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by Taras Ford

  “I don’t like to be touched,” she said, sticking a fork into the bologna and turning it over.

  “That’s odd. Everybody likes to be touched.”

  “Well, not me.”

  “Do you date? Do you have someone special who holds you?”

  She looked at him, then back to the frying pan. “Occasionally, until a guy touches me.” Todd leaned against the counter. “I don’t understand.”

  She smiled at him. “Get some napkins and a plate. They’re pretty greasy.” Todd reluctantly did so, and Trish set the table while he fixed lemonade. They sat down across from each other, and he studied her face. “I have to say, I’m very attracted to you,” he said as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

  She kept eating.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Well?”

  She looked hurt. “What do you want me to say?”

  Not understanding her response, he put down his sandwich. “What is it with you? Why do you have these walls up? You’re too young to be so guarded.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I’d like to.”

  “Why, so we can have sex?”

  “Is there something wrong with sex?”

  Trish blushed and rolled her eyes, then looked away from him and ate her sandwich in silence.

  “I need to go,” she said, standing up. He rose to stop her, and she backed away. “Please, leave me alone.” Concerned and confused, he looked at her but said nothing.

  She blushed and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know that you don’t know me, and that’s ok,” he said. “Sometimes you can confide in a stranger what you can’t reveal to people closest to you. Tell me what’s wrong.” She looked away.

  “You’ll feel better if you tell me.”

  She looked at him, then shook her head. “No thank you.”

  “Trish.” He stepped to block her pass. “I’ve spent a lifetime hiding from things that were too hard to face.

  It’s made me miss out on a lot of good.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “I'm a good listener.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t know you.”

  “Then you have nothing to lose.”

  Trish lifted her head, apparently reacting to the truthfulness of that statement.

  “Sit, Trish, please.”

  At first she didn’t move, not even a blink. She reminded him of a scared rabbit he saw a fox corner once when he was out hunting with his dad. Considering his actions with her friend Portia, he admittedly knew he wasn’t the one to be trusted. But she had him curious. It was evident she hadn’t told anyone about him, and didn’t know his connection with Portia. Why not offer her friendship. Hell he wasn’t a total bastard.

  “My real name is Patricia Hesser.” She said softly.

  He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Patricia.”

  “My father is William Hesser, the brother of Andrew Hesser.”

  Todd frowned. “Ok.” So far he didn’t get what she was telling him.

  “Andrew Hesser, the Hesser ketchup fortune. Now do you know?” He smirked. “Are you telling me you’re an heiress?”

  She nodded.

  Todd smiled tenderly at her. “Well, sweetie, that’s not a bad thing.”

  “It is if you knew my father,” she said sadly and took a seat.

  “My name is Todd Ellison. My dad is Marshall Ellison, the tycoon who owns Ellison Commodities, and the cruelest bastard you’d ever meet.”

  She nodded. Quite possibly their paths had crossed when they were kids. “You left your family?” she asked.

  “I couldn’t live with his evil dictatorship over my life, so I struck out on my own.” Todd answered.

  Trish dropped her head. “I understand that,” she mumbled.

  Todd fought the urge to touch her to him and make the dark shadows clouding her pretty green eyes go away. He waited for her to continue her story.

  “I should go,” she said, looking back up into his eyes. “I can't believe I shared this with you. I haven’t with anyone. Please don't ever say anything to Sydney. I don’t want her and Portia to know.”

  “No, I wouldn't betray your confidence. Whatever it is you're afraid of, you can’t carry it with you like this. Tell me why being Patricia Hesser is so terrible?”

  “I can’t, I won't.” She looked toward the door. He feared she'd bolt for it at any moment.

