Title:
Only The Lonely
Chapter
Title: Play It By Ear
Author:
Restive Nature
Disclaimer:
I do not own the rights to Dark Angel. They belong to Cameron/ Eglee.
No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment
only.
Rating:
NC-17
Genre:
Fan Fiction
Type:
Romance, Humor
Pairing:
Max/ Alec
Summary:
A remake of the "Pretty Woman" movie, with Max and Alec in
the lead roles.
Spoilers/
Time line: This takes place pre-series. Due to the nature of the
fiction, some information will be different, but should not overly
affect the fiction.
Feedback:
Always welcome!
Distribution:
Ask first please.
A/N:
Getting close to the chapter I have been seeing in my mind since I
started this whole story!
Chapter
Thirteen
Play
It By Ear
Alec
stood at Max's side, slightly on edge. After the end of the opera, to
which the cast and orchestra had received tumultuous applause and
cheers, they had slowly made their way out of the Cale's opera box.
Alec had taken the expedient route of tucking Max firmly under his
arm and she had responded simply resting within his arm, leaning on
him slightly as they walked. Logan Cale, his potential ploy denied,
had offered his arm to his unsteady and precariously poised wife,
Valerie. The amount that she had drank through the night was near
astounding to Alec.
Once
free of the small confines of that room and back to the main lobby,
instead of joining the throng of people heading to the door, they had
followed after the elder Cale's, meeting up with the rest of their
guests. Jonas Cale had led them to a small antechamber that wasonly
such in relative terms to the rest of the building. Once there, he
announced that he had arranged with the opera house to join the
repast that they laid out for the various luminary of the stage and
musical presentations they scheduled.
The
musicians were the first to trickle in. They were famished,
apparently, since some of them, as Biggs encouraged them to explain,
were not allowed to eat several hours before a performance. It made
sense in the light that they did not want to contaminate their
instruments, in the wind section, with various extraneous debris in
their mouths. That had been the polite explanation.
Next
to come were the stars themselves. Tina Marchmont, recognized for her
patronage of the arts, was able to score a coup by having Domingo's
son stop by the table to greet them all and ask after their
impression of the work they had been presented with. Alec noted that
the transgenics and apparently Max had been amused by the elite
fawning over this man. Max had been truly appreciative in her
gratitude and enjoyment of his performance. The older man had flirted
with her and she had blushed prettily and with a strange air of
embarrassment that was foreign to what Alec knew of her nature,
ducked into his side again. This had pleased Domingo Ornelas and he
had complimented Alec on his companion's sweet nature in his native
Italian before farewelling the rest of the group. Luckily no one
asked Alec to translate. Because while Alec knew some, enough to
catch the gist of what Domingo Ornelas said, he was by no means
fluent.
The
evening had progressed until it seemed like everyone was nicely
soused, impressed by their own grandeur and making slight fools of
themselves. With a few exceptions of course. This all would have been
fine. Alec and his team were well used to using whatever means
available to glean the information they needed and like any other day
or night, were carefully guiding conversations along.
But
there were two things wrong with the chain of events as Alec saw
them. The first, was the usual that he had been dealing with for some
time in this mission now. And that was Logan Cale's dogged
determination that he be able to approach Max and do his own version
of information gathering. Who the hell did the guy think he was? A
reporter? His questions and insinuations were invasive and bordering
on flat out rude. And no matter how often Max rebuffed him, he just
didn't get it.
So
Alec was already on edge from this other pathetic excuse of a male
trying to hone in on his territory. And the other event of the night
was not one he could rightly explain. While he and Max had
transversed the area to the buffet of delicacies laid out, he had
felt the sensation of someone staring at him. Not thinking much of
it, he had surveyed the room, fully expecting it to be Cale. But the
man was leaning over, listening to something his cousin was saying,
focusing on his relative. Another slow move of his head and he caught
sight of a young woman, dark haired like the woman at his side, but
there was a naivety in her gaze that was not there with Max.
