“Thank you,” Sophia and Derek said in unison as the second man in uniform nodded and joined the other in the cockpit.
Derek leaned toward his wife and whispered in her ear, “Alone again.” Pulling away and facing her, his eyes glistened.
“Why, Mr. Burke, whatever do you have in mind?”
AS DEREK AND SOPHIA drove toward Palo Alto behind the logistics van containing her art work, Derek asked, “Do you have a dress for tomorrow night?”
Sophia’s expression fell. “Oh no, I’ve been so excited about this sale and everything we had to do that I haven’t had a chance.” She glanced toward her husband. “I don’t expect this is an occasion for a dress I already own.”
“Well, apparently not. The other day, I learned we’re attending with my boss, Roger Cunningham, and his wife, but the big news is the CEO of our parent company is one of the featured speakers. His name is Rawlings—Anthony Rawlings. I haven’t met him, but I’ve listened to him on web conferences. Since we are one of his companies and he’ll be there, everyone is supposed to do it up right.”
“All right.” She said apprehensively. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m glad you didn’t get a dress yet.”
“You’re glad?” she asked surprised.
“Yes, if you’d gotten one before then it would’ve been on my meager salary, but now you’ll have your money from the sales, and you can get whatever your heart desires.”
Sophia pressed her lips together. “Your salary is hardly meager, and I have no idea how to shop with that kind of money. My heart’s desire is cotton gauze.”
“Would you like some help?”
She giggled. “Now you’re a professional shopper?”
Laughing, he replied, “No, but I do know what I like to see you wear.” He glanced toward his beautiful wife. “And what I enjoy you not wearing.”
“Well, although easier to shop for, it sounds hardly appropriate for this gala. I do have a hair appointment tomorrow afternoon. Do you have your tuxedo?”
“I do, and I was serious about that help. I’m sure Danni—”
“No, thank you,” Sophia interrupted.
“I was going to say, I’m sure Danni knows where you could go.”
“And I’m sure that she’d be glad to tell me.”
“I think you read too much into things. Do you want me to ask?”
“Well, since I’m in a pinch, fine, but don’t call her now; it can wait until tomorrow.”
Their car pulled into a parking space near the paneled van as Mr. George eagerly emerged from the front of his studio. Before they could enter, he spoke rapidly on the street, “Ms. Sophia, I’m so surprised you were able to get all your art work settled so quickly. Of course, it is wonderful. I heard from the buyer today. The mystery investor will be in town tomorrow night, and he wants the paintings delivered to his hotel.”
Sophia nodded. “Well, can that be done?”
“Oh, yes!”
Listening to Mr. George’s words, Sophia looked to Derek and her heart filled with pride as she saw his delighted expression. Finally, her manners returned. “Mr. George, this is my husband, Derek Burke.”
The next day, sitting in the stylist’s chair, Sophia mentally went through her wardrobe for the evening. The day had started early with her visiting numerous boutiques in Santa Clara, all at the recommendation of Derek’s PA. When the visits yielded no bounty, Sophia debated more boutiques in Palo Alto versus big department stores in San Francisco. The department stores won. Time wasn’t her friend; Sophia needed an evening gown, and she needed it yesterday, so while remembering Derek’s comments, she tried to shop without looking at prices. It worked until she needed to pay.
Nevertheless, Sophia pushed on, determined to make Derek proud at this important gala. As the young man, with way too many piercings, pulled and pinned her long, blonde hair, she hoped that the Cameron Marc Valvo silk chiffon gown would fit the bill. It was the third dress she tried on at Saks and about the tenth for the day, yet from the moment she saw herself in the full length mirror, Sophia knew it was the one she liked.
The bright indigo color made her gray eyes shimmer with a blue hue. The plunging V neckline, together with the gathered bust and bodice accentuated her assets. In a nut shell, her breasts looked bigger and her waist looked smaller. The flowing silk chiffon outer layer reminded her of the gauzy skirts she liked to wear. Based on pure esthetics, it was the gown she wanted; she continued to avoid the dreaded price tag.
