Like fucking clockwork, I start shaking.
“Are you alright?” he asks, whispering in my ear.
I start shaking my head and I turn into Ben’s chest before chancing another look into the crowd. The man is gone. My eyes dart frantically around, looking for him, looking for my tormentor…or who I think is my tormentor. I feel Ben’s fingers sink into my side and his lips brush my earlobe. Tears prick my lids and I fight to keep them at bay. I hear Ben cooing in my ear and he brushes my lower back reassuringly, effectively bringing me down from my panic attack.
“Hey,” he whispers, searching my face. “Are you okay?”
“The flashing lights make me nervous. I hate pictures,” I lie, turning away from the cameramen shouting at us to turn this way and that.
“Sorry guys, we have to get inside,” Ben dismisses, clutching my hand tight so I know he is saying that just for me, and I return his squeeze in appreciation.
He did that for me. More and more, he makes me feel things; things I have no business feeling. Where is the asshole of a few days ago? Him I can handle, but sweet, thoughtful, loveable Ben? I didn’t bargain for that. I didn’t bargain for feelings. Shit.
Inside the ballroom, we are greeted by waiters who hand us glasses of champagne. Ben eyes me with a warning stare. I know, I know. No heavy drinking. I roll my eyes at him.
“Perrier,” the young waiter says, saving my hide. “Enjoy your evening Mr. Hayes and…”
“Miss Beal,” Ben answers him.
“You can call me Sullivan, Christopher,” I say, reading his nametag.
I feel Ben’s glower at me, which in turn makes the poor waiter nervous.
“That’s okay, Miss Beal,” the waiter resigns. “Have a lovely evening.”
Walking away, Ben tugs my hand and admonished me in a soft but commanding voice, “No fraternizing with the help, Sullivan.”
I frown at him. Here’s the asshole! How dare he call the man help? That’s so…demeaning. We’re going to have to have a little chat about how he treats people who serve him.
“Hayes!” a tall, white haired man with a gruff, but cultured voice calls. “You’re late. But I see why. Hayes, introduce us,” the man commands in that authoritative tone that all men of power have.
“Mr. Fields, Sullivan Beal. Miss Beal, Mr. Arthur Fields,” Ben introduces us.
Mr. Fields takes my hand and places a wet, and oddly inappropriate, kiss on it. But, always the lady, I smile politely at him.
“What a beauty. You will be the envy of every woman here,” Fields admires shooting me a coy glance.
Eww, gross! All I’m envisioning are old balls and I have to steel myself from breaking into laughter. This man has got to be about 100, though he is pretty fit for his age. I don’t do almost dead. I like them young and virile. I can’t see older men in any erotic or romantic way; I actually hate the thought of it. He can’t know how utterly repulsed I am. I can’t even express why right now without going into another panic attack.
My mind then goes to the business news I had seen the night Ben and I broke up. Remembering the analysts’ comments about Ben being next in line for when Fields would retire, I decide to talk him up a bit.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Fields. I’ve been waiting to meet the brains behind the operation. I’ve met and am acquainted with the face of the company,” I comment, gesturing to Ben. “But I just had to meet the brains. Nothing appeals to me more than a man’s mind,” I flatter.
“And she has a sweet mouth on her. She’s a keeper, Hayes,” Fields says.
“But we have to give credence where it is due, don’t we? Mr. Hayes has done wonders for your company in the last few years, hasn’t he?”
“Oh, that he has,” Fields agrees. “Do you know he’s been working with us since he was sixteen?”
I widen my eyes and shake my head. “No, I didn’t know that.” I look up at Ben whose face is calm, modest as ever.
“Yes. Back then, Hayes here was just a mailroom clerk, working with us every summer. Even then he had bright business ideas. I knew he would be just what this company needed.” Fields shakes Ben’s hand and pats him on the back.
“Thank you, Artie. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you didn’t give me a chance to prove myself,” Ben thanks him, giving Fields a warm look. That he reveres this man is obvious.
