His Heart's Revenge (49th Floor Novels) (4 page)

Chapter Four

When Cary arrived at the annual Women in Finance Awards on Friday evening, it was to find that Alex had changed his tactics.

Alex had a reputation for being ruthless. When something wasn’t working business-wise, he jettisoned it. Or, if you could believe the recent profile of him in
Report on Business
magazine, if “it” was a person, he simply fired “it.” He was unrelenting in pursuit of his goals, everyone said, utterly unsentimental.

So when Cary strolled into the ballroom at the Four Seasons and saw his name listed as being at the same table as Alex, he could only conclude that Alex had abandoned his longstanding commitment to avoiding Cary at these things. In fact, Cary had to wonder if Alex had engineered it so they were seated at the same table, because he would have thought Dominion Bank would have purchased a whole table. The event was high profile, and everyone in the finance world came out to see and be seen, so Cary had to attend. But he’d only purchased a single ticket. Other than his three measly employees, he
was
Bell capital.

Alex was deep in conversation with the woman seated next to him when Cary arrived at the table. It was about half full—the event wasn’t set to begin for another fifteen minutes. Cary walked around the table looking for the place card bearing his name. At precisely the moment he realized he was not only at Alex’s table, but seated right next to him, the man in question looked up from his conversation, finding Cary’s gaze immediately.

“Cary,” he said, his voice totally devoid of inflection.

There was a slight pause while Cary waited for something else. An insincere “nice to see you,” maybe, or a “have you met X?” But there was nothing. Just that blank expression and bland recitation of Cary’s name.

All right. If that’s how it was going to be, two could play this game. He just had to figure out the new rules. “Alex,” Cary said, flattening his tone to match Alex’s.

“It’s Alexander,” Alex said calmly, as if correcting a child’s pronunciation.

The rest of the table had grown silent. This would be the appropriate time for Cary to greet the few people he knew and introduce himself to the rest, but he seemed to be having a staring contest with Alex—Cary couldn’t think of him as Alexander—and he wasn’t about to cede it. Nor was Alex, apparently, who gazed at him dispassionately.

The arrival of an emcee at the head table was what finally did it. As if by silent truce, they both turned their attention to the front of the room, joining in the applause when the emcee introduced the first award recipient. But Cary was still intensely aware of Alex. Sitting next to him reminded Cary of the way they used to walk side by side down the trails at camp, which had been too narrow for two teenaged guys. But Cary hadn’t cared, had crowded into Alex’s space anyway, craving the “accidental” brush of arm against arm. Today, those arms were swathed in shirts and suit coats, but that didn’t make the proximity any less potent. In fact, Alex’s arms might as well have been bare because his black suit and skinny black tie, which made him look like a freaking Armani model, were not having a dampening effect at all. It wouldn’t take much to imagine that suit crumpled on the floor. Cary shifted in his seat as the audience laughed at a joke the first speaker made.

Cary still remembered the surprising softness of Alex’s lips. That single kiss had stayed with him. Sometimes he feared it had marked him somehow, because although he’d had plenty of great sex, he’d never been able to recapture that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling Alex had given him at camp. He would try, and sure, the first rush of a new relationship was always fun, but ultimately, he could never make himself stay interested for very long. Hell, that summer of crushing on Alex had, in some ways, been his longest relationship.

He wondered if Alex’s lips would still be as gentle as they had been back then. Somehow, he thought not.

Cary’s reverie was interrupted by another round of applause and a server bearing the first course. Alex moved slightly closer to Cary as if to make room for her to place a salad in front of the woman seated on his other side, but just as Cary was about to move, too, to keep a consistent amount of distance between them, Alex leaned in even more, his lips so close to Cary’s ear that he could feel the heat of the other man’s breath.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispered.

It was like a jackhammer had taken up residence in Cary’s chest in place of his heart and someone had just flipped the lever to turn it on. “Oh?” he said, raising his eyebrows and praying that Alex, who hadn’t withdrawn even an inch, wouldn’t see the frantic pounding of his pulse in his throat.

“I don’t think you should drop out of the competition for the Liu account.”

