Degrees of Passion

by Michelle M. Pillow

  ‘How’s your party?’ Sasha nearly choked on the words. Her heartbeat quickened and her mouth felt dry.

  She focused on keeping her voice low, not wanting Kevin to overhear anything they said. She hoped he would stay quiet in the background. The last thing she needed was him asking her to come back to bed.

  It seemed odd, trying to hide the two men from each other, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Sasha never thought she’d be this woman, balancing more than one guy. These two were complete opposites and she didn’t know how either would react. And, so help her, she didn’t want to find out.

  Trevor looked the part of a rich dutiful son in his expensive designer button-down shirts and cashmere sweaters. Everything he owned was brand new, straight off a designer’s mannequin. He had a well-groomed appearance, from thick waves of brown hair, cut every two weeks like clockwork, to a complexion any Hollywood star would be proud of. The look came from much effort and pampering.

  Kevin worked for a living – at his job, in the classroom. Smart to the point of arrogant, he lacked the refined appeal of a man like Trevor. People didn’t fall sway to his charm nor did they hang on his every word. In fact, he often came off as high and mighty.

  Trevor simply lived for a living, keeping up family appearances, attending social functions, dutifully going to college because it was expected of him. It didn’t mean Trevor wasn’t smart. Like Kevin, he was on the dean’s list, but to Trevor time in the classroom wasn’t everything.

  ‘Miserable without you, darling,’ Trevor answered, his voice dipping into that low gravelly tone that made her shiver. She didn’t let it affect her.

  Silently, she thought about asking, how’s that whore, Cynthia? She hated the fact that she listened past his voice for a sign the débutante was still with him. All she heard were passing cars and the sound of traffic.

  ‘A friend of the family, my ass,’ Sasha mumbled. ‘Fucking boyfriend-stealing whore.’

  ‘What was that?’ Trevor inquired, his voice rising. ‘I can’t hear you. Sasha? You’re cutting out.’

  ‘What?’ Sasha blinked, staring at the wood floor as she came out of her vindictive train of thought. Had she said that out loud? She needed to concentrate. ‘Oh, nothing. I wasn’t talking about anything. I was waiting for you to speak.’

  Nothing was a lie. Nothing was Cynthia Rockman of the London Rockmans. In the last three years they’d been dating, Trevor had only introduced her to his parents one time. She hadn’t found it odd, since the Kingstons were usually off jet-setting around the world.

  Tonight her recently ex-boyfriend had escorted Miss Rich Bitch Cynthia to a formal museum function where the crème de la crème of society would be. She finally understood that his reluctance to take her home was merely because he was embarrassed by her. Maybe she’d been wrong about him and other people.

  Fuck! Her thoughts seemed to race in circles. She had to get them under control. Why did she drink so much? Why did she come home with Kevin? Why did Trevor have to pick Cynthia?

  The more she thought of it, the more it annoyed her that Trevor always found an excuse to never meet her parents when she’d mentioned the idea. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t like she brought him home, or even talked about him to her family. Trevor wanted to keep their relationship a secret. He said it was because the newspapers would only ruin what they had by hounding them and taking their picture every time they went outside. He’d been right, too. That’s how she found out about the débutante. Trevor and Cynthia’s picture had appeared in the society pages, depicting the two of them looking cosy in each other’s company. When she confronted Trevor, he’d broken up with her.

  How could he just end it like that? After all they had! Sasha took a steadying breath. She glanced around for the bottle of tequila before stopping herself from completing the impulse.

  Realizing he hadn’t spoken for some time, she asked, ‘Did you call for a reason?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I was just thinking of the first time we met at the gym. You looked so good running on that treadmill.’ The dip to his voice was back, meant to seduce. She glanced towards the bedroom, wondering what Kevin was doing. ‘Do you remember?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Of course Sasha remembered, but that day wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him. At the beginning of her third year at NYU, she’d seen the esteemed Trevor Roosevelt Kingston the Fifth for the very first time. He’d been tanned and muscled and covered in a light sheen of sweat as he played basketball with some of his friends. Everything about him spoke of elegance and affluence – from his high-priced haircut, the tilt of his jaw and the look in his deep-brown eyes. She’d wanted him then and there, but knew a man like that would never go for a frumpy, slightly overweight third-year college student who had no real plans for her future. That day, she declared the intent of a pre-law major to a very surprised advisor, visited the campus gym for the first time and connected with a shady character at a health-supplement store who later sold her a dietary aid of questionable legality but very positive weight-loss results.

