Eve of Passion

by A. C. Arthur

  This apparently amused Trellier because he laughed, loudly. The sound irritated Ballard and his fingers curled at his sides.

  “She’s not worth all this you know,” Trellier said. “I mean, I’m assuming you haven’t slept with her yet or you’d know for sure she wasn’t worth the time. Look, I’ve just been having some fun where you two are concerned. Nothing serious, nothing for you to worry about. I’m not going to try to steal your girl, if that’s what you’re here to talk about.”

  Ballard shook his head. He moved until he was standing right up against Trellier’s desk. “No, I’m not worried about you stealing my fiancée. You see, I’m very confident in the man I am. I don’t need to blame a female for my shortcomings, nor do I need to assault one when I don’t get what I want.”

  The smile that had been all over Trellier’s face slipped slowly, surely, from his face. He sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

  “I see she’s decided to run her mouth. Still immature, still a liar. It’s unfortunate that you chose to believe her.”

  Ballard smirked. “What’s unfortunate is that you underestimate me.”

  “Is that supposed to be some type of threat?”

  “Oh, no, it’s a definite promise, Trellier. You keep going with these stories, you keep poking at Janelle and her father’s campaign, and you will regret it.”

  “Ha! You cannot threaten me, Dubois. I have just as much power as you, probably more since my face is all over the country, while yours is where? On a goddamned boat.” He lifted a hand, waving Ballard away. “Go on back to your little Boston wedding. Marry the bitch, for all I care. She wasn’t good enough for me five years ago and she’s definitely not good enough now.”

  Refusing to rise to Trellier’s bait, Ballard continued without flinching. “But her recollection of the sexual assault that occurred in Europe will be more than good enough for the authorities. And on the off chance that’s not enough for you, I’m sure your customers—you know, the women that spend a fortune on your products—would be more than happy to hear what she has to say.”

  For the first time, and like an arrow to the bull’s-eye, Trellier tensed. “Nobody will believe her. They’ll want to know why she waited so long to talk.”

  “They’ll be more interested in the fact that this wasn’t your first time assaulting a female.”

  Trellier went absolutely pale at that moment.

  “Janelle was down for anything I did to her. She wanted to please me, so she did whatever I asked. Except that one night and that was because she’d been talking to those stupid-ass girlfriends of hers all the time. They were always meddling, telling her what to do, what to say. She wanted it!” Trellier roared.

  Ballard shook his head. “That’s why Janelle fought you. It’s why Natalie Jackson chased you out of her house with a knife. You’re a piece of shit, Trellier. And if I had my way I’d be calling the police and a press conference to air all your dirty laundry. Lucky for you, I’m going to make you an offer you’d better not refuse.”

  Trellier looked to the window, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Then he looked back at Ballard. “What do you want?”

  Punkass, Ballard thought with another shake of his head. Ready to assault females, but no backbone to fight for his reputation at all. No, he’d do whatever Ballard said, give him whatever he wanted to keep this from getting out. He wanted to punch him for just sitting there breathing.

  “I don’t want her name in your mouth, in your mind, not even in your freakin’ search history—do you understand me? Not another picture, another story, another quote, nothing. Are we clear?”

  “Whatever, man, she’s just another bitch. You are being way too serious about all this.”

  Ballard had been so close to leaving, so close to just stating his case and walking the hell out of this disgustingly nauseating office. And then the jackass had opened his mouth one more time. Ballard was around the desk before he could think to stop himself. One punch, that was all it took and Trellier was sprawled on the floor.

  “Her name is Janelle and she’s about to become my wife. If you ever think about addressing her or referencing her again, it better be as Mrs. Dubois.”

  “Whatever, man, you broke my effing nose,” Trellier whined.

  Ballard was already walking out, the tape recorder he’d slipped into the pocket of his jacket still rolling. The private detective he’d hired to find out everything there was to know about Trellier right after the dance had given him the information on Natalie Jackson. She’d never wanted to press charges either, but it was good information to have just in case. For the most part, Ballard had decided to respect Janelle and Ms. Jackson by not feeding this information to the police himself. But if Trellier ever grew a set of balls and actually came after Janelle again, Ballard had his almost confession on tape. And if that wasn’t enough to get him arrested, he’d simply break his damned nose, again.

  Chapter 14

  Dinner with Janelle, her father and brother had gone as well as could be expected. Actually, Ballard hadn’t expected it to go badly at all. From the things Janelle had told him about her relationship with her father, he got the impression that Darren Howerton had been leaning on his daughter way too much in the past years. The moment she became Ballard’s wife that would stop. He could understand her desire to take care of her father and help ease his grieving, but he was sure she’d done that and then some. Asking her to secure Ballard’s and his family’s support had been a little over-the-top in Ballard’s estimation. Especially since Howerton knew his father—he could have simply asked for support himself.

