Into His Car
Helen stepped onto the pavement outside Mark’s apartment complex and looked around for Dominic’s Jaguar. It wasn’t hard to find because his car was the only one on the street with its headlights on. Helen went up to it and peered through the windshield at the driver. Yeah, with those shades, it couldn’t be anyone else besides Dominic.
She reached for the car handle, but the door was locked. He had to be that kind of jerkwad, didn’t he? She tapped on the window with her knuckles and Dominic unlocked the door. With that, she dropped her bag onto the backseat before getting into the passenger side herself.
“You really are the devil,” Helen said nonchalantly as she hooked up her seatbelt.
Dominic took off his sunglasses and turned his body a whole ninety degrees to get a better look at Helen. “Vera, is that you?”
“Of course, it’s me,” she answered, flicking him an annoyed expression before turning her head resolutely toward the window. “Would any other woman get into your car and call you the devil without knowing you?”
“Hey, look at me,” Dominic ordered.
Helen turned her head deliberately and looked him in the eye.
At first, she wasn’t sure what his reaction to her regular appearance was. It was his first time seeing her as herself. There was no glimmer in his eyes or twist of his lips to indicate if he was pleased or repulsed. Mark said he didn’t think Dominic would be put off by her real appearance, but Helen didn’t know what Mark was basing that opinion on. It might be nothing. Was that why his car door had been locked? Because he didn’t recognize her?
Finally, Dominic put his glasses back on and put his hands on the steering wheel. “You need a tattoo on your ankle,” he finally said and Helen concluded he must think she wasn’t ‘all that’ after all.
“Is that all you have to say? I was expecting you to be more critical,” she sparked.
“About what?” he asked, turning the car onto the street.
Helen took a long-suffering breath before she answered, “About the real me.
Shouldn’t you be making some comment about how I’m not fit to be seen with you in public without my wig or something? If you hired an escort and you got me the way I look right now, you’d surely be disappointed. So, why not just say it?”
“You’re right. If I called and asked for an escort to be my personal eye-candy and you showed up looking like that, I’d be disappointed, but not for the reason you think.”
“Oh?”
“I’d be disappointed you didn’t take your job more seriously. A certain amount of polish is necessary, don’t you think? Right now, it sounds like you think I don’t find you attractive because you’re not covered in glamor. But, the thing is, you’re making a mistake.”
“I am?” Helen asked, astonished.
“Actually, I’m impressed you’re so pretty without it. Not a lot of women are, you know, and I know a lot of female models who look like nothing at all without their mascara. I wasn’t expecting you to be half as beautiful as you are now. I’m very impressed.”
Helen was speechless.
“Besides, it was never your looks that interested me. I told you before, I have never met a woman who was so good at reading my moods and giving me what I want. That’s why I thought you were interesting and why I thought you might make a good model.”
“Do you really want to become my agent?” Helen asked abruptly. It was the one question she wanted the answer to. Everything else he said was probably fluff.
“Not really,” Dominic said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t want to have that much responsibility regarding what you do. I’m merely offering this as an opportunity. If you want to make a big deal out of this campaign with Alexander, you might end up as a model instead of an office gopher, but that’s up to you.”
“So, why even suggest the 'opportunity?'” she asked, using his word. “Only because you thought I’d be good at it? That seems unlike you.”
“It is. See what I mean about you reading me? You have a special talent. Are you sure you don't already know the real reason behind my actions?” he asked dangerously, turning a corner at high speeds.
“I don't know. Why don't you just tell me? We're alone.”
Dominic abruptly maneuvered into a parking lot and stopped the car. Then he turned toward Helen and began hovering over her like a storm cloud. She felt like he was invading her space. “I can't believe how alike we are,” he said darkly. His brown eyes shone over the rims of his red shades as he continued. “I'd like to tell you what I've got in mind, but... uh… I’m a little concerned you have your own motives through all this. If you do—I doubt they're the same as mine. Maybe we could both get what we want if we work together.”
“I scratch your back, you scratch mine?” Helen asked smoothly, refusing to lose her composure or to be bullied by Dominic.
“Exactly,” he answered calmly. “Hmm. I don’t want to take you home. How about my place?”
“So we can talk about this in a more ‘comfortable’ setting?” Helen asked dryly. Dominic touched his nose and put the car in reverse.
***
Helen wasn’t sure if it was safe to go with Dominic to his place without a guardian or something. She didn’t think he was the type to attack her, but he had acted so unpredictably in the past, she wasn’t sure if she would put anything past him. In the end, she decided to go, because she wanted to hear what he had to say. She also had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that said she still hadn’t made it completely clear to Dominic that he didn’t have a chance with her—either as a business partner or as a lover. She had to make him understand that before the end of the night and if he simply dropped her off at her apartment then it wouldn’t get done.
Even after being in the luxury of Mark’s apartment, Dominic’s flat was more like a museum than a living space. There were thick woven rugs on the floor and actual statues placed on pedestals at regular intervals in the living room. Dominic lit the fireplace as soon as they entered, even though the weather outside was warm. Then he sat her down on a chair that was covered in animal skin. The walls were dark red and the paintings were clearly from the Renaissance. Helen felt like she had stumbled into the devil’s private office.
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Dominic questioned warmly. “Would you like me to fix something for you?”
“You cook?” Helen asked incredulously.
“If cutting is considered a form of cooking,” Dominic said with a soft laugh. Helen felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle at the way he said 'cutting.' “Whatever is easy,” Helen said stiffly. She had wanted to turn him down, but she found herself unable to. She was starving. It had been hours since her last meal.
Dominic asked Helen to wait in the ‘den’ as he called it, while he went to procure food. She offered to help him, but he said he wanted her to relax and absorb her surroundings, so she should stay put.
Helen did look around. There was an antelope head mounted on his wall. Even though she was from the country, she was still disgusted. She didn’t think putting dead animals on the wall was tasteful even though she knew many men who hunted. She didn’t think Dominic had killed the animal himself, but what if he had? Helen shuddered. Maybe it was better if she didn’t know.
So Helen waited. The fire cracked and sparked and she thought about the room and what it said about the person who lived there. Helen didn’t think Dominic was shallow. He appreciated wealth, but the culture of his apartment was simply beyond her experience. She didn't think Dominic intended to make her feel naive, but having her sit in his weird sitting room reminded her how inexperienced she was. She had probably bitten off more than she could chew following the devil home.