  It was only after that day that she learned who her new dream man was. But Sasha comforted herself in knowing she liked Trevor before she knew who he was, from the first moment she saw him. The family connections were only a bonus.

  She and Trevor were fate.

  Destiny.

  Knowing as much, she’d been willing to wait for him to see it, too. The day she met her goal weight was the day he came into the gym to work out. She’d never crossed paths with him in there before. A law book had been showing from her duffle bag, which she hadn’t bothered to put into a storage locker like she normally did for her workouts. He’d taken the only open treadmill, which happened to be right next to hers.

  Sasha could still picture his smile as he said those very first words to her, ‘Do you know how to set the summit program on this model?’

  They’d made small talk, as her heart hammered in her chest and not only because she ran at a steady clip to impress him. He commented on her law book. She tried not to stare at his ass. They both talked of their parents – of which she played up her father being an English professor and severely downplayed her mother being a meddling, debatably insane tea-leaf reader. By the end of their workout, he had asked her on their first date.

  Since being with Trevor, she’d changed her major a couple of times. She dropped pre-law because Trevor felt female lawyers were just too overly serious in their pursuits, not at all ladylike. Sasha wasn’t really suited to the law, which she found out in her first couple of classes. Even now, she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Officially, her current major was listed as Latin studies but she’d been thinking of changing it to something else.

  When she looked at Trevor, she saw their future and it was the only thing in her life that she was certain of. But, fate had a cruel sense of humour and its name was Cynthia Rockman.

  ‘You’re not saying anything,’ Trevor broke into her racing thoughts.

  Shit! Had he been talking? She’d been so busy analyzing their relationship in her mind that she hadn’t been paying attention.

  Focus, Sasha, focus!

  ‘You’re really mad,’ he continued. ‘I hoped you might have forgiven me for earlier.’

  ‘I’m just tired.’

  ‘It’s all right that you’re mad. I was an ass. Just tell me you’ll meet me tomorrow for lunch so we can talk this out.’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t need to think of her answer. After several years of telling herself Trevor was what she wanted, the answer came out automatically. Even so, she found herself looking towards Kevin’s room. Was he still lying there on the bed not caring if she stayed or left? The word might have been sure, but her heart was confused. ‘But we really need to talk this time. Don’t think my agreeing to meet you means I’m not still upset.’

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us and—’

  ‘Trevor, now’s not the time. It’s late and I’m exhausted. I need to get home
. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you want me to pick you up? I can have my driver swing by so we can get you.’ He made a small moaning noise. She wasn’t stupid. Trevor wanted to get laid. Was this a booty call? Did he not hear a thing she said?

  ‘No. Kat’s paying for a cab,’ Sasha answered.

  ‘Kat? So you’re with your sister?’

  ‘Goodnight, Trevor.’ Sasha refused to answer. To answer would be to lie again and she couldn’t bear it. She hung up the phone before he could say more.

  ‘I’d drive you but I don’t have a car. Want me to call you a cab?’ Kevin stood, a robe draped over his shoulders only to hang open along the front to reveal the unembarrassed stretch of naked flesh showing through.

  Realizing she stood naked in his living room, she made a move to gather her clothes, rushing past him to quickly get dressed in his bedroom. Kevin followed her, an amused look on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  ‘Kevin, this was . . .’ Sasha looked helplessly at him.

  ‘It was what it was.’ He didn’t move to stop her. ‘I understand. You have to go. Your boyfriend calls. Don’t worry, I won’t tell this secret fella of yours about us.’

  ‘We’re technically broken up.’

  ‘I’m not judging you.’

  ‘I hate lying.’