  “You've already told me your secret. . . ”

  “You’re a stranger. I—”

  “Not anymore. Why else would you trust me? You're kind of worrying me here, kid.” He dared a touch, placing his hand over hers. “I’m sure I can help, and if I can’t, we can figure it out from there.” Looking from his hand to his eyes, she sighed. “I’ve never told another living soul except my mother, and she didn’t believe me. It’s disgusting. I don’t want to talk about it.” The confident painter he had found irresistible was transforming into a scared little girl. Taking her hand in his, he made his own confession. “My father pounded on me from the first time I disappointed him until the last. Everyone saw him as this great, powerful man, but I saw the monster that lived within. No one believed me either, Trish.”

  She looked away, and he saw her struggling with her truth. She pulled her hand from his, and he knew that he needed patience. For several long minutes, he sat with her, letting her think as silent tears fell down her face.

  Finally, he dared to speak. “You can trust me.”

  Her face was turned away from him, and she spoke in a hollow voice that touched his heart. “My father forced me into doing horrible things with him from the time I was nine.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, “He made me do things, nasty things, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I ran away. It’s why I don’t like to be touched, and men eventually go away. I’m just—I’m just damaged goods.” She hid her face in her hands as if to force the memories away or perhaps to conceal herself from him.

  Seeing her retreat from his support, Todd didn’t push for more details. Instead, he pulled her gently to her feet. “You don’t have to say anymore,” he said softly as she burst into tears, finally allowing him to hold her.

  What kind of monster rapes his nine-year-old daughter? he wondered. The idea of it made him sick.

  Chapter 10

  In the Middle of the Night

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” Xenia said, rising and adjusting her dark suit jacket. “If you’ll excuse us, Sydney and I need to have a little chat.” Tossing her blond hair from her shoulders, she fixed her eyes on Sydney. “Girl talk.”

  Sydney stared on, expressionless.

  Raymond and George congratulated her. Both men reassured her that she’d do a great job. She thanked them and they left. Xenia walked around her desk. Turning around to face Sydney, she smiled. “Do you like my necklace?”

  Sydney looked closely at the diamond solitaire on its platinum chain. The light hit the beautifully carved gem, sending out a starburst of rainbow colors. Nonplussed by the question, Sydney said, “It’s very nice.” Xenia licked her glossed lips. “Nolen gave it to me for my birthday.” Sydney’s smile faded with a renewed understanding. “That was nice of him.”

  “That’s the way he is. Money means nothing to him, and he likes beautiful things. He collects beautiful things. You know, the first time he saw me, he sent six dozen long-stemmed purple roses to my office. Before the night was over, I was in a Prada cocktail dress he’d picked out for me, red of course, and we were dining at the Tea Room before retiring to his Manhattan condo to make love through the night.” Sydney smiled sweetly, trying not to let Xenia’s taunts get to her. Of course she knew that her Casanova had used flowers and trinkets to bed many women in this town. She had to laugh at how little effort he put forth, yet women like Xenia thought it was worth swooning over. Still it st
ung to know that he had done the same with her. Sure she put him off at first, but she was in his bed last night. They probably acted out every scene he’s done with Xenia Minetti. She shifted in her seat and tried again to mask her discomfort.

  Xenia folded her arms confidently, studying Sydney’s face. “We have an open relationship, and he’s allowed to dabble every now and then, but he knows where home is.”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Minetti,” Sydney said. “I’m still a little confused as to what this has to do with me.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.” She lied.

  “Well, I know he’s shown a little interest in you. He insisted that you perform first at the audition…”

  “He did what?” Sydney frowned.

  “Oh, pardon me dear, you didn’t know? He insisted that you audition for him first and he gave some, shall we say, favorable input into the final selection process. But make no mistake. This is my production. I decide whether you stay or go!”

  Sydney ground her molars in caged anger. How dare Nolen not tell her he’d done this? “Did I earn my spot?” Sydney asked.

  Xenia smirked. “Yes, you earned it. Not even Nolen Adams can make me pick a talent when it doesn’t exist. However, you would not have been a first choice for me if I hadn’t seen that performance of Black Butterfly.”

  Sydney relaxed.

