by Shenda Paul
I pull her into my arms and become even more dismayed when I feel her trembling. I curse myself inwardly for having scared her with my violent behavior.
"Go back inside," I plead.
"No," she mumbles into my chest. The feel of her warm, ragged breath douses what’s left of my anger.
"Angelique," Justin says, stepping forward.
"Stay away from her," I threaten.
"This is none of your business."
"Justin…" I warn, fighting to keep my voice calm.
"This is between Angelique and me, it has nothing to do with you," he says.
I try to set Angelique aside, but she clings to me.
"Adam, please…don't do something you'll regret. I'll never forgive myself if you get into trouble," she implores as I gently extricate myself from her grasp.
"Do you want to speak to him?" I bend down to look into her eyes, ignoring his gaze, which I sense riveted on us.
"There are things I need to say," she says almost apologetically, and an icy thread of dread runs down my spine. What if she falls for what he has to say? What if I haven’t been clear enough about my intentions?
"I need to; for me," she adds softly, eyes pleading for understanding.
"If you're sure…" I answer hesitantly.
"I am."
"Okay." I place a gentle kiss on her forehead, but dread sits leaden in my gut as I turn to leave. She tugs on my hand to stop me, and raising herself onto her toes, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the lips.
"I won't be long," she whispers.
Glancing over her shoulder, I see Justin frown at our interaction. His concern transforms into a smug smile when he catches my eye.
"To clarify your earlier question; I've found someone I want, not something. To me, she's everything; and I would risk it all for her," I tell him, effectively wiping the smile from his face before returning my attention to Angelique.
"I'll leave the door open; call if you need me." She nods, looking tearful. I cup her face with both hands before softly kissing her mouth. Then, with a last, warning glare at Justin, enter the apartment.
I pace agitatedly, unable to dismiss the seed of doubt buried deep within me. I stop before the silver framed photograph and lift it, marveling anew at how Angelique’s the perfect combination of her parents. For a fleeting moment, it seems as if they’re acknowledging me. Whether it's wishful thinking or some divine intervention that has me imagining the encouragement in their eyes, I decide that no matter what she says on her return, I'll fight for the future I so desperately want. "I love her," I admit to the couple staring back at me before replacing the frame.
The door clicks shut after what feels like an eternity when, in fact, it couldn't have been more than minutes. I turn, my heart thumping erratically as we stare at each other across the room. "Did you mean what you said?" she asks, a catch in her voice.
"Which part?"
"About me… being everything?"
"Every word," I say, making my way over to her. A knock sounds at the door just then, and my body immediately responds, tensing in readiness for a fight.
"I asked him to leave, Adam," Angelique quietly reassures me before turning to answer.
"Food delivery for Thorne," a young male says, instantly easing the pressure in my chest. I move to retrieve the packages from Angelique’s hands and follow her into the kitchen.
"Eat or talk?" I ask.
"Talk," she says with an uncertain smile.
"I'm glad." I place the food on the countertop before taking her hand to lead the way into the living room.
"I'm sorry," I say as soon as we're seated.
"What are you apologizing for, Adam?"
"I should have let you know he was here."
"I wasn't upset about that. I was upset that he just showed up after all this time and also about what he said…." Her voice catches.
"How much did you hear?"
" I got to the door just as you told him to leave. I shouldn't have listened…"
"You had every right to; I'm just sorry you had to hear those things." I reach for both of her hands.
"You have to know that I'm not using you."
"I know that, but I can't help wondering why you want to be with me. His remarks may have been insensitive, but he was speaking the truth."
"What he said was disgusting. I could have killed him for speaking about you like that."
"Adam…there have been other men… "
"Angelique, don’t," I interject.
"Please let me say this." She tightens her hold on my hand. "I hate that there were. You deserve so much more…and the problems I bring…"
"You deserve better too," I interrupt, unable to listen to her denigrate herself. "I've told you before that I'm far from innocent. What we both deserve is happiness, and I can't imagine being truly happy without you; not now."
She’s about to protest, no doubt about what she deserves, but I stop her by kissing her. Want and possessiveness flare as our lips touch. I wind my hands in her hair, and she opens to me as I lick and nip at her full, bottom lip. I swirl my tongue around hers, groaning at the pleasurable sensation. She wraps her arms around my neck when I pull her onto my lap to slowly move my mouth down the column of her throat. Her top falls away, and I kiss and suck gently on petal-soft skin.
Angelique lets out a tiny moan that goes straight to my groin. I can't stop myself from arching into her as I lick across the delectable curve of her breast. It takes everything in me to stop myself from taking a lace-covered nipple in my mouth. I move her back gently instead. She’s dazed as she stares back at me, her luscious lips slightly parted.
"I love you," I confess, and her beautiful eyes widen in shock. "I'm sorry if you're not ready to hear it, but I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you," I repeat as a tear rolls down her cheeks.
"I love you too," she says brokenly. I draw her close, feeling as if I'm about to combust with joy as I claim her mouth in a passionate kiss. We're practically writhing against each other by the time I finally force myself to withdraw.
