Page 86 of Pierced

It’s an odd town, Vail. Because if you’ve never been here you picture one thing and that’s so not what you get. Oh, it has the view, and the ski slopes, and the golf courses. But it’s a small valley with a lot of high-priced real estate packed between the mountains, which are always towering over you in a pressing way, so the whole place feels claustrophobic in a car. You don’t ever get that mountain feeling until you get out and walk around. And if you don’t know your way around Vail, it’s hopeless. Because there are many narrow, winding streets and no large, gaudy signs announcing entrances to anything, and all the buildings seem to run together. But Pierce has obviously been up here many times because he knows where the Four Seasons is, even though you can’t see the small, unobtrusive sign until you’re turning in to the valet.

We walk into the lobby together. We approach the desk together. We are led up to the suite together. We do everything together. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not in charge anymore.

After he tips the bellman and closes the door, he turns to face me. “So…”

“So,” I say, turning away and walking through the cozy living room and over to the window. There’s a nice view of Vail Mountain.

“So,” he says. And somehow he’s right behind me.

“What do you think you’re going to get out of this, Pierce?” I ask. My tone is slightly defensive. Maybe even a little accusatory. I turn to face him. Because I’m not a coward and I feel like my vulnerable moment back in the car is giving him the wrong impression of me. “Because there’s only one bed in here.”

He winces a little. No playful eyebrow lift for this question, that’s for sure. He looks very nice today, I decide. This is a suit he wears, but not all the time. It’s not in the normal rotation. He’s worn it maybe three times, and all of those times have been for evening functions. So why today? Why this suit on this day?

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Just… you.”

“Me? How? Me as… your girlfriend? Your assistant? Your VP? Your friend? Which of these versions of me are you after?”

“All of them?” he asks, doubtfully.

“You can’t have all of them,” I say, crossing my arms as I quickly run that list back in my head. Because I said girlfriend and he didn’t deny it.

“Why not?”

“Well, that’s a typical reply, I suppose. From you. Because getting what you want is typical too.”

“Too rich,” he says.

“What?”

“That’s another one of my toos. Too rich.”

“Can a person be too rich?” I ask.

He shrugs, walks over to the bar on the far side of the living room, and says, “Would you like a drink?”

“I would, actually.”

He holds up a bottle of Scharzhofberger Trockenbeerenauslese from an ice bucket. “Will this do?”

I walk toward him, almost against my will. “Where the hell did you get that? And don’t tell me that the Four Seasons keeps that in stock, it’s just not possible.”

He smiles a little. Like this is a good story. But it’s not a proud smile. It might even be a sad smile. “Remember that weekend trip to Germany I took last month? I went to the Trier wine auction.”

“Why? You don’t drink.”

“No, but you do. This is your favorite sweet wine, correct?”

I place my hand over my heart. “I mean, yes. I’ve tasted it a few times and I love it. But it’s not like I buy it regularly.”

“You wouldn’t. Unless you’re in Trier, Germany, the third week of September for the auction, you can’t get it.”

“You… planned a weekend trip to Germany to get me this bottle?”

He presses his lips together and then lets out a long sigh. “I’ve been saving it for the day you forgave me. I didn’t want to use it as a bribe. You made it pretty clear that’s how you felt about the promotion. And the office. And the furniture. So… Yeah. I felt like we were in a good place last night so I had a messenger drop it off here this morning so it would be chilled when we arrived.”

I just stare at him, open-mouthed. This bottle is worth somewhere in the neighborhood of five to six thousand dollars. And the trip. A private jet. A car service to get him to Trier. A hotel. Then backtracking two days later.