Simone’s voice broke the silence like nails on a chalkboard. “Owen don’t forget, we have a reception at the house tonight. Everyone is going to be there. Whether you are excited about this company or not, it’s what provides your svelte lifestyle while you play G.I.Joe.”
Stark cringed and turned, “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going to some pretentious prom.”
“Owen, darling, you’re not going to go all sob story like you did with your mom, are you?” Simone continued. “Listen, you are now the owner of one of the biggest communications companies in the world. So put your big boy pants on and let’s go. Your father held off for you as long as he could and now he’s gone. We tried to get you to come home and protect what your family spent generations building.” Her usually silky voice was firm and commanding. “Important clients, investors, and high level employees are gathering back at the house to pay their respects. They are looking to you to lead this company. You have avoided your responsibilities for long enough. Even if you have no intentions of running this company, you have to give the appearance of being in control until you appoint an appropriate surrogate.” She turned her icy stare toward Kira. “Bring your little muse if you must. Although I’m sure she doesn’t have anything appropriate in that little bag. Maybe she could wait in the kitchen.”
Kira ignored the venom Simone spewed. She was content to stand with Owen as long as he needed. Stark stiffened and new resolve came over his face. She had seen that look before, of steel determination that soldiers have going into battle. His shoulders squared, his jaw set in a firm line, he turned walked with Kira through the lobby to the waiting limo. He opened the door for Kira and escorted her in with Rosalea. He leaned in after her but didn’t get in. “Rosalea, can you take Kira down to Herve Leger and get her anything she wants? Kira please don’t take this the wrong way. You are beautiful in anything. These people don’t know how to see that. But I do.” He stood up and motioned the limo on.
“Wait, where are you going?” Kira called after him. But it was too late. As the limo pulled away she watched him take Simone’s arm somewhat forcefully and walk back with her into the building. Kira felt sick. She couldn’t help but notice the satisfied smile plastered on Simone’s face.
“Hijo de puta!” Rosalea muttered under her breath and then in a soft voice, “I’m sorry honey. She has always been that way. I know that doesn’t make it any better.” Rosalea reached out to comfort Kira.
“For a moment I really believed he didn’t care about all this,” Kira confided. “But I will never fit in here. I ‘m not a part of this world. Maybe it would be better if I wasn’t here tonight.” Kira was not about to sob in a limo with a perfect stranger.
“Don’t leave,” Rosalea persuaded. “He needs you right now. Please come with me. Lets get you all Cinderella like and show that fake bitch what a real lady looks like.” Stark’s oldest caretaker gave instructions to the driver and they veered onto the highway.
The next three hours were a whirlwind of dresses, hair, and make-up. First, Kira was whisked into Herve Leger, a gorgeous shop on Powell Street. Kira didn’t even want to think about what things in this store cost. “There is no way I can afford anything in here,” she protested as Rosalea ushered her in and spoke to the manager. Kira marveled at how strange this town was. Had she not been getting ready for a funeral reception, the whole pretty woman parade might have actually been fun. But this was ludicrous. She flew all the way to California to be with Owen, not be poked and prodded by designers and makeup artists. After an hour of trying on various dresses and gowns they decided on an elegant smoke-colored gown that framed her shape and made her eyes stand out like stars. Kira could hardly believe herself. She never gave much thought to her own figure, but the soft fabric accentuated her curves as it cascaded down her slender body. The scooped neckline and high waist enhanced her bust considerably and the satin fabric melted over her round ass. The length was such that her muscular calves and Gianvito Rossi black heels were showcased perfectly.
“Aye de puta madre!” Rosalea exclaimed a little too loud when she saw Kira. “Oh si! Miss Simone is going to have a fit when she sees you!” The glee in Rosalea’s voice matched the twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s go, OK? We have one more stop.”
They stopped outside J. Roland Salon and Rosalea ushered Kira out. “Lets go. Vamanos. They are waiting for you. The longer we spend away, the more time that minx has to work on my Owen!”
