Beauty and the Beast

by Deatri King Bey

  Six months ago, she’d been attacked. Six months ago, she’d needed him. Six months ago, he’d run out of her room. Now… Now she didn’t want or need him. She closed her email program.

  Last night Bruce had made her feel desirable. For a while, she’d actually thought they had a chance, but Dennis had just reminded her of a harsh truth. Once Bruce sees me… She pushed away from the desk.

  “What’s wrong, darling?” Victoria asked as she entered the study.

  “Oh, Auntie.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I know I sound like a big baby, but I want my daddy.”

  Victoria hugged Nefertiti.

  “Why won’t he love me anymore? I’m his baby.” Nefertiti had always been a daddy’s girl. As arrogant as Bruce was, Nefertiti was sure he’d assumed he was her hero, but that position belong to her father. He’d always been her protector, her friend, her biggest fan. Actually, Bruce reminded her of Nathan Townes. They were brooding, yet loving, men. “You can’t stop loving your children. It’s against the rules.” How Nathan could change from the overprotective, doting father she loved to… to… to nothing… He wants nothing to do with me. Her heart ached so much she was sure a massive heart attack would be a welcome relief.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She stroked Nefertiti’s hair as she rocked her. “Your father loves you.”

  “Then why isn’t he here? Why hasn’t he asked me to come home? Why won’t he talk to me?”

  “I wish I had the answers for you, baby. I’m sorry.” She continued rocking her.

  Catherine nervously smoothed a few stray hairs into the bun at the base of her neck, then placed her hands in her lap. “First, I’d like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. My conduct was unprofessional, and I’m disappointed I allowed myself to sink so low.” She bit her bottom lip. “This lunch is my treat, but it will be the only treat you receive from me.”

  Bruce admired the woman who sat across from him. Unlike yesterday’s too short suit, today she wore a conservative, yet attractive, cream blouse and slacks. “It takes a lot to apologize. Yesterday is a nonissue.”

  Finished eating lunch, he sipped his wine. “I was impressed with your vision for the company. You’ve done an excellent job in a tough market.”

  Relaxed considerably, she offered a gracious nod. “Thank you, Bruce. The success of Dixon Textiles means the world to me.”

  “And it will continue to be a success. I know the transition of production to Asia will be a difficult one for you, but—”

  “Wait a second. You still plan to move production to Asia? I thought you were impressed with my vision for the company.”

  “I am. The only change I’ll be making is the location of the mill.”

  Arms folded over her ample bosom, she narrowed her eyes on him. “Need I remind you that you do not own Dixon Textiles? I am still the CEO, and operations will not move to Asia as long as I am the head.”

  “Catherine, you are an excellent business woman. Don’t allow your emotions to run ahead of you.” He held up a hand, effectively keeping her from interrupting. “This is not a personal attack.”

  “You’re trying to steal Dixon Textiles from my family and expect me not to take it personally,” she bit out.

  Though Catherine spoke in hushed tones, a few people sneaked peeks at their table, which was in a corner of a five star restaurant, Charlie Trotter’s. To the outside world, they probably looked as if they were having a lovers’ quarrel. Years ago, he would have been insulted by her insinuations and fury, but now he understood she spoke from pain.

  “You won’t get away with this,” she continued. “Dixon Textiles is more than a company. It’s an institution…”

  As she vented, his mind wandered to Nefertiti. He’d had only a minute with her before he left this morning, which left him feeling cheated. He’d just stepped out of the front door when she’d glided down the stairwell and rasped his name. God, how I love her voice. Purple—or indigo as she had corrected—had never been one of his favorite colors, but Nefertiti made him a convert. Instead of wasting time with Catherine, he wanted to go home and convince Nefertiti her fear of his rejecting her because of the scars was nonsense. If he played his cards right, they could be making love before the dinner bell.

  “… I’m even willing to buy back the stock my brother sold to you at 110 percent of the price.”

