Codename lotus, p.20
Codename Lotus, page 20
Lea’s eyes shimmered. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head, mostly to shake up the fog in my mind. “No, but thank you, Lea. I just needed a moment, I think.”
“If you need anything,” she said, fingertips light on my arm. “I’m here.”
It was everything at once. The kiss, my feelings, the reality of Naomi’s engagement—crashing down.
“A-actually,” I managed, sniffling as my voice broke into a sob. “Would you mind if I come inside your home for a moment?”
“Oh, Miss Saanya.”
20
NEW DISCOVERIES
NAOMI
I had just stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to my skin as I wrapped my robe tighter and moved toward the window. My mind drifted to Saanya—to that night when a simple caress had sent my world spinning.
I traced my fingertips over my lips. What if I’d opened my eyes? What if I’d let her?
As quickly as the warmth spread within me, an icy chill crept in. The look on her face when she’d walked in on me kissing Ethan in the kitchen wouldn’t leave me—but what did she expect? I was as good as married. I liked men. I always had. That should have been the end of it.
Then why are you so unsettled?
She was being unreasonable. That was the word. If she’d harbored a crush since we were young and now…
That wasn’t my problem. I could offer friendship, that was it.
This...close, intimate, beautiful thing unlike anything you’ve ever had.
My friend.
But what if I had sent her mixed signals? Memories of Diwali assaulted me—the way I’d looked at her, the way she’d looked back. That night I’d felt so alive. What if I...was attracted to her? The thought moved low in my body, heat catching like a struck match.
A cold, murky tide of guilt rose in the back of my throat. How convenient to blame her alone.
But—I liked men. That was the end of it—
I jumped, startled. I hadn’t heard Ethan approach until his arms were around me.
“What are you doing here?” I turned. My voice came out harsh.
He laughed and kissed my neck. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? I brought my things from the hotel.”
Right. He’d sulked his way into a guest room last night and apologized over coffee this morning.
But it was the way he’d said it: What do you mean, what am I doing here? As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Because it was.
I eased out of his grasp. “Headache,” I said, pressing two fingers to my temple.
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ll be fine,” I said, half-turning away so he wouldn’t see my face.
Somewhere between getting dressed and picking my thoughts apart, Ethan switched off the TV and uncrossed his feet as he got up from the bed. He stopped at the threshold of the bathroom, lifting his sweater over his head, revealing his golden skin. My gaze slid over his broad shoulders and narrow waist. A body I was familiar with. A body I had enjoyed plenty.
Could I possibly be bisexual?
“I’m getting in the shower, babe,” he said casually. “And don’t forget, we’ve got Mom and Dad at Lac d’Or by eight. Stanley and a few of Dad’s friends are here too. They’ll join us later for drinks.”
He undid his pants, which pooled at his feet, and remained in his Ralph Lauren boxer briefs.
Well, not a bad sight at all. At least my entire life hadn’t been a lie. I still found men attractive—so, not a full-blown identity crisis then.
But the words he’d just said sank in.
“Tonight? You’re springing this on me now?” Annoyance bubbled up. “Ethan, I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m not in the mood to mingle with your father’s corporate drones.”
His face fell. “Springing it on you now? I told you months ago. This is the reason why—well, one of the reasons I came to Switzerland in the first place.” His voice took on that capricious, self-absorbed tone. “Besides, Dad made the reservations himself.”
“Aw, did he?”
“Naomi, please. You’re my fiancée. These are my parents and their close friends.”
“That’s precisely the issue, Ethan. It’s never just your parents. And you know how much I can’t stand Stanley.”
He grinned, and pulled me closer. “Forget the bald bastard. We’ll ignore him. They’re lucky to be in your presence.”
Internally, I rolled my eyes. Outwardly, I sighed. “Fine.”
