Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (18 page)

“Sabrina,” Brandon said urgently, “you don’t have to go through with anything. Come home. Come back to me. Please? I love you. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A small ache pierced my heart. How easy. Just get on a plane and go back to Dallas. Pretend this was all a crazy dream; marry Brandon, just as we planned. Is that what I wanted?

I thought of lying in Calvin’s arms on the plane. “What if I’ve already gone through with it?” I asked.

“Have you?” Brandon’s voice grew sharper. “Did something happen between you and this… this
guy
?”

Close enough,
I thought. And I did not intend to lie, no reason to protect him. “Yes,” I answered, not letting my voice waver.

I could hear Brandon breathing heavily into the phone. “How could you, Sabrina? What were you thinking?”

“What was I
thinking
?” I retorted. “I was thinking that my fiancé cheated on me with my
friend
. I was thinking that I saved my virginity for someone who acted as if it meant nothing to him. I was
thinking
that I didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to do what I wanted to do.”

“I didn’t think you were like that,” Brandon said angrily.

I couldn’t believe him. “Like what, Brandon?” I asked. I threw the blanket off me and began to pace around the room. “I didn’t
cheat on anyone.
I didn’t do a damn thing wrong.”

“Sabrina, I—”

“No. This conversation is over. I don’t have to explain myself to you. Go to hell.” I threw my phone on the bed . It bounced twice, landing softly on the floor.

What did he think? That I would sit around mourning our relationship, deciding to die a virgin? Or that I’d take him back, and let him have my virginity after he disrespected me and my feelings for him like that?  That he was the only one with sexual desires? How dare he judge me! Hypocrite! I took a deep breath, angry that I let the conversation rattle me. From the floor, my phone rang again, and I glared at it angrily. Brandon called five more times before my phone fell silent, finally obeying my commands. There was nothing left to say to him. The last thing I needed was judgment and accusations, especially from my cheating fiancé.

But a call to Chloe might be in order, I decided. She picked up on the first ring.

“Sabrina! Well, did you do it yet?
”

I laughed in spite of myself.  “You have a one track mind!” I giggled. “But actually, I was calling about Brandon.  He just called me, and I answered. Like an idiot.”

“Why’d you bother answering? Seriously? He’s not worth talking to. You ought to just block his number, girl.”

I sighed. “Yeah… but doesn’t that seem… I don’t know. Harsh? All those years together and then just… never talk to him again? It seems like throwing away a huge part of my life…”

Chloe put on her bossy voice. “He’s the one who threw it away, Sabrina.  He’s the one who gave up on you the second he decided to fuck Caitlin. Forget him! Yeah, it sucks about the wedding and all the time you were together, but I know you, Sabs. I know you will never be able to put that behind you. Am I wrong?”

“No,” I said quietly. “You’re right. By the way… has Caitlin been around?  Bothered to show her face? You know, I never really got confirmation that it was her.”

“Nah, I haven’t heard one thing about her since she moved,” Chloe said. “Not that I expected to. She’s probably too ashamed to show her face around here.”

“Convenient for her, I guess,” I said. But it bugged me. Not that confronting Caitlin would do me any good, I knew. “It’s just weird, she never struck me as that type,, Chloe.  She was pretty quiet and…”

“Oh, Sabs, you are the most naïve person in the world sometimes,” Chloe interrupted. “It’s always the quiet ones. Besides, who else could it have been? Look, it doesn’t even matter. You’re just torturing yourself wondering about it. All that matters is that Brandon betrayed you and you deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “that’s true.
He’s
the one who cheated on me.”

“Exactly, so who needs him? Especially when you’ve got Mr. Young, Wealthy, and Gorgeous to think about!”

I laughed. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right!
Now put Brandon out of your mind, girl and have a great day with your new boy toy!”

I had determined to calm myself, and take Chloe’s advice, but the conversation with Brandon just kept playing in my head. By the time Calvin called to tell me that his driver was on his way, I had only gotten more worked up. I was furious with Brandon. Furious with myself. I refused to binge, refused to go out of the room because who knew what nonsense I’d use to cope with it—
that won’t help Sabrina—
and I had no one to talk to but myself right now.  A recipe for an overwrought Sabrina. . What I really needed was to vent, let it all out. I needed to hear Calvin tell me it’d all be OK.

