by Bete Noire
“How did you and Dane meet? Do you own any other businesses or homes together?”
“We met ages ago,” Sloan told her between bites. “We’ve been together longer than I care to admit. But we work well together, each taking up the slack the other leaves.”
“So am I Dane’s slack now.” What she really wanted to ask was how they’d been together and exactly what that meant. Were they together sexually?
“No, you’re our conquest.”
“Conquest, that’s an interesting choice of words.”
“But an accurate one. We’ve searched for you, Diana, searched specifically for you for a long time before we found you.”
“Why me? I’ve no special talents or family money. What would make two seemingly educated men search for me?”
“You still don’t know your family history.”
“No, I was adopted as an infant, a closed adoption. I figured since my parents gave me up, they wouldn’t want me finding them with all sorts of questions they’d prefer to forget thirty years later. Besides, it seemed rude to the parents who raised me.”
“But they’re both gone now.”
“I’ve had no interest in finding my birth parents. But you seem to know all about them. Why not tell me what you brought me here to tell me. Obviously you’ve engineered this meal for that very purpose.” She took a few more bites of the crab and sipped her wine.
“I’m a historian,” Sloan said between bites of his meal.
“So I’d think you’d appreciate the work I’m doing at the paper, putting the original issues on computer to save them for the future.”
“Yes, I do. It’s just that I never thought to look for you as an archivist. It would have saved me a lot of time and energy.”
“Why me? What significance do I hold to your history?”
“You’re a beautiful, talented woman. Why wouldn’t I be interested in you?”
“I meant, why would you look specifically for me. There are a lot of beautiful, talented woman. What specifically led you to me?”
“History,” he told her. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just enjoy our meal for now.” They ate in silence, Diana pushing her plate aside, surprised that it was all but empty. Coffee was offered, but Sloan declined. “We’ll have coffee at home, where it’s quiet and private. Where we can talk openly.” He dropped cash on the table, nodded to their waiter, and guided her from the restaurant. A town car was waiting at the corner for them.
“I think I’d prefer to go directly home,” she said, settling in the backseat of the vehicle.
“I’d of thought you’d be curious to know more about your history and why you dream of Martin.”
The car drove them directly to his home, and while she wanted to be mad, each time he dropped Martin’s name, she couldn’t work past her curiosity. She noted Sloan sat on the other side of the vehicle, leaving space between them. He hadn’t reached to touch her, except to guide her through the restaurant. Diana decided Sloan and Dane each had a different approach. Now she was curious about his. She’d go into his home and drink his coffee and listen to his version of a history he wanted her to learn about. From there, she’d make any decisions concerning sex. And she was curious if Dane would be there.
Sloan ushered Diana through the unlocked front doorway. “Would you be more comfortable in the salon or the library?”
“You don’t lock your door?” she answered and shook her head. “The library,” she added, walking down the softly lit hallway and directly to the room.
He’d made sure Dane had a fire burning for the time they’d be back. Sloan had to clear his throat to get her attention as she scanned the titles on the books.
“Make yourself at home, and I’ll get the coffee.” He walked out and paused in the hallway, noting she used her purse to fan her face. So, she was horny already. The concept pleased him, and he walked to the kitchen. He poured the fresh-brewed coffee from the glass carafe into a silver coffee pot that matched the rest of the serving set. He’d chosen the bone china cups and saucers tonight, liking the thick gold band that ran on the outer edge and the thicker black band that ran just a bit inside it. He’d always liked this china set and found it to be masculine for its purpose. When he returned, she was still standing before the bookshelves. He put the tray on the ottoman before the fire and paused to add a few logs.
He’d known the moment she walked into the restaurant she had nothing on under her dress. There were no telltale bra or panty lines. She wore no hose. His cock had been hard since his first glance at her. It had been hard to resist stroking it a few times for his own pleasure. He hadn’t. He wanted to wait until she was touching him. Now in the privacy of his home, it was getting more difficult to keep his hands off her and his thoughts clear.
“That was quick,” she said, acknowledging his presence.
“The tray was set and the coffee pot on a timer. All I had to do was carry it in.”
“It is a beautiful silver set. Very masculine in its way. Is it art deco or art nouveau?”
“Deco. I saw it and just had to have it. As you can see, I like nice things. They keep every day civilized.” He poured coffee in a cup and nodded to the creamer and sugar.
“Just black,” Diana said, finally coming closer and taking his offering.
“Have a seat, relax, and get comfortable.” He watched as she looked around the room before dropping gracefully onto a small sofa. He also noted that she sat almost sideways, one leg crossed over the other, leaving her with a very appealing position with no room for him to sit beside her.
“Is Dane here?”
“No, do you want him to be?”
“Just trying to figure out what you have in mind.” She sipped the coffee. “This is good,” she complimented, using it as a diversion as she took a second sip.