Well, this was an unexpected development. But what had he thought? That Alex had been thinking of him in any other way? Of course he hadn’t.

“Because what fun would that be, really?” Alex continued. “Winning by forfeit wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as watching you jump through all those hoops and
then
destroying you.”

Cary sucked in a breath. How had he been wondering if Alex’s kiss would still be gentle? Because there was nothing gentle about this man. He was all hard edges and cruel games. Any kindness the boy had possessed had been burnt off, a casualty of Alex’s meteoric rise to wealth and power. Cary had spent twenty years feeling guilty about publicly repudiating Alex so badly at camp. But he could see now that hanging on to that guilt was allowing himself too much agency in the extraordinary story of Alex’s ascent. Alex had always been tremendously capable, so Cary needed to get over himself and stop beating himself up over something that happened so long ago.

More importantly, he needed to stay in the freaking game. Hadn’t his uncle always berated him for not being ruthless enough, for getting too invested in the life stories of his clients? He had always protested that success in their field didn’t preclude understanding the lives behind their clients’ financial goals, but maybe his uncle was onto something. Alex Evangelista, the most successful person in the room tonight, sure as hell wasn’t getting side-tracked because of
feelings
.

All right. Time to stop cowering before the alpha dog. Alex could huff and puff all he liked, but he needed to know that his intimidation tactics weren’t going to work. So Cary affected an unimpressed look and murmured a non-committal, “We’ll see.”

Alex jerked his head away so hard, Cary was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. Just like earlier in the week outside Liu’s place, Alex seemed enraged by Cary’s show of nonchalance. Something to note for the future. He signaled a server. “May I have another glass of wine, please?” He could give a shit about another glass of wine, but he wanted Alex to know he was dismissed. Cary was done being sentimental. He couldn’t afford sentimentality, unless he wanted to go crawling back to his uncle. He’d always been an athlete. He knew how to turn off his emotions and play a game. So that was the key, to think of this as a game. He was in it to win it now.

For the rest of the dinner, Cary’s senses were heightened, stretched taut by sitting calmly next to a man whose rage was barely contained. Alex was like a tiger pacing in a too-small cage, and Cary was hyper alert to every move the wild beast made. The movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed, the swish of his napkin when he moved it from his lap to his plate after the final course. The glance Alex shot at him, so quick it would have gone unnoticed if Cary hadn’t been on such high alert, before shoving his chair back and leaving in the middle of the last speech.

Was he coming back? It was impossible to know. It was a warm May evening and Cary hadn’t worn a coat over his suit, so probably Alex hadn’t, either. A quick glance at the floor showed no bag, nothing to indicate Alex would return.

Cary grabbed his briefcase and slid his chair back. He wasn’t going to let Alex’s last impression of him reinforce the charge Alex had previously laid, that Cary was an immature, untried kid who didn’t take things seriously enough.

And, more important than that, Cary was
not
losing the Liu account. He’d gone into it thinking it was a great opportunity, but a long shot. Now? Alex would have to pry that account from his cold, dead fingers.

…

Coming to a stop in the lobby of the hotel, Alexander pulled out his phone and fired off a text to Sara, whom he’d been sitting next to inside the ballroom, telling her something had come up that required his immediate attention.

It wasn’t a lie.

Alexander had been expecting war. War, he could do. That’s why he’d taken the pre-emptive move of having his assistant call ahead to arrange things so Cary was seated next to him at the gala. Stun and disarm—that had been his plan. A time-tested tactic of war.

He had been prepared for war. He
hadn’t
been prepared for indifference. The way Cary kept responding to his trash talk with calm, almost amused dismissals had Alexander’s blood pressure skyrocketing. “We’ll see,” Cary had said, like he was humoring a spoiled child. His confidence was unfounded, which made it all the more maddening. It
should
have made Alexander feel more secure in his position. There was no way Don Liu was going to pick Bell Capital. There was no denying that Cary had a way with money. His previous success was compelling. But in the end, Liu wasn’t just going to hand over billions of dollars to an untried company like Cary’s. To a person like Cary.