The salon, like the boutique, was chic and bright. Kira noted the subtle hues contrasted with rich wood tones. Every fixture was modern and sleek. An attractive olive-skinned man with dark hair approached her keenly. “So this is our little project? Hmmm, we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?” he said, as he spun Kira around and looked her over. “Darling, my name is Eevan, I’m going to change your life.” He marched a speechless Kira over to an immaculate chrome and black leather chair and whipped a drape around her with the pizazz of a bull fighter.
Kira would have enjoyed the attention, but her mind was elsewhere. Work on Owen? What the hell did Rosalea mean? Kira worried and mulled the question over while she was washed and tousled, cut and styled. She wondered what had been going on here for the last three weeks. She knew Stark and Simone had considerable history but there was more to them than that. In some ways, they were like an old married couple that had drifted apart but stayed connected by their children. There were no kids that Kira knew of. Surely Simone’s vanity wouldn’t allow her to mar herself with childbirth. The company was like their child. If Stark owned the company, why not just fire her evil ass and be done with her? But Kira knew he would never do that. Maybe Simone still meant something to Owen after all this time. Maybe he didn’t want to let her go. The thought made Kira sick. She thought of the college boy in his Ivy League school, the rugged military sergeant with his bisexual housemate, and now this business mogul with a platinum blond by his side. Kira’s head was spinning. Each facet of his life was more complex than the one before. The only common thread was that she didn’t fit into any of them. Were she and Sergeant Stark just kidding themselves? Kira wondered why he was even attracted to her at all. He was literally surrounded by women far out of her league. Maybe Simone was right. Maybe she was just a fling or a phase. The words “plain vanilla” seemed painfully evident.
“Magnifique!” The flaming stylist proclaimed, whirling her around to stare at the beautiful stranger in the mirror.
“Ho-ly. Shit,” Kira said slowly. She did not recognize the woman before her with subtle, exquisite makeup and long, boho waves of chocolate hair cascading effortlessly down her shoulders. “Wow. I’m not sure how you did this but you, sir, are a miracle worker. Thank you so, so much.”
“That’s it girl. You are my masterpiece,” the stylist effused. “And I would do anything for that hunk of man. Now off you go.” He shooed Kira in Rosalea’s direction dramatically.
Kira was a mixture of intense emotions: extreme sadness for Owen and his loss, fear and trepidation of this environment and of Simone, and excitement to see Owen, to be with him. She struggled with conflicting thoughts as they drove, not paying attention to her surroundings until the limo slowed and paused on a brick street in front of a massive iron gate. Though the sun was just setting she could see tall rectangle pillars on either side that displayed impressive stonework. Each was topped with a stone statue of an eagle perched on a sphere. An ornate lantern attached to each pillar set off a golden glow. Just beyond the gate, Kira could see an octagonal guard house with the same stunning stone work and beautiful windows. “Wow,” Kira breathed.
Rosalea laughed as the gates opened and they began pulling onto the long brick drive way. She looked at Kira with a smile and in her thick Spanish accent said, “Honey this is just the entrance. Wait till you see the actual estate. We are going to park and I will take you in the back way so you can go up and change. I will set you up in a guest room upstairs.”
Kira only half heard what the woman s
aid. She was glued to the windows and the magnificent and beautiful world unfolding around her. It was like stepping back in time. The lush grounds were exquisitely manicured with shrubs and stone statues. The house, if you could call it that, was an English Tudor-style mansion. It was more like a castle, and it was large enough to stretch a couple of city blocks. It looked more like a museum or something you would see in on a European hillside. Kira stared open-mouthed at the stories of stunning masonry, the delicate arches and turrets that offset magnificent chimneys at the roofline. Ivy grew up the walls and around the lovely 2-story stone turret. Light shone brightly through the 12 windows circling the tower. It was the single most impressive thing Kira had ever seen. They didn’t stop in front of the house but instead circled around to a large side parking area. It was in front of a series of stone and brick garages that were made to look like carriage houses. The limo stopped and the two women climbed out.
“We will go this way so you have time to change before he sees you,” Rosalea said conspiratorially. Her smile was bright. Despite the sadness of the day Kira was excited to see Owen.