She
was pretty, certainly, but much too young for his taste. Probably
about fifteen, though one could see that she was trying to appear
much older. She was seated with a group of adults that were all much
more mature than she. Probably her parents or grandparents were among
them. She had been staring at Alec, her gaze unfocused for the most
part. So the first time, Alec had figured that he just happened to be
in her line of sight as they had walked. He dismissed that first
time.
He
had the idea that she seemed familiar, but there was nothing in his
mind that pinpointed a specific meeting of this girl. He figured that
it was most likely a case of having been around her at some party or
something within the last week. He and Max had continued walking and
the very briefest of moments was broken.
It
had happened again when Alec had risen to retrieve a glass of
refreshment for several of the ladies since he had wanted to stretch
his legs. Since Cale was off elsewhere, and Laurie was ensconced at
Max's side, he felt comfortable doing so. The second time, the girl's
eyes had been glued to him the entire time. He had, once he arrived
at the bartender's station, thrown her a curious glance of his own
and had to smile as she blushed and withdrew her eyes, looking down
to her lap. When she peeked up again, he had given her a bland,
understanding smile and then turned his attention back to making his
order. He had believed then that it was just a natural inclination of
a young girl, bored with the social scene, and gossip that didn't
matter to a teen and was fixating on someone closer to her own age.
It
was even commented on when he returned to the table. Margo
Cale had noted the interaction and leaned in to tease, “looks like
you've quite a little admirer, Alexander.”
“I
saw that,” Alec had grinned slightly. “I'm trying to recall if I
know her.” He had paused while various members of their table
turned to glance at the girl who was now toying with her fork on her
plate, her other hand demurely resting in her lap.
“Humph,”
Jonas had grunted out. “That's old Meyer and his cronies. Tried to
buy out my company when we were young,” he explained. “He's made
his fortune getting rich off of other's genius. Applies just the
right amount of bribery and other, mm, less savory tactics, eh boy,”
he hinted broadly. Alec and the others all had to refrain from
glancing at one another, because Jonas, they all knew, could have
been describing not only himself, but any of the other members of the
board on Cale Enterprises. It was the way of the business world these
days. “Not sure who the rest are,” he went on. He made his own
leering perusal of the lone girl among the men and women and Alec
felt suddenly sorry for her. “Meyer has all grandsons.'” He
turned back to the table. “After I shot him down, Meyer bought out
a conglomerate in Texas and started slowly expanding northward. I
hear he's got quite a spread down there on the Texas Mexico line.”
Tim's
question about how the economic down turn; which was the rich and
terminally blind, self absorbed way of referring to the pulse, had
affected Meyer's expansion caught Jonas' full attention. Especially
since he was able to cut down his old enemy, while inflating his own
road to success in the story. Alec was grateful that attention had
turned away from that particular subject. It felt wrong somehow, to
have Jonas' eyes on a girl that young. Even if she was being groomed
as a socialite as the evidence of her presence that evening might
suggest. He had turned to Max and she had smiled and pressed a kiss
to his jaw line.
“I
can't imagine someone better for her to have a little party crush
on,” she had whispered in his ear and he was amused by the twinkle
in her eye as she had glanced at the girl, who had blushed even
deeper at being caught by Alec's apparent partner in whatever sense
the girl imagined Max to be. He had been touched by the gracious warm
smile Max had offered the girl and the small salute with her glass
that the girl had responded to. It had made him wonder idly, how many
young girls Max might have already taken under her wing.
It
was the third and final time that evening, as they were all preparing
to leave, that sent chills over Alec. He and Max were standing,
politely waiting as others in their group gathered up their
belonging's in what was Alec's worst moment. The other two had been
explainable in his mind. But when they had stepped back, his arm
around Max's shoulder and hers around his waist, to make room for the
Meyer's party to leave the opera house dining room, that he had heard
clearly, the girl's voice.
