by J. J. Sorel
I loved Aidan’s earthiness. Even if he hadn’t been so hot, I’d be just as smitten. His soul was beautiful.
Stop. You’re putting him on a pedestal again. Remember Amy? Remember how he fucked half of LA? Remember Jessica?
A slow, tight breath left me. I exhaled the motion picture of despair that crept back into my head.
I glanced down at my watch and realized that it was time for work. I went back in and changed into my office gear. Balancing a hair-pin in my mouth, I attempted to tame my mane into a bun. As it came crashing down again, I sighed with frustration. I needed Tabitha, the expert at French rolls.
I settled for a braid and rolled it up into a bun. As I stood before the mirror I saw an older me. It was alarming how pain aged one. But I was only twenty-one, I thought. Tucking an unruly clump of hair behind my ear, I reassured myself that a little aging couldn’t do any harm.
Susana was dusting when I walked through the dining area on my way upstairs. “Good morning,” I said with a bright smile, deciding then and there to stop being critical of her.
“Hi, Clarissa.” She glanced up with just a hint of a smile. “You’re looking all professional.”
“Yes, I work in the office.”
She continued to polish the large mahogany dinner table. I could see everything. Couldn’t she dress more modestly? Her skirt barely covered her butt. And as she bent over, I caught sight of her barely-there panties. How inappropriate, I fumed. It was hard to like this girl.
“Oh… I thought you were with Aidan, that’s all,” she said, her large blue eyes doing a quick survey of my body.
I stiffened. Was I to say that we were no longer together? I could imagine Susana licking her lips, ready to pounce on him. “I worked here first,” I said soberly.
She nodded. Her eyes had a scheming glint. Was she thinking—“If Clarissa can fuck Aidan, then so can I?” Or was that my paranoia again?
Susana went back to polishing the table. Not one ounce of warmth, just cold disregard.
I walked away saddened. Why were women so competitive with each other? My mind wandered over to Jessica, Aidan’s ex. She had the same icy, dismissive glare. Maybe Susana had been wronged by some female. And now she was out for her pound of flesh. Mm… as long as it wasn’t Aidan’s.
As radiant as always, my charming office was awash with sunlight. On the silk-embossed walls hung a collection of exuberant Expressionist abstracts. The Kandinsky, with its explosion of color, applied with scholarly disarray, stole my breath as it had done the first time I set eyes on it.
I sat at the antique, mahogany desk. Like a sage old-timer, history was etched into its grain. Just sitting there made me feel wiser.
Funny how misleading time was at the Thornhill Estate. Despite it only having been two weeks since I ran away, it felt more like one year. Even though the opposite was true when I was with Aidan—hours resembled minutes. How cruel time was to do this. Moments of lonely reflection made time freeze. Whereas Aidan’s silken touch sliding down my burning flesh made time fly with breathless haste.
“Good morning, Clarissa.” Greta entered clutching a cup of coffee. “I didn’t expect you so early.”
“I hope that’s okay. I really couldn’t wait. I feel the need to work,” I said, hoping that I wasn’t sounding too tragic. At least, I didn’t mention the bit about taking my mind off Aidan by being kept occupied.
Greta’s long-held gaze told me she understood. I was certain she knew how much I loved her nephew.
“Okay, then. Let’s visit the VHC later this morning so that we can find a suitable space for the art classes.”
I could barely contain my enthusiasm. I gushed, “I’d love to, Greta. All that’s needed is light and ventilation. That depends, of course, on what medium is utilized. Tell me, was Aidan thinking oil painting or water color?”
Greta shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t really think Aidan has gone into that much detail. I think he’s open to suggestion.”
“I’ve got plenty of ideas, Greta. And I’m sure through some thoughtful, creative marketing, we could make money through the sale of artwork.”
My flushed, excitable manner made Greta smile. “Good. That sounds really positive. You’ve suddenly given me cause for hope. We’ll leave in an hour.” She stopped at the door and turned. “Are you going to be fine doing the presentation for the Cohens on Saturday evening?”