As Ethan’s smile returned, I couldn’t help but feel trapped. The upcoming evening hung over me, nothing but a tidal wave of pretense and forced smiles. And through it all, Saanya’s face still haunted me—it wasn’t a lie that I would trade this ridiculous dinner for a quiet night in. With Saanya—in a heartbeat.
He bent to kiss me. “Thank you,” he murmured, half-naked, hands sliding down my sides. “And tonight…” His mouth found my throat. “I’ll blow your mind.”
I let my head tip and forced a faint smile. He took it for assent and disappeared into the bathroom.
I swear I felt the tension leap onto my shoulders.
It was going to be a long night.
Lac d’Or was all mood lighting and elite luster, tucked inside Zurich’s most luxurious hotel.
I’d packed the dress as an insurance policy. No props to Ethan for the last-minute heads-up, though he had mentioned it months ago. I’d had so much on my plate that this dinner had been the least of my priorities. I glanced at my wrist, expecting my watch but seeing a diamond bracelet instead.
Ugh, of course. Here I was.
Ethan in his tux and me in a backless black Piero Marcelli dress. We were the perfect couple.
Or were we?
Through the glass, I spotted Walter and Patricia, sitting at a table that overlooked the city’s skyline, probably on their second champagne. They had spotted us.
I looped my arm through his and let the maître d’hôtel steer us under chandeliers.
If only they had seen our little row last night.
Bach’s Cantata 156, “Ich steh mit einem Fuß im Grabe”—“I am standing with one foot in the grave”—drifted from the stage. How fitting...for me.
“Well, Naomi, how have you been, dear? We’ve missed you at the charity club. My girlfriends are dying to meet you.” Ethan’s mother said, perfectly coiffed and just as perfectly dismissive of anything that didn’t meet her standards. “That invitation to join us still stands. Even after six years of you saying no.”
A waiter moved quietly around our table, setting down plates.
Ethan smiled at his mother, then nodded at the waiter.
“What can I say, Patricia. I am a busy woman. I don’t get much time to lounge around.” I sipped the swill masquerading as champagne and grimaced. “This is dreadful,” I mumbled under my breath.
Ethan almost choked on his lobster bisque. He cleared his throat and leaned in. “My father chose it.”
“No kidding.”
“Naomi, doll,” Walter said, without missing a beat. “Speaking of busy. How’s your little venture going? Vertex Group, is it?”
Little venture?
I nodded and smiled. My father’s voice echoed in my mind with a treasured lesson from my youth: how to spot and overcome the status quo that privileged men like Walter—my future father-in-law—upheld.
—“Remember, Naomi, the world will cater to men like me first, but you’re stronger and smarter than any of us. Do not apologize for the space you occupy. Ever.”
“Well, Walter, it’s going well, thank you. We’ve just set sail on our next acquisition. An Asian conglomerate that fell prey to the same festering mistakes most CEOs have been making as of late. I call it the boomer ethos crisis. Same old silver foxes, trying to survive in the thriving climate of a generation that has outsmarted and outrun the old business model in the span of five years. It’s an epidemic that has made me richer, so I can’t complain.”
A crease formed between Walter’s aging brows. “Asia, you say? Interesting choice. But you know, those markets can be quite unpredictable and obscure with their practices—except, of course, Japan, South Korea, and Singapore.”
He waved a dismissive hand as he rolled his eyes. “And yeah, yeah, the Philippines and Taiwan too, blah blah. I’m really referring to South Asia and the Middle East, to be precise. Deceitful kind of people.”
A hard, hot anger settled under my skin. I turned to look at Ethan as he nodded along and reached for a bread roll—as if Walter had merely commented on the weather.
Walter leaned in. “I suppose you’ve got someone advising you?”
I pressed my tongue behind my teeth and lifted my chin. In Walter’s book, the only desks women looked good behind were reception desks, and everything outside the West was “primitive land.”
I smiled. “Yes, I have an excellent team, but I prefer to be hands-on with all aspects of my business. I’m happy to offer pointers.”
