I reach into the box and pull out the necklace. It’s a 2” by 3.5” y-shaped scrollwork pendant in a silver metal with clear stones inlaid. The bottom curve of the scroll, the portion that forms the tail of the “y” cradles an enormous pearl. The pendant is suspended by five strands of fine silver colored chain.
“Wow,” I breathe, “this is gorgeous! And elaborate.”
“No shit. And consider who it’s from, Lys. My money’s on it being completely real. Including the diamonds.”
I shake my head. I can’t even answer. That’s preposterous. No way it’s real. It can’t be. Right?
“I know where to find a clue, Lys. May I see it?” I nod and hand it to him. He turns it over and starts to scrutinize the back. It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s doing. Once I do, I wait quietly until he grins.
“Found it! 18 karat gold. The setting is real, so the pearl almost certainly is. The rest are, at the very least, cubic zirconia, but I’m sticking with my guess that they’re real.” He gives me a smug look.
I swallow hard and hold out my hand for the necklace back. He gives it to me. “So the setting is real. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” Shawn’s raised eyebrow and smug grin tell me I don’t pull of the blasé attitude I’m going for. “I’m going to go get ready.” I collect up my teddy bear and put the necklace back in the box. “Help yourself to chocolates, Shawn, but don’t you dare eat them all.”
Shawn grins evilly. “I’ll take very good care of them, Lys.”
“See that you do. And not in your belly,” I admonish him as I head up the stairs. My new teddy bear finds its home on my bedside table, and I set the necklace down on my bed. “Okay, Lys, time to get ready.”
Knowing I need to wear Damien’s gift, I look through the dresses my parents—well, really my mom—gave me for Christmas. Grinning, I pull out a bright purple, strapless dress with pearl and rhinestone beading. It will be perfect.
I carefully paint my nails a complimentary teal with glitter at the tips, then set an alarm so I won’t lose track of time. I call my mom to tell her about my gifts. She’s very complementary of them as I describe each one, but when I’m done, she launches an attack to convince me to visit more often. I’m saved most of her guilt trip by my alarm going off, and she lets me go once I promise I’ll have dinner with them in the next week. I set aside my phone and apply some anti-frizz cream to my hair before getting dressed.
Because Damien warned me to bring a coat, I wear nude tights beneath the dress. If I get warm, I can always take them off and store them in my purse. I brush out my hair, leaving it wavy. Finally, I put on some makeup and stand in front of my full-length mirror. Just one thing missing.
With some trepidation, I take the necklace out of its box again and put it on. It’s beautiful, of course, but I can’t even fathom how expensive it was if Shawn is correct.
The doorbell ringing keeps me from dwelling on the expense. I collect my purse and a coat and walk downstairs.
Damien is standing in the entrance hall with an awed look on his face. “Elysabeth, I swear you look more beautiful every time I see you.”
I hurry down and throw my arms around him giving him a tight hug. “Damien, thank you so much for the gifts. The chocolate is delicious, and the teddy bear is adorable! The roses are exquisite.” I stop there, not knowing exactly what to say about the necklace. As I pull away, he looks down at me with a smile.
“You are welcome, Chérie. That necklace suits you. As I thought it would.”
“About the necklace,” I make a split-second decision to confront him about it. “Damien, it’s an awfully expensive gift.”
“Elysabeth, have I not told you that cost is no object to me?” His hand brushes my cheek. “You are worth every penny.”
I ignore the warm, fluttery feeling in my stomach. “But first the coat and now this. It’s so much. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you need to spend it.” In my nervous state, I say far more than I mean to. “You know, Shawn is entirely convinced that the stones are actually diamonds. I haven’t been able to discourage him from his silly conviction.”
“Although I hate to correct you, they are indeed diamonds.” As I start to protest, he pulls me close and kisses me deeply. “You deserve the best, ma chère. Please, do not argue. It is Valentine’s Day. A day for love.”
“We’ll discuss this later, Damien.”
