Zemira

Coincidence – that element was deployed in movies and fairy tales to tip the scales of drama. It had never occurred to me that my life could also be subject to such cruel coincidence. When I accepted my fate as the sacrificial cow in the ritual of business, I had inadvertently become caught between the Brenton brothers.

Though we covered our shock well, I didn't realize until much later that hiding the truth was harder than it appeared. Every cell in my body screamed at me whenever I saw Antonio.

Not that I felt anything for him, it was the sheer pressure to do the right thing, to confess to the sin I'd committed on that dark, lonely night when I felt my world was crumbling.

A soft tap at my door was my reality call. After another thumping knock, it flew open. Antonio walked in, his gaze glued to me. Unlike his brother's mélange eyes, Antonio's were a shade of glassy, pale gray.

"You look breathtaking," he said. His tender touch hovered over my cheek, and warm blood rushed beneath layers of my makeup. "I still can't believe you hate being photographed."

"Well, you love it enough for the both of us," I said, adjusting his navy blue tie.

His attire - a navy blue suit with a crisp blazer and a crimson pocket square was perfect for the evening. Neatly gelled hair and a clean-shaven face suited him. It highlighted his Celtic jawline. That golden tan wasn't from the Miami sun but his Latin genes.

From his clothes to his overall appearance, Antonio always nailed it. Part of me believed the Brentons must have an entourage whose only job was to make them look delectable.

"Shall we?" He extended his hand with that trademark smile never leaving his face. "We don't want to be late."

The party was an excuse for more media face time. Since Antonio's interview about me, everything had run like clockwork. The publicity brought us new investors, and our dried profit wells received yield showers. What felt like our end turned out to be a spouting beginning.

"When we reach there, your job would be to get Mr. Marson to invest in your business." Antonio gently tapped behind the driver's compartment. With the privacy screen rolled up, we were left in the company of our words. "He's looking for new investment opportunities. So, are you ready for it?"

"Yes, I was born ready."

Lie. I was a wreck. I was in pain. My heels drilled nails into my feet. Above all else, I was suppressing the instinct emerging from the depths of my stomach, screaming at me to escape.

Antonio took my pale fist, rubbing my knuckles. My chest felt full. Although we hadn't spent much time together, I found him to be kind and genuine.

Our car pulled up outside the party arena. My chivalrous companion and soon-to-be fiancé got out, rushing around to open my door.

"Thank you," I whispered, holding the trail of my red dress in one hand while the other intertwined with his.

Ours was an act, an exhibition for the camera and the world. A choreographed performance that should have captured my heart in its motions. I felt nothing. No tingling beneath my skin, no heart-thumping realization that he was the one.

"Friends don't have to keep thanking each other, Zem," Antonio said, and for a brief moment, I felt happy. Then, my pureed mind registered his words.

"Friends!"

Friends we were, friends we would always be. Nothing more, nothing less.

Camera flashes blinded me. Deviating from Haley's instructions, Antonio hoisted my body into his arms and walked us over the last steps.

Curling my arms around him, I gripped his back, praying that he didn't drop me. My body remained stiff all the way up the stairs as he carried me. But I acted, rendering a lovestruck smile for the cameras.

The crowd cheered. Whistles and hoots roared through the air.

When he lowered me at the entrance of the swanky new club we were invited to, I checked my dress from all sides.

"What was that?" I asked

We were never supposed to go off-script.

"That was me showing to the world my prized possession." Antonio kissed my cheek, lending his hand as we walked into the crowd. They cheered our entrance like we were some celebrities on US Weekly.

"This will be our life, Zem." He slid his hand to my lower back. "Now go and get that investor."

The effect of his words made me walk over to those who could help with my business.

I mingled with people and smiled at chauvinist conversations that made the woman inside me die a little. In a room full of fashion and media experts, I felt fake. An imposter trying to fit in.

"Babyyy girl..." A voice called me, louder than the deafening music in the background. It was Kiera.

As she approached me, her tanned face rounded with her smile, pressuring her dimple dents. Her warm and rose-scented embrace assured me everything would work out fine.

"How are you?" I asked, coiling my arms around her.

"Today's about you, Zem. So no questions about me." She broke our embrace. "Is Antonio treating you well?"

Since childhood, Kiera had played the role of my protector. Our friendship was an extension of our fathers' brotherly bond.

To the world, Kiera Dales was a dutiful wife and a CEO, a woman who had it all. To me, she would always be that little warrior who bashed up a school bully who called me fat.

"Yes, Antonio is good to me." I swallowed draught of air and channeled a smile. While I was an open book for Kiera, there were pages I didn't want her to flip over. "He's helping me as promised. He's also-"

"But are you happy? Are you..."

"Of course. Of course, I'm happy." Warm tears pricked the corners of my eyes and threatened to ruin my makeup, my life. Luckily, the darkness of the club hid my flooding emotions.

Kiera embraced me, gently swaying us from side to side. "If you're not happy, then why are you doing this?"

"Because...our company needs all the publicity it can get. Dad won't ask for my help, but I know... after... after Tag's dem..."

Memories of my past flooded my lungs.

"Shush shush." Kiera cupped my face. "Stop crying. Be strong." Her marching order was my reality check. "If you cry, people will think that I bitch-slapped you."

She managed to make me smile. Kiera Dales wasn't just a strong woman, she was kind too. Though struggling with her closeted situation, she never let it show. Her industrial-strength pretense was what I needed in my life to hide my tears and despair.

"Let's get something to drink," I said, wiping my waterline. "I need something strong to do away with this..." My finger hovered over my face.

