It was truly unfathomable, the amount of people that came forward in her defense as legal proceedings went into day number two. When Mayor Townsend himself sent her a gleaming smile as he proclaimed her an outstanding citizen of Boston, who selflessly gave back to society and he considered a pillar of the community, she wanted to cry.
There were letters and affidavits from many clients, who wished to remain anonymous, however made their names available for the judge’s eyes only, she was shocked beyond words. She was an emotional wreck, teetering on the verge of tears most of the second day. It was like balancing on the razor edge of a blade or hanging from a single thread waiting for it to snap at any moment.
Although she had officially been accused of ‘Aiding in the Alienation of Affection as an interfering party’ and Ross Stiles was seeking three and a half million dollars in damages, Ross Stiles seemed more focused on making her out to be a pimp and supplying his wife with a sexual partner. To her relief, the poor bastard that slept with Stiles’ wife and was subsequently murdered by Stiles had absolutely no connections with Pulse. He was never employed by Mikala or her previous partner Brian Eves and he wasn’t even a paid member of the club. Lori Stiles on the other hand was a long standing member, and had been well before Mikala took over the club. Mikala almost, almost, felt sorry for Stiles as his face paled at the revelation. Ross’s eyes met hers, quickly looking to his folded hands in his lap. He was clearly ashamed. Regret was such an ugly emotion, but on him it was resplendently fitting.
“Therefore, in light of the fact that Miss Santino had no involvement in membership approval for Lori Stiles, and by possessing sole proprietorship of said club, can in no way be held responsible for her patron’s private affairs, I am dismissing this case with prejudice. Miss Santino, I wish you well. You are free to go.”
The judge turned his sights to Stiles. He interlaced his fingers and cleared his throat before speaking. “Mr. Stiles, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you sir, that you face sentencing in a few short days. I suggest you put this behind you and get your priorities in order. I cannot begin to understand infidelity, nor will I try. I will tell you, laying blame on others for your misfortunes is wrong and you need to find an outlet, hit the gym, lift weights, or find a hobby, whatever it takes. I will be suggesting psychiatric evaluation to Judge Stamford.” Judge Christian stood and left the courtroom.
The small courtroom quickly cleared, leaving Mikala, Mason, Eden and Chase sitting in silence. “We’re going to leave you kids alone. Congrats Mik,” Chase said, gently squeezing her shoulder. Mason nodded, returning his attention to Mikala when she didn’t answer her friends. He was concerned by her lack of response.
“Sugar,” Mason waved his free hand in her face. “Are you with me?”
“I don’t know. I can’t feel anything.” She blinked back tears.
“Neither can I,” he said, holding up their intermeshed hands. She had a grasp on him like a vice. The tips of his fingers were purple from lack of blood supply.
Mikala gasped, releasing her hold and pulling his hand to her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she laughed for the first time in days.
“Good to see you smile,” he caressed her cheek with his knuckles.
Confusion was evident as her brows creased together. “With prejudice, that’s good, right? I get with and without mixed up. ”
“It’s very good,” Mason rested his forehead to hers. “It means it’s over.”
Tears filled her eyes as the reality of Mason’s words sunk in. Her breathing became constricted, making it uneasy and painful. Mason shook her by the shoulders. “Breathe, sugar. Take a deep breath.”
He talked her through several deep intakes of breath, when the color returned to her face and her eyes cleared, she threw her arms around his neck holding tight. “Over, it’s actually over.”
“Yeah, baby, it’s over,” Mason reassured her.
“Take me home, Mason,” she stood. “We have a wedding to plan.”
“You don’t want to go for dinner to celebrate?”
“I want to go home, to our home. I want to order Chinese and talk about nothing but you and me and our wedding.”
A mischievous grin from Mason caught her eye as he moved closer to her ear and whispered, “Sex too, right? I’d like to make love to my fiancé.”
“Arrangements could be made, it’s certainly a possibility,” she teased.