Chloe was right.
What did he think? That I would sit around mourning our relationship, deciding to die a virgin? Or that I’d take him back, and let him have my virginity after he disrespected me and my feelings for him like that?  That he was the only one with sexual desires? How dare he judge me! Hypocrite! I took a deep breath, angry that I let the conversation rattle me. From the floor, my phone rang again, and I glared at it angrily. Brandon called five more times before my phone fell silent, finally obeying my commands. There was nothing left to say to him. The last thing I needed was judgment and accusations, especially from my cheating fiancé.

I had determined to calm myself, but by the time Calvin called to tell me that his driver was on his way, I had only gotten more worked up. I was furious with Brandon. Furious with myself. I refused to binge, refused to go out of the room because who knew what nonsense I’d use to cope with it—
that won’t help Sabrina—
and I had no one to talk to but myself right now.  A recipe for an overwrought Sabrina. . What I really needed was to vent, let it all out.

I stewed in the town car, distracted slightly by the Chicago landscape whizzing by my window. We pulled up to a building similar to Calvin’s office in New York, the same
Chambers Funds Management
logo brightly perched on the rooftop.

The reception area was smaller than the one in New York and significantly more traditionally decorated. I smiled, looking for the black swans, finding them in a framed picture on the wall instead of paddling in a minilake.

I approached the receptionist with a cordial smile. “I’m here to see Calvin Chambers,” I said. “He told me to meet him in the West Meeting Room.”

“Sabrina Clarke?” She peered over her horned-rimmed glasses, voice nasally, to appraise me.

“That’s me.”

“Mr. Chambers is on a
very
important call. I’ll have to ask you to take a seat while he finishes. As soon as he’s off, I’ll let him know you’re here.” She motioned to a chair in the corner before turning back toward her computer. Clearly, friendliness wasn’t at the top of Calvin’s
Important Qualities in Employees
list.

Hesitantly, I trudged to the chair and plopped, sighing. After ten minutes, I walked back to the receptionist. “Do you think you could just let him know I’m here? He’s expecting me.”

With a stony glare, she tapped her phone. “I’ll be able to see when he’s off the call, ma’am. He said absolutely no interruptions.”

“Of course,” I said, returning to my corner chair. Why had he called me down here if he planned to be on the world’s longest phone call? I picked up a
Newsweek
and flipped through it restlessly, clearing my throat periodically as a reminder I was still here.

Where
was
he? I looked at my watch again. He’d kept me waiting for thirty-three minutes. When I glanced back at the receptionist, she was eyeing me suspiciously before collecting a pile of folders and getting up. She stood at her desk, arms full, and took another long look at me, deciding whether to proceed with her errand. “I have to run right down the hall. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Did she think I needed a babysitter? I nodded politely, watching her retreat down the hall. I checked my watch for what felt like the hundredth time.
OK, that’s enough
, I thought, standing and brushing my skirt. I’d rather be waiting in his office while he finished the phone call than out here, feeling like a patient in a waiting room.

Quietly, I started down the long corridor, assuming he had a corner office, certain it’d be at the end of one of these halls. No one paid any attention to me as I strolled past a series of cubicles, people typing frantically or leaning back in their chairs arguing with someone through their headset. The first conference room I stumbled on was empty, so I continued my quest down the hall, looking for Calvin’s name on a plaque outside an office.

As I neared the end of the hallway, Calvin’s booming voice seeped through a large oak door.
Jackpot!
I paused outside his office, listening to him argue into his phone. There was quiet for a moment before he deepened his tone, sounding exceedingly angry.

I almost turned around, feeling silly for interrupting. Clearly, he
was
on an important call—I could wait. But, as I started back down the hall, I thought I heard my name. Then I heard it again. Who was Calvin talking about me with? Why did he sound so angry? Tiptoeing back to the door, I quietly let myself into the room, curious to hear whom he was talking to. Calvin’s back was to the door, phone cord stretched around him.

“I’ve told you, don’t—not
ever—
call me on this line,” he said, turning and catching me in the doorframe just as the words escaped his lips. “Not about her or anything else. I’m hanging up. Now.” I narrowed my eyes.
What the hell was that about?
I was dying to know and in the mood I was in, I had a feeling that whatever it was about, it would upset me.