His brows pinched.
“You know, so that you and your consortium of friends avoid making the same mistakes and falling prey to little ventures like mine in the future.”
Patricia weighed in, all satin concern. “That’s lovely, dear, but I hope you’re not overextending yourself. Once you’re married, you’ll need to focus on the home. A wife’s number one place is beside her husband, ensuring he’s well taken care of.”
I suppressed the urge to laugh—and the shudder that followed.
“Patricia, I’ve always believed that a woman can manage both—a successful career and a fulfilling home life if they so choose. Though I have no such plans for myself. And Ethan is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”
She went glass-brittle.
Walter let out a booming, self-satisfied chuckle. “Well, as long as you remember what’s truly important. A man’s career—especially in Ethan’s position, as he is set to take over my affairs soon—demands a lot of support. That’s where you come in.”
Ethan made a quick, sweaty scan of the table, and finally spoke.
“Naomi’s done incredibly well for herself. She’s one of the most successful women—if not the most successful in her field. I’m sure we’ll work it out, right, babe?”
I lifted the flute. “Don’t hold your breath,” I murmured, and drained it.
“What’s that, dear?” Walter framed his ear with his hand, leaning forward. Ethan squeezed my thigh.
He smiled nervously. “Nothing, Dad. Naomi mentioned she wanted to browse the dessert table, and I need to make a run to the restroom. If you’ll excuse us.”
Walter sat up as Ethan and I walked away from the table.
“Why are you being so combative? I know you’re in a mood with me, but don’t make my parents pay for it.”
“Oh, Ethan, they should pay for it. I did not start it—they did. And you know very well I did not want to be here.”
“They’re old-fashioned, you know that.”
“I need a drink.”
“All right, let’s just take a breather. Why don’t you go find that dessert table we saw on our way in? I’ll be right back.”
Dessert table? How little he knew me. “What?”
We had somehow gravitated toward the bar. It was bustling with a small crowd of more silver foxes in tuxedos. Joy!
“All right.” Ethan motioned to the bartender. “Hey buddy—Hendrick’s and tonic.” He swirled his finger in the air as I stood there with arms crossed.
I hated this little role more and more by the second, thinking that in fifty years I would inevitably turn into a washed-out version of Patricia.
Ethan’s gaze swept over me. “By the way, you look stunning in that dress. Well, what don’t you look stunning in?” He leaned in. “Every person in this restaurant is looking at us. I’m the envy of every man here, and it’s all you, Naomi.”
All night, I’d been gauging my emotions, taking stock of how my body reacted whenever Ethan touched me. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. I wasn’t repelled or put off.
Why would I be?
Of course, I’m straight.
Who was I kidding? Naomi Smith-Chopra, attracted to another woman? Please.
“Babe? Are you listening to me?”
I offered a half-hearted “Hmm” as my attention drifted across the room. My eyes settled on a woman across the floor. She had a natural elegance. Dark wavy hair, almond eyes, olive skin lit like honey under the chandeliers.
Her delicate yet expressive lips curved into a smile that seemed to light up everything around her.
She was pregnant, hand resting on the silk that cascaded down her belly. There was something in her poise, her serene beauty…she reminded me so much of Saanya.
A waiter passed with a tray of champagne flutes, and I took one. My eyes tracked, uninvited, to the curve of her breasts. Perhaps smaller before the pregnancy, now they looked generous and...beautiful.
Absolutely gorgeous breasts.
Saanya’s had probably changed too—though I’d never seen her in anything this revealing. Is this what they look like?
A tantalizing sensation swirled low in my stomach and heat flushed my skin as I thought of Saanya in that dress.
I took a longer sip of champagne.
Ethan went on about some new investment until that insufferable bastard I couldn’t stand cut off my view as he approached us.
“Joe fucking Stanley,” Ethan muttered and pasted on his All-American-guy smile.