  “I know this will be a difficult adjustment for you.” He reached under the table for his briefcase. “But I do not have the time or inclination to hold your hand or pump your ego. I’m not interested in Dixon Textiles. I’m interested in the land.” He opened his briefcase and took out a proposal he’d had Janis type up for him, then handed a copy over to Catherine.

  “I knew you were up to something.” She skimmed through the pages of the document.

  “In exchange for the real estate Dixon Textiles owns, I’ll give you the thirty-five percent I own and the difference in the price of the land.”

  “Thirty-five percent.” She gasped. “But how did you…” She blew out an exasperated breath. “Never mind.”

  “By Labor Day I’ll have controlling interest. If you absolutely cannot live with the plant operating out of Asia, take my offer and build another mill in Dixon.”

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” She tossed the proposal onto the table. “That property has been in the Dixon family for well over a hundred years. I’m not selling it off.”

  “If you don’t move the production to Asia, Dixon Textiles will shut down within ten years. I’m interested in making money. If I obtain ownership of the company, production will move to Asia. You need to decide what you want. Either way, I will own the land Dixon Textiles now resides on.”

  “But why are you doing this to us?”

  “This is business.” He pushed away from the table. “I’m not doing anything to you. Read the proposal, then call Janis and have her put you on my calendar.” He nodded graciously. “Thank you for lunch.”

  “I hate him!” Catherine threw her stiletto across the hotel room. “I hate him! I hate him!” She threw the second shoe. “That… that… beast!”

  “Meeting went that great, huh?”

  Catherine calculated how much time she’d be given if she strangled Roy. “This is all your fault.”

  “If it makes you feel better to place the blame on me, fine, it’s my fault. There has to be something we can do.”

  “That heartless bastard already owns thirty-five percent.”

  Roy shot up from the hotel room desk. The sports section of the newspaper fell to the floor. “How did he get another ten percent so quickly?”

  “Oh, and that’s not all, big brother. Within two weeks he’ll have controlling interest.” Her long brunette tresses fell over her shoulders as she freed them from the confining bun.

  “This is not happening. We have to stop him, Catherine.” Hands weaving through his hair, he paced the room. “We can’t let him do this.”

  “I think we should go to Dad and ask for help. We can’t outspend Bruce on our own.”

  “No!” He rushed to her side. “He already thinks my touch turns gold to shit. He’ll blame me. We have to do this on our own.”

  “Your issues with Dad are what put us in this situation. I’m not about to allow them to cause us to lose Dixon. We can’t stick our heads in the sand and expect this problem to go away.”

  “But, Catherine.”

  “No buts, Roy.” She turned away from the anguish in his eyes and picked the proposal Bruce had given her off the dresser. “He probably already knows what’s going on anyway. I know he keeps tabs on the company. It’s best if we go to him before he comes to us.”

  “You’re right.” He sighed. “You’re right.”

  “I need to read through this crap Master Bruce gave me.” She lay across the bed. “He doesn’t even want the mill. He wants the land and is willing to pay top dollar for it. The bastard had the audacity to tell me to buy more land and build another mill.”


  “Why can’t we?”

  In her opinion, Roy had always been a little slow, but this was ridiculous. “The Dixon estate has been in our family for well over a hundred years. We are not losing our home! The land is part of our heritage. He should buy elsewhere.”

  Changed from his suit to briefs and a thigh length black robe, Bruce was ready for Nefertiti to give him a massage. He tapped the pocket of his robe to make sure he’d brought the gift he’d picked up for her and the condoms. Soon his beauty would be his beauty.

  On the opposite side of the door, “If Only For One Night” by Luther Vandross played loudly. Cheer mounted on his already riding high emotions. When Nefertiti was in a creative mode, she’d turn the music up and tune out the world.

  He tapped on the door—no answer. He knocked harder—still no answer. “Nefertiti!” No answer. He cracked the door open and peeked in. “Nefertiti.”

