“Hello, Hayley.” I feel a firm, warm hand on my shoulder; I recognize the familiar voice before turning to face him, quivering slightly inside.
“Hi Daniel.” Seeing him from this close sends my heart up toward my throat. He looks even better than the last time we’d met. He is tanner. The bronze honey tone compliments his handsome face especially with the contrast of the white of his shirt. His eyes traveling slowly over me cause my stomach to knot.
“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he whispers in my ear.
I tremble slightly from his airy touch, his words, and his proximity. Oh I got it bad.
“I like the dress on you,” he adds next.
“Thank you, I like it too,” I say, and try hard to appear composed.
“I’m glad.” He smiles at me, but this time his overconfident grin is replaced by a small, sweet, sincere smile. I notice that some of the people around us are staring curiously.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, taking my hand in his.
“Why is that?” I look at him and sigh, pulling my hand slowly back. His mouth twists and he lets go.
“Because I wanted to see you, because I would like to talk to you,” he answers, his genuine gaze locked on mine.
“Daniel, I can’t do that right now, please,” I request. I look at him facing me and I want to hug him tight, have him close to me just like we were in his house. I’m surprised at how difficult it is to hold on my façade. I think he senses he has this effect on me and is taking unfair advantage.
“Can we go somewhere private to talk?”
Hazel steady on uncertain brown. Hell no.
“Not now. I’ve just arrived and I promised Natasha I’d stay with her.”
“She seems to be doing just fine without you,” he says dryly, evidently less than content with my reply, sarcastically gesturing to where Tasha stands surrounded by several men, laughing happily.
“Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, but may I disturb you?” Daniel’s PA is by our side looking more stressed than ever, and I couldn’t be more thankful for her presence. Daniel’s eyes turn from gentle to darker and irate; his features gain an edge.
“What is it now, for god’s sake,” he says in a low, clipped voice. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here, Anne?”
How can he change so quickly from talking softly and gently to me to … that? How glad I am that I don’t work for him, psycho.
“Umm, the hospital representatives would like to talk to you, and then there are the two documents you requested earlier that you look at before you sign … You mentioned they were urgent.” She flushes, biting her lips, waiting for his response. He inhales heavily, frowning at her, and then turns my way, his eyes soft again.
“I’ll look for you later. Don’t run away.”
Is it just me or does he really look almost pleading? “I left the red sneakers at home like you suggested so even if I try, I can’t run. Not in these.” I nod toward my stilettos. His lips pull up crookedly. And then, to my shock, as well as to the surprise of the group of people beside us and of Miss Anne Bally, he frames my face with both hands and kisses me at the corner of my mouth, lingering for a few seconds. I’m left flushed and flustered, looking at him walk away in long strides while Miss Bally follows him, awkward but fast on her high heels, making an immense effort to catch up with him.
“What was that all about?” Tasha asks, handing me another glass of champagne.
“I’m not so sure, Tash. He wants to talk. I have no idea what he really wants.”
“Well, with that little show, I guess it’s quite obvious that what he wants is you!” She nods in determination, clinking her glass with mine.
We join Tasha’s team again for a long, vivid discussion about the current presidential election campaigns.
“Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please,” the host of the evening announces, to which the overall buzz gradually subsides as the crowd turns to face the center stage in groups.
“Good evening, everyone. I would like to welcome you all to the Stark Software and Benioff Children’s Hospital fundraising event.” A fake smile full of bleached teeth radiates from his orange faux-tanned face as he pauses to look over the audience. He runs his hand over the side of his slick tux and continues, “Today’s fundraising is for the oncological research laboratories at Benioff Children’s Hospital. The Benioff Children’s Hospital has been supported by Stark Software for many years now.” He stares at the audience with a stern façade and adds, “Now, let me invite Mr. Harrison, Stark Software’s spokesperson, to tell you a little bit more about Stark Software’s tireless effort.” With catlike, quick paces he steps to the center of the stage as he declares, “Let’s all welcome Mr. Harrison, ladies and gentleman.”