It
was high and clear, like many young women. It wasn't how she talked,
but what she talked of. As they passed, the girl was explaining that
she thought opera was okay. And thanks to her parents dislike of
raucous hip hop of the younger generation, she had developed a real
love of jazz music.
Those
words, the reference to jazz had brought an automatic surfacing of a
brief image to Alec's mind. Hands, his hands, on a piano keyboard. It
was such a strange incongruous moment, a black and white impression,
a flash, that he dismissed it. Especially when he heard Max's voice,
as if through a tunnel.
“Alex,
are you ready sweetie?” she had asked softly. He had enough
training that he was able to bring himself back immediately and after
ascertaining that their group was now semi waiting on him, smile down
at her.
“Sorry,”
he apologized briefly. “My mind was wandering. Yes, I'm ready.”
And together with Max, holding hands now, they had left the building,
and headed to the limousines stationed there for the evening's return
to the airport.
Once
they were boarded and take off accomplished, the conversation was
much more quiet, subdued over what it had been earlier. That was
understandable as time caught up with them and the excitement of the
evening was pretty much over. The goal of exciting, tantalizing and
producing a masterpiece of entertainment achieved, the Cale's were
content to let others lead conversations of their own choosing. They,
mostly the senior Cale's just sat back and basked in the other's
appreciation of them. Logan had had to excuse himself to carry his
now sleeping wife to a small room in the back, as her snoring was
interrupting the quiet contentment the rest were feeling.
And
since both Alec and Max were just relaxing, or so it seemed, without
contributing much to the conversations, he was able to think more on
this disturbing image that kept pressing in on him. He could almost
freeze the moment in his mind. His own hands he recognized well
enough. Bare armed, no sleeves, his nails short as per Manticore
decree for personal grooming in their soldiers. Poised over the
counterpoint color keys of the piano. There was no sound, little
movement and absolutely nothing beyond that.
And
Alec could not prompt more of the thought, fearing that it was more
than that. That this thing, this prompt in his mind was actually
memory. It scared him in a way. He knew that Manticore had used
genetic altering to boost his mental capacities. They'd also used
tried and true techniques from various cultures, taught them to the
soldiers, instilled in them perfect recall. It was necessary that the
soldiers could recall each and every small detail that might pertain
to missions and events that Manticore could capitalize on.
But
this memory thought was not among the missions that Alec could
recall. And that left one supposition and one only. This memory was
from the mission that Alec had failed. One that he could not easily
handle thinking about. Because aside from the vague dates of when
this mission had occurred, that he had worked out for himself, there
was nothing left of it. He had been informed after the fact, that all
relevant material had been related and then removed. By the dreaded
rtansgenic team that Manticore employed for the worst of offenses.
The psy-ops group. But they hadn't removed the memories of the
punishment he had endured for his failure.
And
when it wasn't the wondering of what the image meant in general and
specifically to him, it was remembering those horrible days as
realization of what he had done, had suffered and through him, what
his unit had endured. It had all surfaced and shamed, shaped him to
who and what he was now.
It
wasn't a particularly pleasant process, even at this later date.
Understanding
that this definitely wasn't the time or place for this, Alec forced
the thoughts away from his mind. He turned instead to wondering what
specific moments, what exactly had prompted these thoughts. And it
all kept pointing back to one thing. That girl. Seeing her, thinking
that he knew her, it had prompted this. Because if he hadn't noticed
then would the thoughts have come up?
But
did he know her? She had looked familiar to him before the memory
thought had appeared. But she had not acted like she had known him.
Had he perhaps seen her before on one of his missions? Had she seen
him? They were questions to which he had absolutely no answers, and
though he knew the name of the party that she was associated with, he
had no ability in contacting her further down the road and digging
into this.
And
knowing Manticore's penchance for making their soldiers toe the line,
he wasn't sure that it would be a wise idea.