Realizing his breath had grown shallow, he forced slow, measured inhales as he walked toward the parking elevators. He had told himself that his abrupt departure would be destabilizing. He’d imagined Cary saving up things to say to him when the program was over and then having no opportunity to say them when Alexander never came back to his seat. But in truth, he’d
had
to leave the ballroom because he’d started to feel like he couldn’t breathe. So he wasn’t sure if his departure had been a strategic offensive move or a retreat.

So, time to stop letting Cary rile him. On with the war.

“Hold the elevator!” Sticking his arm out to block the closing of the doors was instinctual. The voice had been feminine, and a man didn’t let an elevator door close in a woman’s face. He might be about as attracted to women as he was to a bedpost, but his mother had raised him right.

“Thanks,” she said, rushing on board and dropping her purse in the process. Dutifully, Alexander stooped to help her gather the spilled contents, so he didn’t realize that another person had slipped on board the elevator—until he heard the voice.

“Yes, thanks. I thought you were going to get away.”

You could
hear
the smirk, which should have been impossible. Alexander stood and handed a rogue pack of gum to the woman who stood between Cary and him. He glanced at the display panel. Five—his level—was lit up, as was three. The elevator clattered to a stop at three. The woman got off. Cary did not.

Fine. War.

He opened his mouth to accuse Cary of following him, but the bastard spoke first.

“I guess I was naive. I thought guys like you competed for clients all the time. Or, you know, guys who work for guys like you. I thought, hey, we’ll all make our cases to Liu, and he’ll choose the company he feels will maximize his profit. May the best man win and all that.”

Alexander was about to say something about how Cary wasn’t exactly the paragon of sportsmanship, was he, given how badly he’d thrown Alexander under the bus at camp, but he checked himself. He didn’t want Cary to know that he even remembered that day, much less that it still had any power over him. When they reached the fifth level of the garage, Alexander got off, deciding it was better not to acknowledge Cary’s little speech at all. His Ferrari was parked just two spots down from the elevator.

“But I understand,” Cary continued, following him to the car. “You want war, Evangelista? Okay, then, you got it.”

Alexander unlocked his car. He’d wondered if it was a little too over the top when he’d bought it, but David had talked him into it. Now he was glad. Nothing like making an exit in a 458 Speciale. He got in, rolled down the window and said, “You’re going to regret the day you decided to go toe to toe with me, Bell. Before this is done, I’ll have you on your knees.”

Chapter Five

Camp Blue Lake

Alex and Cary were, as usual, the first ones up, before the counselor who slept in their cabin, even.

“Hey.”

Cary looked up from where he was leaning against the side of their cabin, stretching his calves. “Oh, hi,” he said, as if he were surprised. As if he didn’t sit out here and go through his stretching regime extremely thoroughly specifically so he would encounter Alex on his way to work. As if he didn’t peel off his shirt and use it to wipe the sweat from his torso and face, knowing, arrogant jerk that he was, that a lifetime of sports had left him with a pretty decent body.

As if he weren’t waiting for Alex to say what he always did.

“Hungry?”

At the beginning of the summer, Cary used to try to be the first one inside the dining hall in the morning. He always told himself it was because he was genuinely hungry after a run—and he was. “Famished, as usual,” he answered, shoving off the step when Alex gestured for him to follow. But he knew the truth—he’d gotten there first so he could steal a few moments alone with Alex before the other guys arrived. And now, having discovered what time Alex left their cabin to make his shift, Cary was cutting his runs short in order to “run into” him.

They walked in silence, the gravel on the trail crunching beneath their feet. Alex shivered despite the early morning mugginess. Cary told himself not read anything into it.

But the truth was, he
wanted
to read something into it. He just shouldn’t. Couldn’t. It was impossible. Cary spent his whole life modulating his behavior, arranging his appearance, and regulating his speech so that he could hide the truth. Hide who he was.

He wasn’t going to do it forever. The plan had always been to go away to college and then…change. But now, between his conservative family, his Neanderthal friends, and his old-money prep school, he just…couldn’t. Sometimes he thought it was weak, hiding like this. But other times he thought it was actually the reverse. It took a hell of a lot of strength to do what he did day in and day out. Regardless, the point was that he managed, and as long as he could manage, he was safe.

