"He does that for everybody."
"Everybody?"
I wracked my memory and realized this was the first time Adam and I had ever gone out together in public except for Emily's Christmas Pageant.
"He does it for his daughter."
"See?"
The music changed. The pack of women, by some unspoken agreement, all broke out into the Electric Slide. The light buzz of alcohol made everything seem the same way it felt in that world in my dreams, and the people around me all glowed with a soft, golden light, as though everybody radiated a colorful halo. I glanced towards Adam, and he burned more brightly than the rest.
"Maybe I do like him," I shouted over the music.
"See," Sienna said. "Never try to hide anything from your best friend."
"So how do I make him like me?"
"Just keep dancing," Sienna said. "That usually gets them hot and bothered."
The Electric Slide transformed at the next song into the corny dance from Happy. The entire dance line turned the corner, and suddenly I was standing next to Noreen, the girl I'd beaten out of the championship so many years ago. Noreen smiled and fell in to take Sienna's place in the line. I searched for Sienna, but I couldn't find her. I realized how foolish I must look, parading in front of Adam Bristow like a foolish mare in heat.
I jumped as a hand touched my shoulder. Sienna was back, and she wore a mischievous grin.
"What are you up to?" I asked her.
"Special request," Sienna said.
We finished the Happy dance, and then the music changed to something decidedly Latin. Sienna had that same look she'd always worn just before she convinced me to try something reckless.
"You didn't!"
"I did!" Sienna glanced at Adam. "So, do you want that fine piece of horseflesh to keep thinking of you as a babysitter? Or would you like him to think of you as a woman?"
I looked at Adam, so tall, so handsome, so very in his element without Eva Jackson there to eclipse his quiet masculinity with drama. Tonight, I looked beautiful. Tonight, I was surrounded by my friends. Tonight, other people had told Adam that once upon a time I'd been the best at something. Now, I wanted Adam to see me do something well for himself.
"It's been a long time," I said.
"It'll come back to you," Sienna said. "After all, we memorized it to tick off your mother."
Yes. We had. We'd rehearsed the wild gypsy tango together for weeks. And then we'd performed it, shockingly, at our coming-out cotillion instead of the boring waltz my mother forced me to take lessons for to make it appear our family was cultured.
"Ole!" Sienna threw up her arms into the horns of the bull.
"Ole!" I laughed and did the same.
The orchestra played a tame rendition of a wild, gypsy folk song, but it was the song my father had played on his guitar from the time I'd been a little girl, and the clapsticks gave it percussion. Sienna and I clasped our hands like beautiful swans' necks while, with our other hand, we each grabbed the hem of our skirts.
"Are you ready?" Sienna's blue eyes wore that look of the devil which I'd always adored.
"Ready."
We spun, our bodies strong, as our arms and shoulders undulated like snakes in the wild gypsy tango known as the zambra.
"Step, step, step-tap-step," I counted off as we performed the foot movements. "Step, step, turn and pass."
The Boot Scootin Boogiers cleared to give us some room.
Shoulders, strong. Pose as you challenge the bull. Taunt him, tease him, shake your hip and flip your skirt, tap your feet to the rhythm, drive the bull wild and let him catch a glimpse of your leg.
My mother was horrified when I'd performed a dance from my father's people in front of her friends, a hundred of the most Wannabe Wealthies in all of Nerang, at a stuffy cotillion. What would she think if she saw me perform the gypsy tango in front of a thousand of the wealthiest people in Queensland?
I laughed as Sienna and I made the next pass. Sienna had learned to do the dance reasonably well, but my father taught me to dance flamenco from as soon as I could take my first steps. I danced … almost as well as I rode.
"Looking good, girl!" Sienna shouted.
I clapped the palmas, and then I added the foot taps to keep the percussion. Oh, what a beautiful dress Adam had picked for me to wear tonight. While far less colorful than the wild gypsy costumes, the dress, with its slender silhouette, and the wonderful skirt with the bustle at the back, it flowed as I posed and performed flamenco the way I'd learned to do it in Spain.
We spun into the next turn, two bulls running into the matador's cape, and then Sienna stepped back to let me take the stage.