  She had removed the furniture from of her sitting area. He walked into the room for a closer look. “Nefertiti.”

  With her back to him, she continued humming and organizing. She wore black jogging trunks, a black tank top, no shoes, no gloves and no veil. He passed crumpled sketches as he crept across the carpet to the hardwood area she worked in. She’d outlined what he estimated to be a fifteen by fifteen foot area with masking tape. The marked area was surrounded with small clear plastic barrels of small geometric chips, way more than she’d had the previous day.

  From the angle where he stood, he couldn’t see her scars. She reached back and grabbed orange chips that were near her feet. He saw a few of the raised marks on her mocha arm. According to reports, her right arm had sustained nerve damage, making full range of motion difficult.

  Nefertiti’s hoarse voice rose as she sang. She turned ever so slightly as she placed a few chips on the floor, then reached back for additional chips.

  The glimpse he caught of the tracks that bastard had left on her face made him gasp. Furious, he backed out the room quickly, away from what Butch had done. He had to escape before the rage consumed him.

  In his room, he sat on the edge of his bed and lowered his face into his palms. Thank God she didn’t see my reaction. Though he’d seen Nefertiti before her surgeries, seeing her scars brought back the horrors of those first few weeks. He’d never been so scared in his life. If she had died… He shook his head. Thank you, God, for saving my beauty.

  A nervous chuckle escaped him. Before Nefertiti was attacked, he hadn’t prayed in so many years he couldn’t remember. Now he found himself praying and thanking God regularly, and he had no intention to return to his old ways.

  I sure as hell can’t run out of the room when she unveils. He lay back on the bed and stared at the black ceiling. The darkness of the room comforted him. He forced his mind to push away his anger at Butch and bring Nefertiti forth. Even with the scars, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He chuckled. Damn, I’m whipped.

  The marks on her right cheek reminded him of the tattooing he’d seen on members of some village in Africa on the Discovery Channel. What the hell was the name of that tribe? Man, did they have some fine women.

  He smiled. Maybe we should honeymoon in Africa. He gave himself a few minutes to adjust to how Nefertiti would look from now on. Instead of focusing on his anger at Butch for hurting her, he focused on his love for her, her kindness, and her beauty—both inside and out.

  When he entered her room, again after knocking and calling her name, he went straight to the sketches littering the carpet. The mess she was making in the sitting area would probably take weeks of work before anything looked familiar to his untrained eye. The music selection had switched to Santana, and she sang along in Spanish.

  He smoothed out one of the crumpled pages. Using colored pencils, she’d sketched a sun setting or rising. He couldn’t really tell which, but knowing her affinity for the setting sun, he assumed it was. Of her various types of sculptures, paintings, and sketches, he always liked her chalk sketches the best.

  “Oh my God!”

  Her voice startled him. He turned in time to see her cover her face and run to her nightstand for her veil.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  He returned to the sketches, but he had seen more of the scarring on her inner arms, neck and chest area. Anger rose in him again, but he suppressed it. She had enough anger of her own to deal with.

  He flattened another of her sketches out on the floor. “Why did you crumple these up? They’re good.”

  The music lowered, then he heard her walk across the carpet toward him in her bare feet.

  “I don’t like them. My stroke is off.”

  As he glanced over his shoulder, she turned away. “Stay facing forward. Since someone intruded in my space,” she teased, “I only had time to cover my face. I’d hate to scare you off.”

  “Don’t project your feelings about your scars onto me.” He picked up another sketch. “If you don’t want these, can I have them?” She didn’t answer. “Bruce to Nefertiti.” He displayed the sketches. “Can I have these?”

  She stood with her arms folded over her chest and confusion in her eyes.

  “Well, since you’ve forgotten how to speak, I’ll take your silence as a yes.” He bowed his head graciously. “Thank you for the sketches.” He stacked them. “Man, has it been a long day. You think a brotha can get one of those massages you were giving out yesterday.” As he headed toward the bed, he winked over his shoulder at her. She wore the purple veil.