He nods. “Very well.” We say goodbye to Shawn and head out. Our drive is quiet, spent listening to music. I spend the time contemplating the gift I have in my purse for him. It’s fairly unusual, but it felt so right.
***
After a period of time, I ask again where we’re going. I’m so curious.
“Elysabeth, I do not wish to ruin the surprise. We will arrive at our destination within minutes. Surely you can wait that long?”
I sigh. “Sure.” True to his word, about five minutes later he pulls up to an old building and parks. I can tell there’s light behind it, but I don’t see any signs of life within.
With some trepidation, I step out of the car when Damien opens the door for me. My emotions must be showing, as he gives me a hug and whispers in my ear. “Do not fear, Chérie. You trust me, do you not?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Then come. I am certain you will enjoy this.” I follow him around the building and gasp as he opens a door. The area beyond is awash with light. As my eyes adjust, I can see we’re at the waterfront. A large yacht, lit with strands of lights, is the only craft in the area. A short gangplank leads up to the deck, and this is what Damien leads me to.
“Come, Chérie, dinner awaits.”
The yacht is beautiful and airy, fully done in polished oak, gold, and cream. There is a table by a wall of floor to ceiling windows that is set with candles, fine china, and rose petals. As I stand, transfixed, Damien turns down the lights, leaving just the candles’ pool of light around the table. The sunset through the windows is absolutely breathtaking.
“This is amazing!”
“It is my father’s,” he says, sounding apologetic. “Although I am tempted to buy one for my own use. Now please, sit and enjoy yourself.” I do as he asks.
Dinner is great. There’s calamari for an appetizer, an awesome filet mignon with rice pilaf, and the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted for dessert. The bay is beautifully lit as we sail around it, making everything seem magical.
“Damien, I have a gift for you. I really hope you like it.” I pull the box out of my purse as I speak. “I know it’s unusual, but when I saw it, I had to get it. For some reason, it seemed perfect.”
I realize I’m babbling and hand him the gold-paper wrapped box somewhat nervously.
“Elysabeth, while you did not need to buy me anything, I am certain I will love it.”
He unwraps the box quickly and opens it revealing a black metal pocket watch with a crown embossed on the front.
He lifts it out silently and opens the front. His expression is unreadable as he inspects his gift. It’s a skeleton model and tells the moon phases. There’s also space for a photo, although I chose not to put mine in. He can do that if he wants.
The silence stretches out uncomfortably, and I’m growing more and more certain Damien hates his present.
“Elysabeth, I do not know what to say—”
I knew it! I cut him off, not really wanting to hear that he doesn’t like it. “It’s okay, I can return it if you want. It was just something different . . . ”
“Elysabeth—”
“ . . . and it seemed right. I’m not sure why . . . ”
“Elysabeth—”
“ . . . I probably should have gone with something more traditional. I really—”
“Elysabeth! Please! Let me speak.” His raised voice finally breaks through my babbling. I nod for him to continue. “I love it, Chérie.” I can’t help my skeptical look. “Truly. But you are right, it is different. I was taken by surprise. You have an extraord
inary ability to choose gifts, Chérie.”
He does sound rather surprised. “I don’t need to return it?”
“No,” he grins. “I will be most upset if you do.”
Around ten, Damien asks if I’m ready to head back home. “Remember, we can return as often as you like. Perhaps sail out to the open ocean for some relaxation.”
“All right, Damien, when you put it that way, I’m ready.” The yacht returns to the deceptively derelict building, and Damien helps me disembark. Our ride home is comfortably quiet, the time spent listening to music, like we usually do.
When we get home, I don’t want the night to end, so I invite him inside to have some hot chocolate and relax.
Damien accepts eagerly. “That sounds lovely.”
We end up on the sofa, talking and laughing. I want to bring up the cost of the necklace, but defer to his desire not to discuss it today.
“Tell me about your past experiences, Elysabeth.”
“Like what?”