At the bar, we grabbed seats and eased our feet from the torture of standing on five feet bamboo-like heels.

"What's your poison?" The bartender, a gel-haired and gray shirt wearing gentleman, asked.

"I usually prefer rat poison on normal days and cyanides on weekends," I said, grinning at my confidence surge. She smiled, tilting his head for me to state the order. "Two whiskey sour, please."

With a curt nod, he moved to a side, fetching a glass and his shaker for the concoction.

Kiera rotated my seat. "I've got a call to attend to. I won't be able to answer it here."

"Go, I'd here," I shouted over the music, watching her retreating figure.

While I sat scanning the shimmering dance floor erupting with epilepsy-inducing lights and deafening cries of the crowd, I heard a familiar voice.

"Of all the gin joints in the world."

Leaning against the bar, Leo waved casually. Even in a simple black shirt, he stood out. People like him should always have a warning taped around them. Dangerous, if looked at; lethal, if touched.

"This isn't exactly a gin joint," I said, forcing my unhinged mouth to close. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"My brother's about to get engaged, and I'm supposed to be the best man." Swirling his amber-colored drink, his gaze remained fixed on me. "As best man, I'm also his babysitter."

"Is that what you were doing that night we met, too? Being a babysitter?"

The corner of his lips rose, and so did the warmth in my cheeks.

"I was being of service, ma'am," he said, his demeanor shifting from jovial to somewhat serious.

I picked up the drink served by the bartender and knocked it back.

"There's a thing..." Leo's concentration shifted long enough for me to breathe. "It's called nursing your drink." He eased the rim of his glass between his parted lips. "See, like this."

"Oh, is that what you're doing? And here I thought you were just a slow drinker."

"I may be a slow drinker." His eyebrows touched his hairline. "But I'm a fast learner."

Since the time we met, ours had been a rollercoaster ride. Leo kept our secret hidden from everyone. No thanks to me, who'd always found myself being flustered around him.

I'd always found myself wondering how our first meeting would have turned out, had I not accepted Antonio's proposal.

"What are you doing here, Zem Zem?" Leo's voice broke my reverie.

"What do you mean? Antonio and I were invited to the club's opening night."

He moved closer. His lingering gaze scalded me. It bore a hole in my chest.

"What I meant to say was why are you still doing this? Ford Hotel is doing better now. Your company won't go bankrupt."

"You'd not understand." I looked away because looking at him meant realizing, he was telling the truth. I could have escaped now. We were doing better.

But the more we got publicity, the greedier I got. I wanted to ensure our business remained afloat long after I was gone.

"Make me understand it, Zemira. Or should I say, Kiera?"

There was a certain weight in his voice that seemed to be mocking me.

"Leo..." I grabbed his hand, digging my nails into his skin. His smile widened as opposed to what I'd expected as a reaction, anger. "Please don't...We both lied that day."

"You, more than me."

My ears stood at attention, gauging if anyone overheard us. My vision scanned the place around us.

"How is it any different? I'd assumed you were some other Brenton. You'd not even known me had I told my real name."

"I would have." His head leaned into his chest. "After you left, I met Antonio. He'd told me about the business deal. Your name came up, Zemira."

"So..."

The thing about hiding the truth was it would always resurface. No matter how hard someone tried, it sprouted from its burial.

Had I told Leo my real name, or had he disclosed his true identity, things could have been different. The what-ifs of the scenarios danced in my mind.

"We can't do much about the past," Leo said, the greenish tinges of his eyes sparkled. "But something can be done about the future."

"You don't have to worry about my future, Leo."

The blaring music faded, and the flickering neon light flashed on and off, sending the club into a temporary state of darkness before lighting up again.

I felt Leo's warm breath feathering my face.

"Why? Because you don't like having people care for you?"

Like suction, I felt his pull on me. All physical forces aside, it was Leo's hold that bound me together.

"Leo..." my voice rasped as I pushed him away. "You're not that good at mind reading."

"And you, Zem Zem...are not that good at faking your emotions."

My eyelids fluttered in anticipation of his rebuttal, and my heartbeats drummed in sync with the music. Just as the lights flickered back on, Leo moved away.

I sagged with labored breath, holding the edge of the bar. By the time my scrambled thoughts realigned, Kiera had slid back into her seat.

I guzzled the drink she brought, feeling its tangy aftermath hit the roof of my mouth.

"You look like you saw a ghost." She pointed at my sweat-bead forehead.

"I might have seen one."

"Who was it?"

"The man who coined the term Zem Zem."

"Aww, I like that name," she said, draining the pink contents of her glass. "I didn't like the couple names Haley came up with."

"Anmira was supposed to be a good hashtag, Kiera."

Our publicist had spent days planning our merged names. It was supposed to be the new 'it' factor for our newer ventures. Then Leo happened.

"Sweetie." Kiera pulled my chair closer. "Let the name go. You've to look at the bigger picture."

"What's that?"

She pointed towards a corner. I turned around, locking eyes with Antonio. He smiled into his chest and walked away, merging into the crowd.

"Antonio is helping you more than he's helping his business," she said, " You were worried about your association with him. You'd judged him based on unreliable gossip."

Sliding off my chair, I nodded at her assertion. I had been worried about lending the reins of my business to a reckless, rule-breaking playboy. Antonio had shattered all presumptions I held of him.

Turning to the corner where he'd disappeared, I walked with a newfound spring of determination in my steps.

Maybe, I had it all wrong. Not all bad boys were bad.

~

Not all smiles mean well, nor all banter means hatred.

Let me know if you think Antonio's looks are deceptive, or is it something more.