As the applause erupts from the crowd a russet haired, lean, tall, impressive-looking man in a grey tux makes his way to where the host is awaiting him, microphone tilted forward.
“I thought Stark himself would be the one speaking on behalf of his company,” a lady behind us says with a sarcastic bite.
Tasha, in response, leans toward me. “I thought so, too.”
“He prefers not to be the center of attention,” I whisper back, recalling what he told me during our conversation a few days ago, and smile, thinking how I liked learning that.
“Good evening everyone, and thank you for being here this evening,” Mr. Harrison says. “It is an honor for me to be speaking on behalf of Stark Software at this charity event tonight about this significant cause.” He continues articulating in a highly-polished manner about the ongoing contribution of Stark Software to the children’s hospital, about donations and volunteering programs that were held over the past year. On the grand screen behind the stage there’s a slideshow of moments taken from the volunteer activities, of the hospital, and of its patients.
“Though I believe the person we should be thanking is Mr. Stark, who initiated our partnership with the Benioff Children’s Hospital,” he says at the end of his speech. Above the applause he adds, “Mr. Stark, can you join me here on the stage for a few words?”
I turn my head to where Mr. Harrison’s stare is directed to notice a mix of discomfort and compliance on Daniel’s face. I follow him as he walks confidently and gracefully toward the gentleman awaiting him. At the stage it only takes him a few short steps till he reaches his place beside his spokesman.
“Good evening,” Daniel starts with his low, husky voice, and the audience hushes. “I would like to seize this opportunity to congratulate all the hard work that has gone into launching this outstanding fundraising project that both the management and our devoted employees were dedicatedly engaged in.” Daniel gestures to the large screen behind him. “On the screen, you can see the faces of young children hospitalized at the Benioff Children’s Hospital who need our help. The money we raise tonight will be used to purchase advanced medical research equipment, to give these kids a chance at life.”
He runs a hand through his hair and narrows his gaze, focusing on the audience. “I would like to thank everyone who’s supported this significant cause. I am personally grateful and warmhearted by your contribution, both in volunteering and donating, as I believe that this cause, which we all take a part in by attending tonight’s event, is priceless.”
He stares ahead, his face tender. Observing him, I am utterly mesmerized. He is so confident, refined, and quietly powerful, and yet there is this faint hint of humbleness and coyness to him, these amalgamations that together make him plainly irresistible.
Daniel continues to explain that any money raised is to be matched by Stark Software. As he speaks his eyes roam the audience till they land on mine. For the longest moment, till he breaks the connection, my breath comes in thick at the intensity they transmit.
“These children need our mutual effort, our support, most of all. Together, we can fulfill our duty of protecting these young kids. I wish to thank all of you again, our employees and donors, for your support. Let us
go on building the bonds of friendship and goodness through cooperation and thoughtfulness.” He puts a hand in his pocket and levels his stare with the audience. “So, again, thank you on behalf of Stark Software,” Daniel concludes, and shakes Mr. Harrison’s hand.
“One thing you forgot to mention, Mr. Stark,” Mr. Harrison says into the microphone, “is your personal contribution of a million dollars to the cause tonight.” Daniel nods timidly, somewhat discomfited, eyes cast down. He sends mine a brief glance. My heart constricts at the revelation and at Daniel’s humble physical response.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee says, regaining the audience’s attention, taking the mic back into his possession, “everyone is invited to the dance floor. We have a surprise for you later on, but for the time being, enjoy the rest of your evening.” He grins again, a smug megawatt smile. What a phony.
Daniel remains on stage, talking to Harrison; from what I can see their conversation seems light, at the verge of humorous. Daniel shifts his stare sideways for a fraction of a moment and his eyes drop to mine. I wince at the tension it causes in me. I need emotional armor when he’s around …
There’s light jazz music playing in the background as, next to me, Tasha’s boss asks her to join him on the dance floor. I roll my eyes. I knew it.