Correction: he mostly managed. He’d managed until this summer with Alex.

He’d always liked Alex Evangelista. Stuck up for him when the aforementioned Neanderthals picked on him. Chosen him for teams even though he was about as athletic as you would expect a computer and chess genius to be. Alex was serious in a way that Cary’s friends from school and the other guys at camp were not. They’d become close, and Cary knew Alex’s quiet, serious demeanor came from the fact that life wasn’t easy for Alex and his single mom. Whereas Cary was planning to swan off to some pricey American liberal arts college and have it fully paid for by his parents, who would have no idea that they were actually funding his coming out far, far from home, Alex was scrimping and saving to attend the local community college, even though he was smart enough to get into Harvard.

But this summer, something had changed. Cary didn’t seem to be able to limit his interactions with Alex to normal camp activities. It was like he was a junkie. In the sober light of day, he’d resolve to keep a certain amount of distance between them, but then when faced with the prospect of Alex in the flesh, he could not deny himself. Not even little bit. To wit: he’d engineered it so they shared a bunk. Because it had been such a good idea to fall asleep every night listening to that deep breathing from below. He’d signed up for programming class despite the fact that he had no interest in it.

He couldn’t stay away from Alex Evangelista.

These mornings were a prime example. But honestly, he wouldn’t give up these mornings for anything. When the camp was silent and empty, when it was just Alex and him, crunching over the gravel, Cary could forget all the bullshit that plagued him the rest of his waking hours. He could just be.

Cary walked too close to Alex. He knew it. It wasn’t normal for two guys to walk side by side on this trail, which narrowed at spots so much that their shoulders touched. During the day, when the campers went anywhere in a group, they walked single file on the trails that crisscrossed the densely forested grounds. But then there was Alex, tall and lanky, in the dim light of the still-sleeping camp, letting Cary walk right next to him, letting their forearms brush, bringing into sharp relief the contrast between Cary’s smooth skin and Alex’s, which was dusted with the hair bequeathed to him by his Italian ancestors. They were the same, but different. Cary thought of their arms next to each other every night before he fell asleep. He thought about more, to be honest, wondered what it would feel like to have Alex’s arms circle around him, pull him against his chest.

But then he remembered his life and told himself what he was thinking about was impossible.

“You must get tired getting up so early every day,” Cary said as they approached the back door to the dining hall.

“You’re up early, too.”

“Yep, and I pretty much hate it.” Well, he hated getting up. He didn’t hate
being
up, not once his run was done, anyway.

Alex shrugged. “I couldn’t afford to come here if I didn’t work.” Cary was impressed that Alex never tried to hide or downplay his poverty. Most of the guys at camp knew each other from real life. Even if they didn’t attend the same school, they went to the same churches and synagogues; their parents went to each others’ parties. Alex owning the fact that he was different from them seemed like a point of pride, and Cary respected that. “So as much as this gig sucks,” Alex continued, “It’s necessary if I want to come here.”

“Will you be back next summer?” Cary asked, trying to keep his voice casual. They’d passed the midpoint of the summer, and it was starting to really sink in that their days together were numbered.

“Yeah.” As Alex pushed open the back door, which led directly into the kitchen, and held it for Cary, Cary thought he detected a hint of a smile.

“What’s for breakfast?” Cary asked as Alex pulled on an apron and nodded a silent greeting to Jasper, the camp’s head chef, who, inexplicably, hadn’t said anything about Cary arriving unauthorized most mornings, trailing behind Alex.

“Oatmeal,” Alex said, and Cary groaned. The sticky glop that Jasper called oatmeal wasn’t anyone’s favorite. Alex ducked into a pantry and returned with contraband blueberry muffins and handed two to Cary.

“Ah! Thanks.”

“The perks of being friends with an insider,” Alex said.