It
grated, horrifically that he was caught in this stagnant moment
between fear, remembered pain, imagined pain and the knowledge that
something fundamentally vital was missing from him. It was almost as
if the answers were hovering just under the surface, but he had no
idea how to break through to them.
As
the flight neared SeaTac, Alec could feel his temper and ability to
tolerate he bullshit that the older folks were piling out was
fraying. It was difficult to smile politely as the others were doing
and exchange the final gushing moments as they exited. There were
reminders from several quarters about the plans for the next day as
they began to part to their conveyances.
Alec
heard his name called by the elder Cale and sighed heavily as he
paused. Max however, just rubbed his arm once and then squeezed his
bicep. “Just hang on, okay.” Without bothering to explain
herself, she turned and moved the few yards back to the couple. Alec
heard quite distinctly, though her voice was lowered, her murmured
explanations that Alec had developed a tension headache and it was
best she just get him back to the hotel with a cold compress.
There
was an offer to call Jonas' personal physician but Max demurred. She
explained that she had helped him with this before, as she usually
did, which she certainly had, though it wasn't exactly a headache. At
least on the occasion that Alec knew she must be referring to. But as
usual, her observance of him had brought her quite close to the
truth. With renewed good nights, the couples turned away from each
other, Jonas figuring on having his secretary call him tomorrow. Alec
was grateful as Max slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, as
he had thrust his hands into his pockets so that he wouldn't betray
his annoyance with visibly clenching fists.
“Ready?”
she whispered as they began to move. He helped her climb into their
limousine and followed after her. There was no need for directions
and the ride back to the hotel was silent but for the normal sounds
of the vehicle. Once there, they reversed the process and while Alec
was sure that Max gave everyone they passed apologetic smiles, he was
stoic and unyielding. Just as Manticore would want it.
But
once they were in the hotel room, Alec found it extremely stifling.
Even Max, with her soft eyes, dark hair and solicitous attitude, what
he was paying her for, was starting to annoy him. This problem gnawed
at his belly and he wasn't going to find surcease from it any time
soon he decided. And realizing that, he decided that it was
completely unfair of him to remain and end up taking it out on Max.
It was her action of removing the necklace lined with the
eavesdropping device that prompted his decision. He settled the box
on the entry table and took the necklace from her, swiping off the
switch as he place the jewelry into it's lining. He closed the box
and nudged it away from himself in distaste.
“You
know what,” he announced suddenly and Max looked up at him and he
could see that he had startled her. She was in the process of
removing her gloves, unbuttoning an impossibly long row of pearls to
do so. “All that sitting... I'm gonna go for a walk.”
“Oh,”
she exclaimed and blinked several times. “Did you want me to go
with you?” she asked politely, though he could see that she was
trying to make sense of what was going on.
“No
thanks,” he smiled tightly. “It's been a long night. I won't be
long.” Turning swiftly on his heel, he exited the hotel room and
headed back to the elevator that they had just used.
*****
Max
stared at the clock on the bedside night stand. The glowing red
lights had reached two in the morning, a little earlier. And despite
the fact that she had encouraged herself to take advantage of Alec's
hours and the nice, comfortable king sized bed provided, she was
unable to sleep tonight. And it wasn't because of the shark DNA that
she was endowed with. She could sleep all she wanted. She just didn't
require it to function properly, like other ordinary people did.
It
had been after midnight when she and Alec had returned to the suite.
He had left almost immediately again, which was already puzzling her.
The evening had been such a success, aside from Logan Cale's hovering
and attampts at ingratiating that were purely annoyance. But
something towards the end of the night had set Alec off. And she
couldn't imagine what it had been. While they flew on the airplane
back from Los Angeles, he had been quiet, withdrawn in a manner that
she had not really seen in him. That could have been excused after
all the excitement of the night. But that didn't seem likely.
Alec
was a young man and had stamina and virility in spades. This was the
lifestyle to which he was accustomed. But her excuse of his having an
headache, didn't quite ring true either. But it was an excuse that
had worked before and she had used it because he had looked at the
end of this tether.
