Page 7 of Arseni
MARGOT
I’m two bites into my sushi roll when a quick tap sounds on my office door.
Setting my chopsticks down and covering my sushi-filled mouth, I call out for the person to come in.It’s after eight, so most have gone home for the night, but there’s always one or two workaholic stragglers left until nine or so.
Austin King, a man fifteen years my senior with thick, salt and pepper hair many women in this building find irresistible, opens the door and props himself against the frame.His pinstripe suit reminds me of something a mobster would wear, but he manages to pull it off.It shouldn’t be surprising.Everything this man touches feels somehow classier, everyone he smiles at more important.
Everyone but me.
“You didn’t tell me you were having dinner.I would’ve joined you.”
My hand still covering my mouth, I hurry to swallow.The taste of cold salmon lingers on my tongue.
“I’m actually still working.”I point to my computer monitor.Nothing but my email is pulled up, so if he bothered to check, he’d see through the lie.But I don’t think people lie to Austin.He walks through life with beaming confidence that makes me think he’s never felt rejection.
“Nonsense,” he says, strutting into my office and taking up the chair across from me.“A beautiful woman like you should never eat alone.”
“Ah, my knight.”I force a smile.I don’t mention how I’ve spent the majority of my adult life eating dinners-for-one in silence at my optimistically large kitchen table.I swear to God, I regularly have to dust the unused chairs.
I click onto my work program and type in my credentials to look busy while he stares at me, not taking the hint.Nevertaking the hint.
“What are those for?”he asks.My eyes follow his narrowed gaze to the pillow and blanket on my sofa—the black leather all looks and zero comfort.
My words get caught in my throat for a moment before I recoup my composure.“It’s because of yesterday.Remember, I had thatmonstrousmigraine?”I lift my brows as if I’m waiting for him to confirm the false memory.His forehead wrinkled, he opens his mouth like he’ll question it, but I continue before he can get a word out.“Anyway, I figured I’d just keep those here in case I needed another impromptu nap.”
I don’t look at Austin’s face, instead pretending to read something on my monitor.But his disapproval makes the room feel hotter.I tug the collar of my shirt when I feel it hugging my neck too tightly.
“Margot…”
I look up from my computer at him, keeping my face as neutral as possible.
“Are you sleeping here again?”His eyes dance between me and the couch.
“What?”I pick up another slice of sushi and laugh.“No.I’m leaving as soon as I get this report finished.Suzette has been hounding me all?—”
“Is he back?”Austin’s voice is low, full of foreboding.
Tingles spread throughout my tense body while my throat closes up.I shake my head and nibble on the sushi to avoid having to speak.
“Shit.”Austin leans back and runs his hand through his hair.“Why would you not tell me?You arealwayswelcome at my place, Margot.You know that.”
I swallow and set down the food.“I know.And I appreciate it.I really do, but I’m not sleeping here.I’m going home just as soon as?—”
“Then let me come with you,” he says, a little too assertively.It sounds more like a command than a request.“If you’re not going to call the police, then you need some sort of protection.”
“I’ve spoken to the police many times,” I lie.I haven’t called them once.They can’t save me from my own mistakes.“They don’t have the resources to give me 24-hour surveillance for some stalker who’s never actually harmed me.”
“He’sterrorizingyou.”
I close my eyes and place my palms flat on my desk.My eyes begin to sting, but it isn’t out of fear or sadness.It’s out of pure frustration.For Austin, formyself.
My mind takes me to the night I told him I had a stalker, and I wish so badly I could go back in time and strangle myself.
We had just gotten back to my place after a date, and I was ready to kiss him goodnight, retreat inside, run off the three martinis he’d insisted on buying me, take a shower and go to bed.The entire date, I sat focused on him, listening to him go on and on about everything happening inside his mind.One drink in, I began searching for an escape.
I wanted to see this man as attractive as the women around me do.I wanted to be flattered by his attention.I wanted to feel giddy when he opened the door to his Mercedes for me, and I wanted to awe at his taste in fine wine.I wanted so badly to fall in love with this man.But I couldn’t.
Every time I’m with him, I wonder when he’ll see me for who I really am.Every time he talks about his travels, I wonder when he’ll ask how I spent my youth.What private school I went to.What vacations I took as a kid.What prom dress my mother took me to buy, and what boyfriends my father ran off.I’ve spent the last year terrified of those moments.I’ve fabricated lies in my head, studied old literature and world history, and all the while never spent a moment admiring the man I’ve been fooling.