“Your mother is looking rather suspiciously at you, Hayes,” Fields points out, waving to a beautiful woman in a silver empire waist, pleated dress and a chunky necklace. Her fair hair is in a neat chignon and she looks too young to be the mother of two grown men.
“I think she wants to know who this lovely woman on my arm is.” Ben takes my hand and in a deep, business-like tone, says, “Artie, we’ll discuss the Langley Liqueurs acquisition later.”
“Come on, Hayes. We’ll discuss that tomorrow. Show this beautiful woman a good time, or I may have to,” Fields promises.
I wouldn’t want to be part of any good time of his, but I don’t have to worry. I know Ben won’t let that happen, even if his promotion hinged on it. He is much too possessive to let me go to another man.
Ben leads me by the elbow over to his mother, where his father and brother also stand. Matt’s eyes immediately light up when he sees me and I flush, looking away as I remember him seeing me raw and satisfied while his brother pounded me from behind.
Ben introduces me to his mother and father who greet me warmly.
“You are so beautiful,” Mrs. Hayes comments.
“Yes, she is,” Matt adds, eyeing me seductively. Ben glares at him and Matt chuckles, looking away and taking a sip of his wine.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. No more beautiful than you,” I compliment.
“Oh, thank you, darling. But call me Diana,” she insists.
“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served,” announces the hostess, a tall silver-haired woman, in a sparkling black dress.
We make our way to the dining area and are seated next to Ben’s family and his boss: Fields on Ben’s right and Matt to my left. I am not too thrilled to be seated next to Matt, but he doesn’t make me regret it. He keeps me entertained throughout dinner while Ben ignores me to talk with his boss.
The evening’s dinner starts with an arrangement of Louisiana tiger prawns served with American cocktail sauce. It is delicious – well, maybe because I love shrimp. For the main course, there is a choice between the sliced, grilled, aged beef tenderloin – chateaubriand with sauce béarnaise – and the grilled black tiger jumbo shrimp served with watercress salad and green asparagus. I choose the former, seeing as I have already had shrimp.
As I eat and listen to Matt’s stories of his overseas travels, I am painfully aware of Ben’s complete disregard of me. Frankly, it annoys me. I reign in my petulance when I remember how important he is in the business world and as much as I yearn for his attention at the moment, it isn’t important for him to be all over me right now.
The plates are cleared from our table and Matt continues talking me up, while Ben surges deeper into his conversation about mergers and acquisitions with Fields.
I must say, Matt’s a charmer. He has my head aching with laughter. He has me hooting, and more than once Ben has grabbed my thigh for me to quell my outbursts. Small gestures like those, assures me that he is aware of my presence and it eases the displeasure of my spirit a fraction.
The hostess stands to her feet and then announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, the dance floor is now open.” She claps twice and two men open large European style white doors.
“May I have the honor of the first dance?” Roman asks, looking eagerly to Ben for an answer.
I look at Ben who shrugs his shoulders and eases from his chair. He helps me up and hands me over to his father without so much of a word, not even a kiss to my cheek. Nothing. He just passes me on like I am keys being handed to a valet.
As I saunter away with his father, he doesn’t even notice. He just continues his stupid conversation. And, onc
e again, I’m pissed. I came with him and I feel like I’m a loose string on his jacket he is eager to get rid of, when ignoring it isn’t enough.
“How did you meet Benjamin?” Roman asks as we slow dance.
“We met at the Fielding House Christmas party,” I answer.
“Oh, you two work together?”
“No, I was invited by a friend of mine. I’m actually in my final year at UPenn,” I inform him, feeling the need to justify myself. I don’t want him to think that I’m just another ditzy piece of arm candy for his son; though that’s how it seems with the way Ben has been treating me all night.
“Ahh, wonderful. What is your major?” Roman inquires.
“I’m a Psychology honor’s candidate.”
“Honor’s,” he muses. “And psychology. That’s wonderful.”
We talk, or he does, about his lack of understanding of Freud’s psychological opinion. I wouldn’t expect him to, given the successful real estate tycoon that he is.
Suddenly he stills then clears his throat. “Um, Sullivan, darling. I see an associate that I really need to have some dialogue with.”