But
she had been expecting, fully, when they returned to the suite that
he might enjoy some down time with her. Whether it be sex or chat,
perhaps a shower together again would have been nice. But he had just
left.
Not
that he had to spend every hour with her. That wasn't what he was
paying her for, Max reminded herself. No, he was paying for her to be
available to him. And if he didn't want to be with her right this
moment, there was nothing she could say or do about it. Other than
leave. But that would mean leaving without getting paid, and she
couldn't afford that.
So
Max rolled over to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Wondering if
she should order a little something to have on hand for when he got
back. Or if there was anything good on television that she could find
at this hour. Or perhaps she should just run herself a bath. Thinking
about anything but why his behavior, strange or otherwise, mattered
so much to her.
Not
long after Max began another round of deliberation of what exactly
she would do to pass the time, the telephone by the bed, as well as
the one in the other room, rang. Luckily, the telephone by the bed
had been turned to low, since they'd not needed any wake up calls.
Wondering if it were Alec, Max rolled over swiftly to pick up the
receiver.
“Hello?”
she asked softly.
“Ms.
Guevara?” a male's voice, a familiar one, sounded in her ear. “This
is Silvio, down in the lounge.”
“Oh
yes,” she recognized him as soon as he announced his name, having
seen him occasionally about the hotel. “Is everything all right?”
she wondered immediately.
“As
well as can be expected,” Silvio chuckled, but it sounded quite
humorless to Max. “We were just clearing up from the evening,” he
began to explain and Max momentarily wondered if she or Alec had left
or forgotten something there since that was where they had met for
the evening out. But why would they call now? They'd have waited
until morning. “And I was wondering...”
“Yes?”
she prompted and this time Silvio's muffled chuckled was more true to
the spirit of the sound.
“Would
it be possible for you to come down and assist Mr. McDowell up to bed
ma'am?” Silvio asked, seeming to Max to try and sound as
professional as possible. She had to smile at that. All this time
wondering where he was and Alec was downstairs getting drunk. She
should have known.
“I'll
be right there,” she assured him and gently set the phone back on
it's cradle.
Throwing
back the covers and rolling out of the bed, Max debated changing. But
it wasn't as if she were going to be leaving the hotel proper. She
was just going to nip down and grab Alec and come right back up. And
it wasn't as if her nightgown that she had chosen was any more
revealing than some of her nightlife wear. For this life anyways. Her
other life, out on the streets, she would definitely be overdressed.
Reaching
into just inside the bathroom, Max retrieved on of the fresh robes
that housekeeping had placed there earlier in the evening while they
were gone, as had been requested. She pulled on the thick white
covering, the crest of the hotel embroidered in fine, bold stitching.
Eschewing slippers, Max slipped the key card on the dining room table
where she had left it, into the pocket and moved out of the suite.
Padding on fairly silent feet to the elevator, she pressed the down
button and waited just a moment for it to arrive.
When
the doors opened, she was greeted by the cheerful face of one of the
night bellhops. He tipped his cap politely to her as she entered the
small box. “Ms. Guevara. Silvio sent me up with the elevator.”
“Yes,”
she smiled as the man's thoughtfulness in not making her wait. Of
course, the evening's were probably very slow for the worker's, so
any change in routine was probably welcome. “I hear I have a
package to pick up,” she teased, wondering how obnoxious Alec might
get. Though she had seen him drink, champagne on some occasions,
Scotch on others, she had not seen him drunk.
“Yes,”
the young man Michael, agreed and then sighed. “I'll be sad for it
to end. But housekeeping needs to vacuum in there.”
“For
what to end?” Max asked as she felt their descent slowing. Michael
just shook his head. The doors slid open and he gestured towards the
lobby.
“You'll
see ma'am,” was all he offered.
