118: Shackled

When Charlie stepped through the front door, there was the instant clatter of canine toenails on hardwood as Nana ran from the back of the house to greet her.  A floppy pink doggie tongue lolled out the side of her mouth when the furry body skidded into to the foyer and then disappeared so that a yapping welcome could be issued. 

“Hello, sweet girl,” Charlie, bending over to ruffle the fluffy ears of the pet whose front feet were planted in her shin.  “Are you happy to see me?  Huh?  Were you a good girl for Jon?”

“She was pretty happy to see me, too,” came his drawl from the living room doorway.  “I don’t think Luke dotes on her like you do.”

“Probably not.  He tolerates her, but that’s about it, because he’s just a silly old brother.”  The last was offered in a childish voice reserved strictly for Nana, who was finally satisfied that she’d received enough attention and skittered back to the kitchen.  Charlie’s briefcase was put in the floor beneath the hall table as she speculated, “You must’ve put food down for her.”

“I did,” Jon verified while opening arms covered by the rolled-back sleeves of a navy dress shirt.

Charlie stepped into them, tilting her mouth to receive a kiss that was heartwarming in its familiarity, although not passionate.  It didn’t say “I want you” so much as “I’m glad to see you”, and that was just as desirable.  As she’d told him before, the interest in sex would fade and it would be a good idea for them to like each other when it did.

She liked the soft lips caressing hers quite a lot. 

“Where’s dinner?” The question was posed without lowering the arms that were still happily looped around his neck.  “Dressy or not?  I can never tell, since you were jeans and a dress shirt for either.”

The crinkling corners of eyes in her favorite shade of blue had Charlie returning his subdued grin.  “Whatever Dominick’s dress code is.  I thought we’d go to Juliana’s since it’s close by and we know the food is good.”

Juliana’s. 

She loved her brother’s restaurant but would rather not risk running into her brother.  Tonight, she didn’t want anybody but Jon.  They were entitled to some alone time.

“Did you have anyplace else in mind?  I’m ready for a breather from my family.”

“I like Marea, but it’s all the way on the Upper West Side.”

“The thought of going back into the city tonight…  Ugh.  How about Sociale?  It’s only a couple blocks away.  We could walk over, and they have a good selection of seafood.”

Over the past couple of months, Charlie had ascertained that he liked his seafood almost as much as his pasta.  The two together made him even happier, and Sociale’s menu was diverse enough to indulge whatever dining whim he was feeling. 

“They also have an amazing tortinoall choccolato,” she threw in as an additional enticement that he wouldn’t care about.  “I’ve earned chocolate.”

Jon’s smile was understated, with closed lips grinning down at her, but those baby blues that were still crinkled at the corners…  They told her more than a hundred love songs or sonnets about his feelings for her, and Charlie couldn’t resist smoothing a palm over a cheek that was just starting to prickle with evening whiskers. 

“Look at me like that much longer and we aren’t going anyplace but bed.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, sliding her arms free to ease away.  “I get lost in my head sometimes with you.  It’s hard to believe you’re mine, even in the broadest context.”

“You find it any easier to believe you’re mine?  ‘Cause if not…”  The fine fabric of his shirt bunched at the shrugging of one shoulder.  “I might have something that could help with that.”

Dazzling secrets danced in his irises, sparkling across the whites of his eyes and spilling to lashes that fluttered innocently when he blinked. 

“With that kind of intro and expression on your face, I’m going to need to know what it is you have,” she drew out slowly, fighting the urge to kiss the daylights out of the man who exuded pheromones as effortlessly as most men breathed. 

“Later.  There will be prolonged sex that follows, and I don’t want you passing out from lack of nourishment.”

“Well, hell.”  Charlie propped both fists on her hips and huffed, “If we’re in bed, it’s fine for me to pass out.”

“But I’m not into banging unconscious women anymore,” he countered, shepherding her with an arm around the waist.  “Now go change while I call the restaurant for a reservation.”

“Wait, wait,” she laughed, digging her heels into floor at the base of the stairs.  “Anymore?  Did you have a habit of banging unconscious women in the past?  Were there charges pressed?  Because I think this is information that I should have.”

“No charges, just drunk women passing out and horny men cashing in on promises they made while still conscious.”  He smacked her backside.  “It was the eighties.  Shit happened.” 

“Hm.  Maybe I’ll see about taking advantage of you in an unconscious state sometime.”

