was on the house.” With that, I march right past him to the door. His arm flies out and he stops my exit.

I glare at him. “Get out of my way.”

“No. You’ve said your piece, and what a piece it was. Now you get to hear mine.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Tough. I’m not paying for fucking you. Take it from someone who knows, Elisa. Sex with you would not cost millions. In fact, it wouldn’t—”

I can’t hear any more. “You’re right. It would not. Maybe you can find something cheaper and better somewhere else. It’s my own fault, not yours. What a fool I was! Our entire relationship—if it even deserves that name—started out as a commercial transaction. You paying for me to pose naked. Now paying for the aftermath. What an expensive mistake you must think you made!”

“Enough!” he yells, as the tenuous grip we both had on our emotions all morning—in fact, the past two days—gives out. The air thickens and stills, heavy with the venom, resentment, demons and anger we just dumped on it. His entire frame is shaking with rage.

“I am not. Paying you. For sex.” He punctuates his words. “You’re right about the other things though. Yes, I wanted to fuck you. And I enjoyed it. Tremendously. I would do it again and again. I’d fuck you here. Right now. But it would not change the fact that as we got to know each other, it became painfully obvious that I’m not right for you and you’re not right for me. So, yes, I could have been more direct this morning but despite my realization, I still wanted to make sure you were not in trouble. And frankly, I’m glad I did because, apparently, you do need my overflowing coffers that you so disdain. So I’m trying to help. I can’t be with you but that does not mean that you have to be exiled in some forsaken town surrounded by ghosts.” He stops and he is breathing hard.

I lean against the conference room wall. Each word he spoke—each awful truth—was a blow. So this is his conclusion. He can’t be with me. Even though I knew our days were numbered before we even began, hearing him acknowledge it stabs deeper than I imagined—a lot deeper than I knew I had room to hurt.

Yet worse than all his words are his last ones.
Surrounded by ghosts
. My ghosts are not coming back, no matter how alive I try to keep them. My throat burns as tears singe my eyes. I notice that his posture changes somehow, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“You’re right,” I whisper. “They are ghosts.”

I don’t ask him the questions that are burning in my brain.
Why doesn’t he want me? Why does he think we are not right?
None of that matters. He just does. Someday, maybe I will figure it out. But not today. Today, I just have to survive.

“Elisa.” There is pain in his voice. The composure is gone for him too. He tries to put his index finger under my chin but I turn my face away. “Elisa, you have to start living your own life. That’s what I’m offering. Will you accept it?”

I think it through as best I can. I don’t have other options. This could fix it all, could remove any uncertainty. I could find a job. Get a home. Work hard. Help the Solises. And maybe one day, even lay my ghosts to rest. I take a deep breath and look up at him. He looks like he is burning—his eyes almost midnight. I have to take the noose off his neck.

“I accept your offer but on one condition.”

“What condition?”

“That you don’t gift the money to me. Despite your motivation, to me it will always feel like a sale price. So, I’d like to strike a bargain with you. Like I tried at my presentation. Will you consider buying my supplement?”

He takes a step back. “You’d sell your father’s supplement to me after all this?” he whispers, dismayed.

“Yes. It’s a fair bargain at arms’ length, since that’s the relationship you want. You’d be overpaying for it at first but if you get it approved and tested, I think you could make money on it. In exchange, I’ll also offer to invest the money you pay in one of your companies. As Bob will tell you, I need to create at least ten American jobs, excluding myself. You wouldn’t have to deal with me, would not lose control and would not be out a dime. And I’d get my green card. It’s a win-win.”

Something like awe spreads over his face. “Would it be a win-win? For something that means so much to you?”

“I’ve had time to adjust to letting it go for this reason. Despite what happened between us today, I trust that you will not misuse it. Your companies are solid and ethical, and they’ll last for a long time. They’ll be a good home for it.”

He watches me. His eyes change emotion fast but I’m too wiped out to understand them. I look away, exhausted. He steps back abruptly and starts pacing. His posture is odd. Like he is on some invisible tether and would much rather walk a different direction. Eventually, he stops pacing and turns to me.

