Lovers and Reprisals (Lovers Series)

by Turner, Lori

“Lucien…I cannot begin to imagine the cost to rent this place. You know that if you submit this buildings address to the Conclave—there will be questions.”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. For now—imagine yourself and those kids in here. Can’t you see it Ona—a real stage for them to sing, or play their instruments. And if you wanted to, you could use the auditorium to put on a play or let the kids have recitals.”

  Her eyes went wide, because she had not considered that. So many of the children had made great strides, learning how to play the instruments. Sahara would love being in control over that.

  Ona felt Lucien guiding her forward. He said…

  “Ona…we can make this work. Just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it. I want you to have this space to use for however long you want to use it.”

  “But…”

  She wanted to protest but he interrupted her, when he said…

  “No but’s Ona. This place is yours. So you might as well accept it.”

  They were standing backstage, and the view from that vantage point was magnificent. How had this happened? How had she been so lucky? When she turned to face him, the answer danced in her head. Lucien Delors; thanks to him, her project had not fallen apart.

  He slanted his head at an angle, and his admiration mushroomed when he noticed her black band; a symbol of her innocence. She was single but he recalled the Samaritan man named Geff. He wondered what was said when she returned his band. He didn’t have to be a fly on the wall to come to certain conclusions. Since the return of Geff’s band, Ona still wore the band that symbolized her unweddedness.

  Lucien’s lips parted spreading into a lovely smile, and she fought the urge to swoon. He’d been staring at her hand for a few seconds, but the passaged of time felt like an eternity and when her world rocked; she didn’t know if she’d recover from the shock.

  Lucien mindlessly took a leapt of faith. His hand hovered inches above hers, giving her the chance to move or avoid what was about to happen next. He lowered his hand, until their hands lay one on top of the other.

  Lucien released a tight breath, relieved that she didn’t pull away. He said…

  “Let’s go back to my place. We can continue this conversation there.”

  Ona didn’t look away, but he detected a note of wavering. She was mulling over a thought, then he reeled in his desires. On the whole, he was getting what he wanted, and he couldn’t expect her to ignore a lifetime of norms. He lowered his eyes, checking the time. They still had one hour before the last ferry left the dock.

  Lucien said…

  “Look…use the weekend to think about this. You can walk me through the Conclave process another day. I don’t want to be pushy.”

  “You aren’t being pushy.”

  Her voice squeaked because he’d begun a slow stroke of her fingers and she wasn’t sure if even he realized what he was doing. They stood silent, and being there was a history making moment. Not just because and agreement had been made; their presence meant so much more. Beneath wires and curtain cables, this is the place were an unspoken understanding had been bridged. As they left the building, they each knew that being there had been the beginning of something. The start of something beyond either of them.

  Lucien tried not to overstep his mark, but her serene presence eclipsed his sense of right and wrong. The back seat in his limo was spacious and no part of their bodies needed to touch; and that wouldn’t do. Lucien moved close enough for their thighs to touch. Ona had been contemplating her thoughts while staring out the window, and she didn’t hear his movements. Like the knocker that rings the bell; two things happened all at once. His touch and the sound of his voice. Ona jumped, but his hand lay on her leg, to steady her.

  There was no delay nor a pause when he said…

  “Ona…I don’t mean to be forward and I’m not sure what the protocol is in this situation but, just hear me out and if I offend you while trying to be open and honest—Well, I’m asking for your forgiveness in advance.”

  Ona’s voice was a whisper when she said…

  “Okay.”

  Lucien cleared his throat.

  “I don’t know exactly where to begin because, for a long while now, I’ve taken an interest in you. Not as a friend or a partner involved in a charity. I think about you, all the time. I think of ways to see you and I worry that maybe you won’t want to see me because I am not a member of your Sect.”

  His hand still lay on her leg, and she placed her hand near the tip of his fingers. Her body went rigid when she sternly said…

  “I’m always happy to see you. I look forward to your visits.”

