Perfect Harmony (14 page)

But not anymore.

I open the curtains and look out onto the busy New York
street.  Arguments spill through the open window and the smell of diesel lifts
into the room.

There’s so many cars and such bustling throngs of people, so
why do I feel so alone?

My hand falls to my belly and a rush of bliss thrills me.

I’m not alone.  Chase has given me the most incredible
gift.  Thanks to him, I’m never going to be lonely again.

I must tell Chase I’m pregnant.  I owe him that much.

Before I leave for California, I have to tell him he’s going
to be a father.

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D
amn that infernal woman!

I pass Mercedes a Martini and return to the bar to mix
myself an Old Fashioned.  She stretches her arms out on my leather sofa like a Persian
cat and stares out of my penthouse window with a petulant smile etched across
her face.

“Come now, Chase darling.  I know what’s going on, you know
what’s going on, the fucking papers know everything.  So, just get it over and
done with.”

My hand withdraws into my pocket and fingers the five-carat
diamond engagement ring.  Who would have thought something so exquisite and
beautiful could be so sharp and hard?

I’ve had the ring in my pocket for weeks, as countless
opportunities came and went to pop the question, yet every time, whether it was
a lavish meal at one of New York’s finest French restaurants, or a trip out of
state to my lodge in Vermont with nothing but snow and candle light to keep us
company, I could never go through with it.  What started as romantic now felt
like lead lining my pocket threatening to push me through the earth and drag me
to hell.

“What’s the problem?” says Mercedes.

The problem is I don’t want this anymore.  This engagement
is like an albatross around my neck and I want to be free of it.

But I can’t.

Mercedes has made that impossible.  I don’t know who leaked
the information to the press about my plan to marry Mercedes, but I have a
sneaking suspicion it was her.  It made sense: she’s been badgering me for
months to propose, even resulting to an ultimatum, that fateful night I met Melody.

In fact, if it weren’t for Mercedes being such a stuck up
cow, I never would have met Melody...

But ever since the papers got wind of my proposal, Mercedes
has followed me around like a lovesick puppy.  Except it isn’t love she’s sick
with, no - it’s a practical concern for status and wealth.  Not that I’m any
better - I’m only proposing to consolidate my power.  It’s a mutually
beneficial relationship.  Not a matter of love or any of that shit.  Love
doesn’t matter.  Being ruled by your heart instead of your brain is how you end
up with the world coming crashing down around you.

I knock back my drink and breath in the whisky fuelled air.

“You know, I did miss you,” she says and stands up.  She
walks over to me and wiggles her slender body in a way only a woman born to be
a dancer can.  But it doesn’t arouse me like she intends - it just makes me
realise how vapid and insecure she is.  Her body and her voice are the only
things she finds important, and what people say about her.  Trivial nonsense.

I suppose that makes me her perfect husband.

Maybe marriage will be good for me.  Maybe it’ll be the
chain I need to stop me from being the reckless virgin destroying hound like my
father.  The night with Melody haunts me still.  How her big trusting eyes
looked upon me with such grace and care, full of the belief that I was a good
man and the right man for her.  How her naked body felt so soft and sensuous
against my own, interlocking into a perfect fit like puzzle pieces falling into
place.

I should never have allowed myself to touch her.  It was
wrong.  So very very wrong.

Mercedes places her hands by the sides of my head and leans
in to kiss me.

I turn away.

She peers at me, puzzled.  “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” I say.  “Work.”

It wasn’t a lie.  Melody consumed my mind for the past five
weeks, so I threw myself into my work.  But work was just as bitter and twisted
as my love life.  Just when I thought the Taiwan deal was ready to be signed, I
discovered my bitterest rival Duncan Callaghan had swooped in and stolen the
deal right from under me.  That bastard cost me millions in the process, and
more importantly, the dent to my pride.

But Mercedes would never understand that.  I could never
seek solace in her arms.  No, there is only one woman with the trusting eyes
and open heart I yearn for.

But even if I did want to be with Melody, it could never
be.  She must hate me now for what I did to her.  No contact is one thing, but
her forced resignation?  I’d practically paid her off for fucking me, using
money and power to silence my problems.  Just like my father.