  Xenia sneered. “Though, you have a little more hips and ass than a prima ballerina.”

  “All I want to do is dance. I came here for that opportunity, and I’m not about to ruin that chance by disrespecting you.”

  “Then we understand each other. You’re a talented young woman. My colleagues think you can make me very rich. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, Ms. Allen, the opportunity to be the headliner in this show.

  But your loyalties are with me. If I find that you’re interfering in my relationship with Nolen, then your ass is out of here!”

  Sydney considered setting the stupid witch straight. But the satisfaction would be short-lived. Xenia disliked Sydney, but Xenia recognized Sydney’s talent, and if Sydney kept her mouth shut, she would have top billing. Once she debuted and the world saw what she had to offer, she’d reveal the truth about her budding romance, if she and Nolen made it that far. She met Xenia’s eyes, not the least bit threatened by her posturing.

  Swallowing her anger and smiling at the secret that could bring this haughty witch to her knees, she nodded. “Nolen Adams is his own man. Whatever he does or doesn’t do is on him. I’m happy about the opportunity, Ms. Minetti, but if you plan to run this production based on your love life, then maybe we’re not a good fit.”

  Xenia looked her over. “Stay away from him, and we’ll be fine!” The command sounded a bit haughty and arrogant. Sydney didn’t let people push her around. She always stood up for herself. “Is that all?”

  “For now!”

  Sydney walked to the door, but then looked back. Her eyes narrowed on Xenia who wore a smug look of satisfaction on her face. “Ever been ice skating, Ms. Minetti?” Xenia’s nose pinched and she tossed her chin upward as if she was insulted. “Not since I was three.”

  “You should go. It trumps dinner at the Tea Room anytime.”

  It was nearly six, and three days since Nolen had seen his butterfly. Sydney had agreed to be picked up at nine. He’d told her to bring clothes, and she’d pretended not to hear him. Hell after the call he got from her the other day he’d be lucky if she came with him at all. It made him uneasy how much he craved her so soon—a bad sign. As long as she was his and her heart belonged to him, he would learn to abide by some of her rules. The first was that they keep their affair private for now. Sydney called him from the rehearsal studio demanding to know if he fixed the auditions so she got the part, or if she earned it on her own. Normally he wouldn’t engage in such trivial matters while in the middle of business. But the need to protect the slither of happiness he found in her arms took over. She informed him the next three days rehearsals with her Madame Gustav would be long and tiring. She put him off, and agreed to see him at the end of the week. He swore he’d not interfere and reassured her that she earned everything. She seemed satisfied with that response. For three days he had to wait to see her again.

  Flipping through the account statements Annemarie had printed for him, he felt no joy from his latest coup. Scott Harris had seen the wisdom in complying with his demands, and part of him still wanted to put the bastard through a public scandal. He hated liars, it reminded him too much of who he and his dad were when they ran together. Nodding his approval, he closed the folder. He’d won this round, and he was going to make sure he won the next.

  “You have dinner plans with Monique tonight, sir. Shall I send a car for her?” Nolen frowned at Annemarie. He’d forgotten that she’d mapped out his life and she knew more about it than he did. “I’ll need you to check my calendar and remove all dates with Monique, Camille, Daria, Regina, Pamela, and Xenia.”

  Annemarie stared at her boss in disbelief, but said nothing.

  “Did someone say Xenia?” Xenia asked as she walked in, smiling.

  Nolen looked over at her.

  “Leave us, Annemarie.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Hello, Ms. Minetti.”

  Xenia nodded. “Annemarie.”

  As Annemarie left, Nolen sat back in his leather chair and stared at Xenia, beautiful as always, wearing her sable coat. “I forgot we said that you would come here to meet me today.” She walked in swaying her hips. “I didn’t. It’s all I could think about all day.”

  “That’s too bad because my request wasn’t a social one.”

  Xenia stopped her approach and looked surprised. “It wasn’t?”

