by Elodie Colt
This time is different. I can’t deny the growing anticipation at spending the evening with Leonara. And the night, of course… With these thoughts in my mind, I make my way to my mother’s room, taking a deep breath for courage before lifting my hand to knock.
“… our worlds are light years apart,” Leonara’s hushed voice reaches my ear, letting my hand freeze in the air.
“Yet here you are,” Natalia retorts in her usual gentle tone, her voice growing even softer when she adds, “With him.”
Fabric rustling. A sigh. “I’m going to leave soon.”
A moment of silence. “Does he know that?” Natalia asks as if surprised.
A hushed chuckle. “He does. In fact, I’m pretty sure he can’t wait to have me gone.” The air leaves my lungs in a painful squeeze. She can fool my mother with that tone of indifference, but I don’t miss the wistful timbre resonating in her words.
Not bothering to knock, I quietly open the door and walk in. Leonara has her back to me—dark hair shiny and straight, falling onto her milky shoulders. She looks into the life-size mirror in front of her while Natalia wraps a necklace around her neck. My mother’s head whips around when she sees me approaching.
“In fact,” I counter, repeating her words, “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case.”
Leonara whirls around in surprise, and I open my mouth to say more, but the sight of her literally takes my breath away.
The upper part of her strapless dress hugs her breasts in the shape of a heart, blending from dark teal to a lush aquamarine at the waist to then flare out in layers of chiffon around her ankles. The turquoise eyeliner makes her eyes pop out like a gem glistening in the sun, and the silver, teardrop-shaped earrings accentuate her creamy complexion. Simple but elegant. Utterly beautiful.
“Pantone 321?” she questions, lifting a piece of the dress and flashing a pair of silver wedge sandals.
I nod, a seductive smile on my face. “And it just became my favorite color, too, seeing you in this. Mother, you did a great job. She looks beyond stunning.”
“It was my pleasure,” Natalia says, beaming as if I just gave her the most precious gift before I offer Leonara my arm to guide her outside.
“Nervous?” I ask, quirking a lip at how Leonara’s fingers claw at my forearm as if she’s afraid of walking these grounds alone.
“There will be lots of people. What do I say to them? What will they say to me?” she voices her insecurities.
I halt, pulling her to a stop. Looking at her, it’s like a mermaid just emerged from the sea, and again, my ability to speak dissolves like a wave in the ocean. Unable to fight the pull any longer, I palm her face and place a gentle kiss on her lips. “There’s no need to say anything because you’re going to take everyone’s breath away with your beauty.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “If you want to show up at this gala before I tackle you to the ground right here, stop saying things like that.”
God, how I love that smart mouth of hers. “If you want this dress to stay intact, stop saying things like that,” I fire back, but my voice comes out so husky, it’s barely more than a whisper.
“Is that a threat?” Her eyes twinkle with excitement.
“A promise but unfortunately, one that has to wait until later,” I say wistfully before pulling back and guiding her into the hall where the gala takes place.
“Holy shit…” I exclaim in true Leo fashion when I take in the great hall transformed into an Under the Sea theme for the occasion.
All shades of blue, green, and purple shine back at us, turning the place into an underwater wonderland. Balloons in the shape of starfish dot the space, bowls with seashells decorate the tables covered in glittering turquoise tablecloths, light bulbs in the form of jellyfish dangle from the ceiling, and lamps that look like corals light up every corner. All the decorations are made of glass reflecting the light from the blue streamers.
“Did you do all this?” I ask in astonishment as we amble along.
“My event management team did, but the idea was mine. You inspired me,” Daniel adds with a wink, planting a quick kiss on where the mermaid adorns my upper arm.
“For real?” I’m completely baffled.
“For real.”
To my surprise, I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I thought I would being at Daniel’s side while he mingles with the crowd. I stay in his shadow while he shakes hands with chubby World Health Organization execs, smart-ass gene therapy experts, and sleazy financial service agents whose conversations are as exciting as a funeral speech. They all treat Daniel like a king—making room to let him pass, adjusting their ties when he approaches, stopping mid-speech to greet him.
