This Crazy Rich Boy

Inside the elevator, alone with Gabriel, Claire's heart is beating so madly she's afraid the man beside her could hear all of it. And it's so confusing: why must she feel this way? It's only work. It's only a job. And—as she keeps reminding herself even in her dark moments of honesty—it will end in less than a month. So she must always manage her own expectations. And yet. Here she is. With her boss, her fake fiancé. And he's still holding her hand.

"Uhh, Mr. Tan," Claire mutters, the faintest of whispers. "You're, uhh, you're…still holding my hand."

"Ohh," he says, and releases it with a jerk, as if he just woke up from a dream. But did she feel a reluctance to let go just right there? "I'm sorry."

Claire instantly regrets why she had to call him out like that. She could have just let him hold her hand. For as long as he wanted. You stupid girl. Why must you always open your mouth?

The elevator ascends at its leisure, as though it moves underwater. Claire closes her eyes, wills her heart to calm down, to shut up. And to please clarify what the hell is this about? Why the excitement? But the heart knows what it wants, and right now, it wants to jumps out of her ċhėst, and maybe die right there, on the elevator floor.

"We're going to the conference room on the tenth floor," Gabriel says.

Claire nods in ȧssent.

Tenth floor. She closes her eyes. Would she want this to last forever, this moment? Then the elevator sways, and ever so faintly, gently, her arm brushes against his, and this time, she lets it like that. She lets him feel it. If that matters.

"Did you enjoy your lunch?"

Claire nods.

Her eyes are closed but she knows he's looking at her, smiling.

"Why are you so quiet today? Are you sleepy?"

Claire nods. And opens her eyes. "Yes, I feel a little…lazy. What's the meeting about?"

Gabriel says nothing. He looks at the floor number. Claire waits—she feels something would happen now, anything—but when the elevator doors finally slide open, her hopes—or whatever ridiculous thing she's feeling—subsides. They emerge out on the sunlit landing all business-like, as though that moment inside the elevator never happened. They're walking toward the conference room, and Claire wonders: was that true? Was that moment really true? Or did she simply imagine it?

Gabriel Tan opens the door to the conference room, which is the room right next to Claire's suite. It's lavishly furnishes, and again with that expansive floor-to-ceiling wall that either gave you direct views of the city or front row seat to whatever cataclysm could befall on mankind—but why is she thinking like this?

Like in a previous meeting a few days ago, they sit on the opposite sides of the long table, Gabriel looking crisp and powerful in his suit. He looks even prettier than Claire, with his long-ish hair that ever-so-slightly touches his shoulder, the way some strands are neatly tucked behind an ear. The way he looks at you from the other side of the table like a tame puppy, even though they both know what kind of claws he's hiding. He looks like he can easily have a million Claires at the flick of his finger. But not this Claire, she thinks, if it comes down to it.

"Uhh, Claire," he begins. "I have some sort of a big problem."

Her eyebrows rise. "Really?"

"My mother is coming to town. She wants to meet you."

There's a lump that lodges in her throat. "What?"

"My mother," he repeats. "She wants to—"

--"I know about your mother. But why does she want to meet me?"

A beat, as Gabriel looks at her. "She wants to meet my fiancée."

Jesus Henry Christ! "Are you even serious? You know this is pretend, right? How can you even dare lie to your mother?"

"I can't…I know that, but my mother bats for the other team."

"She likes Michelle for you?"

Gabriel says nothing at first. He just gazes at her. Ten million years later, he mutters, "'Like' is an understatement. She's obsessed about the idea of me marrying Michelle and producing twelve babies with her."

It's now Claire's turn to be speechless. Her mouth hangs open, unsure of what to say. She looks out the glass wall, as always, maybe to read on the sky whatever message Fate has for her. But sadly, there's nothing there but an endless blue.

"Two weeks ago, having babies with Michelle would have been totally fine by me," he says. "But now, I find the idea repugnant and disgusting. My love for her has been replaced with outrage. But my mother does not—would not—acknowledge that. 'Forgive her, she's one in a billion', she says. 'She's the most beautiful, smartest woman on this planet', she says. I don't know what Michelle has fed her, but she's always been like that for the longest time. And it's a total mystery because my mother is a cunning, vicious, bullshit-hating woman, and she's obsessed with Michelle who is full of shit. She doesn't acknowledge what Michelle has done. She thinks it was just a phase, like something Michelle would get over with and move on. She doesn't seem to appreciate the fact that once trust is shattered, it can never be rebuilt."

"I don't disagree with that," she says. "But are you sure you want me to lie to your mother?"

"I have no choice," Gabriel says. "At least for now."

There are a million things she wants to say, but they all lodge in her throat.

"Just so you know, she doesn't know that I have purchased this hotel for you, unless she actually peruses the books, which she never does."

"Well that's nice to hear," she says, and Gabriel winces as he realizes the sarcasm.

"Well, you're paid," he says, coldly. "This is part of your job."

I know that, she thinks. You don't have to remind me all the freaking time. "But what about a little reality check? What happens when my job is done and we'd have to go our separate ways? How do you break the news of your big lie to your very own mom? How do you face the music, Gabriel, now that you're taking this little ruse to elaborate levels?" Claire sighs. "How do you tell the world it was all a big shitty acting production?"

"Let's cross the bridge," Gabriel says, "when we get there."

They fall silent for a while, as though they've exhausted all the words they can throw on the bonfire of this unraveling tragedy. It all seemed so innocent just a few days ago. It all seemed fun. Now, it's unraveling. Claire's biggest fear, if she's really honest, is what she'll do when she gets used to this? This privilege, this attention, perhaps, even this fake love? Because truth be told, it's hard NOT to love Gabriel Tan. She's every girl's dream. She'll readily admit she agreed to this set-up because she's attracted to him, while still having enough sense to remind herself time and again that keep your distance, stay sane, don't get dragged into his world of delicious make-believe.

Let's cross the bridge when we get there, indeed.

"So when do we expect your mother to arrive?" she says after a long silence.

Gabriel makes a face that says something between "there's an angry bee up my buŧŧ" and "I want to take a shit the size of my leg." "That's the big problem," he says. "She's arriving tomorrow night."