“Don’t touch anything,” he repeats, emphasizing each word in a manner that makes her concerned for his blood pressure. He leaves. The door closes, muting the office noise.
Alone, Lili looks around. Cello-brown wood-paneled walls, a Rothko color field of luminous burnt burgundy. There’s a broad desk with a thin split-screen monitor and barely there keyboard, some slim folders. Sleek Breuer Wassily chairs and Grand Modele couch, all black, glittering city through the windows—an entire wall of glass. No books here, minimal personal effects. The day’sFTis discarded on the leather couch. Lili picks up the broadsheet, idly flipping through the pages.
The door opens, letting in the hustle of the office again.
Lili sighs, dropping the newspaper. “Michael, I’m not actually going to do anything—”
“Not Michael,” Aleksandr says, door falling shut behind him.
Before she can comment on the almost impressively rude attitude of his chief of staff, Aleksandr’s hands are on her waist, pulling her against him, and he’s kissing her. Just as she realizes what’s happening—surprise melting into eagerness, with the scent of him, the heat of his mouth against hers, rough press of his beard, and she starts to lean into it, grasping for him—he pulls away.
“How are you?” he asks. His hands remain warm on her waist, holding her close.
“Fine—yeah, fine,” Lili says, feeling open and unbalanced. She lets her palms rest against his chest for a brief moment—he’s dressed for work, small differences: subtle pocket square, only one button of his shirt undone—before she steps back, clearing her throat. Is it bad to admit she likes his voice? She doesn’t want to think about how it’s the same voice that’s likely on the phone with the Fed chair on a weekly basis, or giving speeches at Davos, or holding plenaries with billionaires at Sun Valley.
“Are you hungry? Daniel usually holds a table—”
“I’m fine. Why is everyone still here? It’s late.”
Aleksandr frowns. “It’s not even nine. Where else are they supposed to be?”
“Enjoying some semblance of a personal life.”
He waves a dismissive hand, walking around his desk. “I pay them enough. They can have lives later.”
Under her visceral recoil at the idea of lives reduced to labor that can be bought, a deeply traitorous part of her wants to follow him as he sits down: stand between his legs, rest her hands on his shoulders; brush back the sweep of his hair; feel his eyes on her, that grin that flirts with a smirk.
Lili folds her arms over her chest, and cauterizes that stupid instinct. No, not instinct—idea. Fanciful idea.
“You wanted to discuss something?” he prompts, leaning back in his chair.
“Yes,” she says, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Better to have office furniture between them, a cast of professionalism; anything to stifle this soft, insidious lean towards him; the subtle sense of safety she should not be feeling; a bit of shaky vulnerability that reminds her of wet skin, warm kisses against her neck, tears on her cheeks. “I’ve been thinking, and we need clarity.”
Aleksandr raises an eyebrow. “Clarity?”
“Yes.” Lili will not let his tactic of countering with questions get to her. She knows how to hold her ground. “Whatever this is,” she says, gesturing between them, “we need to be clear about it. I have a life, you have a life. They need to be separate. I don’t like uncertainty, and I doubt you do, either. If this is going to continue, we need it defined. Simple.”
Not her best work, but it’s to the point. As Aleksandr evaluates her, she braces herself, preparing to parry whatever counter he puts forth.
We need to have rules.
No, I don’t think so.
“Fine. Make your case.”
Lili frowns. Did she miscalculate? She thought he’d refuse or argue or—something?
“Well, what do you want?” she asks.
He smiles, an edge of arrogance. “No, Lili. I’m buy-side at the moment. Convince me to buy.”
Heat flushes over her. She’s not something tobuy.
Lifting her chin, Lili ignores the complicated mix of lust and outrage that his words stir. “I enjoy having sex with you,” she states. “And I think you do, too. That’s all. Mutually beneficial. Casual. Just—casual.”
Aleksandr tilts his head, amused. “What did you think this was?”
Don’t, a murmur against her ear, making wet skin catch and rush.Don’t, I’ll take care of you.