“Past friends, educational experience and the like. We have been together for a while now, but sometimes I still feel as though I know almost nothing about you.” He sounds guarded, and doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he speaks.
I’m pretty sure I know what he’s getting at, but I’m not about to give him the information without him asking for it specifically. I tell him about my awkward elementary and middle school years, how I had stood out like a sore thumb, never truly fitting in, because I didn’t want to be like everyone else.
“You were supposed to choose a group and make yourself fit in. But I didn’t like the groups. So I made my own. A group of one.” Wow, that sounds depressing.
Damien shakes his head. “But I do not understand. Especially when younger, people typically flock to those who are attractive.”
I blush at his compliment. “That’s true, but I was a late bloomer. I still looked like a little kid through my junior year of high school. I was teased mercilessly.”
His proud smile makes me feel like I’m a thousand feet tall. “But that adversity made you strong. And you must have had many offers once you returned to school in your senior year.”
“Yeah, I did. People who did nothing but torture me the year before were suddenly asking me out on dates. It was . . . exhilarating to turn them down.”
“Did you accept no offers?” His tone is cautious, like he’s afraid of upsetting me.
“No, I wasn’t interested in going out with anyone who was so shallow. Shawn was my date to Prom.”
“And after high school?”
I sigh. “Damien, why don’t you ask me exactly what you want to know?”
He looks sheepish. “I merely wish to get to know you better.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not stupid, Damien. You want to know something, you just aren’t willing to ask the question.” I try to soften my tone. I don’t want him thinking I’m upset with him. I just prefer to get to the point. “I won’t get mad, but in order to find out what you want to know, you have to ask me.”
He sighs, clearly nervous. “Did . . . did you date often?”
“No, not really. I’ve gone out with a few guys since starting college, but mostly, they just wanted to get in my pants.” I shrug it off, long since over the annoyance of horny college guys looking to get their rocks off.
He seems indignant on my behalf. “You do not seem like a woman to accept that.”
“I didn’t. I told you before, I’m not like that. Once I figured out what they wanted, I sent them packing. I wasn’t interested in overly physical relationships.” Especially when I didn’t get turned on at all.
“So you never gave in?”
He just wants to know if I’m a virgin? Blushing, I shake my head. “No, I never gave in.”
“You are very special, Chérie. Do you save yourself for marriage?” he asks, sounding awed.
“No, not really, just the right person, I suppose.” I don’t say it, but I’m certain I’ve found the right person in the man sitting next to me.
“And how will you be sure you’ve found the right person?” Something in the earnestness of his expression makes me think this is a very important question to him.
“I’m certain I’ll just . . . know.” It’s a lame answer, but I’m certainly not going to tell him about my intuition.
“A woman’s intuition, I suppose,” he responds, sounding put out.
“Of course!” I snuggle into him and look up to meet his gaze. “It’s what led me to you, isn’t it? So it must be right.” His confused look makes me realize what I’ve almost revealed. He’s sure to think I’m insane if I tell him about that voice. To keep his mind off of it, I stretch up to kiss him.
He responds eagerly, maneuvering me down onto the sofa so he’s lying on top of me. The world fades until it’s just the two of us. I don’t know how he can focus my attention so easily.
His hands roam my body, making me moan. I run my own hands up under his shirt, pulling it up to his chest, wanting to feel skin. Damien follows my cue and runs a hand up my leg, under my dress.
“Oh, god, you two. On the sofa? Lys, we share that sofa! Get a room!”
We disentangle ourselves as quickly as possible. Shawn’s got his hands over his eyes. You’d think he was a child. “Dammit, Shawn, really? Couldn’t you just walk by quietly?”
He peeks through his fingers before dropping his hands. The brat’s sporting a shit-eating grin. “But where’s the fun in that? And to be honest, there was more of either of you on display than I ever wanted to see. No offense.”
