No Magic Moment

by Angel Payne

  So why did he stare like I had sprouted another head?

  “What?” I snapped.

  “What?” He repeated it like stating I had a nose on my face. “You just stopped like you saw a ghost then gave yourself a cosmo bath.” His sarcasm vanished as soon as he stepped a little closer, gazing into me with his hazel intensity. “Are you okay? With that?” He nodded at Doug’s picture, splashed on a poster opposite the first, as if needing to give me more clarification. Seriously, people took the blonde thing too far sometimes—even him.

  “Oh, come on.” I scoffed in the same direction. Doug’s press release photo was such a bad glamour job I wondered what mall he’d gone to for it. So cheesy, bee tee dubs. “I am super great with that.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I shrugged—one shoulder, to emphasize how much I didn’t care. “My love, that is what they call ancient history.” I lifted my sticky hand. “Now, buy me another drink while I get cleaned up, then let’s go have some fun. What do you say?”

  Michael smiled and kissed me, though, flecks of doubt lingered in his eyes, bronze against the rich gold. Okay, maybe I was pouring it on a little too thick, but I was not about to let Doug Simcox get to me—especially in front of Michael and especially after I had come so far.

  I loved Michael Adam Pearson.

  End. Of. Story.

  Many more guests had arrived. Everyone milled around the room, socializing via the typical grip-and-grin. Michael and I checked out what was available in the silent auction area and even bid on a few of the items. Michael had his heart set on a signed Terminator movie poster. It was so not hanging in my condo, but we could worry about that if he actually won the hideous thing.

  “Have I told you how stunning you look this evening, Miss Asher?”

  I winked up at him. “Not in the last twenty minutes. You’re slipping.”

  “Hmmm. I’d better think of a way to make it up. We have an entire limo to ourselves on the ride home. If your Bimmer’s back seat was big enough, imagine what we could do in one of those bad boys.” He enfolded me in his warm embrace, smelling woodsy yet expensive in his tux, teasing me with the playful words while trailing naughty kisses up my bare neck.

  “Okay, stud…you’d better stop or we won’t last to enjoy the main course.” I wasn’t kidding and conveyed as much with another quick glance.

  His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Is that so bad? These things are tedious, right? Admit it.” He added extra bribery with more kisses against my nape.

  “Duly admitted—but they’re expecting our bright, shiny faces around here for a while longer. Plus, we dropped ten grand a plate, so let’s stick around and at least see what they’re serving.” I leaned into him, feeling his erection growing and pressing into my belly. I couldn’t help but giggle. He was always ready to go and I loved having that effect on him.

  “Fine. Play hard to get. It just makes you hotter, baby.” He pushed away with a dirty grin. “I’m going to get us another round, to make sure we have enough anesthesia for the pain of old Dougie’s speech. Why don’t you find our seats?”

  “Yes, Headmaster.” I dropped it to a whisper for his ears only. It was worth the grin that spread across his gorgeous face as he headed toward the bar again.

  The tables were lavishly set in an ivory and gold theme to match the ballroom’s décor. Each place was marked with an engraved name card and the event program. Quickly enough, I found our spots smack in the middle of the room. After sitting, I resorted to an old but harmless habit—nonchalantly checking out the other place cards at the table.

  I didn’t get very far. An elderly couple took their seats directly across the round, so I smiled and introduced myself, explaining that my date would be coming along in a moment. Busying myself with the program was a safe choice after that, trying to find familiar names on the Arts Foundation Board—and pointedly ignoring anything that mentioned Doug.

  In short, the program wasn’t very exciting.

  “Excuse me…miss? Do we know each other?”

  I didn’t recognize the voice, so I kept pretending to read. I was so not in the mood to be hit on, and Michael’s jealous side, even in its mild form, wasn’t pretty.

  “Excuse me…miss? Aren’t you Margaux Asher?”

  The guy had the balls to touch my arm. I jerked from his reach and looked up.