Joe Stanley had a hawkish gaze—boastful and insufferable like any privileged man. He was also Ethan’s father’s best friend and business partner.
Ethan crossed the space and shook Joe’s hand, drawing him into that familiar half-hug men favored.
I leaned in. “I’m so sorry—did you two need a moment?”
“Ah, Naomi,” Joe took a step back, clearing his throat. “Escaping the in-laws? I don’t blame you. Old Walter can be a handful.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” I said, pleasant enough.
Ethan slid an arm around my waist and hissed, “What are you doing?”
“Just making conversation, dear. Isn’t that tonight’s theme?” I downed the rest of my champagne, the bubbles doing little to lift me, really, wishing there was something stronger around.
Where the hell is that drink?
With every forced laugh, the void widened—one I hadn’t felt in months. I missed the authenticity, the easy laughter. I missed…
“Are you going to get my drink, or should I go get it myself?”
Ethan glanced at the overcrowded bar and clenched his jaw. “Of course. But please, stop throwing insults left and right. You’re being very difficult tonight, you know that?”
“Oh, am I?” I plucked the flute from his hand, downed it, and headed for the exit.
Ethan caught my hand and squeezed it. By now he knew better than to grab my arm.
“Where are you going?”
“I have no more energy in me to pretend, Ethan. Feel free to continue playing with your father’s B-list business friends. I’m going home.”
His mouth thinned. Maybe the jab was unnecessary—but they’d soured my mood. They had it coming.
He touched my cheek. “You’re right. You didn’t want to come in the first place, and I forced you. Let me say goodbye to my parents and we can go.”
At Ethan’s insistence, we ended up in his suite. It was all oak and warm lamps.
“I’ve still got a few things left up there. Let’s grab them and then we can head out,” he’d said with an air of nonchalance.
It was classic Ethan—charming and uncomplicated to a fault. Once upon a time, I’d found that appealing. He had a way of making life seem smooth, yet beneath that veneer lay traits I found increasingly grating: his impulsiveness, his self-centered decisions, and a certain obliviousness to the deeper currents of our relationship. Faults that had suited us both just fine—until now.
He crossed to the dresser by the bay window and gathered a black leather portfolio and a few personal items. “I think that’s all,” he said, scanning the room.
Thank God.
Before I could call my chauffeur, he set the leather portfolio on the bed, grabbed me by the waist, and pulled me in.
“It’s been months, Naomi.” His mouth found my neck. “What do you say we don’t let the room go to waste?”
For a moment, the evening receded—the piety at dinner, this quiet ache in my chest.
I looked past him at the window, at the city, at my reflection. Something had shifted. Perhaps what had once been enough no longer was.
And still, I confronted the immediate intimacy he offered. My head tipped, and he pressed deeper against my neck.
SAANYA
The fire snapped and sighed in the fireplace while outside the Swiss autumn sank its teeth into the night. I sat on the sofa and wrapped my arms fiercely around myself, watching the flames. The silence of the house had a weight tonight.
Thinking about Naomi was a terrible idea, and yet it was all I could do. I wonder what she’s doing. How her dinner is going. Lea had told me about it, but looking at the clock on the wall, I finally registered how late it was. And what Naomi and her very handsome fiancé could be doing at this hour.
How far was Geneva from Zurich, really? The gulf separating us wasn’t just kilometers now; it was everything unresolved hanging between us. We hadn’t talked since Ethan and Allison raced each other to the door.
I wished for her warmth, a sensation I now knew well despite our few moments of true physical closeness. How I wished for those moments.
A feeling of being watched pulled me out of my head.
I glanced up and saw Allison, shoulder to the wall, arms folded, eyes amused.
“Oh, hello.” I straightened.
“I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”
“It’s all right.”
“So, the famous Lotus,” Allison said with a knowing smile, pushing herself off the wall.
“Lotus?”
She grinned. “Never mind. You seem lost in thought. Missing Naomi?”
That was direct enough. So American.