Couldn’t he have said he had to go talk to someone? Sheesh. “No problem, Mr. Hayes.”
Roman leaves and I see him saunter off to a beautiful blonde. I shrug my shoulders, not doubting for a minute that she is an associate and scour the room for Ben. I see Brandon instead, who lights up when our eyes meet. I hadn’t wanted to see him again, but he is a sight for sore eyes, especially with Ben ignoring me.
“Hello, Delilah.” He sweeps me into a hug and then rests his hand at the small of my back to usher me into a dance.
“Hey, Brandon.” I beam at him. He looks so much like Jared, it’s scary. The same square jaw, the same sparkle in his blue eyes, the same thick inky hair.
“So, you’re here with Ben Hayes,” he observes.
I scoff, “I’m starting to think I crashed the party or came by myself or something.”
“Well, he’s a fool for leaving you alone.”
“I’m starting to think he’s a fool either way,” I mutter, knowing that I’m no prize.
“Does he know?” he asks, and I know exactly what he is asking about, but he clarifies anyway, “about your name, your past?”
I scoff yet again, “Hell no. It’s not like that with us. We…” I pause, not wanting to get into the gory details of what Ben and I are or aren’t.
“No need to explain.” Brandon understood who I was – a gold digging whore? – but doesn’t hold it against me; the same way his brother didn’t hold it against me when I told him my real name and why I had to change it.
“I miss him,” I whisper after a moment, reminiscing on times when Jared and I would glide through his penthouse dancing.
“I can imagine that you do. I didn’t help things by sleeping with you the other night, did I?” Brandon notes. “I can’t say that I regretted it though, Delilah,” he admits, sighing heavily.
I blush at his admission, knowing that I hadn’t completely regretted our time together either.
“I’m going to have to stay away from you, Delilah,” he expresses, squeezing my waist. “If I don’t, I won’t be able to help myself. Right now, I’m hard as a fucking rock and it’s taking every bit of resolve I have not to drag you out of here,” he breathes and I feel the tell-tale signs of his arousal on my belly when he presses closer to me.
“Brandon…”
“Shh…I won’t,” he quiets. “I promise. I just wanted to hold you in my arms one last time.” He plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips, frying my brain cells momentarily and electrifying my need of some kind of affection, especially since Ben has been ignoring me.
Does he even notice Brandon and me dancing? And if he does, isn’t that kiss enough to have him charging over here and pulling us apart? Am I so insignificant to him that my being with another man doesn’t daunt him? Why, then, did he throw such a fit the other night when I was with Brandon? He’s so fucking confusing!
“I should go,” Brandon says, straightening away from me.
“What? Why?”
“Well, for one, Ben is glaring at us,” he indicates. I don’t turn around, but my heart leaps knowing that all my insecurities were unwarranted. He does notice and it affects him.
“And, secondly,” he continues, “I need to stay away from you. You’re irresistible, Delilah. I’ve done a great job these past few days in staying away. If I don’t leave now, I won’t let you go. And if that happens, I think Ben’s going to charge over here and attempt to kick my ass.”
He says attempt and I fight the urge to laugh. I know Ben’s capabilities. He would beat the ever-loving shit out of Brandon and not give a rat’s ass.
Brandon takes my hand and kisses my knuckles gently. After running a long finger down my cheek and flashing me an adoring smile, he leaves.
Taking a steadying breath – because I swear to God I just came – I turn to try and find Ben, but Matt steps in, encircling my waist.
“Does Brandon Mayhew know you’re taken?” he asks with a playful smile.
“Yes, he does.” I’m a little irritated now.
“And he kissed you?” He starts swaying me. I really don’t want to dance anymore. I just want to find Ben.
“It was a get-it-out-of-your-system kiss,” I answer, agitated.
“I find it hard to believe that any man can get you out of their system.” He leans closer to me, causing me to shiver in…disgust? Desire? I don’t know. I just hope he doesn’t do something to make me knee him in the balls…or fall all over him.