Several hours later, they lay wrapped in a blanket under the stars on the rooftop, completely satiated. Mason’s fingers trailed lazily up and down her arm. Mikala’s cheek rested on his shoulder as she spun the ring on his finger.
Not a lot of wedding plans had come into discussion before Mason’s hunger to rip into her flesh unraveled him. He had them both naked and on the rooftop, with her body tucked beneath his before she had the chance to say a word. Slowly like time was inching at a snail’s pace, he made love to Mikala with leisurely, unadulterated yearning. Desire spilled like the sands through an hour glass, a grain at a time, bit by bit, until neither of them was capable of speech and neither had the strength to move.
“Gonna be sore tomorrow, sugar.”
“Pretty sure we both will.”
“And each time we move, we’ll think of each other.”
“What a wonderful way to be remembered.” Mikala giggled. “We better clean up and get inside. I have a ton of things to do for morning.”
There were liquor orders to process and payroll submissions needed to be taken care of before weeks end, as well as the food order and menu approval.
The place certainly didn’t run itself.
“This is where you bring me?” Mikala asked, glaring into the shops display window.
“Bride, bridal shop,” Eden pointed from Mikala to the window, “kind of works don’t you think?”
“But it’s all so…white,” Mikala said, with a sour lemon eating expression.
“Oh my god, will you relax.” Eden pulled Mikala by the arm into the store. “I’m not asking you to pull off the whole Lady Di, taffeta gown and eighty foot train thing. They do sell cocktail gowns, and other dresses in the back of the store.”
“Good because if I have to say it again, someone’s gonna get hurt.”
“Yeah, small private ceremony, blah, blah, blah,” Eden rolled her eyes and Mikala laughed.
“If Chase saw you do that,” Mikala warned and Eden shot her a narrow eyed glare.
An assistant greeted them, verified their appointment and efficiently showed them to the rear of the store. They wove past racks upon racks of huge flowing, sensational white gowns, and a row with yards upon yards of tulle veils. Through an archway at the back of the store, Mikala smiled hugging Eden’s arm with excitement.
“Holy fuck, it’s like I’ve died and gone to my own private closet in heaven,” Mikala said, looking around at three walls of glittering, bling emblazed, and rhinestone encrusted cocktail dresses.
“I think someone owes someone else an apology?” Eden said, with her hands propped on her hips.
Mikala grabbed her face with both hands slapping a sloppy wet kiss on Eden’s cheek. “You know I love you. Honestly, honey, this is ideal.”
“There’s just one thing,” Eden stepped out of arm’s length, as Mikala searched the racks like a bridezilla on a mission.
“What?” Mikala asked, turning apprehensively to face her.
“Chase and I want to pay for the dress and flowers.”
“No flowers, I already told you, we don’t want flowers,” Mikala reminded her.
“I know, I meant, you know what I mean.”
“That’s real sweet of you guys.” It was all getting a bit too emotional for Mikala. She set her sights back on finding a dress before one or both of them ended up in tears. Mikala excitedly started pulling hangers from the racks and handing them to the assistant.
Eden sat watching Mikala with a smile pasted on her face. In all the years they grew up together, she couldn’t remember them ever talking about their
wedding days. They never fantasized about gowns and flowers and multiple tiered cakes, or the men they would marry. Yet here she sat watching her best friend picking out her dress for the big day, which was right around the corner already.
From black to gold to silver and every color of the proverbial rainbow, Mikala tried it on. Sequined out the yin yang with enough bling and rhinestones to sink an ocean liner, not one in the array of hundreds she tried on said, ‘this is the one’.
“Mik,” Eden looked up from her phone as Mikala stood at the mirror in a purple sequined nightmare. Eden exaggerated a cringe before she continued, “Chase sent a text. He wants you to do something for him.”
Mikala tilted her head and scowled, “I’m scared to ask what.”
“He picked out a gown and wants you to try it on. He won’t be offended if you don’t like it, he just wants to see you in it.”
“And how is he going to see me in it?” Mikala asked, as Eden held up her phone. “Okay, bring it on.”