She must hate me.

I hate me.

But it’s the only way.  It’s cruel and hard, but it’s the
only option I have.  She’s better off without me poisoning her life.

“I’m glad we’re back together,” says Mercedes.

“I don’t like ultimatums.”

“Well, I don’t like giving them,” she spits out.  “Guess
we’re made for each other.”

I knock back another drink.

“‘Cos lets face it, baby,” she says, “how could you ever
stay mad at something so gorgeous?”

She presses her breasts out and does her skankiest Marilyn
Monroe impression, but it does nothing.

Physically, Mercedes is perfect.  Her hollow cheekbones and
porcelain skin only complemented her large blue eyes and ten thousand dollar
hair.  She’d slink right in among my rich friends and contacts, ever the
smiling and dutiful wife, laughing at the right time and gossiping with her
friends about the most inane trivial shit, whilst I lavished their husbands
with drinks and business deals.  She’d fit in perfectly in my world.

So why do I not want her?

It doesn’t matter what I want.  I must marry Mercedes or
I’ll become just like my father.  I’d come so close when I slept with Melody -
an innocent naive virgin who would have given me everything if I’d only asked. 
I can’t do anything like that again.  I have to stop myself from ruining any
more lives.

“Come,” she says, “let’s go out for dinner.  Just you and
me.”

I nod and she wraps her boney arm around my waist and I
guide us towards the door.

With each step, I feel the dense weight of the ring in my
pocket, anchoring me to the floor, as the heavens open up in the street outside
and rain bleeds from the sky.  A bright sheet of lightning flashes through the
penthouse and silhouettes our bodies as long gangly shadows against the wall, followed
by the crash of thunder.

“Let’s go,” I say.

I reach for the door when my intercom suddenly buzzes like
an angry bee.

My finger presses down the button.  “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you sir, but I’ve got someone down
here who insists on speaking to you.”

“I’m busy,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Of course, sir.  Sorry, won’t happen again.”

I’m about to let go of the intercom button when I hear the
sound of the doorman once more, but he’s not addressing me.

“Hey!  Come back here you crazy woman!  Security!  I need
security!”

I let go of the button in surprise.

“A crazy woman?  Jesus, Chase?  What the hell?  We need to
get out of here.”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“How can you say that?  She could be a mad stalker?  Or an
ex-girlfriend consumed by jealousy who wants to murder me in a fit of rage for
how spectacular I am.”

“I’m sure you’ll cope.”

A woman so bound up in emotion that she has to see me right
now?  It could be any number of people - I’m hardly a subtle person when it
comes to my activities.

Yet there’s one person I know it could never be - a woman so
meek and quiet that she’d never risk the danger of coming to see me, not after
everything I’ve done to her.

But, I can’t help hoping it is her.

There’s a thunderous knock on the door.

Mercedes jumps.  “Quick, we have to hide!” she yells.

I pause, still as water.  My hand slowly moves over to the
handle.

“Chase!” she says.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Look, I have to do this.  Alright?  I have to know who it
is.”

Before she can shout another order, I push down the handle
and wrench the door open.

And there stands the woman of my dreams.

“Chase?” says Melody.

Her sweet voice sends a thrill through my body, my skin
pickling on every note.  It was like water to a man alone in the desert and
dying of thirst... like a friendly hand to pick up and guide a blind man...

Like a blinding light to a child, trapped alone in the
darkness.

I drop Mercedes’ hand and stare at this visage.

Somehow, Melody seems even more beautiful than I remember. 
It had been five long weeks, but in that time she’s become so remarkable.  Her
casual shirt hangs off her without a care in the world, her simple blue jeans
wrapped around her sensual curves.  And her luscious long brown hair is tied
back in a ponytail, giving me an unrestricted view of that beautiful face,
white and devoid of makeup.

She’s a breath of fresh air in this world of anorexic
succubi.  Melody didn’t care how she looked - she didn’t care what other people
whispered behind her back.  And that made her so much more naturally beautiful.