Friend
. Cary wasn’t really sure if that was the right word. He had a lot of friends, but he wasn’t bumping shoulders accidentally-on-purpose with any of them. Cary and Alex were friendly, sure, but Cary was friendly with everyone. It was part of his thing. For some reason everyone liked him without him particularly trying to make them do so, so he’d always run with it. You could get a long way on charm.

He sometimes wondered if Alex was out at home. They never talked about it. Never used the words “out” or “gay.” But the way Alex owned up to his poverty made him seem like the kind of guy who didn’t hide who he was. Of course, there was nothing obvious to give it away. He was a bit of a nerd, yes, but Cary didn’t think the other guys picked up on the things he did. They didn’t notice that Alex watched some of the counselors a touch more intensely, or too long, maybe, when they demonstrated a dive. Or that he clammed right up when the other guys started making plans for the mid-summer dance held at the associated girls’ camp across the lake. Still, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn Alex was out at home.

Cary sometimes speculated that it might, paradoxically, be easier to be out of the closet if you
didn’t
have a ton of friends. If you didn’t have a firmly entrenched image as the athletic, popular boy that everyone thought was perfect. If you didn’t have a family to disappoint, a family who acted like its legacy to the world was upstanding, unsullied perfection in all things.

“Put your shirt on, Bell,” Jasper said, and to Alex he said, “We’re doing cinnamon raisin oatmeal today. Grab the raisins, will you?”

Alex obeyed, disappearing into the pantry

“Bell,” said Jasper, holding out an apron. “If you’re going to be here every morning, trailing along like Evangelista’s puppy, make yourself useful.”

Evangelista’s puppy.
And here he’d thought their mornings were safe because there was no one around to see them together. He swallowed, willing his pulse to slow. “Sorry, Jasper, I’m not going to make myself useful. I’m going to make myself clean. Shower time.”

He forced himself to amble out of the kitchen, back to regulating his behavior, slipping on the mantle of the role he played. He felt a little bad that he hadn’t even said good-bye to Alex. He usually lounged around eating, chatting with Alex while Alex worked on getting breakfast set up.

But Cary had to go. It couldn’t be helped.

…

“The Perseids meteor showers should be at their peak later this week.”

Cary tensed as the other guys glanced at each other in response to Alex’s observation. They were sitting around a campfire. It wasn’t an unreasonable thing to say. You sat at a campfire in the dark, you looked at the sky, you thought about shit like falling stars. If Cary himself had said the same thing, he’d probably be fielding requests to organize a stargazing party.

But Alex was different.

He always had been. He wasn’t like everyone else. He was smarter, sure, but also graver. You got the sense that things mattered more to him than they did to everyone else. Cary wasn’t sure why this counted as a negative quality in the eyes of their peers, but it did. And this summer it was more pronounced. Maybe it was that as they all got older, and closer to college, Alex was increasingly worried about paying for it. The next phase of life was going to be a lot harder for him than it was going to be for Cary and the rest of the guys. Or maybe it wasn’t Alex at all; maybe it was that the other guys were different. Harder, meaner. Whatever it was, it was like they were constantly on the lookout for slip-ups, for the appearance of traits they could use to mark Alex as not one of them, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the whole gay thing, which Cary was pretty sure they hadn’t figured out. But as the summer went on, and they increasingly became vultures, hovering around Alex looking for anything to seize upon, Cary was afraid they would figure it out.

He was afraid that they would somehow figure it out about
him
, too.

“Aww,” said Brooks, one of the leaders of the pack among their tenth-grade cohort, and, frankly, an asshole. “Is wittle Alex gonna go wish on a star?” Cue the laughter from everyone else. “What are you going to wish for?” Brooks goaded. “Enough money so you don’t have to cook our slop every morning like Cinderella?”

“Nah, I’m going to wish I wasn’t surrounded by dicks,” Alex shot back.

“Ooooh,” said Brooks. “I’m scared.”

“Knock it off, Brooks,” Cary said. “For fuck’s sake. Can I just eat this marshmallow in peace?” He looked at Alex across the fire, his olive skin made golden by the licking of the flames.

Cary always stood up for Alex, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep doing it without them turning on him, too. And, coward that he was, he couldn’t allow that to happen.