It wasn’t really a hard choice for Mikala to make, Chase was like a big brother and she’d do just about anything for him. Trying on a dress and smiling for a picture wouldn’t kill her. The eager assistant came with a large plastic bag draped over her arm and Mikala followed her into the dressing room.
The moment Mikala stepped out from the room, Eden’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you start or you’ll get me started,” Mikala warned, stepping onto a carpeted platform in front of an angled set of mirrors.
“What do you think, Mik?” Eden asked, as Mikala stood in front of her dressed all in white.
“I think your husband has impeccable taste, it’s as if this gown were made for me.” Mikala spun in a circle watching the way the tulle skirt flowed. It had a strapless boddess with just the right amount of crystal bling encircling the waist, and draping onto the tea length tulle flared skirt, to give it pizazz but keeping it tasteful. She was feeling very much like the ballerina in her jewelry box as a teenager, and had to blink back a tear.
“It was made for you,” Eden announced.
“Chase had this made for me?” Mikala stared into the mirror in awe. “He seriously did this for me?”
“There’s more,” Eden told her as she held up a pair of shoes she took from a box. “It wouldn’t be complete without a pair of sexy shoes.”
“Holy bling, I think I’m marrying the wrong man.” Mikala held out her hands. “Gimme, gimme!”
“Over the top and then some, they couldn’t be more you,” Eden laughed, offering a shoulder to hold while Mikala slipped them on.
The shoes were hot pink, covered in sequins with five inch heels, the grin couldn’t be peeled from her face. “Wait until Mason gets a load of me in this dress, with these fuck-me-shoes on,” Mikala did a quick pirouette in the mirror.
“Picture time!” Eden took a few shots with her phone, sending them to Chase. The phone chirped and Eden smirked. “You’re on speaker, Chase.”
“So my darling?” Chase asked. Mikala could practically hear the smile in his voice.
“Holy fuck, Chase, wake me now, cause if this is a dream,”
“Not a dream, you’ve never looked more beautiful.”
“Don’t start or you’re going to make me cry.”
“So?” Chase asked.
“So what,” Mikala sniffed and Eden handed her a tissue from a box Eden had just about emptied.
“Are you saying yes to the dress?”
“Fucking right I am!”
“So pretty, but oh my darling, that mouth of yours,” Chase attempted to chastise, but knew it would fall on deaf ears, so instead he gave in and laughed.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mikala chanted, as she sopped up tears that wouldn’t stop, hugging Eden with her free hand.
“We love you too, now go for lunch,” Chase demanded. “It’s on me.”
***
Eden took a notebook and pen from her purse and scanned through pages as she checked off the to-do’s as done. She was so into the entire wedding planner thing, it wouldn’t have surprised Mikala one bit if Eden picked it up as a sideline. Organized should have been her middle name.
Eloping sounded like a fabulous idea all of a sudden. Fuck city hall, dresses, tuxedos, caterers, bling and all the other shit and run away to a small island where an island native pronounced them man and wife in a strange foreign tongue, and they spent all their time screwing, eating and basking in the warmth of each other. No one to dictate how they spent their time and clocks didn’t even exist. Rise when the sun came up and sleep when the stars lit the sky. No need for clothes, they’d only get in the way of all the love making that took up the majority of the day. Mikala snickered to herself. It sounded like the perfect plan, until Eden’s voice broke through her daydreams.
“The only thing left to take care of would be flowers. What are we going to put on the tables if it’s not going to be flowers?”
“Is it really necessary to have centerpieces, I mean, is it that fucking important?”
From the jaw dropping glare Eden bestowed upon Mikala, you would have thought she had asked her to drown a bag full of kittens instead of trying to get past the subject of floral bullshit for which she had no interest what-so-ever.
“Maybe you would prefer asking your guests to sit on milk crates while eating with plastic cutlery and paper plates seated on their laps?”
Mikala burst into laughter. “Eden, you can be such a drama queen sometimes. There has to be options out there. Let me show you what I’ve been looking at in place of a regular bouquet.”