Hand movements, foot movements, clap your hands and tap your feet, slap your thighs and sing the ululating gypsy song. The percussion of the foot taps added a wild element to the too-tame jazzy orchestra, and in return the orchestra improvised around the most powerful instrument … me.
In its purest form, a gypsy doesn't need any instrument except for the ones God has given you himself. I danced for him, I danced for Adam Bristow. I danced the wild gypsy tango that my father said each gypsy girl dances just once to catch the eye of her future husband.
And when the orchestra reached the end of the song, I stomped, panting, with one arm held up as though I carried a victory torch. My other hand undulated gracefully towards Adam, my torro, enticing him to step closer to the matadora. The entire room broke out into a cheer.
Adam grinned. I kissed my fingertips and blew him a kiss. The audience clapped louder. Adam's grin grew broader. The guys around him all gave him an elbow in the ribs. Yes. From this day forward, Adam Bristow would forever see me as a woman.
I bowed to the rest of the audience, mortified at my own exhibitionism. Sienna rushed up to give me a hug.
"That was … awesome!" Sienna squealed.
I hugged her back. Sienna had always been able to get me to do things that otherwise I'd be too terrified to perform.
A hand slid down my bare back in a familiar way and came to rest against my rump.
"Rosie?"
I turned, laughing, to throw myself into Adam's arms.
Instead, I stared up into the eyes of Gregory Schluter.
Chapter 35
"I thought that was you." Gregory's arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me possessively into his arms and kissed me.
"Wh--?"
A beer-tainted tongue violated my mouth.
It took a moment, coming off my post-flamenco high, for the events of the last few months to filter into my confusion. Bad breath. Lanky frame. This was Gregory, not the man I wanted to kiss. I slammed my palms into his chest.
"Get away from me!"
I broke the lip-lock, but Adam had seen it. He stopped, frozen three steps onto the dance floor where he'd begun to step towards me to claim his prize, his grin fading as his blue-green eyes filled with betrayal at what must have looked like, to him, me throwing myself into some random man's arms and kissing him like a common whore. The Boot Scootin' Boogie girls converged around me like the whisper of fog as the orchestra struck up the next jazzy dance tune, obscuring Adam completely from my view.
My arms flew back up into the flamenco torero horns, but this wasn't an invitation to dance, but the most ancient source of the gesture, a matador preparing to perform the estocada, the death-stab with his sword. I jabbed Gregory in the chest, fingers pointed, when he had the audacity to try to kiss me again.
"What are you doing here, Gregory?" I wiped my mouth to get the taste of his beer-laden kiss off of my lips.
Gregory's lips pursed into that petulant moue he'd always used to manipulate me into feeling guilty. Once upon a time I'd thought it was cute. Now, all I could think was 'Adam is too much of a man to pout like a sissy…'
"What is wrong with you, Rosie?" Gregory sounded wounded. "I thought you'd be glad to see me?"
Dark brown hair. Milk chocolate eyes. Pouty lips. And the tall, slender build of a runner. For
nearly four years I'd shared my bed with the man, but right now, all I could feel was revulsion.
Adam. Adam. Look for Adam! Don't waste any time on this ratbag. Find Adam and make sure he understands you didn't mean to let the bloody wanker kiss you.
"What do you want?"
"Why were you sitting with Adam Bristow at the awards ceremony?"
"He's my boss, Gregory," I hissed. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Adam Bristow is your boss?" His brown eyes took on that calculating look he often wore whenever he tried to sell some shady scheme to make money. His lips curved up into a petulant smile. "You're a teacher, Rosie. Not a geologist. What, exactly, do you do for Adam Bristow?"
"That's none of your business!"
Gregory's eyes narrowed as his years of practice as a schmoozer picked up on my body language and calculated all the ways he could push my buttons.
"Word on the street is that Adam Bristow has helped Randy Evans site a whole heap of brand-new gas wells," Gregory said. "Pretty soon, Queensland Gas & Coal will be giving Jackson Oil Company a run for its money."
"So? What does this have to do with me?"