His grin was arrogantly feral and had the muscles clenching low in her stomach.  “You touch anything that constitutes ‘advantage’, and I guarantee I won’t be unconscious for long.”

“Good,” Charlie preened, pivoting on her heel to now scale the stairs.  “I’ll remember that.”

An hour later, they were seated in the back corner of a very small, crowded Sociale.  Jon’s “fruit of the sea” farfalle had been ordered along with Charlie’s eggplant parmigiana, and the two of them serenely sipped wine while they talked about nothing of importance. 

If this is what the normal end of the day was like with Jon…  Charlie could be enticed to do it often.  Although in a couple more weeks, she wouldn’t have a nine-to-five job, so who knew what her days were going to be like?

“I’m gonna ask you something that might be a mood spoiler.”

“Okay.”

Watching as he pushed his wineglass forward to cross both arms on tiny tabletop, Charlie didn’t feel the trepidation that maybe she should’ve.  There had been so many dramatic confrontations in their relationship thus far that she knew whatever he had to say wasn’t going to affect her too harshly.  Her life was on full display to him, and with no remaining skeletons in her closet, whatever he had to say probably wasn’t much more than a point of interest.

“Were you going to tell me about the extended timeline with Owen?  Would I know about that if your dad hadn’t called me?”

“We’d be talking about it right now,” was her even assurance.  “If I’ve been negligent in showing my appreciation for everything you’ve done for me, it’s because I don’t have a big enough vocabulary to express something of that magnitude.  Ever since you met Owen, you’ve openly accepted everything about me.  There’s absolutely no reason that I’d want to keep secrets from you.”

“Good."  She was pleased to see his head nod with satisfaction and watched as he visibly let the subject go.  "Now let’s talk about that extended timeline in real terms that apply to our lives – mine and yours.  What’s the impact?”

With her eyes trained on the waiter seating a couple on the other side of the restaurant, she vainly searched for a better answer than the one she had.  As she’d told her dad, Charlie feared that Jon wasn’t going to like this development. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it means I stay annoyed and married but separated for a few years, which doesn’t affect the way I live my life; only the way I file my taxes.  If my prolonged stay in this marital status bugs you…  You’ll have to tell me the impact from your perspective.”

True to her prediction, his mouth flattened with disapproval as Jon leaned back from the table to reach inside the pocket of the jacket he still wore.  “It bugs the hell out of me, but I still don’t run from problems.  I know you've done everything you can to put this behind you, and at the end of the day, I still love you.”

With his palm curved over something, that something hit the table with a quiet ‘plop’ before Jon’s hand slid back to reveal a red box with the name “Cartier” emblazoned on the top.  He used two fingers to push it toward Charlie, whose eyes flicked back and forth between what was obviously a piece of jewelry and the man who was cataloging her every breath with a hawk-like gaze. 

“I was going to wait and give you that later tonight, but I changed my mind.”

“Rubber bracelet?” she asked with a cynically arched brow as hands that weren’t quite steady folded together in her lap.  For whatever reason, she was hesitant to touch the box just yet. 

“Something like that.”

They sat there, watching one another as the customary sounds of an eating establishment flowed around them in a mundane Monday night melody.  With his wineglass in his left hand, and his right elbow propped on the table, Jon’s forefinger was curled over a sculpted upper lip while the thumb of the same hand propped his chin. He reminded her a bit of Rodin's The Thinker..

“Since you don’t seem to be all that anxious to see what it is, maybe you’d like to hear a story about it first.”

“Okay,” Charlie agreed, a chill permeating her jeans and sweater.  She was perversely glad to for the opportunity to delay this for a few moments, and putting her wine on the table, she pushed her arms behind her and into the sleeves of her down jacket as she listened.

“Millie helped me pick that out today," he leisurely offered.  "It's one of several items in something called the 'Love' series, and she surprised me by knowing the history behind it.  Pretty interesting stuff, really."

He'd gotten her something in a "Love" series.  Why did that make Charlie all the more anxious about what was in that red box?

The wine in his glass reflected the subdued lighting as he tilted it back and forth, peering at it while continuing, "The original piece was designed by a guy named Aldo for his true love, who was married to a mobster.  The story goes that, if he ever got to give it to the woman, he didn’t want anyone taking it off.   It’s got a latch that can only be removed by the person with the right… tool, I guess you’d say."

"Sounds a lot like handcuffs."

