“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He laughed. “Give her a month or two, and she’ll be back to her nature.”
“The attack scarred more than her body. It scarred her emotionally. I’m worried about her. All I’m asking is…” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m asking. But I do know living in the cellar will finish killing off her spirit.” She stood. “You need to get ready for your meeting, and I need to make sure Nefertiti remembers the pesticide man will be spraying the cellar this morning.”
“Auntie, why does she wear that getup in the house? We’re family. We don’t care about her scars.”
“But she does. I saw some of the reactions people had to her scarring, and I was appalled by their behavior. What if someone in this household, someone she loved, reacted poorly?”
After she left, he hurried to get ready for his meeting, yet worried about what his aunt had said. Nefertiti, covered from head to toe, unnerved him. And her eyes… Her eyes had always been so vibrant, so alive. The lifeless brown pools he looked into last night were cold and haunting. What did he do to you?
Kicked out of the cellar for an entire day while it aired out, Nefertiti stayed in the study and caught up on reading. The placement of the study was perfect for her to spy on anyone who entered or left through the main entryway without them seeing her. The view out the window was breathtaking. The lush grounds seemed to go on forever. The flowerbeds and walking paths begged Nefertiti to come outside for a closer look. Along the private road were huge weeping willows she’d once loved to climb. But the world outside the window no longer welcomed her.
“He took everything from me!” she bit out through clenched teeth. Even the eyes she saw the unwelcoming world from weren’t hers. Rage at the unfairness of life drenched her in gushes that threatened to drown her. As soon as she would reach the surface, another downpour would fall.
Life with rage burning in her soul was new for Nefertiti, and she wasn’t sure how or if she could gain control over it. The time between her plastic surgery and her unveiling gave her time to figure out how to carve out a new way of life. Gaining control over the rage was a major reason she’d agreed to stay with Victoria. Bouts of rage attacked Bruce regularly, yet he had found a way to live with it. That was the place she longed to be, and he was the person who could teach her control.
In an attempt to subdue the rage, she tried her old technique and searched for a brighter side, but found none. This sight her nurse told her she should be grateful for was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing—she could still see to do her art and appreciate the beauty out there. The curse—she could see people covering their shock as they entered her hospital room; she could see how uncomfortable looking at her made people; she could see children pointing and their mothers slapping their hands down; she could see that the world she loved no longer wanted her—and it hurt.
A white Lincoln sped along the willow-lined private road toward the house. She crossed the room to the doorway and stood flush against the wall so she could see who entered, but be unseen herself. A short while later the doorbell chimes rang. Janis, an attractive, statuesque woman who wore a cream business pantsuit, rushed from the small office next to the entrance to open the door. Victoria had told Nefertiti that Janis was Bruce’s latest assistant and seemed to have real sticking power. Jealousy had Nefertiti wondering whether Janis was assisting Bruce with more than his work schedule.
“Hello, I’m Catherine Dixon. I have a ten o’clock with Mr. Maxwell.”
Nefertiti resisted the urge to lean forward so she could see who was on the other side of the door. Janis stepped back. “Oh yes, Ms. Dixon, he’s expecting you. Please come in. He’ll be down momentarily.”
To Nefertiti’s chagrin, a gorgeous brunette dressed in a royal blue mini skirt and blouse walked through the door. Doesn’t he know any ugly people? Sheeesh. The woman’s short skirt gave Nefertiti the impression that Ms. Dixon wasn’t here on a typical business call. How the heck does s1he sit in that thing? You’d see all of her business. Even though Nefertiti also had the legs that could carry off an outfit like that, she’d never been so bold. Maybe Bruce is right; maybe I am a prude.
The all too familiar anger returned as she traced the scars under her veil with her gloved finger. Neither short skirts nor any other fashion mattered now.
“You may sit in my office and wait. Or,” Janis motioned toward the burgundy Louis XVI winged chairs flanking her office door, “you may have a seat out here.”
“I’ll wait out here, thank you.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee, tea, juice?”
“No, thank you.”