Sloan chose the armchair beside the fireplace. It was comfortable to his large frame and usually the same place he always sat. He liked it better because he could see both the doorway and the windows. Sloan was nothing if not careful. Even in his own home, he was on alert. He figured once they were there a bit longer he’d get used to the noise and location. For now, he felt secure and had Diana sitting across from him, on edge, waiting to hear what he’d tell her about her family.
“You mentioned you know my history. Would you care to elaborate on that and why you claim you searched specifically for me?”
He watched Diana settle back on the cushion, waiting for his answers. “Do you believe in fate?”
“I’m open to the concept but not married to it.”
“The earrings you’re wearing,” he started and put his coffee on the tray. “Do you know their value?”
She automatically reached to finger the beads hanging from her ears. “They were a gift from my mother, the mother who raised me.”
“Yes, she did give them to you. But they were from your birth mother, handed down through her family. Your adoptive mother was told to wait until you were twenty-one before letting you wear them.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re not costume jewelry, Diana. The set is original, an antique set. The stones are quite old and rare.”
“So you tracked me down to what…steal my antique earrings?” She shifted in her seat and put the coffee on the table beside her.
“I’m not going to steal your earrings, rather let you understand a bit more about them.” He watched her closely. Now she was weary of him, probably second-and third-guessing her choice to come home with him, and calculating her escape. “I’m familiar with them, Diana.” He stood and walked to a side table. From the small drawer he withdrew a slim black leather box. Turning, he handed it to her. “Go ahead, open it.”
Sloan watched Diana inspect the box before carefully lifting the lid. When she saw the contents, she pulled a breath. “Yes, it’s the match to your earrings.” He moved before her and took it from the silk, encircling her wrist and locking the clasp in place.
“It’s b
eautiful,” she mumbled. “You’re right, it does match. How did you get the bracelet?” Diana tentatively touched the stones wrapped around her wrist. The gold beads were elongated as were the ones on her earrings. The green stones separating them were a bit bigger in size but absolutely a match. She hesitated, touching the stones framing her face. There was no need, for she knew they were a match.
“I wore these earrings the night of the housewarming. Neither you or Dane mentioned them.”
“Too many prying ears,” he said with a smile. “This information is for you, me, and Dane to understand.”
“What if I hadn’t worn them tonight?”
“I’d still have shown you the bracelet. You would have known immediately they were a match.” He rose and turned the bracelet against her skin, placing it so the clasp fell behind her wrist. “It’s a piece that was in Dane’s family for generations.”
“Then are Dane and I some kind of long lost family or something?”
“Something, but not in that direction.” He settled back in his seat while she continued to examine the stones. “A long time back, his ancestor gave that bracelet to the man she loved when they were being separated by outside forces. All through the ages, every generation in his family has looked for the owner of the earrings and necklace.”
“So you believe in some past century we were lovers?”
“No. She gave it to her love because he helped her slay the monster that roamed the caverns under Crete. Are you familiar with the myth of the Minotaur?” Sloan watched as she repositioned her legs and gave him her full attention. She scrunched up her nose and he saw she was completely ill at ease. He continued before she could interrupt him. “The short version of the Greek myth goes along the lines that Minos ascended to the throne after competing with his brothers to rule. He prayed to Poseidon for a sign of support in the form of a white bull. When he got his wish, he was supposed to kill it to honor Poseidon, but he didn’t. He couldn’t kill the beauty. Having failed the test, Poseidon turned to Aphrodite to punish Minos.
“She, in turn, made Minos’s wife, Pasiphae, fall in love with the bull. She became obsessed with the animal and turned to Daedalus, a craftsman, to create a hollow wooden cow. She used the false cow to trick the white bull into mating with her, climbing inside and copulating with bull. But she hadn’t realized she was a pawn in Poseidon’s game and under his spell. The Minotaur, half man with a bullhead, was born of that coupling.
“As soon as she gave birth, Minos understood Poseidon had bested him. They raised the infant as best they could, but it grew ferocious, and normal food would not sustain it. After consulting the gods, Minos had Daedalus build the labyrinth of stone tunnels under the city to house the monster. After all, he saw the irony of Daedalus building the labyrinth that would imprison the beast because he was the same man who built the wooden cow used to mate with the white bull that created the monster.” Sloan paused and sipped at his cooling coffee. Glancing to Diana, he decided he had her rapt attention. After another sip, he put the cup on the side table and continued with his story.
“Minos still had to feed the creature, but his only nourishment became humans, and he didn’t want to sacrifice his own people. The Athenians were unhappy sending seven young men and seven young women each year to feed the monster, all being locked in the labyrinth until the Minotaur found them and feasted.” Sloan paused for a breath and watched Diana for several seconds before continuing. “This is where Theseus comes in. He was an Athenian who offered himself as food for the Minotaur to save another’s life. He met Ariadne, one of Minos’s daughters from a previous wife, and they fell in love. She told him of her feelings of love, but they would never be consummated as he was to become food for the Minotaur. Together they were able to solve the maze of the labyrinth, and Theseus slayed the Minotaur. However, Ariadne had held the Minotaur in regard as a man she was unable to save. As he lay dying from her helping Theseus, she placed her necklace of fine gold and stones around his neck as an offering to the gods to save his soul.” He watched Diana’s face for any sign of recognition but got none.