“I’ll buy your supplement.” He sounds tired, or resigned.

“Then we have a deal. Thank you,” I say and I mean it. Awful though he was today, he is also helping. You can’t force someone to want you. But you can be hurt and pissed. And I’m both but I’ll deal with it on my own.

“Shall we go back to Bob and let him know?” I ask.

He nods but his eyes are far away.

We walk out of the small room to the large conference hall. I’m sure I look like I was crying but I can’t do anything about it. When they see us come in, the lawyers sit back down.

“Elisa, have you made a decision?” Bob addresses me, ignoring the man who is paying his bill.

“Yes, I have. I’ll go with the permanent investment option. Mr. Hale will buy my supplement and I’ll invest the money in one of his businesses.”

“It’s a good option. But I have to warn you that even with this, there is a good chance that the visa won’t come on time. We’ll do our absolute best but I still want you to be prepared that you may have to go to England for a while and then come back.”

“How long would I have to be in England?”

“A few months.
If
it gets approved. If it does not, you’d be stuck there until a different opportunity presents itself, if one does. So it would be
prudent
for you to still say your goodbyes and live as if this may not work out. It’s always traumatic when the immigrant has not prepared for the worst. It haunts them for life.” Bob’s voice becomes very quiet, and he leans across the table. “How does that sound, Elisa?”

I smile at the kind man. “It sounds as good as it can.” I can live through a few months in England if it means I’m coming back. True, it’s still an “if” but it will have to do.

“And lastly, dear, you said you’ve modeled for Feign Art sometimes. Does anyone else know about that involvement?”

Javier but there is no way I’m implicating him. That’s a secret even from my lawyer. “Mr. Hale, Feign and my family.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way because if it comes out, it can jeopardize you. After all, it was illegal work. It’s best if you avoid any involvement with Feign Art altogether.”

“I promise. Is there anything else I can do to help the process?”

“Just follow the rules and don’t risk any trouble. Don’t work at the lab now that your student visa is expired. And don’t get into any situations that may cast doubt on your moral character. Fair or unfair, the CIS expects green card applicants to be squeaky clean.”

“I understand—I’ll be careful. I want to spend this time with my family anyway.”

Bob smiles. “Very good. Now, Mr. Hale, you can transfer the money into our client trust account and we’ll hold it until it’s ready to be released.”

Aiden simply nods. His face looks carved in stone.

“On a more personal note, Elisa—” Bob turns to me, “—I’d like to represent you pro bono. You qualify for it and if you were my daughter—no offense, Mr. Hale—I wouldn’t want you tied to the pocket of any man.”

“Bob, that’s very kind of you. Truly. But I can’t—” I start to protest, but Bob waves his hand gently.

“It’s the least we can do for someone so bright. Consider it a service to my own country if that will make the charity easier to accept.”

I can’t refuse him. This is exactly why I want to stay here—because of people like him.

“Thank you, Bob. Very kind.”

“Good. Now, if there’s nothing else, we should adjourn.” He props himself up from his chair and shakes our hands. Then with a final smile he leaves, taking with him the only buffer I had from Aiden’s presence.

Now that it’s just us, the pain returns tenfold. My first goodbye, maybe. Or my last, depending on how this turns out.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he offers.

I have made it without wailing until now but I don’t have much reserve left.

“No, thank you. I’ll call a taxi.” I smile and extend my hand.

He takes it and holds it instead of shaking it. “You still have a few things at my place. I’ll have Benson drop them off.” His voice is soft.

I try to remember what I left behind—it feels like millennia ago. Just my toiletries. And his gifts, but I couldn’t bear seeing them after this.

“No need, Mr. Hale. I have another toothbrush.”

His eyes still but he nods. Perhaps he understands I don’t want his gifts. “I’ll call you with the business details. I’m aiming for Thursday. Does that work for you?” He is still holding my hand.

“Thursday is fine—thank you. Goodbye, Mr. Hale.” I pull my hand back and walk out of the conference room, past the reception desk, and to the elevators. When the doors close behind me, I break.