Beware That Girl (31 page)

Olivia hit the stairs at 11:26 a.m. with reluctant legs.
One last time, one last time…
She knocked on his door at precisely 11:30 a.m.

“There’s my girl.” Mark’s smile matched his shirt, a beckoning white. “I love you in that dress.” He drew her into him. She did not allow a single part of her to recoil; instead, she
watched
herself. Olivia wore the capped-sleeve purple cashmere dress. Kate had picked it out.

His hands glided down her body and then up again.

“Hmm,” he growled. “Now take it off.”

She giggled and pushed him away. “Of course, my love.” She bit a corner of her lip. “But don’t you want to know about my brunch with the Wonders first? I have news. Appetizer news.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. He led her into the living room, seated her in the Le Corbusier chair and poured her a glass of wine before he sat down. He was pleased. “Appetizer?”

For the first time, she saw the elegant white-on-white room for what it was—a mask. Olivia leaned back and crossed her legs.

“Spring break is the entrée.” She sipped her wine in an effort to collect herself. “And dessert is my roommate.”

“Ah!” He leaned forward, arms on his knees. “Do tell, little angel.”

Olivia obliged, playfully recounting the Shaws’ invite to London. “The Wonders were even going to pay Kate’s fare. Just think of it,” she giggled.

Mark stood up. “Were they now?”

Did he pause?
Ah, when worlds collide.
Surely he’d be concerned about what “crazy” Serena might say, but he was so guarded. She waited for him to speak. He didn’t.

“Of course, I told them there was no way we could go, because Kate and I were headed to Rio!”

“Olivia…”

“It’s okay.” Could he hear her heart pounding? “I worked out the perfect compromise.”

He leaned in closer. Olivia caught an unmistakable whiff of Jo Malone Orange Blossom. Kate had been complaining for weeks that both Kruger and Draper were dousing themselves in the stuff.

One or the other had been here with him—in this apartment, this very morning. Olivia raised her eyes to meet his. Her body clenched. She could do this.

“Well, as you suspected, my father was all set to fly back home for break when I told him we were swamped with critical catch-up, so…I told him that we would wrap up all our schoolwork and join him for four days, missing the first Monday back at school, because who cares about the first Monday back in senior year? That gives me five whole days to delight you.”

He leaned back and away from her, considering. “Not bad.”

“I knew you’d be pleased.”
Smile. Remember to smile.

“And the most important news?” He looked at her with an open curiosity.

“Yes, Kate.” And then she did smile. They had rehearsed and rehearsed this part. “Well, she’s skittish, to say the least, and as you know, stubbornly resistant to your charms.”

He frowned.

“But that, no doubt, is a part of the attraction for you.”

“A very small part.”

Was that annoyance? She couldn’t risk annoyance.

“Well, as I said, we had a yummy chat about how wonderful you really are, how you want to help her—us—and how you have so much to offer.”
Smile more.
“And we’re very, very close, my love.” She risked standing up without being asked to. “Very. I’m thinking that you should just casually drop by that first weekend of break. The weekend is better because my housekeeper won’t be there; in fact, she’ll probably take a few days off to be with her sister. Brilliant?”

“Why the change of heart? I
know
her, Olivia. She fears me at best and loathes me at worst.” Mark looked amused, but then he seemed to be searching her, suspicious. She tried to rein in the panic. They hadn’t prepared for this.

“Yale,” she gulped.

His expression softened instantly. “Ah!”

“Yeah, I, uh, strung her a story about you having strong, um, ties to an old flame on the acceptance committee, and I said that you might be willing, uh, to…”

“Pull them on her behalf?”

“Yes. You know how demented she is about Yale and, well, it’s in your court now. I have no doubt that you can convince her of your powers. So like I said, come by on the weekend.”

“Olivia, you know that I can’t be seen—”

“No, no, of course not. I’ll let you know how to get in through the parking garage, and you can use the dedicated move-in elevator. No doorman, no cameras. See, I’ve thought it all through. And then you’ll just chat and be yourself, all sweet and generous and full of promises, and she won’t stand a chance. Maybe even that afternoon, in my penthouse…she’s that close. She wants Yale that much, and you know it.”

Olivia circled him, her hand trailing behind her, touching him the way he liked. She was very, very afraid. Kate insisted that she stay afraid, stay alert. No worries on that front.

“Oh, and you were right, of course.” Mark turned to face her. “She’s a virgin. I’m not even sure she’s ever been kissed. She’s mega-weird about guys touching her. I don’t know why.”

Finally a smile, the left dimple flashed. “You’ve done well, angel. Now scoot to the bedroom.” He smacked her bottom. “I’ll be right in. Prepare yourself.”

She kissed the back of his neck. “Please don’t make me wait too long.”

Olivia barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. Flat-out dread kept it quiet. The eggs Benedict and wine reappeared silently in one soft run. She swung open his medicine cabinet with fear ringing in her ears. Lots and lots of prescription bottles, but for who? Him or his trophies? She grabbed a tube of Crest 3D White, squeezed a line into her mouth and swallowed. She stared at her reflection, willing the toothpaste to stay down while she disrobed. Then she squirted another dab into her mouth and gulped some water directly from the faucet. She rinsed her mouth as quietly as possible.
Please, please, please.

Olivia barely got to the bed in time, posed and ready. Mark studied her as he took off his shirt and placed it on his suit holder, then removed his pants. She could do this. He was physically perfect, after all. Besides, she had pleased him. She had been
such
a good girl. Surely it would be better.