  He smiled when he said…

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that. I say that because—Ona, I would like to see more of you. And believe me…I know this won’t be easy but I feel that there is something between us worth the exploration.”

  She couldn’t believe that these words were coming from her mouth.

  “I agree.” But she’d said the remark because it was true. There was more than something between them and she’d felt this wonderful feeling for a long time.

  “Ona…I’d like to invite you out for a meal. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—you choose. And I want this meal to be separate from the Conclave business that we still need to conduct. I want to keep those two things separate.”

  He wanted her to fully understand his intentions because he didn’t want any confusion on either of their parts.

  Ona looked out the window, and for the first time, she noticed that the car wasn’t moving. It had stopped because they had reached the dock. She could see the people arriving, and orderly forming a line. She shifted in her seat, and when she looked at Lucien, she couldn’t think of a word to describe him. He was studying her, waiting for a response. She needed time to think because the only words that came to mind were bible verses and writings from her Creed that disallowed romantic entanglements with Non-Samaritans. Lucien was asking for something that was impossible but she couldn’t manage saying words that would reject him. No part of her body wanted to spurn his advances

  Ona spoke low when she said…

  “I should go. There are people from my Sect outside.”

  “Ona…we can drive down the block, and you can get out there.”

  That sounded like a reasonable idea but some part of her brain didn’t like the idea of lying. She’d deceived her brothers, by not telling them about Lucien or this meeting. Now this was her chance to come clean, by allowing members of her Sect to see her.

  “No…that won’t be necessary.”

  “I don’t mind Ona. Like I said… I know what I am asking for won’t be easy but…”

  “That isn’t the reason that I suggested leaving. I—I just don’t know what to say.”

  His gaze went right through her when he said…

  “Tell me that I’m wrong. Tell me that you don’t feel the same. Say that you don’t have any feelings for me.”

  “I can’t say that.” Her voice was lower when she said…”I won’t lie”

  Lucien lifted his hand, and when he touched her face, Ona felt as if her heart would stop. Her body was gripped by an emotion that went beyond any physical experience. Her breaths were rapid and shallow, and she could barely breathe. Lucien leaned forward and he pressed his lips on her forehead. Their bodies exchanged a warmth that swelled, turning hot and enticing. He stayed there, and when he spoke, his warm minty breath made her draw nearer.

  “Ona…” he sang her name, and a thousand violins strummed a melodious tune in her head. What kind of enchantment was this, she wondered. Her body rang with a brilliance unlike any other experience.

  “Call me.” He said and when he drew back, her body wobbled forward, desperately wanting the closeness again. His finger traced a line down her face, then he said…

  “You’d better get going. I see the boat coming.”

  She didn’t turn to look because she didn’t care and she didn’t know h
ow she felt about that. Earlier today, when Rachel had talked about Caleb and her attraction to him; Ona had wanted to tell her that to remain a part of her Sect, Caleb had to marry a Samaritan woman. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t and as for Noah; his marriage was a foregone conclusion. He had his eyes set on a young woman belonging to the Virginia Sect. When she’d spoke to Rachel, Ona’s thoughts had been selfish ones, because she didn’t want her brother to leave the Sect; and if he married Rachel, that’s exactly what he would have to do. Now, here she was, talking to Lucien, and preparing to plot and scheme to see him; and to what end? Would they see each other until her project ended at the end of the year, or would they see each other until her parents returned? She didn’t know because she didn’t have all the answers but she did know one thing; her heart ached when Lucien would leave and she thought about him as much as he thought about her. And when she’d seen his sisters friend, her brain had filled with jealous thoughts. She pulled away from him, placing her hand on the doorknob, and she chose not to look at him. She said a mental prayer, then she asked for God’s forgiveness when she said…

  “I’ll call you.”