"Were you aware that Adam approached my boss for a loan?"
"So what?"
"He wants to buy out his ex-wife's share of his cattle station if the divorce court rules in favor of Eva Jackson."
"So? Adam has as much of a right to refinance his house as anybody else in Queensland."
Gregory's pupils grew narrower, and for just a moment they reminded me of that brown snake when it had chased me.
"Maynor Jackson put the word out that any bank which gives Adam Bristow a loan will be persona non grata so far as Jackson Oil Company is concerned. There isn't an investor in all of Australia that will loan your boss a single penny."
I remembered how trapped Adam had looked when he said he hadn't been able to scrape together the money to buy out Eva's share of the station.
"So?" My voice grew smaller, the same way I'd always sounded whenever Gregory made me doubt my own self-worth.
"So…" Gregory gave me that smile that looked, if you didn't know him, like he wanted to help you. "My boss is in a position to help your boss get out from underneath the Jackson Oil yoke. But it's up to me whether or not he does."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't, really." Gregory shrugged. "My boss isn't interested in helping him. He sent me to buy Randy Evans a few drinks and see if I can't interest him in letting us invest his money. But…" Gregory reached out the caress my arm. "I figured maybe you could ask Adam to put in a good word."
"You left me at the altar!" I yanked away my arm. "Why would I tell Randy Evans he can trust you with his money?"
"Because if you do," Gregory's eyes bored into mine. "I'll tell my boss to give your boss that loan he needs to save his family home."
Home. This is what you want, Rosie. You want Adam and Pippa to stay in their home…
I scrutinized him, the man who had thrown me away like trash and used my former engagement ring to con some new woman into putting a down payment on his luxury condo. Where was she, anyways? And why wasn't she with him? Was she sitting home, working her fingers to the bone like I used to do, while her so-called fiancé was out trolling for the next step up the corporate ladder? I stiffened my spine and looked for an escape path.
"And after I tell Randy to trust you, then what?"
Gregory's eyes slid down to where the princess neckline of my gown showed off my cleavage to perfection.
"I've missed you, Rosie," Gregory's voice grew husky. "Don't play hard to get. I know you did that dance for me."
I tried to slip past him, but he pulled me forcibly into his arms and grabbed my breast. He reeked of beer and whisky and God only knows what else he'd drunk tonight.
"Let me go!" I squirmed to get away.
Gregory's expression hardened into one I'd only witnessed when he'd been really drunk. He grabbed my hips and ground his pelvis into my own.
"Or maybe you'd rather go fuck Adam Bristow? Ey, Rosie? Was that what that dance was all about? A common whore, dancing to seduce a married man?"
I jammed a four-inch flamenco heel into his foot. Gregory yowled. He shoved me so hard I landed flat on my back and slammed my head against the dance floor. Tiny lights speckled into my field of vision as momentarily the room went black. When my eyes cleared enough to see again, the man on the painted stallion held Gregory's lanky frame off the floor by the scruff of his shirt.
"You lay a 'and on my Sheila again, mate, an I'll kick yer arse 'tween here and Perth."
"M-m-m-Mr. Bristow," Gregory stammered.
I felt strangely disoriented as one part of me whispered 'get up, get up, can't you tell you've fallen down?' while the other part of me said 'sleep, Rosie. You're not wearing slippers. This is all just part of your dream…'
"Where's your horse?" I mumbled.
The man on the painted stallion reached down to take my hand. My vision cleared and I realized it was Adam. He pulled me upright, and then he crushed me into his chest.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?"
I snaked my hands around his waist and lay my ear against the front of his tuxedo. Each breath he took whispered safety as I trembled in his arms.
"Don't trust him, don't trust him," I babbled. "T-t-tell Randy not to trust him. He-he-he saw me at the table and thought he could j-j-just grab me!"
A stern, male voice filtered into where I buried my face into Adam's chest.
"What would you like us to do with him, Mr. Bristow?"
"Arrest him for assault and battery."
"You can't do that!" Gregory shouted. "I'll make sure the entire world knows you're fucking your employee!"