Janis nodded politely, then returned to her office.
Arms crossed over her ample chest, the smile on Catherine’s face quickly faded into a frown as she took in the expanse of the entry.
What is she up to?
The forest green and burgundy checkered marble floor would be ideal for a good ol’ fashioned ball, thought Nefertiti. She’d placed in several ballroom dancing competitions; but with Master Bruce, she didn’t see this room ever coming to life with dance. Bitterness about her situation rose in her throat and left a nasty taste in her mouth. No more dances for me.
Mysteriously-dark and dangerously-handsome, Bruce descended the wide curving staircase with ease. His goatee drew her attention to his mouth, the mouth she hadn’t tasted in ten years, yet she still yearned for. He spied her peeking. She lifted her veil enough for him to see her stick her tongue out at him.
Catherine brushed her flowing brunette hair behind her shoulders and straightened her posture. “Hello, Mr. Maxwell.” She held out her hand as she met him at the bottom of the staircase. “I’m Catherine Dixon, CEO of Dixon Textiles.”
They shook. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Dixon.”
“Now that you’re twenty-five percent owner of Dixon Textiles, I thought we should meet.”
Ms. Dixon sounded as if she had difficulty accepting him as such a large owner in her company. When she turned back toward the Louis XVI winged chairs, the expression on her face confirmed Nefertiti’s suspicions; Catherine was not a happy camper with her new partner. She strode over to the chair and picked up her leather briefcase. With her back still to Bruce, she smoothly unbuttoned the third to top button on her blouse; the first two were already unbuttoned.
“Shall we go into my office?” A devilish grin flashed across his face. “Or better yet, the study is free.”
I’m gonna kill him. Nefertiti quickly spun around to find a place to hide. Under the antique mahogany desk was not an option, the plush armchairs by the window didn’t provide enough cover, the bookshelves were built into the walls, the chess table was too small, the sofa… She hopped behind the sofa that was off to the side. Seated at the desk, Bruce would be able to see her spying, but she didn’t care. What worried her was the possibility of Catherine seeing her.
The click of Catherine’s heels on the study’s oak floor alerted Nefertiti that it was showtime. Flat on her stomach, she waited for Bruce and Catherine to be seated, then scooted forward ever so slowly and peeked from behind the couch.
He acted oblivious to her presence. How Catherine sat in her too short skirt without showing her business was answered. She set her briefcase on her lap, and—thank God—kept her legs closed.
“Mr. Maxwell—”
“Please call me Bruce. We are business partners after all.”
There was a distinct stiffness in Catherine at the word partners that she covered up a bit too slowly. “As you say, Bruce. And please call me Catherine. I know you’ve already reviewed our financials, but I wanted to walk you through the ten-year plan to ensure we’re on the same page and take any input you have into consideration.” As she opened her briefcase, Bruce winked at Nefertiti, then faced front before Catherine noticed.
Laughter. She actually wanted to laugh, but couldn’t or she’d be caught. The last time she’d laughed was before the attack. People had always said she was quick to smile, always
happy.
As she listened to Catherine ramble on about her vision for Dixon Textiles, the term hardwood floor took on a completely new meaning. There had to be diamonds that were softer. An hour or so later, she realized, though she hated to admit it, Catherine was extremely articulate and her presentation was just as professional. When she finally ended, Nefertiti wanted to purchase stock in the hundred-years-plus company Catherine’s great-great-grandfather had founded.
“Very good, Catherine.” Bruce nodded his appreciation. “You’ve done an excellent job at the helm. The company couldn’t be in better hands.”
Cheeks reddened, Catherine set her copy of the report in her briefcase. “Why thank you. I’m glad you agree with the direction of the company.”
“My only point of contention is I believe operations should be moved to Asia.”
All of Catherine’s color quickly disappeared. Back rigid, she said, “We have a hundred and fifty hardworking employees who deserve our loyalty. They are the reason Dixon Textiles is a success.”
With every word Catherine spoke, Nefertiti liked her more and more.