“None taken, Shawn,” Damien says. He sounds apologetic, but he looks like an unrepentant child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Forgive me, it was inappropriate of us. I suppose we got carried away. Elysabeth wreaks havoc on my self-control.”
Shawn waves away his apology. “Just keep it to the bedroom, all right, guys?”
“All right, Shawnie,” I say, grinning ear to ear.
CHAPTER 12
When I turn off my alarm clock on the morning of March 10, the first thing that runs through my mind is joy. It’s my birthday! Of course, then I remember that my party is on Saturday, so I won’t really do anything today. This realization hardly destroys my excitement, but the thought of school and homework does dampen it somewhat.
“Well, never mind. It’s my birthday and I refuse to be surly,” I tell myself.
I’m interrupted by my parents calling to wish me a happy birthday. I won’t see them until my birthday dinner on Sunday, but I appreciate them calling me. After I hang up, I dress nicely, a kind of mini-gift to myself, before heading downstairs.
“Happy Birthday, Lys!” Shawn folds me into a hug the moment I enter the kitchen. “As requested, you will receive your gifts on Saturday.”
I grin broadly. “Thanks, Shawnie!” I eat breakfast quickly then follow Shawn out the door to go to school.
Once in class, my friends start wishing me a happy birthday, and a few give me gifts. I thank them all before our professor arrives.
Class finally ends, and I exit the room to a large group of girls clustered around a rather irritated Damien. The girls are all speaking at once, trying to talk over each other, and drowning out whatever Damien is saying.
I shove my way through the thinnest section of the crowd to reach my man. “Damien, what are you doing here? You don’t have class today.”
He whirls to face me with a look of relief. “Elysabeth! I am glad to see you. I wished to surprise you for your birthday. However . . . ” He gestures to the girls around him, who have started to walk away, looking disappointed.
I hug him for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Damien. That’s really sweet, despite your plan being hindered. I have to go let Shawn know I won’t need a ride home, though.”
He throws me a smug smile. “He already knows. I spoke to him earlier.” Damien leads me away from the few girls still standing around hopefully. “What would you like to do for the rest of the day, Chérie?
We must celebrate your birthday.”
“We will celebrate; my party is in two days.”
Damien shakes his head. “No, Elysabeth. I meant you and I. We must have our own celebration.”
I turn pink as my mind immediately jumps to what we could do. “Oh, well, I’m not sure. I’ve got to go home and drop off my school things first. I’ll think of something on the way.”
“Of course, Chérie.”
It figures I don’t manage to get my mind out of the gutter, so we end up hanging out and going to dinner later. It’s nice to spend some regular time with Damien, though, and dinner is pretty tasty, too.
***
As my friends arrive for my party, I usher them into the living room, letting them know to help themselves to the snacks.
Once everyone has arrived, I quiet them all down and announce the Mortal Kombat tournament. I ask everyone who wants to participate to write their names on slips of paper, which I set on the coffee table. There’s a mad scramble to sign up. Yeah, most of my friends are gamers, too.
“Guys! Toss your paper in this bowl when you’re done!” I battle my way through the crowd to set the bowl on the coffee table, too. Shawn and I take turns drawing names and filling in a knockout chart. I end up matched against Anthony, one of my design classmates; Shawn is paired with Cerise, an old friend of mine who lives down the street from my parents; and Damien is paired with Alexia, a friend from high school I’ve kept in touch with.
The rules are set. Best two out of three for each matchup to make the competition go a little faster. Any character is allowed, but no cheats. Only two pauses allowed to check moves, and, of course, Fatalities are strongly encouraged.
For those who don’t want to watch every match, I start a game of tag-in Twister. It’s the same as the original, only there are four players at a time, and anyone can tag in anyone standing around to allow for food and Mortal Kombat breaks. Tagging out is only allowed after fifteen minutes of play, unless it’s to play your round in the tournament.
I also get a game of Guesstures going, just for something different. It’s not a formal game, people are welcome to come and go. It’s just for fun.
The Most Special Chosen Page 16