  “No. It’s about the play, or musical, or whatever it is today.”

  “It will be a modern ballet.”

  Nolen looked at her. “Finally got a script, huh?”

  “Yes!”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Black Butterfly,” she said, putting her hand on her hip.

  Nolen smiled. “Really? Interesting name.”

  “I thought it would please you.”

  “I’m very pleased. I called you here today to tell you that I plan to honor my investment, but I’ll have nothing to do with your production.”

  “Excuse me? You’re the executive producer!”

  “Which translates to financier, Xenia. Nothing more.”

  “This is a partnership, and I need you at my side.”

  Nolen shook his head. “No. You’ll go through Annemarie for anything you need from now on.” Xenia pulled off her heavy mink and tossed it onto a chair. “What’s going on with you?” she purred, running her hand across his desk as she walked around it, making her way toward him. “It’s been a week since I’ve seen you, and even longer since you’ve requested to see me. I’ve missed you so much.” Nolen moved his swivel chair and watched her approach. Undoing the single button of her suit jacket, she pulled it off, revealing her dark silk blouse. “I know your appetite, Nolen. Do you need me to remind you how good things can be with us?” she asked, unbuttoning her shirt.

  “Don’t embarrass yourself, Xenia.”

  Stopping her striptease, she froze. “What did you say to me?” Sitting forward, he stared at her coldly. “I said, don’t make a fool of yourself. I know you’re mine for the taking.”

  Blushing, she ran her hands through her long curls. “Well, that’s true . . . What we have . . .”

  “What we had was fun for a moment and pretty bland toward the end. I’m bored with it, and I’m bored with you,” he said, well aware that his words were like a slap across the face.

  Xenia touched her diamond pendant and stared at him, devastated.

  He matched her stare. “Is there anything else?”

  Her vocal chords trembled causing her voice to crack when she spoke. “Why are you such a hateful bastard?” Nolen didn't bother to answer. Xenia buttoned her blouse. “You owe me more resp
ect than that. I’ve been with you for over a year!”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  “Really? What about Sydney?”

  Nolen narrowed his eyes. “What about her?”

  “She’s going to be headlining in my show. Oh wait? She didn’t tell you?” The news stung. He knew how important the lead part would be for his butterfly, and she hadn’t said a word.

  “Raymond thinks that her technique and stage presence could make my production a hit.” She seethed.

  Her eyes blazing with anger, he could see her composure slipping.

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “She isn’t the only hot black dancer in New York. She’s replaceable. As a matter of fact, we’re going to have more auditions for some stand-ins, just in case your butterfly doesn’t live up to her potential.” Nolen drew in his breath. “Xenia, don’t fucking play games with me. I’m better at them than you are.” Xenia put her jacket back on and picked up her mink, slipping it on in a huff. “I won’t ask if you’re screwing her because it doesn’t matter. I know how you collect women and how short your attention span is,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Once the grand feel of new pussy wears off and you need the comfort of my arms, I’ll be waiting. I understand your issues Nolen. I’m the only woman who can.” Nolen stared at her, saying nothing, and Xenia turned to leave. “As for our new starlet,” she shot over her shoulder, “her success depends on how well she follows instructions. Since you aren’t dealing with my play anymore, those decisions are solely mine, right?”

  “I’ll tell you this. If I hear that you’re undermining her or making her life difficult in your little show, I’ll get involved, and we both know what that means.”

  “Asshole!” she muttered as she breezed out.

  Nolen remained at his desk long after Xenia’s temper tantrum. His thoughts were filled with the wrong decisions he’d made in the past. He knew the discipline needed to stay in control. He was a master at it. He just needed to stay focused.

  The show would be centered on his butterfly. He would have a celebratory dinner ready for her. Picking up the phone, he called his chef to make the arrangements. He’d give Xenia a loose leash now, but the minute he tired of her taunts, he’d pull that chain and get her back in line.