“The only ones we owe our loyalty to are our stockholders,” Bruce said. “We run a business, not a workfare program. I’ve already started investigating locations in Asia.”
Catherine slammed her briefcase closed. “I won’t let you do this!”
Nefertiti flinched, but Bruce remained calm, cold.
“I didn’t expect you to. As we speak, I’m securing additional shares of Dixon Textiles. Within a month, I’ll have controlling interest. I like you. As I said, you are the perfect person to sit at the helm, but operations will move to Asia.” He paused. “With or without you.”
The fury directed at Bruce from Catherine was palpable. She drew in a few breaths and released them slowly. But within a few seconds, her coloring returned to normal and her demeanor relaxed considerably.
“Let’s not argue,” she said sweetly and set the briefcase on the floor beside her. When Catherine rose a moment later and flipped her long, luscious hair behind her shoulders, the words “shampoo commercial” ran through Nefertiti’s mind. All of the respect and admiration Nefertiti had acquired for Catherine went out the door along with Catherine’s self-respect as Catherine leaned forward and rested her arms on his desk, surely showing Bruce if her ample chest was God given or manmade. Nefertiti tsked internally yet buried her disappointment. I shouldn’t be judging Catherine. This business is her life, and Bruce is taking it from her. She’s fighting with every weapon she has.
“I’ll be in town a few more days. Let’s get to know each other better. Then maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from,” she practically purred. “How about dinner tonight? My treat. I’m sure we can come to some sort of compromise.”
Another laugh bubbled within Nefertiti. I’ll bet he regrets having his meeting in here now. No brunch time nookie nookie for Brucie today.
Bruce shifted in his seat. Eyes still on Catherine’s, he said, “Actually, my evenings are pretty full. Before you leave, check my schedule with Janis. I’m sure I have a few hours open one of the afternoons this week.”
“Yes, I believe a more relaxed environment would be best for us.” She reached for her briefcase, but did not straighten her skirt, which had hunched up and revealed a tiny portion of her butt cheeks.
I know she didn’t? Now this is too much!
“It was nice meeting you, Bruce.” She held out her slender hand.
He stood and shook. “The pleasure was all mine.”
“If you play your cards right.” A slow, sexy smile tipped her red lips as she walked out of the study.
He glanced back at Nefertiti and bounced his eyebrows. She lifted her veil and stuck her tongue out at him.
He chuckled. “You are so childish,” he whispered. “Who are you today? The water ninja?”
This time she did laugh, and it felt great! At least that monster couldn’t take the laughter from me. When they were children, they’d spend Sunday afternoons watching Kung-Fu Theater. Their favorite movie was one where each set of ninjas represented an element. The water ninjas wore sky blue from head to toe. Nefertiti would always claim to be from the water clan, and Bruce would claim to be from the fire clan. Their pillow fights had been legendary.
“You wrong for that.”
“Shh, here she comes.” He walked toward the door.
View obstructed, a few seconds later, Nefertiti heard Catherine say, “We’re on for tomorrow afternoon. I can hardly wait. I left my contact information with Janis if you change your mind about tonight. Have a great day.” The click of Catherine’s heels on the marble faded as she exited.
He returned to the desk. “It’s safe for you to come out now, Jet Li.”
“You are so bogus.” Using the couch and the wall, she braced herself. Pain shot through her right wrist. With a yelp, she snatched her arm close to her chest as she stood.
Bruce rushed to her. “What the hell happened?” He reached for her gloved hands.
“I’m fine.” She turned away. “Pain just reminded me that I can’t bend my hand back that far yet.”
“Let me see.” He stepped in front of her, and again, reached for her hands.
“If the doctors can’t fix it, what makes you think you can?” she snapped, then caught herself. “I’m sorry.” Tears flowed from her eyes as she tried to redirect her sorrow.
She didn’t care what the doctors said; someday she would have full range of motion again; someday she’d be able to paint, draw, and sculpt as she liked; and someday she’d be free again. But today… today felt as if someday would never come. Fury building within her, she didn’t know how to release it. If something didn’t give soon, she knew she’d explode. “I didn’t mean… I mean… He took so much.”