  In retrospect, he may not have been in the position he was now—about to be married to a terrific woman—if Darren Howerton hadn’t thought to impose on his daughter one last time. So he’d swallowed that little bit of ire and moved on. It was Darren who had seemed a little stilted during dinner, but Janelle hadn’t appeared to notice. As for DJ Howerton, he was happy for his sister, happy she would be getting out of the Howerton house, as he’d told Ballard just before they’d left.

  “She’s settled for being here, for running her business and taking care of Dad. She deserves so much more out of life,” DJ had said as he and Ballard stood by Ballard’s car. Janelle was packing an overnight bag, so the two men had a few moments alone.

  “She says she’s happy here,” Ballard countered, unsure of how much he could actually learn from DJ.

  “She’s happy as long as Mom and Dad were happy. That’s how Janelle is. If she thought it would make life easier for anybody else, that’s what she did. But it’s past time for her to live for her. You make her smile. You make her glow. I think you’re good for her.”

  Ballard had shaken the man’s hand after that, promising to give him a call the next time he was in New York.

  Now he and Janelle were once again in his penthouse. She’d gone immediately into his bedroom to put her bag and purse down and he fixed them each a glass of wine and took them into the living room, where he removed his suit jacket and tie and waited for her.

  “That was a lot less painful than I anticipated,” she was saying when she came back out.

  She’d removed her heels and now wore flat slipperlike socks on her feet. Her khaki slacks and pink blouse were all that were left of the day’s attire. Even her hair, which had been pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, was now hanging free. She looked relaxed and comfortable and when Ballard let himself stare at her a second longer, he realized how comfortable and natural this scene appeared. Two successful adults, home after dinner, about to share a glass of wine and wind down for the night. Was this what they would do every night for the foreseeable future?

  “Your brother seems like a nice guy,” he said when it seemed he was taking too long to reply.

  “DJ’s a great guy. I wonder when some woman’s going to co
me along and snap him up. I’d hate for him to spend all his time working,” she said.

  Ballard picked up the glass he’d set on the table, offering it to her as they both stood in front of the couch.

  “Thanks,” she replied before taking a seat.

  Ballard sat, as well, but didn’t pick up his glass. Instead he reached over to the coffee table and picked up the stack of papers that had been lying there. Clearing his throat because suddenly it felt very dry, he handed the papers to her.

  “When you get a second, if you could just review and sign those.”

  Janelle nodded, bringing the glass to her lips for a sip as she looked down at the papers.

  Ballard didn’t look at her, but he wondered what she was thinking. What was going through her mind as she read the first paragraphs? How would she react? Would she sign? Would she refuse? Would the wedding be called off?

  In the span of about twenty seconds all those questions ticked off in his mind, no answers, or rather, possible answers that made his heart beat faster, panic slipping down his spine in icy tendrils. He reached for the glass of wine and took a huge gulp before sitting back on the couch, still not looking at Janelle.

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see her leaning forward to put her glass back on the table. She then got up, papers in hand, and went into the bedroom. Ballard resisted the urge to groan or to go after her, but he did pick up his glass again and empty the contents. This wasn’t a business deal, he thought, possibly a tad too late. He should have talked to her about the agreement first, should have gotten her opinion and taken it into consideration before presuming this was the way to go. He’d have to approach things differently once they were married, to get used to the idea of discussing the important decisions between them instead of presenting them like another business deal.

  He could do that, he thought, running his palms over his thighs. He’d graduated magna cum laude a year early; there was no reason he couldn’t get the hang of this relationship thing in time to build a successful marriage. He could... Where the hell was she and what was taking her so long?

  As if he’d conjured her, she appeared standing before him, extending the papers back to him. “Here you go,” she said.

  Ballard took the papers from her, relief washing over him like a waterfall. She’d signed them and there had been no argument, no hurt feelings and no rejection. He was just about to say something, to lean over and kiss her, possibly, take her to bed and make long, sweet love to her for the rest of the night. But he looked down at the papers first, and all movement, all coherent thought ceased.

  “You had a prenuptial agreement drawn up?” he asked, a little more than astonished.

  She sat beside him once more, watching as she held up the papers he’d given her. She wiggled them at him. “So did you. Great minds must think alike.”

  Ballard didn’t know how he felt about this development. He hadn’t for one second considered she might do this, that she’d even be thinking along those lines.

  “You expect me to sign a prenup?” he asked, the words foreign to his ears.

  “I guess we both expected each other to sign one. So I say we go over both, come up with our common points and have a new agreement drawn up in the morning. We’ll both sign and move on. I was also thinking about where we would live today. This is a great place, but my business is in Wintersage. I know that yours is here, so we should probably talk about some common ground.”

  Common ground, she was saying. Ballard’s temples throbbed. This was a relationship, correct? Just a few short minutes ago he’d feared he was handling this like a business deal. Now Janelle sounded as though she’d walked into the boardroom and had taken a seat right next to him at the conference table.