  ‘Then don’t.’ He pushed up from the door. ‘Call him back, tell him you want your freedom and stay here with me.’

  Give up Mr Dream Man for Mr One Night Stand? No matter how adorable Kevin looked with his tousled hair and bedroom eyes, she knew the logical answer. If Sasha was anything, she was logical. She would not throw away another chance at her dream future for an intense sexual affair.

  ‘Kevin, I . . .’ She shook her head, guilt overwhelming her. What could she say that would make any sense? Sasha lightly touched his chest before leaving his room. She picked up her bag on her way to the door. Taking the steps two at a time, she promised herself to never, ever think of Kevin or this night again.

  Chapter Three

  Kingston penthouse, seven months later . . .

  Sasha should have felt like a princess in her glamorous evening gown, but the truth was she felt much like Cinderella must have after those first few months in the palace. The newness of the luxurious surroundings and all the awe such a thing brought had begun to wear off, leaving her with glaring signs of how obviously lacking she was in high-society circles.

  It wasn’t like her parents were poor or uncultured. They were both educated people. Her father, Douglas, was a professor of English and her mother, Beatrice, had an extensive knowledge of metaphysical arts. OK, so metaphysics wasn’t exactly what some intellectual people would call ‘education’, but the woman was smart in her own right and Sasha respected that.

  After their reconciliation, Trevor proved his seriousness by taking her to his parents’ house more often. The Kingston home was like a dream. It covered the top three floors of a hotel, featured eighteen rooms, had a panoramic view of the city, four huge terraces that wrapped the building, twenty-foot-high doors, oak and mahogany floors, gilded arch ceilings and more bathrooms than a family of three could ever reasonably use. Every detail in the home was immaculate and perfect, from the Victorian period furniture in Mrs Kingston’s private sitting room, which she never seemed to use, to the gentlemen’s club feel of Mr Kingston’s study. They had around-the-clock hotel service – anything they could possibly want. She’d once seen Trevor order a massage at three o’clock in the morning.

  Sasha turned her attention to the fireplace. It was one of many in the home. A soft heat radiated over her evening gown.

  It was only the four of them, but Trevor’s parents insisted they dress for dinner like the President was coming. The silk brocade of the halter top flowed into a flared skirt. She pulled unconsciously at the lace shawl draped over her arm to lift it over her shoulders.

  ‘There you are,’ Trevor said behind her. He pulled the shawl off her shoulders and laid it over the tattoo on her forearm, covering it. Already the black design was lightened by liquid makeup. Kissing her shoulder briefly, he continued, ‘They’re ready to serve dessert.’

  Sasha left the shawl where he’d placed it. Turning, she reached to touch his handsome face. Everything about him spoke of refinement and culture. He looked perfectly at ease in his fancy designer suit as if he’d been born into it. Most likely he had. She could well picture the Kingstons’ dressing up their son in tuxedos the day he was born. Enchantingly dark eyes watched her from over high cheekbones and a straight nose. His clean-shaven jaw had the square shape that made women swoon. Sasha knew. Just looking at him made her weak in the knees.

  ‘You know I don’t eat dessert,’ she answered. Sasha loved sweets, but they weren’t worth the calories.

  ‘It’s one of the things I love about you.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Come, you must be at the table to refuse it and wait while everyone else eats.’

  Sasha wasn’t in the mood for more formalities, but let him lead her back towards the dining room. She did want to make a good impression on his parents after all.

  ‘Ah, come on, it’s not like we’re here every night,’ Trevor said. He must have read the look on her face. ‘And once I graduate, I’ll have nothing to do with this way of life.’

  Sasha smiled. She admired the fact that he didn’t plan on going into his father’s business, but rather would do his own thing. He often said he planned on leaving the city to tour Europe after graduation. If she got her act together, she might actually graduate soon after him. Their schedules tended to keep them apart during the week, but she knew it wouldn’t be like that forever. Soon, they’d both be done with school and then . . .

  Then?