“Who was that?” I asked suspiciously. “What do they have to do with me? And why can’t they call you on that line?”

“I’m sorry, Sabrina. It’s nothing. Nobody. Ready to head out?” Calvin sat in his swivel chair, opening a drawer distractedly.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Look, it’s just some final legal details about the auction with the Playhouse.” He met my gaze steadily. But I didn’t buy it.  The Playhouse, despite their questionable business, was easy to deal with… and they would bend over backwards for Calvin (or me for that matter) considering the amount of money involved.  He was either lying or leaving out something major. I knew it.  “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

“There’s nothing else to tell.” He was irritatingly calm, and after the morning I’d had, I wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit.

“Really? Fine,” I snapped. “You picked the wrong day to start lying to me,” I said.  “I’m out of here.  Who do I call to get a ticket back to New York so I can arrange to go home?”

“Sabrina,” Calvin sighed.

I crossed my arms. “Don’t you ‘Sabrina’ me,” I said, pleased with the low, serious tone of my voice. “I am not budging on this.  Tell me what that was about—honestly—or tell me how to get out of here.  Now.” 

Chapter 10

I’d spent the last two days locked in my hotel room watching Pay-Per-View romantic comedies, slurping on Diet Coke. After twenty-two straight hours of Jennifer Garner and Matthew McConaughey, I was finally ready to rejoin the world of the living. With my wounds nursed, I eagerly awaited Calvin’s call.

In Chicago, when I announced I wanted to go back to New York, he didn’t argue, instead, calling his assistant to arrange the flight, eyes full of disappointment. In my heart, I knew that there was more to his phone call than “a few legal details,” but I also knew that I leaped at the excuse to run away. The truth was I was terrified of being hurt again. My flight with him on the plane left me more exposed than I’d ever been, and not just in the literal sense. I had opened myself to him, and the last time I had let my guard down, I’d been crushed. But after two days without hearing from him, it became clear that I missed him. Suddenly it occurred to me… I wasn’t here to get back at Brandon, or my parents. Maybe it started out that way. But now, I was here to follow my heart.  So, when Calvin called to tell me he was back in New York and that he wanted me to meet him at his office, I agreed.
Wait for me in the café
, he’d told me.
Order yourself a cup of coffee, and I’ll be down by 3:45.
I ordered a cappuccino, with skim milk, added a no-cal sweetener, and settled in to wait.  My fingers tapped against the side of the paper cup, and I realized I was nervous to see Calvin again. He hadn’t called once while he was still in Chicago, and part of me respected that. Instead of tracking me down and pleading with me, he’d given me my space, something I needed.

A loud
ping
came from the elevator, drawing my eyes toward it.  When the doors parted, there was Calvin. 
God, just seeing him has such an effect on me,
I thought.  Despite thinking about him almost non-stop for the past two days, I had somehow still underestimated the sheer impact his physical presence had on me.  He didn’t smile, but kept eye contact until I broke it—because I was blushing—by looking down at my coffee. The chair squeaked as Calvin pulled it out, making room for himself at the small bistro table. Loosening his tie, he sat back in the chair. “You shouldn’t have left like that.” His voice was low but firm, jaw set in a dissatisfied clench.

Even though I knew I had overreacted, I was too prideful to apologize. “You shouldn’t have lied to me about who was on the phone,” I retorted. “Are you ready to tell me what it was all about?”

Calvin leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “I already told you; it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“
You were discussing me on the phone. You know how I feel about being toyed with.  Why won’t you just tell me? It was
about
me.”

“Look
,” he said, blue eyes darkening. “It’s a long story and I can promise you it isn’t something that affects the way things are between us now. Trust me; it’s for your own good.”

“Calvin,” I said, returning his stare, although I had a feeling this battle was already lost. “You said no more games. You
promised
me.” I didn’t care how desperate I sounded; I needed to know that he wasn’t screwing with me.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I meant what
I said. This is something to do with the original contract that needed to get sorted out.”

I sucked on my lower lip, eyes searching his face, wanting to believe him. He sounded genuine, no trace of deception. If he said I didn’t want to know, maybe I really didn’t want to know. Relenting, I exhaled deeply. “I’m not happy about this…” I said, “but I will give you the benefit of the doubt.  For now.”