The sales associate was very helpful, obviously working on commission. She emphatically expressed Sophia’s need for new shoes for this exquisite dress. A mirrored metallic leather sandal completed the ensemble. The heels were a little over four inches, but Sophia had experience in heels while wining and dining art investors.
She shivered at the memory of paying for her outfit. Her sensible self screamed—it’s an outfit, for one night! However, her rarely-touched shopping side purred—but you look gorgeous in it, and Derek will be pleased with the result. Sophia quieted the internal debate by reasoning—I just made a ton of money on three paintings. I deserve this.
It was that voice that sang triumphantly as she signed the receipt for sixteen hundred dollars, give or take a few dollars. The hairstyle, facial, and professionally applied make-up added to the total of her day.
The man with the piercings slowly spun her. Peering into the large mirror, Sophia viewed his masterpiece from all angles. Completely outside of her comfort zone, Sophia eyed the woman in the mirror. Courageously, she nodded in approval. The make-up was next. Yes, Sophia told herself, I can do this, for Derek.
Amber clapped her hands like a school girl when Harry entered her condominium. “You look so handsome all cleaned up; you should try it more often.”
His expression warned his sister to not get too excited about this. “Since you’re dating Keaton, you two should be attending this.”
“I really don’t like these kinds of things. I mean, the charity is worthy and all, but the hob-knobbing isn’t my thing.”
Harry eyed her suspiciously. “And what makes you think it’s mine?”
She grunted a stifled laugh. “I know it’s not, but it’s Claire’s. She’s good at this kind of thing. She’ll be good for SiJo.”
Harry walked around nervously, not sure if he should sit or stand. The tuxedo felt like a suit of armor.
“Will you relax? You look very handsome, and just wait until you see Claire’s—” The ringing of Amber’s cell phone interrupted her thought. “Sorry, it’s Liz. It might be about your car. I have a SiJo driver coming to get you two in about twenty-five minutes.”
Harry could only hear Amber’s side of the conversation, “Yes, Liz, is everything all right? Really? When did you find this out? All right, well thank you for letting me know, however, I find it hard to believe this information wasn’t available sooner. No, no, it’s all right. Oh. What about the car? Okay then, twenty more minutes. Bye”.
He could tell by the change in his sister’s tone that something was amiss. “What’s that all about?”
Amber sighed. “Remember the confrontation in the kitchen between Claire and Emily?”
“How could I forget?”
“Well, do you think she meant what she said?”
“Who, Emily or Claire?”
“Either, but I’m more concerned about Claire.”
Harry thought for a moment and then replied, “Do I think she’d still go to this if Rawlings were present? Yes, but why are you asking?”
“It seems he isn’t sitting at your table because he’s one of the speakers. He’ll be sitting at the head table.”
Forgetting his tailored tuxedo, Harry sank onto the sofa. Subconsciously, he blew his blonde hair from his eyes; however, this evening, his normally unruly hair was gelled back. The only movement from his deep exhale was a subtle repositioning of his long lashes.
His tone was one not often heard, and Amber recognized her brothe
r’s pinned up animosity. “You know damn well Liz knew about this, before now.”
“No, I don’t. She’s a good assistant. I can’t fire her because you two have history.”
“Then fire her because of shit like this. She’s trying to derail this evening, and it has nothing to do with SiJo; she’s doing it because it’s me with Claire.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Like hell I don’t!”
Claire took one last, long look at herself in the mirror. She did a slow spin, trying to see the whole package. The dress she’d chosen with Emily’s help was a Donna Karan emerald green gown. It created an hourglass figure, better, in Claire’s opinion, than the one hidden underneath. Its sweetheart neckline was perfect to showcase her grandmother’s necklace. The cap sleeves and crossover design on both the front and back fit perfectly. Of course, she’d had it shortened. Now with the Jimmy Choo, sling back, peep-toed pumps complete with four and a half inch heels, the hem brushed the top of her toes, making her closer to Harry’s six plus foot height. Turning ever so slowly, her gaze lingered on the cut-out back. It didn’t go as low as her white sundress, but nonetheless, it exposed a large portion of skin. Smiling, Claire knew Harry would like that.
