Chapter 2: Fire and Ice

“Daniela,” Myko repeated.

Reesa stiffened. The speech of the man beside her was cold, and otherwise new in an unsettling way. His proximity meant that she could hear each labored breath, see every tensed-up muscle, and register each minor twitch of his fingers.

She was similarly jarred by his wife's exposure. Daniela's bronzed olive skin, only a few shades lighter than Reesa’s own, had reddened on more than her face, and she was scrambling to augment her pillow’s field of coverage. Everything from her long, raven hair, to the massive woolen blanket, was used for this purpose. Unfortunately, she could get nothing to cooperate, as glossy strands kept deserting their posts, and the blanket kept threatening to slip.

Huddled in groups around the family room, a plethora of eyes took stock of the spouses, and expressions ranged from unease to shameless curiosity. Reesa noticed one expression, however, that flew in the face of them all.

She'd never seen Ethan look happier.

“Myko,” Daniela said with a whimper. “Please.”

There was nothing else to the statement, but Reesa imagined any number of continuations: please don’t be angry, please don’t make a scene, please stay calm. But even if Daniela had said them, Reesa doubted they’d stop what happened next.

“So,” Myko said, looking from Daniela to Ethan. “This is why you’ve been so distracted.”

Reesa swallowed hard as some people crept toward the exit, and others reached for their phones. Pursing her lips, she issued a warning. “Don’t forget: You all signed nondisclosure agreements after you RSVP'd.”

Ignoring the noises of disappointment that followed this, she diverted her attention back to Myko. “Sir, I can disperse the crowd and dismiss the staffers, unless you want to do that yourself. I just need a direct order.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “What is this?” he asked, softly at first, and then, like an arctic blast, reiterated the question in a roar. “What is this? Say something!”

That last word coincided with his marked advance toward the sofa, and the hasty retreats of everyone else save the fenced-in lovers and Reesa.

Akin to an arrow, Myko’s confusion searched for a target. “Are you scratching an itch? Do you think you’re in love? Whatever possessed you to do this, in our home, and on our anniversary, Dani?”

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” Daniela said. She held the pillow tighter as though it would shield her from his emotions. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you have, cara mia,” Myko said, the sound of pain temporarily quashing his anger. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“I’m sorry,” Daniela said. The words were barely above a whisper but seemed to echo throughout the room.

As quickly as it had faded, Myko’s ire rose again. “Sorry? You’re sorry? As you sit there in nothing but your afterglow, you’re sorry?”

“I didn’t know you’d be home this early,” she said and promptly winced, apparently recognizing the flaw in her choice of words.

“Wow. We made similar assumptions. I didn’t expect you home early, either. Clearly, I didn’t, unless you missed the decorations in your hurry to jump Ethan’s bones? Excuse my interrupting you by showing up where we live!”

“Don’t yell at her,” Ethan said.

Reesa once heard him ask a waiter to ‘hold the salt’ with more passion. She saw his satisfaction beneath the detached veneer. That’s when she knew he’d planned this.

“Mareesa,” Myko said suddenly, not looking at her, but in a tone more native to him. “Please tell the staffers and stragglers to leave.”

Not needing to be asked twice, Reesa steered both the willing and the unwilling out of the other rooms in the penthouse. That wasn't a simple feat, given how rudely some of those present took to her diligence, but she didn't relent until they complied. She was contemplating leaving herself when Myko called her back.

Temples throbbing, Reesa re-entered the room and was glad to see her boss’s breathing was less forced, his jawbone less inclined to separate from his skin, and his body less restless. What was more, he had his back turned to the now-dressed companions and appeared intent on keeping it that way.

She was sure things were taking a turn for the better when he asked her to help Daniela, who seemed unsteady, to the powder room. But as soon as both women were out of his way, her hopes for peace were dashed.

Like a lion moving in for the kill, Myko surged toward Ethan, his fists poised for physical contact much different from that which ignited his fury. In response, the other man backed up to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the fear that was lacking before finally making its debut.

“Mr. Sartori, stop!” Reesa shouted and restrained a wriggling, sobbing Daniela.

Myko continued to hem Ethan in, not indicating by word or deed that he heard this command. His motions were entrenched in their fixation.

“Mr. Sartori!”

Myko’s hands were on Ethan’s collar before the latter could block them, and he pushed him hard into the glass. Damp strands of sandy brown hair flopped in front of grey eyes, which Reesa saw widen in shock. Those same eyes began to water as Myko cut off Ethan’s air supply, and while his lips parted, no sound emerged. The view behind the two men, filled as it was with other skyscrapers and busy traffic below, did nothing to lessen the moment’s anxiety.

“Myko!”

His hands relaxed, and there was almost silence, muddled only by Daniela's light sniffles and Ethan's dry coughs. Taking several steps back, Myko made a distinct effort to concentrate on Reesa. “Yes?”

“Let’s take a walk,” she said, not knowing where the suggestion came from. “Or a drive, or whatever you want. But let’s get you out of here, okay?”

This move was irregular for Reesa considering her love for work-life separation. That aside, she felt strongly that anywhere else would be better for Myko than the penthouse, especially with Daniela now rushing to check on Ethan.

There was complete silence afterward. The weight of it nearly crushed her.

But then Myko said, “Okay.”