Adam stiffened. I forced myself to turn and face the viper that stood pinned by two burly security guards wearing tuxedos. I stepped towards my former fiancé, my black eyes furious as I filtered every ounce of anger I possessed into the words my Gitano cousins back in Spain had whispered would return to the wrongdoer all the ill luck he'd ever visited down upon anyone in the world.
"¡ Eh, la ruina de tu vida!" I whispered the ancient gypsy curse. May your life be ruined! Electricity tingled down my spine as I felt the air in the room shift like the air just before a bolt of lightning strikes. I pointed at him; my fingers extended into the torro devil horns, and wished upon him everything he'd ever done to me. That sense of knowing, the one I'd inherited from a Gitano grandmother, whispered that soon enough, Gregory Schluter would lose his new condo, his fiancé and his job.
I gave him a sweet, sickly smile.
"Goodbye, Gregory. Tell your new girlfriend I have set her free."
I turned my back on him and stepped back into the safety of Adam's arms. The guards dragged him out of there.
"I'll get you for this, Rosie! I swear, I'll tell everyone you set me up to get back at me for breaking up with you! Do you hear that? You are useless, Rosie! Did you tell Adam Bristow you're nothing but white trash from a wannabe wealthy family?"
Adam's fist clenched. I placed my hand over his and held it until the guards removed Gregory from the room.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For what?"
For letting Gregory kiss me because I thought it was you?
"For making an ass out of myself dancing in front of your friends."
Adam kissed the top of my head.
"I rather liked that part, actually."
My friend Sienna touched my forearm.
"Are you okay, Rosie?" A look passed between Sienna and Adam. Thank God she'd had enough sense to fetch him and explain. "I told you I never liked the bloody bastard."
"Yea, I'm fine." I glanced sideways at Adam, who stared angrily in the direction the guards had gone. "I'll catch up to you later, Sienna. Okay?"
"Okay," Sienna said. "Just don't wait so long to call me next time, promise?"
"I promise."
We linked pinkie fingers and gave the BFF handshake.
"Thank you," Adam said to her.
"You're welcome." Sienna jabbed her finger into Adam's face, a tiny, honey-haired Tasmanian devil. "But if you hurt her, I swear to God I'll bind you and gag you and roll you in a rug and have every woman in Australia ride their horses over your body until it's all broken up into a great bloody mass of Jell-O just like the Mughal emperors used to do!"
Adam gave her a heart-stopping grin.
"Yes, ma'am."
Sienna smiled, and I could tell she rather liked him. She faded back into her adoring retinue of frat-boys, the ones she strung along because they all wanted to get into her pants. Sienna was wild as hell, and she burned through men the same way that most men prided themselves on playing women. She'd instinctively understood Gregory's attack had been timed to drive a wedge between me and Adam.
Adam touched my head. I winced as his fingers made contact with the egg that had already begun to emerge from the back of my skull.
"So that was the infamous Gregory Schluter, ey?"
"Yes." I gave an embarrassed grimace. "Can we just dance? Please?"
"What if you're suffering a concussion?"
The room felt surreal, but I doubted any permanent damage had been done.
"We'll dance slowly," I said. "That way, if I fall, you can catch me."
People gave us curious glances as we moved out onto the dance floor, but after a moment, they forgot all about us. Two men had fought over a pretty dancer. One had won, the other had lost. So it had been for as long as women had danced to catch the eye of the strongest male. Adam pulled me closer to the jazzy rendition of Bless the Broken Road.
We swayed around the dance floor until the other people faded and all that mattered was me and Adam dancing. Everything had a dreamlike quality as the soft lighting and mirrored disco ball sent tiny stars spinning around the room. The song changed. Adam gathered me closer. I lay my head against his chest and inhaled the seductive blend of expensive aftershave and testosterone. The soft strains of All of Me faded until all I could hear was the gentle pulse of his heart and the rumble in his chest as he hummed the romantic tune, just below the threshold of hearing. It was not desire I felt as I danced with Adam Bristow, but something else, that same beautiful sense of oneness I'd only ever felt with Harvey.
The Auction a Romance by Anna Erishkigal Page 33