  “I am Margaux Asher.” I stared at him with irked expectancy. I had no idea who he was, though couldn’t ignore the hint of familiarity now setting in. The refined angles of his face, beneath the world-weary creases. The distinct shade of his blond hair, though streaked liberally with gray. The intensity of his hazel gaze…

  “Forgive me. You must think I’m rude, just approaching you like this.”

  “Rude wasn’t the first word that came to mind.” Arrogant, maybe. Pushy, definitely.

  “Ah, yes. I know you and you don’t know me. That is awkward, isn’t it?” His smirk reminded me of grease on water. “But you do look lovely tonight, my dear. Where is that handsome boyfriend of yours? I saw the two of you arrive. It’s not like him to let you out of his sight for very long, is it?”

  I stood up, enabling me to address the stranger in a softer voice. “Listen, buddy. I’m not into making a scene. Whatever your play is, deal it. If you need to say something, say it. I’m feeling nice, so I’ll tell you right now—if you’re still lingering here in a few minutes, it’s going to turn into a bad night for you.”

  There. Good deed accomplished and no photographer the wiser. I’d definitely warned him and been so quiet that only he and I had heard the exchange. That didn’t diminish the full-scale creeps I got from him. If Michael didn’t end up being his escort out, I’d be sure that security was. On the other hand, maybe I did want a camera nearby. The man’s sinister smile sent chills up my spine. I looked around the room again for Michael, but still no sign of him.

  “Oh, take it easy, Greta Garbo. You have a flare for dramatics, don’t you? Just like your boyfriend. He’s always been that way, even when he was a boy—making up tales taller than the trees he climbed around in. He was pretty damn cute, little Michael, finagling stories for his mother’s attention. Oh, and did she give it to him. Di’s sun rose and set on that boy’s word.”

  For one crazy moment, his wistful tone pulled at weird parts of me. I was damn sure nobody spoke of my childhood like that and I allowed myself to get caught up in the daydream he painted—

  Until his tone turned into a snarl, as soon as he mentioned Diana Pearson.

  “But, god damn it, now those two are just stubborn peas in a pod—causing trouble where they don’t even realize it.”

  My mind crashed back to the here and now—as logic connected the dots about why he looked so familiar. “Wait. Are you—” Data began to connect about why he looked so familiar. Oh, God. Was this Michael’s come-and-go weirdo of an uncle? I glared at him harder, almost sure of it. Having spent more time at the farm since July, I’d heard bits and pieces about the man and his rocky past with both him and Diana. Neither of them ever, and I meant ever, said a good word about him. “Damn. You’re Michael’s—”

  “Get away from her! Right now!”

  Michael didn’t issue the command. He bellowed it—from at least twenty feet away. Everyone seated in between now craned necks and exchanged murmurs, fascinated by what the commotion was about.

  Crap.

  Crap.

  I popped my eyes wide toward Michael, silently begging him to tone it down before the photographers sniffed the testosterone on the air, but judging by the shade of red his face had gone, there was little hope for a reel-in.

  “Declan!” he boomed. “So help me, if you so much as put a pinkie on her skin, I’ll have you thrown out of here and into the goddamn ocean. Better yet, I’ll do it myself.”

  “Michael.” I gritted it while grabbing his arm and twisting as hard as I could. “You need to settle the hell down. We already have stares—we don’t need a scene. All press isn�
�t good press. We don’t need the sharks scenting you in the water.”

  “You’re right.” He nodded and inhaled deeply. “I know. You’re right.” His lips thinned as he met his uncle’s stare. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, or who you bribed to get in. I just want you gone. So help me, Declan, I want your sorry ass out of here or I will make sure security does it for you.”

  What the hell?

  Screw This is Your Life. I was living Twilight Zone. Some furious creature had taken over my boyfriend’s body and I didn’t know who he was anymore.

  Declan didn’t make things any better. The older man straightened and chuckled, actions that antagonized Michael beyond their surface value. Michael clenched his fists repeatedly and breathed through his nose like a raging bull. I’d never seen him so physically agitated in my life, which only spiked the attention of everyone at the surrounding tables, morbidly curious about the spectacle unfolding at ours.