I plaster shiny smiles on my face whenever required, constantly fighting the urge to wipe my palms whenever I have to shake a sweaty hand. Daniel doesn’t let me out of his sight, all the time keeping me close with a hand on my back which, strangely, doesn’t bother me anymore knowing his hand won’t do me any harm.
After what feels like a small forever, we finally take our seats with Natalia and two other people at one of the round tables in front of what appears to be a small podium. I’m glad I wasn’t forced to wear high heels. In fact, the wedge sandals are so soft, it feels like walking on a puffy cloud.
Natalia looks stunning in a scarlet gown with a sharp thigh slit. On closer inspection, she could pass as Penelope Cruz with a set of dark eyebrows, chestnut eyes, and chocolate hair styled in a voluminous chignon.
My gaze falls to the dinnerware, and dread rises in my throat. The table is so full of stuff, I can’t even tell which napkin is mine and which knife is Natalia’s. Who the hell needs three spoons and five glasses?
“You stare at the forks as if they’re going to stab you,” Daniel whispers in amusement.
“I tend to use one spoon for an entire menu. This is insane!” I hiss back.
Daniel snickers. “Just start from the outside and work your way in.” I grin, remembering Molly Brown telling Jack Dawson the same thing in Titanic when he had his first dinner with Rose and her family.
Despite my fear of being served caviar, oysters, and lobster—all things I despise—the food is amazing. A shrimp salad for starters, a carrot and orange soup next, pork with herb stuffing and applesauce as the main course, and a chocolate soufflé to die for as dessert. I try my best to keep my mouth closed as I chew and use a napkin to wipe my mouth instead of my forearm.
Daniel skillfully steers any conversation away from me, knowing my lack of social etiquette might result in an inappropriate outburst on my part. He keeps the couple sitting at our table—an expert for enzyme replacement therapy and his wife, I’ve learned—entertained with telling them about his latest investment in stem cell transplantation technology. The wife ogles my tattoos with disregard, and I swallow the urge to throw a witty comment her way about her dress squeezing her like an undersized condom.
“So, what does Mrs. Alvarez do?” the husband asks after talk about the stock market in Mexico ends. “An assistant of yours? Or a caretaker of the foundation?” His eyes are on me, but the question is meant for Daniel as if I’m a servant not worth being acknowledged.
“Actually,” Daniel starts, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “she’s an artist. One of her pieces will be sold at the auction tonight.”
It’s all I can do not to snort the water back into my glass. What auction? What drawing? And… what the fuck?
Before I can voice the last thought tumbling in my head, the husband says with an approving nod, “Oh, interesting. What kind of art—”
He gets interrupted by a man stepping up to the podium and tapping the microphone, the loud popping sounds making everybody cringe.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the fifth annual Sanfilippo Syndrome Foundation gala. It’s so wonderful to have so many people here today—people from America, Europe, Asia, and some from just down the road.” He pauses to let the crowd chuckle. “We are thrilled about what
each of you brought into this foundation. Every research, every workshop, and every volunteer helps to make the life of the children here livable. In the name of the Sanfilippo Syndrome Foundation, I thank you all for your support. And now, please welcome the man of the evening, the host of this amazing event, Mister Daniel DeLuca.”
The crowd applauds enthusiastically as Daniel rises from his chair and walks up the dais with his natural air of confidence, nodding in thanks to the people in passing. The hall grows silent as he lowers his head to the microphone and offers a million-dollar smile.
“Thank you for the warm welcome,” he starts. “This foundation is not just any foundation. It is my foundation—my life, my heart, my devotion. Each of you contributed to its success throughout the years, and I’m so proud how far we’ve come until today.”
While Daniel keeps the guests busy, I survey the people hanging onto every word he says. A few women with fake smiles and expensive jewelry look at him as if their hungry gazes would make his clothes disappear on the spot. He isn’t just the center of attention but also the center of all of their dirty fantasies. The realization forms a knot of hate in my middle, and it’s all I can do to wipe the killer glare from my face.