With
a strange questioning look, Max then mentally shrugged her shoulders
and headed out of the elevator and into the hallway leading to the
lobby. Before she fully reached the main area, she veered off to the
lounge. The black leather and padded double doors were both closed
and since the lounge hours were posted as five in the afternoon until
two in the morning, she could see why. Reaching out her hand for the
handle, Max pulled, finding it unlocked to her surprise. But then,
they had called her.
What
stunned her even further was the rich swell of piano music tinkling
over to her ears. She was by no means a musician or a critic of the
same, but it sounded rich, full and angry. Very soulful and pained.
Whomever had created those notes was hurting. She stepped inside,
wondering why they would have the music turned up so loud, unless it
was for the cleaning crew. But she found that usually their tastes
ran more to hip hop or rap, or at least something upbeat that made
the work seem to go faster.
As
it was, as she moved past some of the potted plants there in the
entry way, she could see that Silvio was hanging glasses in the wine
glass rack. Another woman, in the housekeeping uniform was running a
vacuum cleaner in the far corner. And as she moved around the
partition, she saw at once what Michael meant. It wasn't just music
playing, it was Alec.
His
tuxedo coat discarded, the white sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his
body tense and intent as his hands flew over the keys to create those
melodic, empathetic yearnings and speechless emotions. She glanced
towards the bar once more and Silvio, catching her eye, lifted his
chin in acknowledgment. She wondered how long Alec had been down
here. Had he just come here or ended up here after his walk? Sighing,
she padded over to where he was still playing, apparently oblivious
to his surrounding.
She
reached, hesitantly, once she was standing beside him, for his
shoulder. He hadn't acknowledged her arrival and didn't seem ready to
stop playing. But the moment her fingers touched his shoulder, he
tensed up even further and the notes stopped suddenly. “Alec?”
she asked quietly. And then, when he heard her voice, he relaxed, his
body sagging, his hands flopping to rest on the keys of the piano. He
turned his face slightly.
“Max?”
his voice sounded gritty, but clear, to her ears. As if no drink had
passed his lips. At least not recently. Had he been down here just
playing the piano? “What are you doing down here?”
“I
came to get you,” she offered gently. “Is everything all right?”
she wondered. He barked a short laugh and then shook his head, though
he still wouldn't face her fully.
“No,”
he snapped, but then softened his tone. “No, everything is not
okay.”
Something
about his defeated posture tore at her heartstrings and Max inched
closer. She reached her hand from his shoulder to run her fingers
through his hair. “What's going on sweetie?” she asked, mindful
of the other ears in the area. Alec, obviously tired, turned into her
ministrations, leaning his temple into her palm.
“It's
nothing,” he mumbled and she could see his fingers, still at the
piano keys, clenching. She continued what massaging she could of his
scalp.
“It's
not nothing if it has you this upset,” Max countered softly. And
for some reason that caused Alec to laugh.
“No,”
he explained quickly, “when I said nothing, I meant exactly that.
Nothing.”
“I
don't understand,” Max replied helplessly. At that point, he
finally turned his face to hers, staring up at her, almost like a
lost boy searching for guidance.
“It's
not something that I talk about with other people,” he told her
immediately and Max, sensing that this was of course, very sensitive
material, nodded quickly. “A while ago, I was... in an accident.”
The words were clipped, but Max could see the effect they had by the
shudder that ran through him.
“I'm
sorry,” she offered. There was no notice of her words it seemed, as
he went on.
“Unfortunately,
I retain no memories of the incident,” his voice sounded strange to
her ears, cold, dead and she felt a pang in her heart, remembering
times when she had been like that. All too recently in memory. Taking
on that coldness to make it from moment to moment to keep from losing
your own self completely in the bad surrounding you.
“No,
wait,” he spoke slowly, like he wasn't exactly speaking to her
anymore. “I take that back. I remember one or two things. Just
flashes. But they mean nothing.”
