About Last Night - Chapter 2
"Don’t ask me why, but I do what he says. Maybe I am tired. Tired of being the only one driving. For once, I want to be driven. Even if it’s over some cliff."
If you missed Chapter 1, click here to catch up…
October, 2017
I hoped never to see Sigfrid again, and yet, here he is. At the launch of the latest fragrance by Tom Ford, I have personally made a botch job of. The caterers are all over the place, the promoters are drunk and samples have gone missing. I spend my evening trying to fix all these small crises, but when I spot Sigfrid’s towering figure, I accept that my night is irrecoverably ruined.
It’s not because he looks as dashing as ever, wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Nor because he is accompanied by a girl who looks resplendent in a designer dress. It is because she’s wearing my necklace.
I take a gulp of wine, make myself a little taller and stride over to them.
‘Good evening, Mr. Bjorkquist. What a pleasure to see you again,’ I say with a carefully-constructed smile.
I haven’t seen him since the dreaded pitch. After the presentation (which I was convinced we’d nailed), the agency received an email to thank us for our valued partnership and to inform us that they were moving the account to Ogilvy. They also thanked us in advance for a smooth handover. I was dumbfound. The work was excellent, the proposed plan flawless and the results so far spoke for themselves. But the word on the street is that the Ogilvy managing director and Sigfrid’s father had been roommates at Cambridge. Sometimes I wonder why do I bother trying.
‘Good evening, Miss…?’
‘Sharp.’
‘Miss Sharp. The pleasure is all mine,’ he says courteously. Then, turning towards Miss Universe by his side: ‘May I introduce you to my fiancée, Sophia?’
He never mentioned a fiancée. Then again, he never mentioned we were on course to lose the account before, during or after he tied me up. Not that I’d remember.
‘Sophia. The Greek word for wisdom,’ I say, shaking her long and bony hand, feeling the edges of her diamond ring with the tip of my fingers. ‘How do you do?’
She smiles as if her breath is too valuable to waste on words.
‘My name is also Greek,’ I continue. ‘It means bright light. Not that anyone ever asks.’ Sharp by name, sharp by nature. Or nervous as fuck.
‘And are you?’ she finally speaks, revealing a Mediterranean accent.
‘Am I what?’
‘A bright light?’
‘Oh no, on the contrary. I am darkness incarnate.’
Sophia lets out a chuckle. Time to strike.
‘What a lovely necklace,’ I say, making an effort to keep my smile on.
‘This old thing? Sigfrid found it in a thrift shop. He knows how much I like trinkets,’ she laughs, with a perfect pitch, at ease in her world of riches and wonderful things. Sigfrid squeezes her arm with tenderness; the opposite of what I imagine he did to me.
That old thing is of greater importance to me than I can possibly explain, but what was I thinking? That I could mastermind a plan to steal it back, like in some Mission: Impossible movie? How stupid of me to lose it in the first place.
I steady myself against a table, as a waiter walks past with a tray of champagne glasses. I notice a lipstick stain on the rim of a flute. I can either go and scream at the caterers again, or, I can deal with this the best way I know how. I pick up the stained glass from the tray.
‘Enjoy your evening,’ I say without a smile and make it for the bar.
I finish the stained glass of champagne and request another, when I am startled by Sigfrid’s voice in my ear.
‘Sorry about the necklace,’ he says, handing over two empty glasses to the bartender. ‘She found it in the house, and I had to give it to her. I’ll get you a new one.’
‘You can’t get me a new one,’ I say, bitterly. ‘It was my mother’s necklace.’
‘Then let me make it up to you,’ he says. ‘I’m in town for a few days. I’ll take you to dinner.’
I narrow my eyes at him. There is absolutely no logic in the world as to why I should go for dinner with him. In fact, I could list about a million reasons why meeting up with him again is the worst possible idea in the world. Apart from the fact that, inexplicably, I want to. I tell myself this is my chance to win back the Swedish Style account or to exert some feminine revenge, but a deeper part of me knows better. I want what he’s offering. Even though I’m not entirely sure what it is.
‘What will your betrothed have to say about that?’ I say. I am a moth flying towards the flame.
‘It’s only dinner,’ he shrugs.
‘It better be,’ I say and take the second glass of champagne to my lips. He watches me as I drink and I am watching him watching me. ‘Can I get a refill, please?’ I ask the bartender, when my glass is again empty.
Sigfrid is waiting for me at a table by the fireplace.
‘A pub,’ I say, feigning disappointment. ‘I was hoping for something a bit classier, perhaps a strip joint?’
‘Very funny,’ he says, piercing me with his eyes. ‘Have you considered stand-up comedy?’
‘They told me I’m overqualified,’ I say, sitting down and forcing myself into a miniature chair.
Sigfrid looks tired. He taps his fingers on the table.
‘Have you been missing out on your beauty sleep?’