"Angelique… we have to stop," I gasp, wanting to do anything but. She's breathless like me, hair a dark, disheveled halo around her flushed face, mouth rosy and kiss-ravished. She's never looked more beautiful.
"I'm sorry, I got carried away," she apologizes, averting her gaze.
"Look at me," I urge, cupping her cheek. "Don't ever apologize for wanting me. You have no idea how much I desire you… well, perhaps you do," I add wryly as I adjust her on my lap. "I want you so much, and I can't wait to make love to you, Darling; but I need you to know, without a doubt, that it's not just about sex for me."
She leans in to place her lips against mine. "Thank you," she whispers emotionally. I brush away a stray tear and kiss her tenderly before I tuck her into my side to settle back on the sofa.
Some hours later, Angelique sees me to the door. "I'll pick you up at nine," I murmur, lowering my mouth to hers. "I love you. "
Her lips curve into a smile beneath mine. "I love you too."
I step back, leaving our fingers entwined. "Make sure you lock the door properly," I remind her and then, kissing her softly once more, grudgingly release my hold. I wait until the lock clicks and the bolts slide into place before walking away.
Chapter Five
In bed on Sunday night, I relive the events of the weekend, feeling more excited and happy than I've been in a long, long time.
Angelique and I discussed Justin’s visit on Friday before sitting down to dinner. She told me that he’d called several times during the day, but that she’d chosen not to answer. Before that, he hadn’t contacted her since news of his involvement in the case broke. His arrival at her home was somewhat of a shock, not only because of his lack of contact, but also, because he’d never visited before. She hadn't ever had reason to give him her add
ress, she explained. To me, her admission spoke volumes about the true nature of their relationship.
I wondered aloud just how he knew where to find her, and she sheepishly admitted that Tom drove her home on the night I’d seen them together. She elaborated on how, on the pretext of discussing Justin’s trial, he'd invited her to dinner. I sensed her discomfort. "Did he do something?" I asked.
Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she admitted that he propositioned her and that she rejected him.
"You're not telling me everything," I pressed because I'd experienced Tom’s reaction to being turned down. She related their full exchange then, and I felt like hunting him down there and then. She tried to tell me about her conversation with Justin next, but I stopped her, saying that I didn't need to know. "All I need is to know that you want to be with me," I said. She assured me that she does, and we dropped the subject.
Later, we talked about her working with Mom, and when I expressed the desire to meet her mother, she became emotional. At my urging, she admitted that she'd come to believe that she’d never again have the opportunity to introduce her mother to a boyfriend. I suggested that we fly to New York the following weekend. She seemed excited at first, but her eyes soon clouded over, and she suggested that we wait a few more weeks.
"Why?" I asked, and after some persuasion, Angelique finally admitted that she usually books her flights well in advance to ensure the best-priced fares.
"It was my suggestion; I expect to pay," I asserted.
She insisted, looking even more upset, and I mentally kicked myself for not addressing the matter more sensitively. I resorted to pleading after that, telling her how important it was to me to do things properly "My parents have met you; it’s not fair to make your mother wait to meet me," I pointed out. "Besides, we’re making this trip because it's something I want and need to do; I should pay," I added for good measure.
"You don't fight fair, how can I argue with that?" she asked and reluctantly agreed. "Just please don't make a habit of spending money on me, it makes me feel uncomfortable…" She hesitated, but I knew; I know exactly how much she needs to rid herself of the feeling of being bought.
"Darling, it’s only natural for me to want to do nice things for you, so indulge me occasionally, please. I don't and will never expect anything in return," I entreated, and we finally settled the matter.
We spent the rest of the weekend together—well, most of it. I hated the times when we had to part, and it thrilled me to see her as reluctant to have me leave as I was to go. I picked her up on Saturday, and we took the scenic route to Gloucester. We stopped at places along the way that Angelique found interesting, lunched at a cozy bistro, enjoyed the ocean views, and then made our way back to her apartment where we prepared toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches for dinner. On Sunday, we joined the family for dinner at Mom and Dad’s to celebrate Mom and Angelique’s new employment status. I drove Angelique home after and spent an hour with her before tearing myself from her side once more.
.
.
The following week, like every other, since the Cordi case broke, is hectic. My nightly telephone conversations with Angelique remain the highlights of each day, and our upcoming trip to New York features heavily in our discussions. She seems both excited and nervous about it. I suspect her apprehension is due to concern about her mother’s reaction to me, and, although I haven’t said anything, I have to admit to feeling unexpectedly nervous myself. Knowing how important her mother is to Angelique, I want, desperately, for her to like me but don’t expect, given the circumstances that led to my relationship with her daughter, that our meeting will be easy. I’m resolved, whatever happens, to find a way to privately address any concerns she may have.
Thursday sees us back in court for Silvio and Enzo’s hearing where we witness them each being handed a prison sentence of thirty-five years, with a stipulated non-parole period of twenty-five. I have no doubt that their lawyers plan on lodging appeal after appeal, but for now, their trial is over. We have less than a fortnight to the start of Joseph’s trial.
Saturday finally arrives, and Angelique seems to have cast her nervousness aside. I can tell that she, like me, is excited at the prospect of our first trip away together.
