Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

“That’s enough!” Alex interrupted him brusquely. He laughed maniacally and downed his vodka in one gulp.

“Another!” he yelled over to the bartender.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.” He grinned, but his eyes shone with pure hatred. His lips touched her cheek, and he hissed, “I love to stand in your shadow. I love to be the idiot who does all of your dirty work. It turns me on when all I hear is Alex, Alex, Alex! ”

She wiped his spit from her cheek in disgust. The grin had vanished from his face—Alex was shocked to realize the extent of his envy. He was jealous of her success and her standing with the board, and he was angry because he didn’t have a chance with her. His friendliness had been a facade all along. Zack wasn’t her friend. Quite the contrary. She slid off her bar stool.

“I’m leaving now,” she said coolly. “You’re completely drunk.”

“Yes, I’m drunk.” He was standing so close to her that she could see every pore in his face. “But don’t think that I’m as stupid as all those other idiots. You conned me, you little bitch. I won’t let you get away with it a second time!”

Mark stepped in. He pushed Zack aside, which nearly triggered a brawl. But all of the men from Alex’s department kept Zack in check, allowing her to leave the bar unscathed. She stood on the street in the sleet.

“Is everything all right?” Mark looked at her with so much concern and empathy that she almost lost the last bit of her self-control. The events of recent days had simply been overwhelming. Discovering that Sergio knew about her and Oliver was the last straw, and Zack’s mean vulgarities nearly sent her over the edge.

“Yes, everything’s okay,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’ll take you home,” Mark offered. Alex thought about Oliver again. Maybe Sergio’s spies were lurking around every corner. In any event, she wanted to prevent something happening to Mark.

“No, it’s all right. I’ll take a cab. Go back inside and celebrate a little more.”

“I can’t possibly leave you alone.” Mark remained firm, waving at a passing taxi that looked empty.

“Yes, you can. It’s all right.” Alex managed to smile. “I’m okay.”

“Can I at least call you later?” Mark was sincerely concerned. Alex nodded. Then she hugged him spontaneously.

“Thank you for everything, Mark. Thank you for letting me trust you.”

Mark swallowed and nodded. Alex quickly climbed into the waiting taxi and waved good-bye.

It was early morning, and a pale-blue horizon arched across the sea. The December sun tried to provide a little warmth as Alex and Madeleine rode through the dunes down to the beach. Alex was happy that she had accepted Trevor and Madeleine’s invitation to Lands End House on Long Island. During her visit in July, she’d fallen in love with the massive red-brick mansion—which wasn’t pretentious despite its imposing size. Trevor’s great-great-grandfather had built it in 1845 at the northern end of Long Island, between the towns of Montauk and Amangansett, and it had been owned by the family ever since.

Trevor and Madeleine had become good friends, and Alex felt protected and secure at their house. She enjoyed the cheerful family atmosphere in the house, with its magnificent Christmas decorations, the long conversations at the fireplace, and the unconditional sympathy that the Downeys were showing her, which Alex returned from her heart. Once, she had talked to them about Sergio because she thought that her friends had the right to know. She had anxiously waited for their reaction and prepared herself for outright rejection; instead, the Downeys accepted the situation without judgment.

“I’m terribly nervous,” Madeleine said to Alex as they reached the beach. “I’ve been organizing this Christmas party for eighteen years now, but every time I’m worried that something will go wrong.”

“Come on, Maddy,” Alex said with a grin, “what could possibly go wrong? You’re part of an experienced team, plus I’m here to assist you.”

“I’m very grateful to you for that.” Madeleine sighed, but then she laughed. “You’re so pragmatic and always keep a clear head. I panic immediately.”

“It’s my job to stay calm even if things go haywire.”

“Imagine, Cliff Gordon and his wife are coming over from Martha’s Vineyard by helicopter.”

Alex knew that Trevor was a college friend of Robert Gordon, the president’s younger brother, and that the two aristocratic families had been friends for generations.

“You’re so incredibly genteel.”

“Ah, stop mocking me!” Madeleine grinned. “You know just as many important people as I do.”

“Let’s trot for a bit.” Alex preferred not to speak about the important people she knew. The stiff breeze stirred up the gray sea and caused large waves to roll onto the beach. The surf’s salty spray blew into both women’s faces. Alex took a deep breath and smiled. Sitting in the saddle with the cold wind in her face and the endless sea before her eyes, she forgot about her problems for a while and once again felt just as free, as carefree, as when she was a child. The seagulls were struggling against the wind with their melancholy cries. The beach extended for miles all the way out to Montauk. A magnificent mansion appeared up on the dunes every now and then, but their inhabitants were still asleep at this time of the day. Alex’s horse started bucking boisterously. It wanted to gallop.

“Just let him run,” Madeleine said. “I’ll catch up with you.”

The two riders had reached the wide inlet of Stony Bay.

“Okay!” Alex winked at her friend. “Let’s go!”

The chestnut gelding suddenly rose up, which would have thrown an inexperienced rider out of the saddle. But Alex leaned forward and held on with her knees and thighs. The horse thundered along the beach with long, galloping strides and pricked ears, racing against the stormy wind and the seagulls. Faster, faster! She laughed happily. The wind drove tears into her eyes as she ducked behind the horse’s neck and enjoyed its magnificent, graceful strength.

Strolling on the dunes with a golden retriever, two early walkers watched her with faces aghast as she raced past them like an incarnate Valkyrie. She let the horse circle the entire width of Stony Bay before slowly reducing her speed and looking around. The two walkers had reached the beach, and Alex saw that Madeleine had stopped to talk to them. She let her horse gallop once again. Her ponytail had come loose during the wild gallop and her blonde hair was flowing in the icy December wind, just like the horse’s flaxen tail.

Madeleine waved at Alex. She slowed down the gelding a few yards ahead of them, and both of the walkers stepped back out of respect. Breathless, with reddened cheeks, she stopped her horse.

“Isn’t she an excellent rider?” Madeleine said to the couple. All three of them watched Alex with undisguised admiration as she calmed down the nervous horse.

“Yes, indeed,” the man said, “quite impressive.”

“Alex!” Madeleine called out. “Do you know Nick and Mary Kostidis?”

Alex turned her head, surprised. Sure enough, the man standing next to Madeleine’s horse was the mayor of New York. He looked completely different in his blue down jacket and jeans, but she immediately recognized those dark, burning eyes.

“Hello,” she said, smiling. “Yes, we’ve met once before.”

“Alex Sontheim,” Kostidis nodded, inspecting her closely, “at the Plaza. I remember.”

Alex remembered how disdainfully Sergio had spoken about this man and how much he hated him. He called him a fanatic, an idiot, the plague. While Madeleine and Mary Kostidis talked about the horses, she wondered what the mayor was doing at seven thirty on Christmas morning on a deserted beach at the tip of Long Island.