‘I’ve been going out a lot,’ he says and shrugs his shoulders with the confidence of a man who knows he is sexy even when he looks bad. His blond hair is combed back, covered in hair gel to hide its dullness, his shirt is a little crumpled, the beginning of a breakout is visible on his forehead. I find I really liked this version of him. Human, flawed, vulnerable. Perhaps… Perhaps, what? Have we forgotten the Greek Word for Wisdom?
I focus on the food menu in front of me. ‘Shame they don’t have lap dance on offer.’
He smiles. ‘One can be arranged.’
‘No, thank you,’ I say, running my fingers on the embossed text of the menu. ‘And here I was thinking this is just dinner.’ I put it away.
‘It is,’ he says, with a grin. ‘But it can also be more.’
I release a nervous laugh. ‘You’re not going to propose, are you? Last I heard, you’re already engaged.’
He keeps a steady gaze on me and traces a finger on my hand. ‘I do have a proposal,’ he says, letting his eyes express the meaning.
‘An indecent proposal. I knew it. My God, how corny,’ I laugh.
His expression doesn’t change. I take a swig of wine, and I assess my situation. While I have a history of one-night stands and of pushing every nice guy I meet away, I’ve never tried this before. Not sober or awake anyway. A flicker of interest forms in an obscure corner of my mind. I never could resist a spot of self-flagellation.
‘Answer me this,’ I say, composed. ‘Why me? You could have anyone you want.’
He looks at me with steel-blue eyes. ‘You intrigue me,’ he says. ‘You’re strong and weak in equal parts. I’ve never met anyone like you before.’
His words make me uncomfortable and I feel the need to regain control. ‘What about Sophia? What’s her strength to weak ratio?’ I say, draining my glass.
Sigfrid refills my glass. ‘I don’t want to talk about Sophia. I want to talk about an arrangement.’
I burst into laughter. ‘Who do you think you are?’ I say between giggles. ‘Christian Fucking Grey?’
He waits until I am done laughing. My God, he is serious. I take another large swig of wine. And another.
‘Okay,’ I say, as calmly as possible, though my heart is running laps inside my chest. ‘I can’t say I understand you, but here’s the deal. I want the account back.’
‘That’s not possible,’ he says.
‘Excuse-me,’ I say, revolted. ‘It’s the least you can do. You shouldn’t have taken it away from us in the first place.’
‘It’s not up to me. Plus, I don’t mix business with pleasure. And business is not what I wish to conduct with you.’
‘Oh, do fuck off,’ I say. ‘That’s it, I’m out of here. Thanks for nothing.’
He watches me as I extricate myself out of the narrow seat and coil my scarf around my neck. I throw my coat around my shoulders and make my way towards the exit. I wobble down the pub stairs and count every step until I find myself outside. Shit, I am drunker than I thought. The air is cold and loneliness has me in a tight grip. I bum a cigarette from a passing stranger and he lights it for me. My hand is freezing on it as I take inexperienced drags, but I don’t toss it. This disgusting cigarette is everything I have right now.
‘Let’s go,’ says Sigfrid from behind me, putting an arm around my shoulders.
Don’t ask me why, but I do what he says. Maybe I am tired. Tired of being the only one driving. For once, I want to be driven. Even if it’s over some cliff.
He takes my clothes off and rolls me on my back. It’s not too late to back out, I tell myself, as he ties my hands above my head. Faint memories I can’t quite place make my heart beat faster, but I try to stay calm. I am scared and turned on, excited and disgusted at the same time. I keep still, watching him through narrowed eyes as he touches my breasts. Softly at first, then harder, squashing them. It hurts, but I close my eyes, and try to surrender to the pain. For a brief moment, it sets me free. Maybe I do need what he is offering. He keeps one hand on my breast and touches himself with the other. He then slowly slides his hand from my breast towards my navel. His nails scratch me as his fingers enter me. I moan as much from pleasure as from pain. But when his other hand begins to press on my windpipe, controlling the air coming in and out of my lungs, a deep-seated sense of terror emerges from somewhere within my body.
I try to speak, but Sigfrid is in total control of me now. I wheeze, grabbing at an invisible necklace around my neck. He puts his thumb to my lips and presses it hard against my teeth. ‘Don’t fight it,’ he says.
I suddenly feel as if somebody has thrown a bucket of water all over me and my vision becomes clear. ‘Untie me,’ I scream, but making hardly any sound. But I fight him like a lioness and, as soon as I can get my hands free, I disentangle myself from Sigfrid’s bedsheets and spring out of his bed.
I start running down the stairs. In the hallway, I knock over a Chinese vase, but don’t turn around to see the damage. I manage to grab my coat from the coat rack and wrap it over my naked body before I run barefoot on the service stairs. It’s not until I take life-saving gulps of the cold night air that I feel my heart beating normally again.
Stay tuned for Chapter 3 next week… And don’t forget to share.
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