"You've been extravagant," she accuses as we take our seats. I lift the armrest between us to lightly kiss her delectable mouth.
"I'm six foot two; it’s uncomfortable to have my knees up under my chin," I counter good-humoredly. I hadn't deliberately discounted her concern about not spending money; I truly am uncomfortable traveling economy. Also, I wasn’t prepared to compromise on this, our first trip together.
Angelique had intended to stay with either Mandi or her mother’s friend, Rachel, like she always does, but the thought of having even that short distance between us didn’t sit well with me, and I told her so. She agreed, then, to leave all the travel and accommodation arrangements in my hands. "Within reason," she cautioned, so I booked first class flights and reserved two executive suites at the Peninsula. There are lots of other ways I can and will demonstrate that I'm not trying to buy her favor, I rationalized.
"I'll accept your argument," she says now, resting her head on my shoulder.
"Thank you." I kiss her temple. "Is your mom excited about seeing you?"
"Jumping out of her skin," she replies, sitting up to look at me apologetically.
"I haven't told her about you accompanying me yet. I’ll tell her when I get there."
"I understand," I assure her. "It's a conversation you need to have face-to-face."
"Are you sure you don't mind me going straight to see Mom?"
"Not at all; I'll take the luggage and check us in and then do some work. Are you sure about not staying to have dinner with her?"
"They serve dinner early so the residents can be settled in for the night. I'll keep Mom company while she eats and leave soon after; it's what we usually do."
"I'll make a reservation for us then," I promise, just as the pilot announces our descent into New York.
"Tell your mom I'm looking forward to meeting her," I tell Angelique when helping her into a cab.
"Adam!" she protests when I lean forward to slip the driver some cash, that adorable furrow between her eyebrows firmly in place.
"I love you," I answer and then kiss her lips to disarm her before stepping back to shut the door.
"I love you too," she silently mouths, making me smile.
I wait until her cab is out of sight before hailing one for myself, and a relatively short time later, given the state of New York traffic, I register at reception. After checking both suites, I place Angelique’s bag in the one with the better view. Then, settled into my room, I reserve a table for two for eight-thirty before opening my laptop to start work.
At six-forty, when Angelique calls to let me know she's on her way, I make my way downstairs to wait. She turns heads when she enters the lobby, and I can't resist casting a gloating smile at a group of admiring businessmen I pass on my way to meet her. I kiss her cheek and wrap my arm possessively around her waist. "How was your visit?"
"It's always lovely seeing Mom," she says wistfully. "We spoke a lot about the Foundation and my job at Eleanor’s."
"What does she think?"
"She thinks it’s wonderful, but she worries about our relationship, Adam," she says, sounding concerned.
"That's why I'm here, Darling; to set her mind at rest."
She squeezes my arm appreciatively. "Want to see your room?" I ask to lighten her mood.
"I'm dying to, although I do feel a bit like Cinderella. I've never stayed in a place like this before."
"You leave every other woman in the shade."
"I feel under-dressed," she counters in a whisper.
"You look beautiful," I assure her; and she does, effortlessly so, in a pair of black, fitted trousers and matching shirt, her makeup soft and
natural, and her hair worn up in a ponytail. The only bright color she’s wearing is a pair of red, high-heeled shoes. Her outfit reminds me of the day I saw her at lunch with Samuel; and just as she did then, she relegates the more expensively dressed women to the background with her understated style and grace.
.
.
I wake from a dream early on Sunday morning. This dream, however, unlike the ones before, leaves me feeling happy and somewhat aroused. I revel in the feeling because it instantly conjures up the events of the night before.
As soon as the lift doors had shut, I pulled Angelique into my arms. What I intended to be just one, tender kiss left us both breathless and disoriented by the time the doors reopened to the polite throat-clearing of a porter. The young man looked both surprised and amused to see two guests lip-locked and oblivious to their surroundings.
Angelique’s face was beet-red, but I couldn't resist the feeling of pride at his slack-jawed appraisal of her. "Yes, she’s with me," I silently communicated, feeling and acting like a teenager on a first date. Then, having shown her around her suite, I tore myself away with a chaste kiss, reluctantly leaving her to enjoy the enormous bathtub she'd practically drooled over.
When I returned to escort her to dinner, I had the breath knocked out of me at the sight of her in a red dress that hugged her body like a second skin. It left one creamy shoulder tantalizingly bare, and despite its modest mid-calf length, the lines of her long, lithe legs were evident with every step she took. Her flawless, ivory skin seemingly devoid of makeup, except for her full lips, which were painted red to match her dress. Her hair, styled smooth as silk, hung down her back, nearly reaching her waist.
Angelique’s innate sensuality was one of the first things I noticed when I chose to spy on her in that interview room. While many women strive to be sexy, for me, it’s almost always seemed an artifice. I'd hardly been immune to such overt attractions in the past and succumbed more times than I care to remember or admit to, but those feelings always proved fleeting. Angelique impacts me very differently. The physical attraction I feel for her had, from the very beginning, gone much deeper than I'd ever experienced, and I tried, in vain, to deny my emotional response to her.