“I’m delighted to announce that the Sydney School of Public Health joined our organization last year. Their support is crucial to our success. My thanks also go to the Canadian Mental Health Association which…”
My mind swerves down another road while Daniel continues his speech. All these women can offer him so much more than I ever could, yet his eyes stay on me most of the time. Will he make good on his promise and undress me tonight? Will he give me what I crave and let me feel him inside me again? God, even the thought makes me clamp my thighs together in anticipation.
After his speech, he returns to his seat, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as the announcer starts with the auction, which brings me back to the fact that Daniel wants to sell one of my drawings.
Leaning into him, I whisper, “What piece were you talking about earlier? You didn’t tell me one of my drawings would fall under the hammer.” Daniel just answers with a wink that makes me huff in annoyance.
“The first object is this stunning Swarovski tiara, bids starting at five thousand dollars. Who’s in?” the auctioneer begins. I can’t believe my ears when the price rockets up to twenty grand in no time, all the husbands trying to get the tiara for their fancy wives.
Next, a Biedermeier mirror falls under the hammer for twelve grand, an Italian oil painting for fourteen, an antique statue for thirty, and—unbelievably—a diamond ring for twenty-eight grand.
When the auctioneer announces my drawing, I shift nervously in my seat.
“And last, I give you Diamond Eyes, a pencil drawing by…” He pauses, glancing at his cheat sheet. “Leonara Alvarez.”
Low murmurs hush over the crowd as my drawing appears in a magnified size on the screen next to the original hanging on the wall. My mouth pops open when I realize it’s Daniel’s portrait. I don’t know who named it Diamond Eyes, but it couldn’t be more accurate. The sunlight falling into the room lit up his face in a mesmerizing way, letting his expressive eyes sparkle along with the rings on his fingers curled around a glass of whiskey. It’s just a rough drawing with a lot of smudges, but you can clearly recognize Daniel’s face and gathering from the agitated whispers coming from the women, they know the model.
“Gentlemen, please announce your bids now. We’re starting at one thousand.”
“What?” I exclaim in astonishment, but no one shares my surprise.
“One-five. Two. Two-five. Three,” the auctioneer rattles off the bids while I’m rendered speechless. “Three-five, the gentleman’s bid over there. Four. Four-five.”
And on and on it goes as the women whip their paddles in the air, shooting each other death glares whenever one outbids the other. I cast a glance at Daniel who hides a cocky grin under the ringed finger resting on his lips. The sight melts my insides, and I forget all about being angry at him for doing this without my consent, knowing it’s for a good cause.
“I’m selling it this time, ladies,” the auctioneer prompts in a playful tone, bringing me back to the auction. I lost track of the bids completely, and I’m strung tight like a ribbon as the hammer slams onto the table, sealing the deal. “And Diamond Eyes goes to number seventeen for eleven-thousand dollars.”
“Eleven…” I mumble, but the sentence gets stuck in my throat. The woman who won the drawing grins victoriously. I wonder how she would react if she knew the artist was me, a girl below the lowest ranks amongst all these people.
“It’s a gorgeous drawing, darling,” Natalia says with an affectionate smile.
“Thank you,” I answer in a shy tone, feeling a blush on my cheeks.
“And worth every penny,” Daniel throws in with a seductive purr, plucking my heart straight out of my ribcage.
~~~
While Daniel exchanges pleasantries with potential donors, impressing the husbands with his attitude and killing the wives with his charm, I stay where I am next to Natalia who keeps me entertained with childhood stories of her son.
My eyes are constantly drawn to the man in question, his presence alone enticing me in a way I’ve never experienced, and my pulse quickens every time he holds my gaze as if he’s afraid someone might snatch me away from under his nose.
“I think I’m ready to call it a night,” Daniel declares in an exhausted tone upon returning.