I nodded slowly. “I am,” I replied, sounding vague.
“You don’t seem too enthusiastic. You don’t have to, you know.”
“I’d like to. It’s just that I’m not a confident public speaker.”
“Aidan called me last night. He’s back on Saturday. He mentioned the soiree and asked after you. He wanted to know how you were traveling and whether you were going to do it.”
My heart leapt. “Oh, I see.”
Greta touched my arm with maternal affection. “Clarissa, I’ve never seen Aidan like this. He called me four times yesterday to ask how you were. I told him about your enthusiasm for the new program at the VHC, and he was ecstatic. He also wanted to know if you would be at the Cohens’. You could just attend without doing the lecture if you like. Your father is going to recite a poem, I believe.” Her lips twitched.
“Yes, Dad mentioned he was going to perform a T.S. Eliot poem. I love The Waste Land. And he has a great voice. I don’t take after him when it comes to vocal delivery, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Clarissa, you undersell yourself. You have a lovely presence and a musical-sounding voice. Just like your father. In fact, I think you’re very alike.”
I had to agree. Even though I looked just like my late mother, my manner was more like my father’s—reserved and awkward.
“I’ll take that as a compliment. And I will do the presentation. I’ve got the images together. I just have to upload them and put them on a USB. I suppose they’ll have a screen handy somewhere on the night?”
“Feel free to call Rudi or Dorothy. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you. That way you can tell them what you need.”
“I will. Thanks, Greta. Um… I’ll just have to get their number.”
“I’ll get that to you after we return. And do it during your work hours. It means so much to Aidan. He told me he was looking forward to it. And it’s two days away.”
A shiver went through me. Not because the event was only two days away, but because I would see Aidan again. I missed him like mad. And after Greta had recounted how he’d called four times in one day, asking after me, my heart did a cartwheel.
CHAPTER FIVE
I held up the 1950’s burgundy velvet dress that I’d bought the day earlier at my favorite vintage shop. Being crushed silk velvet, it was soft and sensual to the touch. Calf length with a tight bodice, the skirt flared out when I pirouetted to test it—a peculiar habit of mine whenever trying on a flouncy skirt. Maybe I was a ballerina in my past life because I loved the way the fabric circled in the air.
Apart from the frock’s magnetic appeal as it hung elegantly on the racks screaming to be stroked, the dress’s allure lay in the front buttons. Mm… Aidan had this thing for buttons. I’m sure I was drawn to it subconsciously because of that fact.
It felt like a lifetime since I’d seen Aidan.
Puffing out my cheeks, I blew out slowly in a bid to release the tightness in my chest. I stood before the mirror, tilting my head to and fro, studying the dress. I wished Tabitha was there. Was it too way out?
I remained before the mirror, striking different poses, all of which demonstrated confidence. I convinced myself that the divine dress was more than fitting considering it was an event devoted to a bygone era.
I grabbed my phone and took a photo of myself in the mirror. Tabitha’s opinion would help. I sent it off. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. “That was quick,” I said.
“I’m here alone,” said Tabitha in a grim voice.
“Where’s Evan?”
She sighed. “He�
�s gone to pick up Aidan. He has to spend the evening there with him. Something to do with stepping up Aidan’s security.”
My palms moistened. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. Security has been stepped up because Aidan’s got a few enemies.”
“Do you know more about that?”
Bryce Beaumont entered my busy thoughts. I’d heard him threaten Aidan after the creepy Bryce groped me.
“Not really. Evan’s got some files. I’ll check them out if you like.”
“Could you? I mean, I don’t wish to get you into trouble or anything,” I said.
“You won’t. I’ve got Evan eating out of my hands, sweetie,” said Tabitha, brightening her tone. “The I’m-stuck-in-the-1950’s dress suits you, Clary. Only…”
“Only what?”
“Well, if it were up to me, I’d sexy it up a bit.”
“This is a classy event, Tabs. It’s not a party. For all I know, it will be mainly older folks. And I have to give a speech.” My voice trembled.
“You don’t sound too enthused, Clary.”
