The initial week got into a pace that proved to be false manageable.
Lena soon got to know that Nathaniel Ross was a structure man. His mornings were early, frequently before sunrise, and of silent activity and intent. He read reports as he consumed his coffee, answered phones with a dignified imperiousness which left no reply possible, and got out of the apartment at the same hour every day unless something urgent obliged otherwise. There was everything that implied control about him, not towards his work alone, but also towards his emotions.
Lena, however, was still getting acclimatized.
She knew where things should be in the apartment, how to move around the apartment without encroaching on it, and how to use silence without adding unnecessary noise to it. Some of the staff greeted her politely but with professional detachment, well informed as per who she was supposed to be. Nathaniel's partner. His girlfriend. A position that grew heavier as she had been its wearer.
She even spent longer than normal before the mirror that morning.
She also had another engagement with Nathaniel later that evening, which was more personal than the luncheon. One of the charity dinners organized by a family with close relations to his business. Claire argues that looks were as important as balance sheet figures.
Lena altered the plain dress she chose to wear and made the fabric cover her hips. She was not aware of the lady who was looking at her. Not that she was not the same, but that she appeared calm in a manner she had not been experiencing in years. It was disturbing that she was adjusting herself so fast.
By the time she walked into the living room, Nathaniel had preoccupied it, his jacket in one arm and he was examining a document on his phone. And when he heard her coming he looked up, and kept his eyes a half second longer than was usual.
"That works," he said.
It was not a compliment, though it was not nothing.
Claire replied yes, and Lena did not know why she was so prompted to defend herself.
Ok, said he putting his phone back into his pocket. "We'll leave in ten."
The motion was less noisy than it had been formerly, and the lights of the city were just starting to appear as the dusk fell on. Lena had been watching the images of passing buildings in the window, and her mind was rambling, though she attempted to hold it in hand. She was getting accustomed to this intimacy, too used to his presence. That fact disturbed her even more than the foreign world she was in.
The charity dinner was organised in a big hall which was filled with low tones of music and low tones of conversation. The perfume and polished-wood smell in the air were costly. As soon as they entered, Lena was aware of the usual tension that had settled on her shoulders.
Nathaniel noticed.
He stepped slightly against her back, without saying a word, guiding her. It was a delicate touch, business-like and it gave her a rather unpleasant shock. She had to draw herself, in keeping with his paces.
They were able to move around their room with professionalism, shaking hands with friends and exchanging pleasantries. Lena smiled, and shook her head, and laughed when it was right to laugh. She was a more attentive listener than a speaker, allowing Nathaniel to drive discussion concurrently as she contributed just enough to give what they were sharing some credibility.
It was working.
Too well.
They were at one time befriended by an older couple who had an open interest in Lena. The lady sweetened her gaze, and embraced Lena in her hands.
Well, it is a pleasure to see you at last, she said. Nathaniel, has always kept himself to himself. We were starting to believe that he had never allowed any one near him.
Lena could feel Nathaniel squeeze his hand a bit around her.
She smiled. There are things that should remain in secret.
The answer made the woman laugh, evidently to her content.
The stress started showing itself on Lena as the evening dragged on. The feeling of being on alert all the time, the calculative nature of every word, the struggle to be in touch with someone that was not meant to be natural. When they finally went out on the terrace to take some air she was exhausted.
In front of them stood the city with its glittering lights against the dark sky. The din of the dinner died away behind, and they were left to listen to a low hum that was almost of a personal nature.
It was good, said Nathaniel after a while.
Lena leaned on the railing, giving a sigh. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true," he replied. And because I do not mean things that I do not say.
She looked up at him, his speech falling on her ears with a solemn, sincere silence which startled her. "Does this ever get easier?"
He pondered on the question. You learn how to fake that it does not get you.
That is not what I mean, she said.
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
there was a silence between them, more than completed. It made Lena painfully conscious of the proximity of their bodies, how near they were to each other now with no eyes to be filled.
There is no need to stay, Nathaniel told himself. "If this becomes too much."
Her answer was a shake of her head. "I made a commitment."
That is not to say that you are a prisoner, he answered.
The words hung there, stirring something unpleasant in her breast.
"I know," she said. But I do not want to be a person who just walks out of the problems.
He examined her, actually looked at her, as though he had to figure out something more than the part she had to play. "That's not weakness," he said. "But it can be dangerous."
All this is dangerous, everything about this, Lena said to herself.
The two stood still a little. The air between them was electric, delicate, and it could break apart any delicate balance they had established.
First of all Nathaniel withdrew.
"We should go," he said.
The drive home was more of a silence than a silence, tension buzzing under. The woman, Lena, was staring in the window, and her face was reflected on the glass together with his. She did not relish the fact that his presence had so easily settled in her mind, that his worry had ceased to be an obligation, and rather something personal.
At the apartment the night was lengthening its strange silence. Nathaniel went back to his office and Lena hovered in the living room, attempting to relax. She reminded herself that she was thinking too much, that being close to each other created false intimacy. That all this was nothing.
Yet with she heard some coming footsteps she began to bend before her mind could follow.
A few feet short Nathaniel halted. I would like to explain something, he said.
She looked up at him. "What is it?"
This arrangement, he began, and this time I picked my words with care, is successful, because we are honest. You tell me, in case you feel that you are being pressured to do something we had agreed upon.
Lena swallowed. "And if you feel the same?"
His gaze held hers steadily. "Then I'll tell you."
Her chest tightened at his sincerity in his eyes.
"Good," she said quietly.
He hesitated, and then nodded once and turned away.
Then, back in bed, Lena again looked at the ceiling, her mind scattered. She re-lived the night piece by piece, the warmth of his hand, the manner in which he stared at her as though in search of something that he had not hoped to discover.
She had made it clear to herself since the start that this was just a role, a means to an end. but the roles were apt to creep under the skin when acted too long.
And with the old apartment falling into quietness Lena found a disturbing thought.
The boundaries were already starting to widen.
And she did not feel certain that she wished them to be as attractively as she used to be.
Then it was sleep that crept in, but shallow and restless. Lena had a dream of mirrors and moving reflections, of faces which were different with the observer of the face. By getting up early in the morning it was usually quiet in the apartment, a thin shell of calm that could only be interim. She was listening to her own breathing; and she knew that with every day of her life she was being pushed further and further into a life which was no longer borrowed. Whatever it was taking shape, she felt that it was not going to be an easy matter to get off unscathed.