His voice is a low rumble, filled with desire when he says, “I can hardly get that look on your face out of my head. Seeing you so raw and exposed turned me on tremendously, Sullivan.”
Oh dear God! This guy does know that I’m here with his brother, right? How inappropriate!
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” I say, trying to get out of his hold. I really don’t want to dance with him. It all feels too awkward, creepy even.
“Are you running from me, Sullivan?” Matt asks slyly. Yes.
His every word slithers through my senses and creeps me out so much that I shiver revoltingly.
“I really have to pee, Matt,” I lie. Where the hell is Ben? He’s left me unattended for so long, even after seeing me with Brandon and his brother whom he’s admitted wants to fuck me. His actions make me feel much more like an escort now, rather than his date. Yes. That’s what the hell I am – his escort, no one of much significance.
Matt lets me go unwillingly and I smile at him thankfully. I cross the grand dance floor with hurried steps and just before turning toward the hallway where I would find the bathroom, my steps falter.
In a dimly lit corner are Ben and Blondie. Was she here all along?
His hand rests on the wall and he is towered over her, caging her in. She is smiling and caressing his lapels. Blondie lifts her hand and brushes loose tendrils of hair off his face, but Ben jerks away from her. I dash to the bathroom area as he turns to look in my direction. Thankfully he doesn’t see me.
What the fuck? I am so sick with rage that my blood is boiling. He left me to be with her?
In a temper, I trample my way to the luxury bathrooms. I pound the counter, an angry flush spreading across my face. I want to drag Blondie by her bottle blonde hair away from him and beat her ditzy, man-stealing ass! And I want to kick Ben’s ass because he brought me here only to spend most of the fucking evening with her! And I want to kick my own ass for being so jealous! Argh!
I storm out of the bathroom, determined to leave. I peruse the ballroom for Ben’s mother so I can say goodbye to her and see her to the far right of the ballroom, nearest the balcony. Diana looks distant, twirling the stem of her champagne glass. Roman is nowhere around and it makes me feel sorry for her. I know just how she feels.
I wander over to her and, on seeing me, her face lights up into a smile.
“Sullivan, darling,” she says, restin
g her hand on mine. “Are you having fun?”
“Not really,” I reply honestly.
She sighs, “Neither am I.”
An idea hits me. “Would you like to dance, Diana?”
Her eyes widen with wonder and her mouth curves into a bright smile.
“I would love to, darling,” she accepts, resting her champagne glass on a nearby table and taking my hand.
As we grace the dance floor, the band strikes up, surreptitiously I think, Luck Be a Lady. We giggle at the choice of song like two high school girls. I take the lead, naturally, and we glide across the room. We make a great team, if you ask me.
All eyes are on us as we put on a show, kicking our legs out and clapping and bumping hips. Diana laughs throatily and I can’t help but do the same. A crowd encircles us, but we are lost having a great time with each other, not paying attention to anyone around us. I’m sure they’ve never seen this before: two women dancing with each other at a high society event, but I’m not a by-the-books kinda gal. The idea is novel and a sure attention grabber.
We sashay into a foxtrot as the song nears its end and then end the dance with a flourish as I spin her into me and she kisses my cheek. The entire room erupts in applause, whistles and excited shouts. We turn and bow for the appreciative audience and when I rise, I see Ben eyeing me with the widest smile. He gives me a gracious nod and I scowl at him, turning away.
Diana and I take a seat while everyone else floods the dance floor.
“That was great, Sullivan!” Diana exclaims, her eyes bright and sparkling. “You’re a lovely dancer.”
“I had a great partner,” I comment.
My eyes screen the room and I find Ben arm in arm with Blondie. Is he serious?
Anger rises inside me like bile and I am seething. I can’t stand to see him with this woman. I don’t think I could stand seeing him with any woman. I fidget in my seat as Diana chatters, but I can’t make out what she says. I am too focused on Ben.
“Go get him, darling,” she urges softly and then, I find myself rising.
“I’ll be right back, Diana,” I say, walking determinedly toward Ben.
Tainted Love (Book 1) Page 19