“Now what gives you that impression?”
“Don’t do it. Just tell them you’re not well or something.”
“No. I’m doing it. I just have to have a glass of champagne before, that’s all. And anyhow, I’m dying to see Aidan.”
“Are you going to let him fuck you?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“You’re crazy, babes. A man like Aidan is not going to hang around.”
“Hmm… you’re probably right.”
“Hey, if we were all frightened of love and being hurt, we’d all be bored virgins. There’s no certainty in anything in life, only death.”
“You’re going all philosophical on me, Tabs. So, do you like the dress?”
“I do. But at least undo the bottom buttons so that there’s a hint of leg.”
“I suppose I could do that just slightly above the knee. And I’m wearing gorgeous lace stockings I just picked up.”
“You went shopping without me?” Tabitha’s voice went up a notch.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I was with Greta at the time. She was driving. We dropped into the city for lunch after visiting the Veterans’ Health Center. I’m setting up art classes there.”
“That sounds right up your alley. So, lace stockings, then. Black, I hope, and worn with the sexy garter belt I made you buy?”
“Yes.” I’d started to undo the buttons. As I squinted into the mirror, I liked the effect of black lace stockings against the lush, wine velvet dress.
“What shoes are you wearing? Not boots. And not your spinster Mary Janes.”
I laughed. “I’m wearing a pair of suede, thick-heeled shoes with an ankle strap. They belonged to my mother. I’m sure you know them.”
“I do,” said Tabitha, sighing with resignation. “Thick heels. Ick. There’s only one kind of heel—skyscraper, stiletto thin.”
“I can’t walk in them. And I have to stand and give a speech. Oh God, why did I let them talk me into it?” My heart started to pound. I glanced over at the clock. I had to leave soon. “I have to go.”
“What are you doing with your hair?”
“I thought I might put it in a bun.”
“No. You’re wearing a scarlet dress, then your hair should be out. And make sure you wear a lipstick to match the dress.”
“I will.”
“And Clarissa,” said Tabitha.
“Yes?”
“Wear your sexiest panties and bra. Because it will make you feel hot and steamy when you think of Aidan ripping them off.”
I laughed. “Oh, Tabs. You’re devilishly wicked.”
“Mm… And loving it,” she said with her Maxwell Smart voice.
“Ta-ta.”
“Call me tomorrow,” said Tabitha.
I cut the call and went over to the mirror to unbutton my dress. I reflected on Tab’s advice to wear sexy underwear. Funny about that, because I was wearing the sexiest I could find. Not to mention the garter cutting into my thighs.
CHAPTER SIX
“Blah blah, and more blah…” That was how the lecture sounded to me— one big haze of words exiting my mouth. The applause, however, suggested otherwise. It appeared that I had actually delivered an interesting program. Or were they just being nice?
As I stood by the cinema-sized screen displaying images of Gustave Klimt’s embellished, gilded images, it felt like blocks of concrete held me up. My hands were so clammy that I suspected I’d left damp imprints on my velvet dress.
I did everything in my power to cast my focus over the crowd. It was a technique I’d picked up the previous night. Unable to sleep, I’d sat at the computer seeking advice on public speaking.
My eyes had other ideas. Like magnets, they were pulled toward Aidan. With his large, powerful arms crossed, a smoldering aura bounced off him. He’d cut his hair. Even though I loved his hair long, at least it still sat on his collar. And really, it didn’t matter. Even with a Mohican haircut, Aidan would still be the sexiest man alive.
He wore a blue silk linen jacket over a cream-colored shirt and a silk cravat that robbed me of my senses. My mind, instead of scholarly contemplation, was in a tussle with my heart. In fact, maintaining focus had become so crippling that I’d left my body. Miraculously, the speech was made by another force. Or so it seemed like that, given I couldn’t remember a word I’d uttered.
When the guests rose from their seats, I exhaled a long, uneven breath. The turnout was staggering. Were all these people really into nineteenth century art? And they weren’t all hounds-tooth jackets and tiaras either. There were people of all age groups, mainly beautiful women, much to my chagrin. Had they heard Aidan was going to be there? Probably, judging by their husband-seeking attire.