Rosalea led Kira through an impressive kitchen that reminded Kira of something from Iron Chef. She wondered why it wasn’t warm and inviting like a family kitchen but then, she thought, if you live in a house like this you probably don’t cook your own food. The space bustled with chefs and culinary staff working into a frenzy preparing food for the mass of people gathering upstairs. She stayed close behind Rosalea through the stainless steel maze and into a service hallway. They were in the lower part of the house. Rosalea was walking fast as they passed through the sports/recreation areas. “Sorry, my dear, we have a ways to go.”
Kira could not believe her eyes. There was a racquetball court with gleaming wood floors. Next, they passed an indoor Olympic sized pool.
Kira paused and stared for a moment, wishing she had time to swim. Archways spanned over the pool every five feet. A large stained glass window at the other end of the room cast a beautiful light over the water. “Vamanos girl! We don’t have much time,” Rosalea urged.
* * *
Owen stood next to Simone in a receiving line as major players in the communications industry and the global community made rounds and offered their condolences. Some he hadn’t seen in years, some were perfect strangers. But they all knew his father. They all wanted a piece of the action, to be involved in some way with the company his grandfather had built. Stark knew his father had been a brilliant business man, taking the company to new heights. But the pursuit of business, power, and pleasure had taken over all Bryson Stark once was. The loving man he knew as a child had grown cold and greedy. His father’s generous spirit had become self-indulging in his later years. Stark painfully remembered finally coming home after his first deployment to find his father in bed with….
A sudden movement on the stairs at the other side of the great room caught his eye. A hush seemed to fall over the room. All other thoughts ceased. Everyone, everything in the room dimmed and then faded away. The only movement that existed was her. She gracefully descended one step at a time. Stark stood frozen, mesmerized by her beauty. He had never seen her like this before. Despite her toughness and strength, she looked delicate. She flowed like a gentle brook down the stairs. The pale gray dress hugged her curves. Her thick chocolate tresses fell in silky waves and bounced with each step. She seemed to be scanning the large room searching for someone, and then her eyes found his. She paused. Time stood still. The only sound was the violent beating of his heart in his chest. When the air came back to his lungs he absent-mindedly pushed through the crowd around him and crossed the room in large strides. He reached the bottom of the steps and looked up, unable to move. The vision before him accumulated all his dreams and wishes, so real, so close. She met him at the bottom step and he took her hand and leaned in to kiss her.
“They are all staring at us,” she whispered.
“Who is?” he asked, still looking only in her eyes.
“The room full of people you just pushed your way through,” she said, a little bemused by his odd behavior.
“There is no one here but you and me. When you walk in the room, everything else disappears.” He took her in his arms and kissed her and held her close for a moment. Thank you for being here. Thank you for putting up with all of this. I don’t know how I would get through this without you by my side.” He took her by the hand and led her back across the room as the rest of the world came back into focus.
Kira was painfully aware of the stares and quiet whispers circling the room. Stark seemed completely unaware of it. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He led Kira to the receiving line and held her hand tightly throughout the remainder of it. Kira could see Simone simmering beneath her cool exterior. Stark had placed Kira on the opposite side of where he stood, but she could see Simone looking around at her with a furrowed brow as she shook peoples’ hands.
“So nice to see you,” he said formally to a tall gray-haired gentleman as he firmly shook his hand with his free one. “Don, this is Dr. Kira Riley, my girlfriend. Kira, this is Don Crown. He has been one of my father’s closest associates for years.”
The older man was very distinguished and handsome. Smiling, he took Kira’s free hand and kissed it. Kira blushed. “Very nice to meet you, Dr. Riley,” he said in a voice that was smooth and enchanting. “Such a lovely girl, Owen. Your father would be very proud.”
When Don Crown moved past them, Kira couldn’t help but notice the look that he exchanged with Simone as they shook hands. The touch was familiar. Their eyes shared a deep understanding. Something about the exchange struck Kira as odd. Surely as an associate of Owen’s father, he had known Simone a long time, too. Kira couldn’t quite put her finger on it but something seemed off.
A tall waiter walked up and quietly spoke. “Mr. Stark, dinner is ready. Would you like us to announce for guests to make their way to the terrace?”
“That would be fine, thank you,” he said casually as if servants and funeral galas were part of everyday life. He turned to Kira and held up her hand. “Would you join me for dinner Dr. Riley?”
