The short journey had been filled with comfortable silence, and an alternative radio station playing softly in the background just heard over the low hum of the Aston Martin. The stress of the afternoon had taken its toll on Ailec, the quiet white noise of the car so close to lulling her to sleep that Carmen had asked twice if she could get her a hotel room for the night. She’d laughed it off, only convincing Carmen with the assurance she’d pick up over dinner.
They’d pulled up in a small, dark alleyway and Ailec had made the almost obligatory joke about mysterious journeys, dark alleys and kidnapping attempts. Carmen had rolled her eyes and stated, dead-pan, that she had people to do that for her.
Carmen had led her a little way down the alley and up a fire escape, to where they were standing now... Ailec still speechless, struggling to take it all in.
She was looking at a small balcony, a low wooden table taking up all the floor space and bench seating running along three of four of the sides. Billowing sheets of patterned material hung loosely from the ceiling and down the walls, with pillows of all colours and sizes covering the benches. Two settings of handmade pottery, the colour of muted turquoise, sat side by side on the far corner of the table, and a bottle of red was nestled in an ornate wooden holder with two glasses placed next to it.
Ailec finally turned to Carmen, “It’s beautiful,” she said, squeezing the taller woman’s arm in a brief show of excitement.
Carmen smiled as she indicated for Ailec to take the far place setting and slipped in behind her, “I’m glad you like it. This is a jealously kept secret of mine.”
“It seems private... cosy even.”
“Yep. There’s a hatted Moroccan restaurant on the ground level and I own this particular apartment building.”
Ailec’s eyes widened slightly, “You own an entire apartment building so you can have Moroccan on your own occasionally?”
“Kind of, I suppose. I lend it to interstate executives that are visiting... you know, sometimes.”
“Right... well, it’s lovely. And I’m sure it’s important for you to get away from the crowds when you can.”
Carmen smiled and then reached for the bottle of red wine, needing to do something with her hands. She felt uncharacteristically nervous as she opened the bottle and poured two glasses, “I do like to. But it does just sit here, vacant and fully furnished...” She handed Ailec a glass.
“Thanks,” Ailec said, peering at her over the rim, “Didn’t you promise not to hassle?”
“Can I just say one thing?” she asked, waiting for Ailec’s response before continuing.
Ailec lowered her glass, eyeing the billionaire over, before finally agreeing, “Alright. One thing.”
Carmen laughed at the stern look she was receiving, taking her own sip of wine, “It’s just that this place is used as a guest house for people I don’t know, why can’t someone I do know, and like... use it for a while?”
“You... are very sneaky,” Ailec said, taking another sip of impeccable wine and setting her glass down, “Don’t think I’m not onto you.” She appreciated the billionaire’s offer. It felt open and honest, free of strings, like Carmen had seen a problem and had simply proposed a solution. For Ailec, it wasn’t so simple. Carmen was a paradox in many ways. An exquisite paradox she was being pulled into, quite willingly, and the last thing she wanted was Carmen thinking she was only interested in the material things she could give her. She needed things to even out a little. “I’ll think about it, ok?”
YOU ARE READING
Fancy Love
RomanceAilec Stone has a lot on her mind. Her online newspaper is barely turning a profit; she's trapped in a complex relationship with her ex and her investigation of political kickbacks and abuse has her headed for trouble. Complication is following her...