  “So you’re protecting your assets, just as I was protecting mine?” he asked, still not sure he understood exactly what was going on.

  “Yes. It’s smart for both of us. I mean, it’s obvious we’re not marrying each other for any type of business gain, but it would be irresponsible if we didn’t even address it,” she told him. She’d crossed her legs in the chair and was now flipping through the agreement. “Page one of yours looks good.”

  Ballard stood, dropping the papers she’d given him onto the coffee table. He rubbed a hand down the back of his head and went to stand at the window.

  “We’re getting married in three days,” he said, looking out toward the night sky.

  “Yes, it’s just three days away. Did you get the email I sent earlier with the seating chart? It’s been a madhouse at the office with all three of us working double time with our own clients and then doing things for this wedding. Sandra’s freaking out that my dress may not be done in time. I told her it was okay—I was sure I had something in my closet I could wear instead,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I saw the email. My grandparents confirmed with all their friends and are going out today to find the perfect dress for my grandmother. Oh, I added my secretary to the guest list. I forgot to tell you.” He was talking but he wasn’t thinking. No, he was thinking but what he was thinking didn’t seem to be in line with what they were doing. Something inside him said this was wrong, that this was not how things should be going. He’d had a plan, a set of events that would lead them down the aisle to an agreeable union, but this—it just didn’t seem right. He frowned, then turned back to look at her.

  “That’s fine. We have a few extra spaces because my uncle and his wife are on a Mediterranean cruise and won’t be back in time. You know Brenda, my event assistant that you met at the homecoming dance. She stopped by the office today with two magazines. I wanted to scream when she dropped them onto my desk but then I looked inside and saw the nicest picture of us. It was when we went to lunch the other day at the Quarterdeck. I swear these reporters must hide in the bushes. I never see them the way I do on TV, thrusting cameras in celebrities’ faces all the time. Not that I’m complaining, just observing,” she finished, and flipped to another page of the papers he’d given her. “We’re covering the same ground here. I think it’ll be simple for our attorneys to merge this into one document. I don’t need any type of settlement and you’re not asking for one, so it should be simple.”

  But it wasn’t simple, Ballard thought, looking over at her. Nothing about this moment, these past few days, was as simple as he’d thought they would be when he asked her to marry him. It had been the most logical decision and yet...now he was having second thoughts. He couldn’t pinpoint why, just a feeling in his gut that wasn’t sitting well, an urge to do something differently that he wasn’t sure he should dismiss.

  She refolded the papers and set them on the table. “This is done.” She stood and came over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You look stressed. Is everything okay at work?”

  “Yes,” he replied after a few seconds, loving the feel of her arms around him. She’d done this on more than one occasion this past week, holding him against her as if she needed him there. “Everything’s fine,” he told her, wrapping his own arms around her shoulders. “Construction is under way. They’re working on an expedited schedule in an effort to beat the winter weather. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about but I’ve got my best site manager heading to New York in the morning. He’ll keep me posted while we’re away the next two weeks.”

  “I can’t wait to get away,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest. “I don’t usually like surprises but I’m excited about heading off to a secret honeymoon location.”

  “So am I,” Ballard responded, lifting a hand to run down the back of her head, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of her hair.

  He held her tightly, closing his eyes to the warmth spreading throughout him at her touch. Or was the warmth spreading throughout him for another reason? Of course he wanted to make love with her—that need never seemed to ebb. Instead it built at
an alarming rate each time he heard her voice, saw her face. They’d been together more this week than anytime during their short romance, and it hadn’t really seemed like enough.

  “Hey,” she said, looking up at him. “Let’s hop in the hot tub. I keep peeking into that room each time I’m here. Since we may or may not continue staying here, I’d like to have a turn in there. What do you think?”

  Ballard looked down at her, stared into the light brown eyes he’d grown accustomed to looking at, saw the little mole at the corner of her right eye. Her lips were just about bare of lipstick or the gloss she preferred to wear and yet they were all the more enticing to him. When they spread into a smile, he felt as if someone had punched him straight in the gut, and he almost buckled under the pressure. Instead he smiled in return, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose.

  “Your wish is my command,” he replied.

  * * *

  When Janelle climbed on top of him, her breasts swollen, nipples hardened and just a breath away from his mouth, Ballard realized just how good an idea this hot tub escapade was.

  The warmth of the water bubbling around their naked bodies had only stirred him more. As she lowered herself slowly onto his erection, he closed his eyes to the sensations rippling through his body, the thoughts prickling his mind.

  “Look at me,” she whispered, settling her hips over him until he was buried deep inside her. She could have asked him to rob a bank or jump off a mountain at this moment and Ballard would have gladly done it.

  He opened his eyes to stare up at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tightly as his hips jutted upward of their own accord.

  “I want you to watch me, to know that in just three days we’ll be like this forever,” she whispered, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she raised up slightly, then came down over his length once more.