Peering closer at the woman in the mirror, she analyzed her hair. Claire decided to do it herself; she enjoyed the primping. It had been a long time since she’d dressed up this much. Yes, she agreed to do it for Amber, yet truth be told, she enjoyed the occasional formal occasion. It was part of her life with Tony she sometimes missed. When he first started taking her out, she thought of it like playing Dress-up—make-believe; then over time, it was a fun getaway from the confines of the estate. It never seemed to matter what was happening in their private lives as once the door of the limousine opened and they stepped in front of the cameras, they were the perfect couple. Those memories didn’t feel jaded or feigned; instead, they felt warm and exciting.
After the first time they went to the symphony, Claire never feared the events. She quickly learned how to behave and very much enjoyed the social Anthony.
Pushing the memories of her and Tony away, she looked again at her hair. Piled high on the back of her head, there were ringlets falling down her exposed neck. She knew it was a style Tony liked, but hopefully, so would Harry, and thankfully, Tony wouldn’t be there.
As she touched up her lipstick, she heard Harry and Amber’s voices from down the hall. Frowning, Claire realized they didn’t sound happy. She did one last scan, grabbed her purse, her light wrap, and headed for the living room. She wanted to know what was happening.
The sound of her heels upon the polished wood floor caused both Amber and Harry’s heads to turn in her direction. Immediately, their quarrel ceased and smiles radiated from each face. Amber found her voice first, “Claire, you look beautiful! Thank you so much for doing this; Simon would be so proud.”
Simon’s name brought a wave of sadness. Claire had been in her room, thinking about Tony, about to go to this function with Harry, and now Amber mentioned Simon. Despite the melancholy sentiment, Claire feigned her brightest smile. Perhaps all formal attire came complete with a lovely mask. “Thank you, that’s very sweet.”
Before Amber could reply, Harry made his way to Claire’s side and smiled lovingly down into her painted face. “I wish I were better at words; all I can think is Wow!”
Claire felt her cheeks blush. “That says a lot.”
“Maybe this thing won’t be so bad; after all, I’m going to have the most beautiful woman on my arm,” Harry said as he lifted his elbow. Claire obediently slid her petite hand into the crook of his arm.
“You look pretty amazing in that tuxedo, too,” Claire purred, enjoying the adoration radiating from Harry’s intensely blue eyes.
Amber beamed. “Seriously, thank you, both of you.”
Claire’s expression became more serious as she glanced between both Harry and Amber. “What were all the loud voices about?”
Harry straightened his stance; his shoulders filled the confines of his jacket. “Amber just received some news.”
Defensively, Claire straightened her posture, too. “What’s wrong? What kind of news?”
Amber spoke quickly. As if saying the words in rapid succession would lessen their sting. “Liz just called. While it’s true Mr. Rawlings won’t be at your table, she just learned he’ll be there. He’s one of the speakers.”
Claire’s mind once again went into reverse. She remembered many events, sitting at the head table, and listening to her husband speak. “So he’ll be at the head table,” she said matter-of-factly.
Amber and Harry both released their breaths.
Claire looked surprisingly at each face, trying to read their expressions. “Did you think I’d be upset? Did you think I’d say forget it?”
Amber moved forward and clutched Claire’s hands. “I’d understand if you did. I mean it’s one thing to plan for this, but it’s another to have it thrown on you at the last minute.”
Claire shrugged. “When it comes to Tony, I’ve learned the best way to be prepared is to expect everything and nothing. Do I wish he wasn’t there? Sure, but I’ve sat at those head tables. You honestly can’t see many faces in the crowd. At least I never did.” She reached again for Harry’s arm and looked up and into his eyes, filled with concern. “Are you still fine with this?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I’m the one with you on my arm.”