It wasn’t.

1:47 p.m.

When it was over, Mark traced his work with his index finger. Tracing but not touching. He only touched the crenulated edges of his previous work. “You rule my heart, you and you only. You’re exquisite, you know that, don’t you?” Then he kissed her eyes. No one had ever done that before. No one would ever likely do it again. “You’ve surprised me, over and over again. I didn’t expect that, Olivia.” He rose. “And now I must feed my glorious sovereign. I heard your tummy rumbling. Can’t have that.” He winked at her as he got back into his clothes.

She had made him happy and there was no denying that it still gave her a thrill, gave her pleasure. That it did so made her sick.

“I shall return with a feast!” He actually blew her a kiss as he turned to leave.

Olivia knew she had to move as soon as she heard the door shut. But she couldn’t. He had cut her again. There would be more scars. She started to gulp air.
Stop.
She and Kate had a plan. She couldn’t let this, all this, have been for nothing. Olivia got up. She looked at the floor to avoid catching herself in the mirror.
It’s okay. It’ll all be okay. We will go to Rio.

She stopped again.

She couldn’t wear a bikini. The marks—all those marks—would show. She didn’t look up.
You can do this. You are fierce. You are in a movie.
It was Kate’s voice. She could do this. Olivia opened the closet door and carefully reached into the back left corner. Please let it still be there, please. Her hand reached under the wicker basket. There. It
was
a photo album! He actually kept an album. She would buy a really cute one-piece, yeah, with adorable cutouts. Barneys had a bunch. She and Kate would go shopping together.

She clutched it to her but couldn’t will herself to open it. The album was edged in silver and covered in black crocodile.
Ever so tasteful, Mark.
It was smallish, maybe the size of an iPad mini.
Breathe. Breathe. Now!
Olivia opened the book and turned pages with fingers that were not complying. It was almost but not quite full. Her empty stomach threatened to rise again.

There were
so
many. Women, it was all women. Younger, slightly older. A lot of blondes. The photos seemed to go back years. The room spun. Olivia got to the bed before her legs gave out. Who were they? Why paper photos? Then she clutched her stomach. Of course. It was like Kate had said—he was so, so careful about his digital footprint, about his laptop, about his damn phone. All those convoluted rules about how to communicate with him. Digital doesn’t die.

But if you burn a photo, it’s gone forever.

Precious minutes slid by.
Have to move.
She knew this and yet still kept turning the pages, gazing at the beautiful faces—because, without exception, they
were
beautiful. Olivia paused just before she reached the end. It was as if she knew. Serena was not in there. Even now, after everything, Olivia noted it with a small, sharp satisfaction.
Serena, was it because you got away? Or because you didn’t matter enough?
And then she flipped the page.

No, Serena was not there.

But she was.

Her heart stopped. It was one of the shots that Halston took. A shot that Mark had asked him to take of her alone. Olivia’s was the second-to-last photo. She remembered that he had asked Halston to take one other individual shot. She tried to turn the page, flipped too many by mistake and had to make her way back.

Kate.

Dread coursed through her. She had to get out of there now.

Get out!

No! Don’t screw this up.

Olivia moved on unsteady legs and glanced at the clock. With fingers that still did not cooperate, she slid a few photos out of their sleeves. Sure enough, there in perfect script, on the back of each one, was a name. She tried to steady herself and focus enough to commit at least some of them to memory. Then she slipped them back in place and stumbled to the closet with her heart beating in her mouth. Was the binding facing her or the back wall or…? Wait.

Their photos. They were in there.

Damn you to hell! No, you don’t!

It was stupid. Crazy. Too big a risk.

But she had to.

Even with vibrating fingers, Olivia somehow managed to slide their two photos out of their cellophane sleeves. She raced to the living room and tucked them into the bottom of her Prada backpack, then staggered back into the bedroom. Her head was pounding and the names were already swirling.
Damn, damn!
She should have taken pictures with her phone. Too late now.
Damn!

It seemed to take a long time to find the exact pose he had left her in. Where was her left arm supposed to be? The sheets? Olivia heard the door open. She heard his footsteps. Heard him coming to her.

You’re watching a movie, you’re watching a movie, you’re…

It got so that I was talking to myself on the way to the office each morning. We were both a bit of a mess. I mean, she did it—pulled it off and everything—but the truth was that things were way, way scarier now. Olivia was unraveling. I could tell that guilt, shame and fear were having a party in her head. She felt gutted about retrieving only a couple of names.

“I know I should have got more. I should have got them all. I think I picked out at least three. Why can’t I remember more?” She hit her forehead. “I can only see the album. You should’ve seen the album—black crocodile. How perfect is that? And I see blondes, Kate. A lot of blondes. I screwed up.”

“Cut it out, will you?” I said for the three-hundredth time. “You walked buck naked into the jaws of hell. Two names are better than no names! And you got us—
our
photos—out of there. Clutch move!” I didn’t tell her that the clutch move was what was keeping me up at night. What if that pervert liked to drool over his little book on a regular basis? We’d be dead, for sure. I managed to keep that to myself. “So we’re cool. I’ll give the names to Johnny and then…” And then I was alarmingly fuzzy on the details, except that it couldn’t involve the cops. The cops would bring the media maggots. No way, never again. I would figure out a plan, and a good one.