A voice breaks through from behind.  It’s my security guard.

“My apologies, Mr. Chase.  I’ll remove her this instant.”

“I should think so,” says Mercedes, a look of disgust in her
eyes like she stepped on a pile of dog shit, and a tone in her voice suggesting
she’s so far above Melody that she’s sitting in the clouds.

“Please, Chase!” says Melody.  “I have to talk to you! 
Before I leave tomorrow morning!”

Mercedes lets out a snort.  “Get rid of her.”

My guard nods.  “Right away, ma’am.”

“Chase?” whispers Melody, her pupils large and bottomless,
dilated to jet black ovals in the dim light.  Just hearing her say my name
brings me a joy so overwhelming I can’t even comprehend it.  She looks so defenseless
and frightened, but her voice is so sweet and pleading that it thrusts me back
into the world.

The security guard grabs Melody by the wrist.

“Get your damn hands off her!” I command in a voice so angry
and powerful it unsettles even me.

Scared shitless, my security guard backs up like a dog whacked
on the head with his master’s newspaper.  “Of.... of course, sir.”

I grab Melody by the arm and pull her inside my penthouse
foyer.

“That’ll be all,” I say.

The guard jumps.  “Oh!  Of course.  My apologies.”  He nods
and slams the door shut behind him.

Melody looks up at me, her lips parted, and my brain
suddenly registers the feel of her skin under my trembling fingertips.  Sensual
memories flood my mind in wave after wave, my body giving up and drinking in
the emotions and images with a limitless thirst.  The last time she had been
here, we’d made love in every single room.  Even against the door right behind
her.

The need to have her right now overwhelms me.  Against the
door again, or on the kitchen counter, or up in my master bed, our naked
undulating bodies writhing against each other in sexual ecstasy.

No.  I must quash this feeling.  I can’t let it take me
over.

But I want her so much more than I ever thought possible -
to claim her body as my own and whisk her away to where nobody can harm us ever
again.

But I can’t.  I must refuse.

Mercedes snorts.  “What.  The fuck.  Is
she
doing
here?”

I drop Melody’s wrist and inhale what feels like the first
breath I’ve taken in weeks.

My hands wring together.  It’s the only way I can stop
myself from touching her sweet silky skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say.

Melody bites her lip and gives me a sad smile.  Her brown
eyes eat into my soul, taking me away to a place I’d long since forgotten, a
place I thought never existed.  She’s so sad and demure, that it makes me ache
with longing and the need to protect her.  She’s not a creature of this vile
world - she’s from a land of hope and innocence and love.  So full of promise
and beauty... and a spellbinding effervescent glow.

“I had to see you,” she says.

Her straightforwardness dumbfounds me.  How do I even
respond to something like that?  She’s so honest, even in the company of a
woman she despises.

Mercedes’ eyes bore in Melody’s vulnerable face like a laser
beam cutting rocks from space.  There is no doubt she knows who Melody is.  How
could she not?  We were in every newspaper and magazine across the country. 
Our picture from the Wiltshire Ballroom, arm in arm and on the red carpet was
plastered across every news website.

But Melody keeps her cool, against all the odds.  She
doesn’t even give Mercedes the satisfaction of a glance, her eyes still fixed
to my own.  But there’s something else in the look - a hint of pity for the
famous starlet.

“I’m sorry,” says Melody.  “I just need to talk to you for
minute.  That’s all.”

Before I can answer, Mercedes erupts with a cackle.  “Just
need to talk to him, do you?  Who the fuck do you think you are?  Nothing but a
quick fuck for my man here, but, you know what?  He’s fucking done with you,
now.  So get lost, you cheap skank.”

“
Do not speak to her like that!
” my voice thunders.

Mercedes scowls with a look that would kill at thirty
paces.  “I’m going downstairs.  When you’re ready to join me for our romantic
dinner, I suggest you follow.  If it’s not too much trouble,” she spits out. 
She spins on her heels and marches to the door.  She pauses for a moment. 
“There’ll be so many wealthy industrialists and producers there, I’m sure you
wouldn’t want me to talk to them alone.”