Danielle Steel - The Apartment

“Where’s Ivan?” Oliver asked Abby.

“He’s sick.” And then everyone’s attention turned to Alex as Sasha introduced him, and he looked a little overwhelmed at first. Sasha explained who her roommates were, and that Oliver was Morgan’s brother, Greg was his partner, and Max was Morgan’s boyfriend, and she said he owned a terrific restaurant nearby.

“The only one missing is my sister. She’s still in St. Bart’s, and she’ll be home tomorrow.” But other than her and Ivan, everyone was there. Alex talked to all of them, and after the first few minutes, he was totally relaxed discussing hockey with Oliver and Greg, and said he’d been to several Rangers games the previous season and saw Greg make the winning save in the play-offs and said it had been sheer genius.

And in a quiet moment, when he wasn’t paying attention, Claire glanced at Sasha and raised an eyebrow in the direction of Alex and whispered to her.

“What about him? He’s cute.”

Sasha seemed embarrassed and tried to appear nonchalant about it. “We worked on a delivery together this week.”

“Never mind that—he’s great-looking, and he seems nice.” Sasha nodded and didn’t tell her about dinner the night before, or lunch in the cafeteria earlier in the week. She didn’t know where it was going, if anywhere, and she liked his idea of becoming friends first. But she was happy he’d come to dinner so everyone could meet him and he could see where she lived, and with whom.

As usual, dinner was delicious. Max had made a French-style leg of lamb, with lots of garlic, mashed potatoes, and string beans. And he had brought tiramisu from the restaurant for dessert. Whenever Max cooked, it was their best meal of the week, and the red wine he had brought was exceptionally good. He loved cooking for their family-style dinners, and thought Alex was a great new addition. They talked about French wines, and Alex said he liked to cook too. And after dinner, Morgan, Max, Oliver, and Alex played a few hands of poker, while the others cleaned up.

After Max and Morgan went to her room at midnight, Alex and Sasha were finally alone. The others had all gone home or to bed by then.

“What a terrific evening,” Alex said warmly. “I love your roommates, and Max is a great guy. I’d like to try his restaurant sometime. He’s a wonderful cook.” He felt like he’d spent the evening with a family, not just a group of friends, which is how they always felt about it too. And they always had a good time. Alex said he liked the apartment too, and Sasha told him that Claire’s mother had helped to make it look and feel like home.

They talked for a long time, and then regretfully he got up, hating to leave, and she walked him to the door. He felt lucky to have met her, and that she had invited him to dinner with her friends.

“Thank you for including me, Sasha. I haven’t had that much fun in years. What’s your schedule like this week?”

“I’m on duty and on call for the next five days, but I have a day off next weekend.”

“Let’s figure out something to do.”

“I’d like that,” she said quietly, and then he gently pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was the perfect end to a lovely evening, and she looked up at him with wide eyes after they kissed.

“I’m not sure if that’s the right protocol for date three,” he whispered, and she giggled. “But it seemed pretty great to me. What do you think?”

She nodded and he kissed her again, and they lingered at the door for a few minutes, kissing, and then hating to leave her, he disappeared down the stairs. Date number three had gone extremely well, and Alex could hardly wait for the rest.

Valentina came back from St. Bart’s the next day, and called Sasha to tell her about all the fun she’d had. She was crazy about Jean-Pierre and said he had treated her like a queen. They had flown back on his private plane, which was nothing unusual for her, but she said that Jean-Pierre was different from any man she had ever known, and he seemed to know everyone in the world.

Sasha had heard all of it before, but she was pleased that her sister was happy, as long as he was a decent guy. Sasha was never sure with her.

“When am I going to see you?” Sasha asked her.

“I’m leaving for a shoot in Tokyo tomorrow, with Japanese Vogue. That’s why we came back.” The Japanese loved her, and were crazy about her blond green-eyed looks. She no longer did the ingenue shoots, where they used fourteen-year-old models, but there was still plenty of work for her, and her agency booked her for great shoots all the time, even for American Vogue. She told Sasha that they were pissed at her for staying in St. Bart’s for so long, but she’d had a ball.

“Do you want to come over after work tonight?” Sasha offered.

“I can’t. I’m going to a gallery opening with Jean-Pierre, and a dinner with the owner after.” She mentioned one of the most prestigious galleries in town.

“I’m working today.” Her twin had reached her at the hospital. “Do you want to meet me in the cafeteria for lunch? At least I’ll get to see you before you leave.”

Valentina didn’t sound enthused about it, but she agreed. She wanted to see Sasha too.

“See you at noon,” Sasha suggested, and Valentina said she’d be there.

Valentina was twenty minutes late, as Sasha sat eating a yogurt and a banana at a table, when her sister appeared. She was wearing a one-piece black stretch jumpsuit, a vintage Dior real leopard coat from the fifties that she’d found in a secondhand shop in Paris, and dizzying high heels. She created a sensation the minute she walked in, and headed for Sasha’s table, carrying the coat. She looked rail thin in the jumpsuit, and like the star she was.

“Someone is going to kill you for wearing that coat,” Sasha said in a low voice.

“Fuck them. It’s Dior couture. I paid a fortune for it.”

“Can’t you get arrested for that?” Sasha looked nervous, and Valentina laughed. Their faces were identical, and their bodies, and they both had long straight blond hair, but everything else was as different as it always was. And Sasha was wearing scrubs and clogs.

“They should arrest you for wearing those shoes. Can’t you wear decent shoes to work?” she asked, disgusted by her sister’s choice of footwear.

“Not when I’m on my feet eighteen hours a day.” But in spite of what she said, Sasha was happy to see her and gave her a warm hug. She had been gone for almost two weeks. “I missed you. How long will you be in Japan?”

“Three or four days. I’m going to meet Jean-Pierre in Dubai on the way back, for the weekend. He has business there.”

“What exactly does he do?” Sasha asked, sounding concerned, as Valentina helped herself to the banana and said it was all she wanted for lunch, with a sip of Sasha’s Diet Coke. She had to work in a few days, and she always ate very little before she did. “He’s not a drug dealer, is he?” There had been one or two in the past ten years, high-end ones, and one of them had gone to jail. Valentina had never been in trouble with the law, but the men in her life sometimes were.

“Of course not. He’s completely respectable. He’s a businessman. He doesn’t like to talk about his work.”

“That’s never a good sign,” Sasha reminded her, but Valentina brushed her off. She told her all about St. Bart’s, the movie stars and important people she’d met. It wasn’t new to Valentina, in her line of work, but she was always impressed. And she said Jean-Pierre had the biggest plane she’d ever seen. Sasha laughed, and said innocently, “I thought you were going to say the biggest something else.”