“Clarissa, my sweet girl. That was so edifying. You’ve made me proud,” said my father, hugging me.
“Oh, Daddy, was it?” I undid my embrace in order to study his earnest gaze. I needed to know if he was being truthful. He had never been good at lying. “It was such a blur. I don’t even remember what I said.”
“It was fantastic, Clarissa. I mean it.” His eyes glistened with sincerity.
“Thanks for telling me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And with…” Just as I was about to mention his name, I glanced over and saw a beautiful, dark-featured woman slinking close to Aidan. He had his back turned to me, so I couldn’t see his expression. My nails dug into my sweaty palms.
Noticing my distracted gaze, my father said, “It’s great to see Aidan again.”
My lips had turned down, and my eyes were glassy, about to erupt in tears, when Rudi and Dorothy, the hosts, joined us. I attempted a smile, but my face was as tight as that of an aging Hollywood starlet.
“Oh, Clarissa, that was fantastic. The images were truly wonderful. And you went to all the trouble of showing the entire collection from the Belvedere Museum,” said Rudi. Just as my lips parted to utter gratitude, he turned to my father. “And Julian, I really enjoyed your performance as well.”
Ebullient and jumping out of her skin as always, Dorothy nodded. “It was so engaging. I’d read Eliot on the page, but it really delivers well when spoken. The language is so eccentric and evocative.” She touched my father’s arm affectionately. Oh my, was that a glint of attraction in her eyes? After all, my handsome father was looking rather dashing in his green velvet jacket.
Dorothy cast her attention back to me. “And Clarissa, you were stunning. And that dress is something special. The color really suits your dark hair. You made a striking figure up there next to the paintings.” She clapped her hands. “It is such a lovely evening. Better than we could’ve imagined. It’s so important to celebrate history.”
“Indeed, it is,” said my father, who cast his attention over my shoulder. I turned and noticed Greta looking gorgeous in a fitted blue dress. Their eyes met, and a little smile was exchanged. I felt a tingling of warmth for b
oth of them. They were in love.
When my focus returned to the sexy brunette cornering Aidan, Rudi, having noticed, said, “That’s Imelda speaking to Aidan. She’s here briefly. She lives in Italy and lectures at Bologna University. Art history. Her specialty is medieval art.”
My veins froze. Why couldn’t he have told me she was really a man and that she cleaned toilets for a living? She was not only a beauty but cultured and educated—just how Aidan liked his women. My head was thumping with so many screechy voices that I didn’t hear Dorothy when she spoke to me.
“I’m sorry, you were saying?” I asked.
“Come and meet Michael, my son.”
Before I could respond, she led me by the hand, and I stood before a tall, dark, and handsome man—more Tabitha’s type than mine. But he had film-star good looks. What was Dorothy doing here? Trying to pair me off with her son and Aidan with her gorgeous daughter?
He held out his hand, and I took it. He smiled, and his eyes penetrated a little deeper than usual. Mm.
“I enjoyed that thoroughly. I’m more of a sports guy, but my parents have always been into the arts.” He paused, waiting for a response. I remained silent. The best I could do was paint on a fake smile. I really did not feel like being there.
“So, you work for Aidan, I believe?”
“I do,” I said, keeping it brief.
“Can I get you a drink?” Michael asked.
“That would be lovely. If there’s any champagne…”
“Of course, we have it on tap.” He laughed, and his eyes lit up. I returned a nervous giggle.
While he went off to get my drink, my eyes traveled to where Imelda had cornered Aidan. He still had his back to me. Did he even know I existed?
Ugh!
I wanted to run away. This was not what I had expected. I thought he’d at least come over and congratulate me. Barely able to breathe, I was invaded by pins and needles racing up my arms.
After Michael placed the glass in my hand, I excused myself, telling him I needed to go to the powder room. Despite sensing his disappointment, I knew if I didn’t get away then and there, I would erupt.