  When she stepped out of the limo, she strode across the sidewalk as light as a feather. What manner of booster was this. She neither knew nor cared. Her mind and body was in another atmosphere and nothing could deflate her ascension. To the rear of her, she could hear the limo’s engine and Lucien had not pulled away. He was there, waiting and watching, and the knowledge of this fed another adrenaline rush. Ona was steps from the line of people waiting to board the ferry; and among, them at the head of the line, she spotted Geff’s father. He stared at her, as if he knew. She chanced looking in the direction of the limo and when she spotted it, parked at the curb; she made a declaration because from here on out, there would be no turning back. She wanted this experience. Come what may; she would meet Lucien Delors—and nothing would stop that from happening. When the ferry docked, her mind had been set and she’d shrugged off a life’s worth of religious studies.

  **********

  Chapter 14

  When I first met you

  Mikita stepped off the plane, and the warmth of her island home embraced her. She had traveled the world but there was no place more inviting than her island home. Even after all the years she’s spent away, traveling and living on the mainland in the United States; no feeling compared to this. And those two years spent in Rome; she cringed at the memory and she forced the thought back into submission.

  Mikita recalled the floor plan of the airport then she made her way to the car rental. She chose an economy sized car because its width would fit into her mothers narrow carport. She stuffed the trunk with her luggage, then she placed the extra bags in the backseat of the car. She sat in the drivers seat then she pointed the car in the direction of her childhood home. This return trip to the past was bittersweet and more than likely, according to the doctors report, this trip would be her last spent with her mother.

  She drove along Queens highway, merging into a heavy flow of traffic. Memories flooded her brain, and she wiped her cheeks of tears. She would have no parts of wayward sorrows. She couldn’t douse every memory even though she wanted to. Mikita’s father had spent most of his days, shit-faced, ass over teakettle and he’d been irresponsible to boot. She’d seen pictures of him, and it didn’t take much to understand what had attracted her mother. Quinton had been a semi-pro surfer and if he wasn’t riding waves on the ocean; in his spare time, he hung out in bars, running up tabs with his groupies. He didn’t have any ambitions—not even in his chosen sport, and according to her mother, had he paid more attention to surfing, he stood a great chance of going pro, and that’s when the endorsements really paid off. Despite her mothers poor choice in men; thanks to her grandparents, her bad decision had been barely felt. Mikita could say this, because when she compared her life to her mother’s; the relationship between her and Morpheus had been doomed from the start. The only difference that applied to her father and Morpheus was that the Gustafson’s were extremely wealthy. But money had never been a problem for her or her mother. Mikita’s grandparents had owned one of the islands most sought after resort destinations, and thanks to their support, she and her mother had wanted for nothing. Using money from her trust-fund; Mikita had saved enough to invest in her families company and in a short time, she’d earned a place on the board, and shortly after that, she’d earned part ownership. Thanks to her mother’s good business sense; Mikita and her mother were independently wealthy, and their investments held promise of future growth. Good business sense had shielded her mother and her as well.

  She drove down a stretch of beach lined with resorts and condos, and her memory took her back to the past. A time when she was just seventeen and Windermere’s beachfronts had been part new construction, beach shacks and uninhabited stretches of peach sand. When she spotted the Coral Blue Resort, her brain sent her barreling back into the past. More than twenty years ago.