  “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed someone went Ginsu knife on me.”

  “Of course I noticed. Since Butch isn’t here for me to kill, what do you want me to do? Sorry to make this anti-climatic for you, but scars won’t change my feelings for you.” He grinned at the shell shock in her eyes. “Now how about that massage?” He took off his robe, then lay on the bed and waited. He wanted to take both of their minds off the scars and the attack.

  At first he thought she wouldn’t oblige him, but then he felt her weight on the bed, and she straddled his back. As her soft hands kneaded his neck, he relaxed under her touch. A thought made him tense up.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He reached back and cupped her hand with his. “Massaging me isn’t hurting your wrist is it?”

  “I keep it at angles that don’t hurt.”

  He lay flat and allowed her to work over his shoulder blades.

  “Is that what you meant by your stroke was off?”

  “Yes,” she answered quietly. “I need freedom of movement to draw the way I like. Why are you all knotted up?”

  “Work.”

  “How does having lunch with an incredibly beautiful woman equate to work?”

  “Catherine is one fine woman.” Nefertiti’s touch became harsh. “But she’s not my type.”

  “And what is your type?”

  “Ninjas. Water ninjas, to be exact. What are you afraid of?” The massage felt great, too great. He rolled over. “Lie beside me. I won’t bite unless you want me to.” He winked.

  She rested her head on the pillow beside him. “It’s so hard to explain.”

  He caressed her waist. “All I ask is that you try.”

  Eyes closed, she whispered, “I know this is extremely shallow, but I’m afraid you won’t be attracted to me.”

  He didn’t understand why she would think such nonsence, but acknowledged what Victoria had been trying to tell him. Though Nefertiti’s looks didn’t matter to him, they mattered to Nefertiti, so he had to approach her from that standpoint. He rethought and realized her looks did matter to him; he just thought her still the most beautiful woman in the world. How to make her see that was the million-dollar question.

  “I saw something while I was out today. Turn around.” After she turned, he leaned over the bed and fished through his robe pocket for her present and a condom.

  “I hope you didn’t buy me anything else.”

  He shot an incredulous glare over his shoul
der at her as he slipped on the condom, then straightened his shorts. “Give me your foot.”

  “You have entirely too much money and time on your hands.” She turned and set her feet in front of him.

  “Don’t worry. This time it was under two hundred.” He fastened a purple amethyst bracelet around her ankle.

  Nefertiti gently fingered the gift. “It’s precious. You shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re precious.” Bruce lowered himself off the bed, then kissed her toes, ankles.

  His soft touches tickled yet excited her at the same time. “I don’t think you should…”

  “Stop thinking.” He inched his way higher to her knees and kissed tenderly as he lightly brushed his hands on her thighs.

  Her mind screamed, “Stop him.” Her body countered with, “Are you crazy? No way!” Next thing she knew, he’d taken off her shorts and panties and was nibbling on her inner thigh, and his hands were caressing her waist.

  A life with Bruce was her fairy tale, her happily-ever-after ending. The love in his touch, his words, his actions proclaimed that fairy tales could come true. She gazed down at him. I love you, Bruce.

  A devilish grin tipped his lips just before he kissed her most intimate place. His humming sent an additional vibration of sensual pulses through her. This feels too good. He’s too good.

  Waves of passion drenched her. She was sure she’d drown, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “Oh,” she murmured.

  He lifted her shirt as his tongue burned its way along her waist and torso. Her whole body quaked with a need only he could fill. As he drew her breast into his mouth, it took everything she had not to scream out. She wanted to taste him, to feel him, to love him, but the veil… Fear of removing the veil remained. His hardness throbbed against her inner thigh and prodded her to succumb completely. Barely able to maintain control, she gyrated under him and brushed her nails along his back.