Calvin sat back in his chair. “Good. Don’t leave like that again. Understand?”

I felt myself nodding.
He’s irresistible, why pretend otherwise?

“Let me make it up to you. May I take you to dinner?” he asked
and for the first time in the conversation, he sounded almost vulnerable.  A small, hopeful smile curved his lips.

I couldn’t help returning it with one of my own, feeling my frustration begin to melt. “Sure,” I said. “I’d like that.”

“Good. I have one more meeting, and then I’ll pick you up at your hotel. Does 5:30 work for you?”

“Mm-hmm,” I answered, already planning my outfit.
Peep-toe shoes? Check.

***

When Calvin pulled up in front of the Gansevoort, I was already waiting outside, eager to see what he had planned.

“
Mmmm, gorgeous,” he said when I got in the car, and I felt his eyes caress me, taking in the clingy skirt, exploring my smooth calves.  I’d spent plenty of extra time on exfoliating, shaving, and moisturizing today.  I wanted his hands to soon be where his eyes were now.

“I blushed. Despite all the effort, including an extra twenty minutes perfecting a smoky cat-eye, I felt plain next to him.  “You look pretty good yourself.” He hadn’t changed, but had discarded his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He was sexily, disheveled, powerful, gorgeous… and I knew
his
appeal was effortless.

“How hungry are you?”  he asked.

“Not very,” I said.  “I had a late lunch.” By which I meant the skinny cappuccino I’d had in the café, but I wasn’t going to spell that out.  No way he’d approve.   “Why?”

”I’d like to take you somewhere first
,” Calvin said. His eyes sparkled.  He didn’t offer to say
where,
and I had a feeling he wanted to surprise me. 

I smiled, biting
my tongue. ”Sounds good,” I answered.

In a few minutes, we’d pulled up to an unmarked white building. The sun was just beginning to set, and warm colors reflected from the mirrored skyscrapers. 

“After you,” said Calvin, holding the door of the building open for me.

Vivid splashes of color lit the wall, and I realized we were in an art gallery. “You seemed fascinated by the paintings in my office,” Calvin said.

I blushed… again.
Stop blushing, Sabrina.
“They were unusual,” I said, “intriguing. I like Baroque art, and they reminded me of that… but a bit more… edgy.” ”

Calvin smiled, seeming pleased that his observation had been correct… I was fascinated.. “The artist who did those pieces is showcasing his new collection tonight.”

”Oh, wow,” I said, sincerely excited. Enough so that I forgot to be embarrassed. “I love gallery showings, I can’t wait to see more of his art.”

“What piqued your interest in art?” Calvin asked.  “Since your major is dancing?”

“Art is art,” I said.  “I like Baroque art because it parallels what I love about dancing in so many ways.  Strong, expressive, emotional pieces, dramatic motion, stylized figures… I think an interest in visual art has inspired me to be a better dancer, too.” I paused to catch my breath and realized I was rambling excitedly.
Don’t blush again,
I thought. “Anyway,” I finished lamely, “I took fine arts electives whenever I could.”

But Calvin was smiling, and squeezed my hand. I loved making him smile. Before our conversation could continue, a server appeared, offering hors d’oeuvres.  I politely declined.  I’d have to eat in front of Calvin, obviously, but I’d minimize it when I could. I was feeling a bit light-headed already, but I was deter
mined to persevere.

We spent an hour lost in the paintings, arguing over the painter’s intention, deciding which pieces were our favorites. Calvin was articulate in his opinions, and I could tell he put much thought into analyzing each work. It turned out that we were drawn to similar paintings, both deciding that we preferred the artist’s oils to watercolors.

“Now, are you hungry?” Calvin asked, as we stepped on to the sidewalk, back into the night. “I have reservations at the best Italian restaurant in the city.”

I just nodded, with a smile. 
You have no idea,
I thought, the acidic espresso from earlier having done little to dampen my appetite. 

***

The restaurant was gorgeous, dimly lit and intimate, small lanterns on every table, illuminating the small space with a warm glow. “Welcome to Cipriani,” a waiter greeted us, handing us menus as we settled in our chairs.

“You’re full of surprises, Sabrina,” Calvin said.  “I enjoy learning about your passions,” he said. 