Mikala scrolled through photos she saved on her phone until she came to the one she wanted to show her.
“I’ve been thinking, and I decided, I want a feather and pearl spray bouquet like this. Since my dress is white, it can be made from swan feathers with white sprays of pearls.”
“That’s amazing, we’ll talk to Marcel he’s one of my designers, he adds all the personal touches at work. This will be right up his alley,” Eden said, sending him a quick text.
“We can’t have bare tables and I’ve googled centerpieces to death. Maybe we’ll have to settle on a few dead twigs in a vase or a goldfish swimming in a bowl.” Eden was trying her hand at humor, it wasn’t working.
“I so give up,” Mikala shrugged with disinterest.
“Let’s punch in unusual centerpieces and see what we get,” Eden said, as she shot her another death stare and fiddled with her phone. “I think I may have an idea, look at these.”
“They’re flowers stupid,” Mikala laughed, as the waitress set a sharing platter in the center of the table. She inhaled the spicy aroma of Indonesian chicken wings, Brie and pesto flatbread, hot spinach & artichoke dip and Asian chicken bites. “Next time we order salad or you’ll be rolling me down the aisle on my wedding day.”
“Take a closer look, they’re cupcakes decorated to look like flowers. It’s the best of both worlds. You get a flower free wedding; I get pretty flowers of sorts on the tables. And your guests can eat them.”
“You win,” Mikala said, as she scanned through picture after picture. “I want this too.” She handed Eden the phone with a picture of a three tiered wedding cake made from cupcakes. All decorated in white icing with pearl candy beads.
“It’s got flowers on top,” Eden teased.
“I have the perfect cake topper, Mason gave it to me,” Mikala announced with pride. “It’s a traditional bride and groom kissing, but she’s got her legs wrapped around his waist, it was either that or the bride giving the groom head, I think he made a wise choice, don’t you?
“I think so,” Eden laughed, then made an appointment with the bakery.
They finished the platter, changed the conversation to honeymoon destinations and googled endlessly to find the perfect place. Not that they had any plans to go anywhere, it wasn’t in the stars, as they put it.
As Eden paid the bill with Chase’s credit card, a strange man approached them. He was an older m
an dressed in a dark gray suit, wearing a fedora type hat. He tipped the brim of the hat without removing it and asked, “Mikala Santino?”
“That’s me and you are?”
“My name is Granger with the law firm of Heath and Lyle. I’m here to deliver a message.” He slipped his hand into his breast pocket and Mikala swallowed when she envisioned him drawing out a gun and holding it in her face. “You ladies have a good day,” he said, handing her a business size envelope and walking out the door.
“What the hell?” Eden murmured. “Who’s it from?”
“Department of Corrections.”
“I feel compelled to go.”
“Why?” Landon looked to Mikala without hiding his confusion.
“I don’t know I just feel like I have to go, like it’s my chance to finally cleanse my soul of him, maybe then this bitter taste will go away. Maybe I’ll be able to go to sleep at night or go outside alone without being scared to. Just to have one day without Ross Stiles entering my thoughts would be a blessing. If I do this I think it’s going to help me wash my hands of him. I don’t know how else to explain.”
“I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him think he still affects you.” Landon advised.
“The sad part is he still does. I think he always will because I never got closure, not really. I need to ask him why.”
“Didn’t that all get sorted out in court?”
“Not really. My mind wasn’t in the game it’s all pretty much a blur.”
Mikala rubbed her hand over her knuckles, lifting the letter to reread it for the umpteenth time.
Dear Miss Santino,
Against the advice of council I am writing this letter. As you know I will be sentenced in a few days. I saw you in the courtroom, I know you were happy with the outcome and wish me the maximum sentence and I completely understand.
I have one request before I go away. I wish to meet with you. I believe we both have unfinished business, things that need to be said. I mean you no harm. Please allow me this last request.
Ross Stiles
Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) Page 29