“Yes, thank you.” The formality was contagious. Kira almost giggled. She would have if they weren’t at such a somber occasion.
“Owen, dear, I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem,” Simone interjected as they made their way across the impressive marble floor. “You see, the seating at our table has already been arranged. So unfortunately there’s not a place for your little unannounced guest. Perhaps she could sit at one of the open seating tables.”
“What are you talking about Simone?” He paused under the great mahogany archway. “Can’t you just have them put an additional place setting beside me?” His brow furrowed in irritation.
“I would love to, dear, but it would throw off the whole table. There really isn’t room. We have your father’s closest friends as well as major investors all at our table.”
“Fuck, Simone! Make room. That’s the end of it.” Owen directed. He started walking, towing Kira through the massive French doors onto the spacious stone terrace. Stark led her to a beautifully decorated table with cream linens, dainty floral centerpieces, and china place settings.
Urns of flowers were everywhere displaying explosions of color. The lush green grass of the lawn below was expertly cut in a chevron pattern. Kira could barely believe all this was real. Ornate stone statues of lions and maidens were strategically placed throughout the sprawling gardens. Sculpted shrubs and rose trees completed the landscape. The Elizabethan style of the home and grounds reminded her of something from Alice and Wonderland. She fully expected the evil queen to show up at any moment and yell: “Off with her head!”
“See, Owen dear, there’s not a bit of room to spare. She’ll just have to sit somewhere else,” Simone’s shrill voice broke the peaceful silence.
Speak of the devil. Kira smiled genuinely and looked over at Owen. “I don’t have to sit here. Really it’s, OK. I’m
just here to support you and if it makes it easier I can sit anywhere that works for you guys.”
“Fine,” Owen Stark had reached his limit. “So, there is really no room at this table?” he asked Simone.
“Exactly. I’m sorry, dear, it’s just the way it is. Really, this is a family table,” Simone said, her voice once again with silk tones. She looked almost gleeful. Kira’s heart sunk.
“You’re right, Simone. Family only.” He turned and motioned for the head waiter, who rushed over. “I need you to make a place down at one of the garden tables, please, for Miss Simone. She will be moving down there since this table is really for family. Dr. Riley, my girlfriend, will be taking her place at this table. Thank you.”
Simone looked horrified. All the color drained from her face. She stood frozen, her eyes shooting daggers at Owen and Kira. “You wouldn’t dare!” She shot back quietly as to not raise a scene.
“I would and I did. Now please go find your seat if you would like to eat at this dinner,” Stark told her, his voice was cold and firm. The tone made Kira shiver. She watched as a smoldering Simone made her way down to the garden. Kira thought she could see steam radiating off her plastic veneer.
Dinner was served course by course by a host of waiters and waitresses. Kira waited at each course to see which utensils people used. She silently cursed herself for not paying attention during home-ec in middle school. Who would have guessed I would ever need this? She recalled thinking the class was very pretentious and a waste of time. Now she desperately tried to recall the rules of salad forks, pinkies here, and napkins there.
Owen spent time catching up with the various people at their table. They were eager to hear about his time in the service and his plans for the company. She noted that they talked to him as if the service was a thing in his past. Not his current life, not something he would be going back to. Stark didn’t say or do anything to dissuade them one way or another. Kira couldn’t imagine him leaving the military. Yet if he did, they could be together without consequence. Fraternization wouldn’t apply if he was a civilian. They could live together without worry. Kira engaged in conversation with those around her. She learned about Stark as a little boy and a young man. A platinum woman in a stunning purple dress told her about the younger years she spent with Owen’s parents. She and her husband had been friends with the Starks for years. Kira could tell they all thought this army thing was an unfortunate phase. Boys will be boys, they seemed to think, and now he would be ready to step out of the military and into his father’s shoes. Kira looked over at Owen. She noted the genuine way that he talked to each person at the table, sharing interests, bonding. She wondered if he was networking or really enjoying their company. Then it dawned on her. These people were all close friends and acquaintances of his father. The stories, laughs, and memories were all filling in missing pieces for Stark of who his father was. She realized he hadn’t seen or spoken to him in a few years. In a way he was getting to know him all over again through these people and their remembrances.
Stark September (Stark Trilogy Book 1) Page 32