“Would you care to dance?” An attractive, wide-shouldered gentleman in a dark suit with blue eyes taps my shoulder. I tilt my head up to meet his kind eyes.
“Sure, why not,” I reply with a weak smile on my lips. His hand is on the small of my back as he leads me to the dance floor; from a distance I can see Daniel watching us intently, still in conversation at the stage.
“My name is Paul,” my dance companion says, smiling at me, holding me gently by my waist as we dance in slow, light moves.
“I’m Hayley. Nice to meet you,” I answer and mimic his expression.
“I know.” He grins. “I’ve asked around about you,” he answers to my puzzled expression.
Paul tries to engage me in some casual conversation to which I nod and smile, not the least bit focused on what he is saying. In the corner of my eye I search for Daniel. I watch him approach the DJ stand where he exchanges some words with the man standing behind the control table. The DJ nods in assent to a pleased Daniel, who then turns on his heels toward the three stairs that lead him off the stage. He’s heading to the dance floor while his stare is locked on mine, not leaving it for the briefest moment. It seems like he doesn’t even blink. Paul, still holding me, is talking, but I am utterly consumed with anticipation for the man approaching me.
A new song is playing now; a tender shiver runs through me when I hear its first notes. A touching, dreamy melody that I like so much.
“Can I cut in?” Daniel asks in a low, firm voice, his eyes boring into mine.
Paul, a tad taken aback by who’s making the request, mumbles incoherent agreement, and tilts his head with a raised eyebrow, apologizing. Don’t apologize; I couldn’t be happier for the exchange.
I look at those hazel eyes and they look back at me. His face wears a solemn expression and I feel thousands of butterflies flying around recklessly, rocking the sides of my stomach. Daniel wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and starts to move in time with my motions and to this amazing song. The warmth of his hands around me pulse heat to my insides.
“Hayley, it wasn’t my intention to upset or hurt you in any way,” Daniel says, his hands holding me tighter as he speaks. I look at him and am confused by what I feel standing here beside him, my arms resting on his shoulders. “I like how I feel when I’m with you,” he continues, and I swallow hard hearing his words. Daniel holds me closer, his hands wrapped around my waist; I move my hand to the nape of his neck, the tips of my fingers lightly touching his skin. As the music plays, these heartwarming tunes that I like so much, I look up to meet his gaze, and I need to force out the trapped air from my lungs. He looks down at me, his eyes full of concentration and his mouth in a small, faint smile.
“You remembered,” I say, hardly managing to properly inhale.
“It is a nice song,” he whispers back, and his eyes drop to my lips. My lips slightly tremble at the thought. I don’t want to read too much into his stare, so I just rest my head on his chest and close my eyes. I inhale his scent, listening to my favorite song, giving myself completely to the moment.
“Hayley, look at me,” Daniel asks, his voice low yet tender.
I slightly raise my head up to meet his eyes again. He then inclines his head toward me, his eyes absorbed with mine, and hesitantly his mouth approaches my lips. His look turns soft, his eyes seeking permission, and with the thrilled consent that my eyes return, slowly he bends, leaning further down my way, slightly twisting his head. I part my lips with a thudding heart, so does he, and the so-anticipated warmth of his lips gently flutters against mine.
I gasp as my stomach clenches and my lungs turn void at the first touch. His lips move back for a short instant, that look in his eyes again, and next his mouth claims mine, this time with greater determination. His tongue, so welcome, meets mine—at first tentatively, getting acquainted with the new territory. Delight of short, tender brushes. Soon our tongues are dancing together—tasting, lavishing, consuming each other enthusiastically.
We stop dancing, too absorbed in ourselves. Daniel lifts his hands to hold my face, pulling me deeper into his kiss; I reach my hands higher to slide my fingers in his soft hair. His hands move to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss. He pulls back to look at me and then kisses me again, soft, sensual little kisses. The touch of his lips makes my heart rate quicken and my body burn up inside. I press against him. How I longed for this kiss; now that I’ve finally tasted it, I know it was worth waiting for.