“Taken
out of context,” Max nodded her understanding and Alec glanced up
at her, looking almost like he was surprised that she was there at
all. “Have you spoken to a doctor about it?” she wondered. And
immediately he was shaking his head in the negative.
“Even
if I did,” he grunted in a dissatisfied manner, “they'd all say
the same thing. I remember just prior to the incident and afterwards.
It's just that the actual incident. It's gone. After this long
it's... doubtful that I'll ever regain those memories,” he sighed.
“It
must have been pretty traumatic,” Max winced as Alec shuddered
again.
“How
would you know that?” he asked after a moment.
“I've
um, read a few things about retrograde amnesia,” she told him and
his eyebrows went up and she received a soft, very brief smile.
“Everything I have read says that it usually happens because of
significant damage to memory centers in the brain, or because of a
traumatic incident. And because you're functioning in excellent
capacity in other areas, I kind of doubt you have brain damage.”
“Well,
you're correct in that,” he grunted. “The scars are all
elsewhere.” The tight grin that he gave her told her that he was
only sort of joking. “It's just... these flashes,” he sighed.
“Have
created a huge gaping hole in you,” Max finished for him. He looked
straight at her now as she held his gaze. “And there are times you
wonder if it truly happened or if it's just a dream that seems so
real. And it feels like there's no way to know for sure, because you
can't go back, but sometimes it's like you can't go forward either.”
She
was quiet as she said it, thinking back, Manticore, the seizures,
running, Eva dying, more running, thinking she was going to die,
right there, that night, by gunfire, by torture, by drowning, not
knowing where the others were all these long years. But somehow, Alec
seemed to be handling his fear of the unknown worse than she. It was
almost as if he were carrying her pain in the moment as well as her
own and his face near crumpled as he reached for her hands and after
squeezing them once, reached for her hips and pulled her unresisting
body forward.
The
discordant notes that sounded abruptly as he pulled her before him,
where he was seated on the piano bench, were largely ignored by them
and those still in the lounge. Max, knowing that the piano keys
themselves probably shouldn't be sat upon, figured they could bear
her weight for a minute or two. Alec, his head bowed and pressed into
her stomach was more important.
“How
is it that you know?” his voice was muffled and she reached to
stroke both hands through his hair, comforting as best as she was
able.
“I'm
no stranger to trauma either Alec,” she spoke quietly, for his ears
only and at that admission, his arms slid around her waist as he held
on to her with as much strength as he could muster. Max allowed it
for several minutes, but the sound of the vacuum coming nearer,
reminded her of what else was going on.
“You
know what I like most about you?” Alec asked of her then, his voice
sounding clearer than it had since she'd arrived downstairs.
“What's
that?” she asked with a genuine smile, glad to know that the
despairing moment seemed to have passed. He pulled back to look up at
her earnestly.
“That
I can just let go and be myself with you,” he enthused easily. The
smirk on his face was endearing more than mocking. “I never seem to
have to worry about anything when you're here. You make it all... I
don't know. How do you do that?”
“Sincerity,”
she smiled teasingly. “People say it all the time. I'm really
sincere.”
“I
can see that,” he nodded solemnly. The hands that had been
encircling her waist now loosened and slid back around to her front.
One slipped under the robe she wore, the look on his face not
faltering once.
“Alec?”
she asked and wondered if she were warning or entreating. Who knew
that comforting another human being in pain was... seductive, in its
own way, because obviously he felt it too. He winked once at her and
then pulled back to look over the room at large.
“Excuse
me, ladies and gentlemen!” he called out to be heard over the
vacuum cleaner still running. The hotel workers responded quickly,
turning away from what they were doing. And the woman stilled the
machine. “I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor and give
Ms. Guevara and I a moment of complete privacy?”
There
were nods of assent and some soft, indulgent smiles as the workers
set things down and as a group, proceeded to leave the lounge. The
door made a soft whoosh as it shut behind the last of them.
“You
were saying?” Alec grinned up at her.
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