She briefly wondered if his wink was a sign that he was recalling her comment about his four-poster beds, but a flash of white teeth outshone the wine and stole Charlie's breath before she could ask.  He was ridiculously handsome, even with the shadows that played against his smile lines.

"Little bit, I guess," Jon agreed, unaware that she was crushing on him at that moment.  "Anyway, he never got to do it nor did he marry anyone else.  The really crappy thing was that he died only a short time before the woman's husband, leaving her widowed and alone.  Fate wasn't kind to them."

"Crappy doesn't begin to describe that!"  Tragic was closer, but that still didn't do it justice.  Charlie's heart broke for the poor woman in such a way that she almost forgot the gift itself.  "What happened to her?  Do you know?"

His response was slow in coming, and when it did, Jon's eyes were trained on the stem of his wineglass instead of Charlie.  "Millie seems to believe she's wandering around broken-hearted and alone to this day.  That's why she wanted you to have what's in the box - to remind you that you're not alone."  Smoky blue eyes slid up to speak directly into hers.  "You have me.”

Talk about stealing somebody's breath.  She lifted a hand to the center of her chest, mindlessly pushing knuckles through the red knit cotton and into her sternum while blurting out the first coherent words to come to her mind.

“Damn.  I didn’t realize a rubber bracelet was going to carry so much significance.”

White teeth flashed again as his soft chuckle wrapped around her as warmly as the down jacket she wore.  “Well, it does.  Once I put it on you, I’ll be the only one to take it off, Chiara.  No taking it off and throwing it in my face when you’re pissed, and then running away.”

“I’m not exactly the runner type,” she reminded quietly  “Twenty years, remember?”

“Twenty years because there something tying you to him,” was his equally quiet opposition.  “There’s nothing to stop you from walking away from me whenever you feel like it – except this.”

Again, they locked eyes, each silently assessing the other.  Both trying to read the other’s mind.  Both waiting for… something.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon.”

Blue irises were rock-solid and unwavering when he said, “Neither am I.  Now open the goddamn box.”

She was starting to think that he had a finite amount of patience for feelings, romance and soul bearing.  About the time it got really deep, he jumped out and shook it off like a dog shaking off water after a swim.  It was stereotypically male, but kind of cute and Charlie liked learning his idiosyncrasies.

She smothered a grin by ducking her chin into her chest as she finally reached out to pull the red box closer.  Lifting the top exposed another red box, this one leather, and she held the bottom steady with her left hand while using her right to pry back the hinged lid.

“Oh, Jon.”  Flicking a look up at him revealed that his attention was still riveted upon her.  The only motion from that side of the table was the restless stroking of thumb and forefinger over his Adam’s apple.  “It’s too much.”

“Don’t start that shit.  Do you like it or not?”

Averting her gaze from his neutrally posed features back to the bracelet, she wondered if there was anyone who wouldn’t like it.  A white gold bangle bracelet paved with two rows of diamonds, periodically broken up by… 

“Are those screws?” Charlie inquired, lifting the box to turn it this way and that without really touching the lovely piece of jewelry. 

“Yeah.  Most of them are just for looks.  The ones on the side…  They hold the bracelet together and can only be opened with that screwdriver.”  His salt and pepper head nodded toward the implement appearing to be the same white gold as its counterpart.  “Which is going in my personal safe as soon as the bracelet’s locked around your wrist.”

She’d never received such an expensive gift before, and along with the story and his words, Charlie was finding herself a bit daunted.  Here she felt indebted up to her eyeballs to this man and he came bearing gold and diamonds.  How was one supposed to react?

“You know I really would’ve been happy with a rubber bracelet.”

“I wouldn’t.  Besides, asking if you liked it was a rhetorical question.  You’re stuck with it because of the engraving.”

“There’s engraving?”  Finally, she pulled the bracelet free from the black velvet bed, its coolness decadent between her fingertips as she twirled it around so that the light hit the inside.  The Cartier imprint was immediately visible but it took another shift of position before she saw the hashtag and the flowing script. 

Her eyes welled just enough to blur her vision, but the moisture was easily blinked away before Jon was aware of it.  All he saw was her smile when she drawled, "Since you can't return it, I guess I'll keep it."

"Bitch."  The curse was shrouded in a soft snort of amusement, and he leaned forward to take the bracelet away from her while also snatching up the screwdriver.  "For that crack, it goes on right fucking now."

That charming bit of coaxing was all it took for Charlie to offer her wrist with a Mona Lisa smile for the man who was shackling her with his "Love".  She would wear it and wear it quite happily.