  Security guards appeared in the doorway. Some partygoers joined them, pointing in our direction.

  I tugged on Michael’s arm. Desperation inspired boldness. “Please,” I demanded. “Stop this—both of you. Security is here. Sit down or take it outside. Michael—we’re about to be front page news again, and not for good reasons this time.”

  Declan unfurled another Crisco grin. “Listen to the lady, Mikey. She’s got beauty and brains. How you ever landed a piece of ass so fuckable is a wonder, boy.”

  I almost—almost—went ahead and told Michael to flatten him.

  “Don’t talk about her like that, you worthless piece of shit! In fact, don’t talk about her at all. Don’t even look at her. Your ugly face doesn’t deserve the pleasure of her beauty!”

  Declan chortled. “Oh, hell, you are fire and brimstone. What my associates wouldn’t pay to help channel some of that ambition—”

  “Shut up,” Michael seethed.

  “Tsk. You’re passing up a stellar opportunity.”

  “I said shut up.” He wheeled around, tucking me behind him. “Last warning, you gutter-sucking asshole. Get out of my sight or I will fucking kill you!”

  Well, that did it.

  Hotel security surged into motion. A verbal threat of that nature was apparently the icing on their red-alert cake. Two Andre-sized men bounded at Michael, each grabbing one of his arms and lifting. He had no option about the direction they pulled, toward a side exit used by the banquet servers. I grabbed my handbag and followed behind, heat crawling up my face. Just about everyone watched us leave the room.

  “You’ve got the wrong guy! He’s the asshole. He’s the one you should be worried about!”

  One of the guards chortled. “That’s a new one—huh, Pete?”

  “Sure thing,” his partner volleyed. “We never heard that one before, buddy.”

  “Let me guess. You also haven’t been drinking tonight, right?”

  They kept up like that, at Michael’s expense, while dragging him down the back corridor. Thankfully, we were now away from prying eyes—and camera lenses.

  Finally, I ran to get ahead of them, forcing them to stop. “Officers—please. Can’t you let him go?”

  Michael flashed a glare and growled. “Margaux.”

  I pushed the invisible Mute button for him. Getting into it with him wasn’t going to help the immediate problem. “I promise we’ll go right to the car,” I told the bigger of the two, Pete. “Then we’ll leave the property. I give you my word. I have a driver here waiting for us. Please, enough of this already. We don’t need the bad press.”

  Useless. The pair tightened their grip on Michael and kept power-walking toward an exit door ahead.

  “Please! Stop!”

  I poured on the girly angst, always a sure-fire guy-freezer. Pete didn’t look happy about it, though. “Ma’am, listen. It’s the policy of the hotel. As its security professionals, we have to uphold that policy. He caused a scene and openly threatened another guest. I don’t care if you’re Minnie Mouse and he’s Pluto. It doesn’t matter. The rules are the rules and we have to follow them or we lose our jobs. I would love to send you on your way out that door, but I can’t. I have a wife and a baby on the way. I can’t lose this job, okay?”

  “I get it.” I held out both hands, palms spread. “But for one thing, you don’t need to be throwing him around like he just made a pass at your prom date. For another, who will know if we slip out the back door? No harm no foul, right?” I went for my big guns—the wide kitty-witty eyes. “I’m sorry we’ve caused you trouble, I am—but there are so many photographers here tonight and we could use some privacy. Would that be too much to ask?” Annnd, the even bigger guns. A flash of my wallet and a little yank on the cash inside. “I have a couple of friends here named Ben who can help make it worth your while.”

  Pete glanced at his buddy. Their silent communication wasn’t long but told me everything I needed to know.

  “All right,” Pete finally muttered. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” I rushed out a breath. “I’d appreciate it. But…where are you taking us now? The parking lot is in that direction.”

  Yes, I was still anxious. We weren’t out of this yet—and I couldn’t help noticing how quiet Michael had gotten, without any help from my Mute button. And in this situation, a quiet Michael was a scary Michael. He was either planning or brooding. Neither was something I wanted to deal with at the moment.