  Sasha wished she had the answer to that question. She knew what she wanted to happen. A woman would be crazy not to want a life with Trevor. He was everything a girl dreamed of. She had the whole happily ever after fairy-tale in her head, but she refused to say the words out loud for fear of jinxing it.

  He ushered her into the dining room, his hand fixed to the small of her back. She felt herself stiffening, an involuntary response to the pursed lips and disapproving look on his mother’s face. Roger and Catherine Kingston demanded respect and they most certainly got it. They didn’t even let Sasha call them by their first names.

  Sasha had observed on more than one occasion that Mrs Kingston seemed to hoard her smiles, displaying them only for the public. In private, it looked like the woman sucked on lemons. Brown hair, streaked with blonde, piled in curls on the top of Mrs Kingston’s head. Her pale-gold, hand-sewn chiffon and sateen dress had been custom-made for her, down to the specially selected diamonds along the high waist. Mr Kingston was no less elegant in his navy Prada suit and cream tie.

  Trevor pulled Sasha’s chair away from the table, seating her across from his mother and next to his father who graced the head of the table. She tried to smile, but Mrs Kingston merely looked annoyed and Mr Kingston’s attention was turned to a waiter holding a tray filled with dessert plates. Trevor took his place next to his mother.

  When the waiter came around to her, she lifted her hand and shook her head in denial. The mint and chocolate cheesecake had been garnished with fresh mint leaves and thin curls of milk chocolate. Her mouth watered and she reached for her glass. Ice water was a poor substitute for decadence. Mrs Kingston also refused the sweets. The men were served last.

  ‘Mm,’ Trevor made a small sound of appreciation as he took a small bite. Sasha helped herself to another drink of water.

  ‘Tara Wellings comes out into society this year,’ Mrs Kingston said, her voice quiet. ‘I told her mother that you would escort her, Trevor.’

  It took all of Sasha’s willpower not to gasp in outrage. Was his mother actually trying to set him up on another date with a débutante? The pain and insecurity she felt when she’d seen the picture of him all cosy with Cynthia Rockman came back to remind
her how she wasn’t completely over the betrayal. Her hands shook and she put them in her lap, consciously pulling at her shawl to make sure her tattoo was covered.

  ‘I’m busy with school.’ Trevor’s tone held within it a mild dismissal.

  ‘But you’ve been to the débutante balls and we’ve known the Wellings for years,’ Mrs Kingston insisted. ‘It would break poor Tara’s heart if you cancel.’

  ‘I didn’t agree, so how can I cancel?’ Trevor questioned, continuing to eat.

  ‘Trevor, please, you know your obligations. You’re single –,’ the woman stopped, looking at Sasha ‘– mostly single. There is no reason you can’t escort Tara.’

  ‘Catherine,’ Mr Kingston interrupted, before glancing at Sasha.

  ‘What?’ She tossed her hand lightly and grabbed her wineglass. ‘Don’t be so sensitive, dear. I only meant he wasn’t married.’

  Sasha highly doubted that’s what Mrs Kingston meant with her little barb. She concentrated on not gritting her teeth. Just like every other time they ate dinner here, she told herself this would be the last.

  ‘I’m sure Miss Matthews wouldn’t mind Trevor tending to his responsibilities,’ Mrs Kingston said.

  ‘We’re expected to make an appearance at some philistine art show.’ Mr Kingston stood, dropping his cloth napkin on the table. ‘Trevor, I’ll have Timothy come back to give you a ride home.’ Turning to Sasha, he took her hand and bowed slightly over it. ‘Nice to see you again, Miss Matthews.’ Then, to his wife, he commanded her to follow with one stern word, ‘Catherine.’

  Trevor stood, prompting Sasha to do the same. She stayed behind as he walked his parents out. Closing her eyes, she willed the tension to roll out of her mind, down her shoulders and into the floor. The visualization helped and she felt as if she could breathe freely again.

  The last few months had been good between them, not great, but perhaps building towards greatness. Nothing worth having came too easily. With Trevor things were never really bad – aside from that 48 hour breakup they never talked about. Sasha wished she could say the same for his mother. The woman was insufferable.