  Mikita had been walking along the shoreline wearing a sheer yellow sundress. Her grand-poppa had been, talking to the construction workers, discussing the changes that were occurring at her families resort. Mikita had been home-schooled most of her life and her English tutor had been teaching her about the United States of America. Back then, she’d been a highly impressionable girl and she imagined that her impetuousness had been to blame for her current state. Her grand-poppa had not noticed when she slipped away, entering a vacant hotel, abandoned and partially constructed. She’d walked inside, even though she’d been instructed to remain on the beach but she had disobey, out of spite or perhaps girlish ignorance; she couldn’t say which had guided her actions. While exploring the building, she’d gotten lost. And when she was at the point of crying out; that’s when Morpheus had stumbled upon her. He’d been a young representative, scouting the area for one of his family’s many companies. He’d watched from across the street on the beach, and he’d noticed her when she entered the vacant building. From the start, he’d been enamored by her. He’d followed her, keeping her in his sights, but remaining hidden to her. When she called out for help, that’s when he stepped out of the shadows. At the time, it didn’t dawn on her, that he’d followed her inside. Mikita had been so grateful to be found, she fawned all over him. Then, like most things do; one thing led to another. After he led her out and back onto the beach, she joined up with her grand-poppa, hiding a business card with a phone number in her hand. Later that evening, she’d called the number, and she couldn’t recall if it had been his English accent or his mature sophistication; whatever it was about him that intrigued her, she found herself agreeing to sneak away from her home to meet him. She traveled across the Island, going to a point that was known for its large palatial estates. When she arrived, she couldn’t believe the size of the property and at every turn something astonishing would catch her eye. She had not been prepared to entered that kind of world and her naiveté made her ripe for the pickings. Morpheus charmed her with an array of erotic delicious meals; pleasing to the eye, and known for heightening sexual urges. Each dish was a delicacy and at times, he would reach across the table to hand feed her. She had not needed any prodding because her body naturally leaned in to be closer to him. She’d brazenly stared at him, enthralled by his dark handsome Italian features. There had been no talk of age, or permission. He’d called his staff, then rattled off a vintage of wine, speaking in fluent Italian. He’d filled their glasses repeatedly, and she didn’t turn down his offers. She could still recall the bitter sweet taste of the wine, and the way the fermented grapes made her feel. She could even remember the sound of the music, softly flowing throughout the houses speaker system. If she could have bottled the moment, she would have and she had relived that day a thousand times, even though Bolden had been the only good thing that came from that time. While the music played, Morpheus had stood, and he guided her to stand in front of him. He had snaked his arms around her narrow waist, then he pulled her body c
lose to dance with him. The smell of his musk and the feel of his rock hard body had been all to much for a young impressionable girl. Her brain screamed at her to go, but her feet wouldn’t run for the door. She had lifted her eyes, and her gaze got caught in his web. He lowered his head, and she parted her lips, welcoming his tongue. She remembered the touch and feel of his silky thick black hair. She had run her fingers through the strands, and this action had been no different than tossing gasoline on a flaming bonfire. She couldn’t say with any degree of certainty which event preceded the other because shortly after she’d raked her fingers in his hair; Morpheus had lifted her off the ground. He deepened the kiss, charming and seducing her, until they ended up in his bedroom. She remembered dark rich colors and a large open space. And the bed; she’d never seen anything larger than his bed. He’d been eleven years older than her and the entire affair had been hot, sexy and a first for Mikita. It was also supposed to be a secret—one that she would keep to herself. That summer, before her mother found out about her dating a much older man, Mikita had met Morpheus at one of her favorite places. The spot wasn’t a great tourist attraction, because at the time, it had not been all that easy getting there. Usually, she would wear pants, but on this trip, she’d wore a long sheer white dress, to please Morpheus. They had spent five wonderful weeks together and he was due to leave in two days. White had been his favorite color and she wore the dress because she wanted him to take a special memory with him. When she walked through the trees and he caught sight of her; he rushed at her so fast, he nearly took her breath away on impact. They had stumbled backwards, ending up beneath a cascading flow of water. While the waterfall drenched them, Morpheus had ripped off her dress, then he’d peel out of his own clothing. The island air had been hot and wanting and her nearness had sent him to a place that even he couldn’t make peace with. He had told her that he didn’t want to leave her, and then there was her age to consider. She was seventeen—not old enough to make decisions without consulting her mother. He spoke his doubts, while pressing her into the rock surface, then penetrating her with an all consuming force that tore her insides. They clung to each other on that day, and when they walked down the hill; she wore his shirt because her dress had not resembled the outfit she’d arrived in. They stood near his car, and that’s when she told him. That’s when she said the two words that altered the course of her life.