  “There’s a back exit down here,” Pete explained, “that opens to the beach. If you take the path around to the right, it will bring you out to a parking lot. You can tell your driver to meet you there.”

  I looked down at my phone and I wasn’t getting reception at all.

  “Damn it. No bars.”

  “True that,” he answered. “You’ll have to go around the building a little farther, about a hundred yards that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction of the parking lot he’d just told me about. What the fuck?

  I narrowed my eyes. Kitty-witty became pissy wildcat. “Did I mention that this is all to keep the press away from this mess?” I charged.

  “Yeah, yeah. We heard you, lady.”

  “Good—which means you also know not to jack me around, right? Petey, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

  “Right, right.” Though he groused about it, his face was properly somber while accepting the bills I pushed into his palm. I hoped to God it actually helped the situation.

  We emerged from the building. As Pete had said, the beach was straight ahead to the left, the parking lot to the right. The sharp October air was, for once, a welcome sting on my face.

  I caught Michael’s stare. Correction—glare. He still struggled a little against the guards, body clenched and face tight. His hair hung in his eyes, thick and sweaty—and, damn him, on a purely physical level, pretty sexy.

  Lust was not made for a moment like this.

  “I’m going to go tell Andre where to pick us up, okay?” I told him. “I’ll meet you right back here.”

  His expression didn’t change. Not that I expected it to—or that it would’ve been just a tiny bit helpful.

  Damn it.

  I didn’t have time for this bullshit. He was the one who’d decided to make a death threat to his uncle—in public—and had us thrown out of a charity dinner, with the threat of it being documented by a dozen leading gossip rags. Now he acted like some, if not, all of it was my fault.

  I lifted the hem of my dress and stormed off in the direction of a cell phone signal.

  Fuck him—and fuck the testosterone-fueled horse he rode in on.

  Chapter Five

  Michael

  The pair of hotel thugs—pardon me, security professionals—didn’t let up their hold until they’d escorted me all the way to the beach. There, the patient knightly thing they’d been pulling with Margaux was dropped like the act it was.

  “Okay, asshole.” The burlier of the two, a jackhole named Pete, jerked me away from his buddy, as if
dislocating my shoulder would appease the dick growth gods. “Time for you to cool down.”

  His buddy grunted as he hurled me into the sand. “Well said, bro.”

  “Yeah.” I rolled onto my elbows. Screw the tux—wasn’t like I was going back inside. “He’s a goddamn rocket scientist.”

  I dragged a hand through my hair, trailing sand over my face in the doing. Like I fucking cared. Wrath still pummeled my bloodstream and I wasn’t ready to flush it anytime soon. If I stayed enraged with Declan, I didn’t have to think about still being afraid of him.

  Yeah.

  Even now.

  The fear.

  Every time I even thought of the man’s face, it burst into my gut all over again, festering until it emerged as the emotion I could deal with—the fury. It lent me power over the helplessness…and the guilt. All those years of taking the brunt of his violence because I had no choice, then watching him do the same to Mom. Hating him more every time. Wanting to throw acid on the worm he really was. Dreaming of the day I’d be big enough to fight back, to bash his face in—

  Before I could.

  Because the coward left.

  Between my fifteenth and sixteenth birthdays. Just like that. Not that he’d ever settled in with us at the house, thank fuck, but the week between his little check-in visits stretched to two. Three. Four. A month. A year. Then ten. Mom and I had been preparing to celebrate that milestone when Dec turned back up like the disease that he was.

  Mom and I were older by then. Wiser. I’d filed the restraining order that day. Within a couple of days, the security system was upgraded on the house. I’d even installed a tracking device in Mom’s truck—

  But the fear returned. And with it, the anger.

  The shit I refused to process, despite Mom’s attempts to get herself aligned and move on. Part of that, I understood. Moving on, I could handle—but who the hell wanted to be reminded about memories of their mother being thrown against the wall, berated until she cringed into a heap, ‘disciplined’ until there were welts? Bruises that had kept her in the house for days…