“Don’t stop now. You’ve got my attention. Tell me how I figure into this.” She shifted in her seat and waited patiently until he continued.
“Theseus was now out of the mercy of Minos, so he was banished for the slaying. Ariadne knew they couldn’t be together, so as a parting gift of love she gave him her bracelet, one that matched the necklace she gave the monster. She kept the earrings as a remembrance of her lost half-brother and lost love.” Sloan sat back and watched Diana carefully.
“I’m confused. You’re saying my earrings were originally Ariadne’s, and the bracelet was from Theseus. How could you know this?” Diana let out a nervous laugh. “So are we related or star-crossed lovers?”
“In a strange way eons ago, if you believe in the myth and fate. But not in reality.”
“Where is the necklace, then? Who holds it?”
Sloan stood and walked to the same table, opening the drawer and pulling out a second, much larger leather box. He handed it to Diana and went back to his chair, watching her intently as she turned the box in her hands before finally placing it on her lap.
“Do you really expect me to believe the necklace is in this box?”
“Open it,” he said, reaching casually to take his coffee cup. “Go ahead. You’ll never know unless you open it.”
He noted her fingers shook as she reached to open the box. When she did, she let out a gasp. Sloan watched her reaction to the necklace of rare gold beads strung together with green stones lying on the satin. She reached to touch the beads and pulled her hand back sharply.
“Now I’m just confused.” She shut the box and put it on a side table while shaking her head. Her fingers started fumbling with the clasp on the bracelet he’d wrapped around her wrist as if it would scar her skin. Sloan stood quickly and covered her hands with his, stopping her motion.
“Leave it on, Diana. Hear me out.” He saw the confusion in her eyes, the total distrust of his being. “I believe centuries ago, my ancestor was the mother who bore the monster. That a part of me is the spirit reincarnate of the Minotaur. We, Dane and I, believe he’s a long lost descendant of Theseus, and you a descendant of Ariadne. That’s why you have the earrings, Dane the bracelet, and I the necklace.”
Diana sat staring at Sloan across from her then back to the bracelet. “To believe your story, I’d have to believe in the myth of the gods. I’m not sure I believe they were real, rather, stories made up to scare the masses into a specific way of life, a way the original storytellers wanted their citizens to act. Fear is a powerful motivator.”
“Many years ago, I would have agreed with you. It wasn’t until the necklace was handed down to me that I began to research the myths. That was my motivation for becoming a historian. To be able to spend my time finding out the truth. This is the truth I’ve come to believe and live.”
Sloan watched her chest rise and fall as she took several deep breaths. With each one, her breasts moved under the material, her nipples hardening. He had to make a conscious attempt not to let his fingers rub against themselves as if he were twisting them. And he wanted to twist them, to suck them until he made her come. He also knew this wasn’t the moment to make his move on her. She’d come to him when she was ready. He noted how she squirmed on the sofa and wondered if she was creaming yet. Sloan desperately wanted to taste her but refrained, knowing his reward would come with patience.
“What do you know about my dream lover? How could you know?”
“Because once Dane and I found you, we put the suggestion of the myth before you.
“You what?” She stood staring at him as if he were the monster reincarnate.
“Please sit down and let me finish explaining. We prompted your subconscious to remember things buried for centuries. Why else would you not fear the monster?”
“Using that logic, if I made love with the monster, I’d be having sex with my brother.�
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“No, that’s where you’re wrong. Ariadne was a daughter of Minos, yes. But Pasiphae was not her mother. There is no direct blood line between us.”
“Us? Are you supposed to be the monster reborn? Do you really believe that?”
“You tell me. I’ve seen you look at me and think something was different, as if you saw an image you didn’t believe. I’m of Greek heritage. If you went back far enough, you would find you are, too. Dane has an Athenian background.”
Diana stood and paced for a few seconds. She reached to the necklace box and, opening it, studied it under the table lamp for a long time. Sloan noted she still didn’t dare touch it. When she closed the box, she placed it back on the table. Then she calmly worked the clasp on the bracelet and took it off, carefully placing it in the other box. Diana didn’t resist running her finger along the length of it. Sloan knew her body heat was still held by the jewels, and she looked saddened to leave it. But she was a smart woman, and he understood there was a lot more to what he and Dane had in mind than finding her a match to her earrings. While unspoken or acknowledged, Diana knew it, too. He could see it on her expression. One part of her wanted to believe him, and the other side found it hard to accept his tales. She stood to her full height and looked directly at Sloan.