Bruce gently straightened her right hand and laid her cotton-covered palm to his left palm. Though her fingers were long and slender, she’d guess his hands were at least twice the size of hers. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d imagined his powerful hands on her body, pleasuring her.
“Don’t slap me now,” he softly teased.
She stifled a giggle. Slapping him was definitely not what she wanted. Sorrow returned as she took in her gloved hand on his bare hand. Thanks to the attack, Bruce would never even touch her hands, let alone the rest of her body.
“Tell me when to stop.” He slowly bent his hand forward.
It didn’t take long before she said, “Now.”
“Now you bend your wrist forward until it hurts.”
She followed his instruction. She’d only regained sixty percent of her range of motion in her right wrist since the attack. Several experts set optimistic projections for range at seventy percent.
The pity in his eyes was yet another reason to see her vision as a curse. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“How can you paint?” he asked hesitantly.
Tears soaked the veil, darkening the material and matching her dark mood. Now she fully understood what Victoria meant by “blue mood.”
“Son of a bitch!” Flying into a rage like one Nefertiti hadn’t seen in years, Bruce threw the chessboard across the room, then took the table and beat the couch with it. Instead of being afraid, Nefertiti wished she could release her anger as he did. He seemed so… so… “Free,” she mumbled.
Janis came running from her office with the phone in her hand.
“I’ll kill him!” He tossed what little was left of the game table behind him.
Nefertiti screamed. Not because she was scared, but because she had bottled anger and wanted to do more than feel it and accept it, she wanted to release it. She yanked books from the shelf and threw them. She snatched cushions off the couch and tried to rip them. She stomped the poor little black queen into the hardwood floor that had made her body ache.
“Stop this now!” Anna shouted as she burst into the room.
Bruce swiped the laptop off the desk and tossed it toward Nefertiti.
It crashed on the floor beside her. Pissed she’d missed it, she jumped on it for falling short. She punished it for her family falling short.
Janis shakily held the phone to her ear. “Please hurry, Victoria. I’m afraid they’ll hurt themselves.”
Rachel ran into the room. “Oh my God,” she cried out as Nefertiti and Bruce worked to rip a bookshelf out of the wall. “I am not cleaning this.”
Janis pushed Rachel out the room and tugged on Anna. “Victoria said to close them in here until she gets home. They’ll burn it out.”
As soon as the door closed, Bruce threw the offending shelf at the door. Once the two were exhausted, they fell to the floor. Bruce crawled to Nefertiti. “Wow, you’re my kind of woman.”
“I’m so tired, but I feel good.”
Victoria rushed in. “Where are they?” She set her purse and keys on the entry table.
Janis pointed toward the heavy wood doors of the study. “They’ve been quiet about thirty, maybe forty minutes.”
Anna shook her head. “I love those two in there like they were my blood, but I don’t know, Victoria. I’ve never seen anything like that before. They fed off each other’s anger.”
Rachel stammered, “Does he always go off like that?”
The fear in the young woman’s eyes worried Victoria. Maybe she had made the wrong decision. Bruce was enough to handle, but now… “No, darling, he isn’t usually like that.” Bruce hadn’t had a tantrum in three, maybe even four years, and from what Janis had described over the phone, this episode would rival one he hadn’t had since childhood. There has to be a reasonable explanation. As long as his mood didn’t change to rage, he could control the when, where, and how to release his anger. This doesn’t add up.
She nervously smoothed a few straggling hairs into the French knot she wore. When Nefertiti was initially attacked, Victoria worried Bruce’s fury would take over and he’d be consumed. If anything could have sent him into uncontrollable rage, the sight of Nefertiti’s battered body would have. What triggered this?
Anna rested her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe they should be committed. They can make Bruce take his medicine until he’s balanced again, and they could help Nefertiti.” Anna slowly shook her head. “I’ve never seen him like this. They were… He was…” She hunched her shoulders. “I think he was feeding her rage,” she repeated.
Beauty and the Beast Page 3
