Sabrina is a near perfect movie.
It just struck me strangely that after Sabrina's speech about not taking the family's money to stay away from David, she turned around and took the plane ticket Linus bought her to get her away from David. I wanted to see how the story would turn out if she refused the ticket.
The fanfictions of VesperRegina were very helpful to me in fleshing out Linus' personality: specifically "the girl with charming brown eyes" and "The Smell of Rain" on AO3. (The latter story is on here too).
"Didn't you once say everything is business?"
"No … but it sounds like me."
That was how she knew he was lying.
Just last night, she'd mentioned how grateful she was to Louis for her first formal training in photography. Linus had congratulated her on her latent business instincts, since the prospect of what he could teach her must have been the reason she'd started dating Louis, right?
She'd laughed and shaken her head. "Linus, what you do with your private life isn't business."
He'd smiled tolerantly in return, but his eyes had flashed a little. "Everything is business."
Of course, no one could be expected to remember every throwaway comment he'd ever made.
But Linus in pursuit of an objective didn't make throwaway comments. He was like a bloodhound on a scent. He remembered everything.
Now his eyes were flashing at her again, and his voice got even deeper.
"What will you tell him?"
A cold chill enveloped Sabrina, drowning out the warm flush that had spread through her when she touched Linus' hair and he took her wrist in his hand.
He has an objective.
He was drifting closer. No, no, absolutely not. In another second, she'd do anything he asked.
"Linus," she asked shakily, withdrawing a little and feeling behind her for a chair, "have you ever been pushed?"
For a fraction of a second, his face betrayed him.
"Pushed?"
"Yes. You know —"
Mack knocked on the door.
Thank God, thought Sabrina. Linus' eyes darted toward the door, giving her the opportunity to free her hand and slip sideways so the desk was between them. He took the hint and didn't follow.
"Come in."
Mack bustled across the sitting area with a nod to Sabrina and laid two envelopes on the edge of the desk.
"Here are the tickets, and the other things are being taken care of."
Decades of professionalism kept her face impassive to the electricity in the air as she sailed back across the room and withdrew.
"And, good night." The door closed.
The interruption wiped Sabrina's mind clean of whatever she'd been about to say. If she met Linus' gaze again, the thought would never come back. Instead she focused on the tickets.
He surprised her by changing the subject.
"Are you hungry?"
Hungry was the last thing she was. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No."
"I could order in," he offered.
The sudden and comprehensive realization of what he was doing, and had been doing for the past two days, made his sudden innocent earnestness ridiculous. There was nothing innocent or earnest about this. It had been a constant game of redirection, and she'd been the perfect mark. She'd trusted him.
In spite of herself, Sabrina laughed. The sound encouraged Linus. He took a step closer as if to come around the desk. Instantly she was back on guard and retreated further, pulling out his desk chair to create another obstacle.
"I told you three nights ago, in the solarium," said Sabrina, trying to keep her breathing even, "that I wouldn't take your money. You treated it as a joke. I thought you'd dropped it. I should have known you didn't drop anything. You never do."
His mouth firmed. He didn't answer.
Sabrina nodded toward the tickets. "You just changed your strategy. Now you're the money. You, and Paris."
She waited.
Linus didn't try to laugh off her accusation with a wry comment and a half-smile. He didn't renew his earlier offer of a bribe to stay away. He didn't start making threats. He didn't step forward with imploring hands and professions of love. He didn't even put his glasses back on.
Instead, he put his hands deliberately in his pockets and stood there, assessing her.
Sabrina realized the conversation was over.
She watched him warily all the same as she moved out from behind the desk to collect her jacket. Only his eyes followed her.
"Never leave a room in silence, even if you are angry," Irène had said once, after a blowup with a model had sent Sabrina storming out. "Leaving in silence says that you see yourself as subservient. Remind them, as you do them the courtesy to speak, that you are their equal."
So Sabrina touched her collarbone, where it felt like her heart had risen to strangle her breath with its burning, and managed a light laugh.
"I must lead a charmed life," she commented as she picked up her purse. "I've always just escaped being someone else's plaything. Louis was too much of a gentleman; David sat on a champagne flute; and you …" she paused for thought as she crossed to the door, "… are happier as you are, I think."
Linus spoke, thickly. "Happier?"
She inclined her head in concession. "Maybe not 'happier.' More comfortable."
He faintly smiled at that.
"It's too bad. You might have been happy in Paris."
"Well," he said, taking a deep breath, "got any pointers for how I can be more convincing, in case David takes a shine to any other lovely distractions before the ceremony?"
The insouciance of the question rankled. Sabrina tightened her hand around the doorknob. "Do you mean the wedding ceremony, or the signing of the papers for the merger?"
He shrugged, still wearing that same stupid ghost of a grin. "Either way, it's all paperwork."
"Ah, you probably don't believe in marriage."
"No, I do." His expression was suddenly sincere. "That's why I never got married."
Inexplicably, that one hurt the worst.
Sabrina's spine went straight as steel. She lowered her head and squared her chin.
"Your first, and last, mistake," she snapped, "was to try to make me believe that you could ever love anyone."