“Hayley, I think the music’s stopped,” Daniel smirks at me between kisses.
I blush and smile back. As I get back to my senses I realize it has stopped, and when I finally look around me I see that we’re the only ones left near the stage. At the same time noticing some very curious gazes observing us, turning away quickly and appearing embarrassed when I look back at them.
“Mr—” Miss Bally appears beside us, choking on her own words as she tries to get Daniel’s attention. She clears her throat and tries again, flustered, to bother her moody, intimidating boss.
“Mr. Stark,” she tries again, this time clearer and louder.
Daniel turns to look her way, I can’t see his expression but I can just imagine it from the terror mirrored in poor—just—doing—her—job Miss Bally’s face.
“Somebody better be dying, Anne. For fuck’s sake, what now?” Daniel says slowly, with cold disdain.
“Well,” she murmurs, fiddling with her fingers. “The hotel’s manager requested to talk to you.”
Wow, is she going to get it. My heart goes out to the poor girl. But it isn’t a life or death matter, or at least it doesn’t seem that way, unless the hotel manager is dying and his last wish is to talk to this person I don’t want to let go. Thinking about it I feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Daniel’s jaw clenches tighter under his skin. I notice a flush crawling up Miss Bally’s face. If looks could actually kill, we would be having a funeral rather than a party.
“Please, tell me. You did not. Come all the way here. To interrupt me for that,” he says icily, neck hair raising, chilling voice.
“Mr. Stark, I am deeply sorry, but he said it was an important matter.”
Feeling sorry for the poor semi-intelligent girl, I reach for Daniel’s hand. He turns to look at me as I do.
“I’ll go check up on Tasha. I’ll wait for you till you’re done,” I tell him quietly, then stretch, standing on my tiptoes, so I can reach his cheek and softly peck it. He looks down at me for a brief moment as though weighing his options then, sliding his hand underneath my hair, he cups my neck and tilts my head slightly up, then bends his own and slowly kisses me. He lingers, his alluring moisture on my mouth for a few long seconds
, making my bones soften. As he draws back to my complete reluctance he tells me that he’ll be back as quickly as possible. I nod and look at Miss Bally, who is still beside us looking at anything else but us, her face bright crimson. I’m afraid she’ll tear her brown lock of hair off from the intensity with which she circles it around her finger. I need to bite my lips to stop my smile from widening.
As they walk toward the entrance I start looking for Tasha, finding her with Rob, by the same well we stood next to earlier. They seem to be deep in conversation as I approach, hardly noticing my presence.
“Well there she is, the star of the evening,” Tasha teases.
I fidget, smiling at her. “Quite the show you guys gave there, Miss Grace.” Tasha laughs, and Rob joins her.
Are you sure you want to laugh at that, Rob? I’ve heard of people packing up their belongings in cardboard boxes for less. I wonder if he would have laughed had Daniel been here.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, looking around.
“Drop it,” I snap at her, though with a friendly air.
“What’s the plan for the rest of the evening?” she asks, thankfully with all traces of cynicism gone.
“You tell me, I’m your plus one.”
“Oh Hales, the bait’s too tempting for me not to bite. You make it so hard.” I chuckle, knowing exactly where she’s heading with that; we both laugh once our eyes meet.
“And bite you shall not, Miss Taylor. Conduct yourself, please, we’re in public.” I nudge her arm with my elbow.
“You know I can’t,” she says, demonstratively holding her lips shut.
I snicker, anticipating what’s about to come out of her imprudent mouth.
“Some plus one you are. Neglecting me to run and grope the first guy who agrees to fondle you in public.”
“That’s what you did, Hayley? And you call yourself a friend?” I turn to smirk at Daniel as he walks over to stand by my side. He slides his arm naturally around my waist. Tasha observes him cheerfully and says, “See, even Mr. Stark agrees with me.” Rob freezes at her side. He looks at Daniel and nods his head in greeting.
Layers Page 10