Claire’s face launched into its biggest grin. “Yes, you are.”
Her subconscious brewed below the surface. Could she really do this? Could she be next to Harry with Tony in the same room? She said you don’t see faces, but in the pit of her stomach she knew, at any moment during the evening, she would turn and see, even feel his dark penetrating stare.
Seeing the relieved expressions of her friends, Claire’s resolve strengthened. Apparently, her mask skills were still very much intact.
Chapter Thirty-Two
If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
—William Shakespeare
“It’s good to see you smile.” His deep throaty voice lifted her spirits, as much as his fully masculine body filled her.
Marie grinned at the face inches away, finding herself lost in the sparkling intensity of his dark mahogany irises.
Watching the beautiful woman beneath him, Nathaniel enjoyed her soft, blissful expression as their bodies moved in rhythm. He could lose himself in the gray eyes that muted beneath her long lashes. Her soft moans of pleasure were like music to his ears as he escorted her through their own private world.
Her eyes parted as he felt her body relax under his weight. He wanted the warmth and closeness to go on forever. Her lips brushed his cheek as she spoke, “It feels good to smile. For the longest time, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Nathaniel didn’t want Marie to go there. She’d spent too much time in darkness and despair. When she finally awoke from her fall, the realization that she’d missed Sharron’s passing was exacerbated by the knowledge that their baby did not survive.
He’d provided around the clock medical treatment. Her body healed, but her mind refused to mend. She slept most of the time, and when she ate, it was only enough to pacify his pleas. On the rare occasion he could engage her in conversation, the hollow look in her eyes and continuous tears broke his heart. It was almost too much. They’d just buried the love of his life, and suddenly, he saw the same vacancy in the eyes of his one source of vitality.
Nathaniel spent his days at work, it was the only place he had control. He could read reports, purchase companies, sell them off like a fire sale, and rake in millions. His CFO, Jared Clawson, kept deals in motion, even when Nathaniel’s mind was sidetracked by thoughts of the women, Sharron and Marie, who he wanted to please but continually failed.
There were deals, stocks and securities, which Samuel didn’t unders
tand. He didn’t understand how each victory, each dollar, justified Nathaniel’s existence. Sometimes, Nathaniel wondered why he was put on this earth if everything he touched and loved—died, and then he’d see profits as Clawson and Mathews reported another conquest. It filled him with the same resolve he felt as he provided Sharron with the life her father thought she’d never obtain. The satisfaction was superficial compared to the love he’d seen in her eyes or Marie’s, but it was enough to sustain him, to propel him to the next deal.
From where Nathaniel sat, Samuel had a different perspective. He didn’t know the desolate emptiness that comes with poverty and dejection. He’d always enjoyed his mother’s coddling and his wife’s health. How could he know what it felt like to have someone disapprove of you, as Sharron’s father had him? At least Nathaniel ended the ridiculous notion of sending Marie away.
Oh, the look on his son’s face when he learned Marie was pregnant. Samuel’s overpowering animosity was respectfully quelled by the sadness of another loss. While Samuel may not have shared the sympathy, Amanda did. On the day Sharron went to heaven, accompanied by Nathaniel and Marie’s unborn son, Amanda appreciated the great loss and wisely guided her husband through appropriate conduct.
Thank God, Anton was home. After witnessing the scene on the stairs, his condolences were the only ones Nathaniel would accept. After all, Anton was the one to save her. Nathaniel didn’t know what he’d have done if he’d lost Marie too.
After months, Nathaniel eventually resorted to psychiatric therapy. Marie didn’t realize she was being treated; she never would have permitted it. Her stubbornness, despite her despair, gave Nathaniel reason to smile. He hired a therapist to be her nurse. She encouraged—no pushed, Marie to perform daily activities: rise, shower, eat, walk, etc. During those activities, the nurse engaged Marie in conversation. In time, and with encouragement, Marie re-entered the world of the living.
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 88