“Of course, you must be tired after the long flight,” Natalia says. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control. Go get some rest.” With a nod, Daniel offers me a hand, one I take eagerly.
We remain silent as we make our way back, but I feel Daniel casting me sideway glances.
“You did great back there. I hope you enjoyed yourself?”
“Surprisingly, I did.” Daniel takes my hand and squeezes it, my eyes falling on our joined fingers. Who would have thought I’d ever enjoy holding hands with a guy? “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning on auctioneering my drawing?”
“Would you have given me permission?” he retorts with a smile.
“Probably not,” I admit, never having been one to show off my art, least of all my crappy portraits.
“Are you angry at me?”
I laugh at hearing his genuine concern. “No, it just took me off guard. I’m glad it was sold for a good cause.”
My response plasters a heartbreaking smile on his face. “Thank you sincerely for your precious gift,” he croons, bringing my hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, and I blush shamelessly. Jeez, what is it with this man and his power to inject my heart with a dose of speed?
When we reach our room, Daniel holds the door open for me, and I step inside unable to fight a smile at seeing a comfortable double bed waiting for us. I turn around to find Daniel watching me with a guarded expression as if contemplating his next move.
I make my move first with a blunt confession. “I don’t have on any underwear.” The reaction I’ve hoped for flickers in Daniel’s eyes—a sparkle mixed with shock and lust. It’s not that I decided to go half naked to the evening event, but thongs are not my thing, and anything else would have peeked through the flimsy fabric.
“A good thing you didn’t tell me sooner, or I would have ripped that dress off your body right then and there.”
I can’t help the mischievous smile showing, enjoying it to have any kind of seductive power for once. Hand moving behind my back, I reach for the zipper, but Daniel’s command stops me.
“Wait.” He saunters over to me like a lion on the prowl. With his dark gaze on me, he circles around my frame, the motion immediately forming a pit of fear in my belly.
“What—”
Suddenly, his hands are on my shoulders, keeping me from turning around to face him. “Do you trust me, Leonara?” he purrs, his breath wafting over my bare skin.
Why is he asking me this? Why now? Why tonight? He knows about
my one and only fear. Why would he want to wake my inner demons? “Daniel, I can’t—”
I gasp as his lips brush my ear, jittery all over at not seeing what he’s doing. “Do you want me to take you tonight, Leonara?” His challenging whisper comes with a threatening undertone. Why does it sound like a dare?
“Yes, but—”
His grip tightens. “Then I’m going to take all of you.”
My body reacts automatically to his commanding tone, my shoulder jerking as the ghosts of dark memories awaken. Sensing my anxiety, Daniel exposes my neck to trail his fingers up. I gasp at the touch coming from behind me, my brain battling between fear and lust. The combination of both sensitizes my nerve endings to the point I become a quivering bundle as Daniel’s fingers find the zipper.
“Trust me, Leonara,” Daniel whispers softly, the zipper moving down. “I won’t hurt you.” The dress slides off my torso. “I just want to worship you.” The fabric pools to the floor.
His words give me the strength to keep from kicking and screaming like mad. I want to be strong for him. I want to be strong for me.
My determination falters as fabric rustles behind me, my ears perking up to the sound of a bowtie snapping, buttons popping, and a belt buckle clanking. Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight against the invading memories, but it’s no use—my hands are shaking so hard, I have to cross them over my breasts like a shield.
“Leonara…” Daniel drawls, his voice tortured as if feeling my pain, and his arms wind around me, chest pressed against my back. The motion makes me whimper, but I stand my ground.
He won’t hurt me. He’s not him.
The more I shake, the more Daniel tightens his hug, waiting for me to calm. I concentrate on the feel of his hands—soft and gentle, not rough and unrelenting. I concentrate on his scent—fresh and exotic, not stale and sour.
As his lips connect with my neck, I exhale harshly, the sensation warming me up all of a sudden. My tension loosens, and he feels my submission, continuing with his soft kisses before he murmurs, “Lay down.”