He means the paintings,
I told myself. But his seductive tone indicated he could mean much more.
Don’t get your hopes up, Sabs,
I scolded myself.

A sommelier returned with wine, and I watched Calvin sample it and approve, a picture of sexy refinement.  The waiter returned as well, to ask about appetizers.

“Do you mind if I order dinner while we have him here? I’m famished,” he asked me. “I’ll order a few of their best dishes.”

“Please do,” I said, happy to skip the anxiety of decoding the huge menu.  

Calvin pointed to a few things on the menu before turning back to me. “So, tell me more about your interest in art,” he said. “You downplayed it earlier, but one doesn’t toss out terms like chiaroscuro without having studied.”

”It wasn’t really until I was in college that I started learning about it,” I said.  “Dance doesn’t leave a lot of time… or energy… to pursue other interests.  But of course, I had to take classes other than dance. I started with a semester of art history 101 and was hooked.  I realized that the visual arts really spoke to me, as a dancer.  It’s all about putting aside words and expressing things that are… raw… and refined… beautiful, painful…” I trailed off. “Words aren’t enough sometimes,” I finished, quietly.

Calvin nodded, leaning toward me and taking my hand across the table. “Very perceptive.”

Those two simple words (and, of course, his amazing eyes looking deep into my own) took my breath away.

“And of course,” I said, needing to lessen the intensity just a bit, for my own sanity, “Art doesn’t just about individuals—it’s about society.  We had a field trip for one class, and saw the paintings of an Italian artist whose work actually started political controversy. Which is one thing to read about in a history book, but when I finally stood in front of one of his paintings, you could just feel the raw power of it.” While I was speaking, Calvin’s face grew more rapt, eyes shining brightly. Finally, I stopped, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Salvator Rosa,” Calvin said. “You saw a Salvator Rosa exhibit.”

My eyes widened, “Yes, how’d you know?”

Calvin smiled, resting h
is head in his hand. “Not too many people know his work. He’s one of my favorite artists, very underrated. And there was a huge Fort Worth exhibit just last year.”

The waiter came with the food, and refilled the wine glasses.

“Have you mentioned this to me before?” I asked.

Calvin chuckled. 
“I don’t believe so. The man’s a genius though. I own a few of his pieces. I’ll show them to you.”

”That would be incredible,” I said. “His paintings actually were a big part of why I refused to give up dance, even though my parents weren’t very supportive.  You can’t look at one of his works and not
know
how powerful artistic expression can be.  It’s not a pointless hobby, it’s one of our greatest achievements as human beings.”

“I don’t know whether there’s anything more important than doing
, and sharing what you love,” Calvin said.

“I think Rosa would agree with you. One of his quotations says, ‘Our wealth must consist in things of the spirit.’  You don’t have to be religious to understand that,” I said.

Calvin’s lips curved into an appreciative smile. “So, tell me, Sabrina, what about the wealth in your bank account? What are you planning to do with the money you’ve earned in this deal?”

“I’ve thought a lot about it,” I said.  To him $3 million wasn’t much, but he had to know that it was a fortune to me.  “My first impulse is to do what I can to develop as a dancer.  The hard truth of the matter is that I don’t have very many years to perform professionally, if I can even make the grade to start with.  Physical strength, demand for certain body types, all that means that if I want a chance to dance on stage for a living, it’s got to be soon.  Most professionals retire from the stage at 35… and it takes some time to start out, to be recognized, to become part of a prestigious dance company.  The program I’m in is very good, but there’s a world class program in Boston that my parents wouldn’t consider, even though I have a good chance at being accepted.  That’ll be the first thing I try.  This money will give me the means to devote myself completely to dance, to see if I really have what it takes to make a career out of performing.  If that falls through, then I will be able to start up my own teaching studio once I finish school.”

“A girl with a plan,” Calvin said. “I like that.” Between the way Calvin looked at me and the sweet haze of the wine, I felt giddy.

“I’m sorry for leaving Chicago,” I said suddenly. “I didn’t tell you, but Brandon—my ex-fiancé—called me that morning. I freaked. I was scared, worried that I couldn’t trust anyone, not even you. I can’t handle thinking something’s going on behind my back, at the best of times, and I was already a wreck that day.”