All That Glitters: Glitz, Glam, and Billionaires

by Michele Hauf

  “Huh, no.” He didn’t even turn.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Something very important. Go to sleep, Natalie.”

  That was it? She was dismissed without explanation.

  Her mind rattled by his unexplainable attitude, she spent the night tossing until exhaustion knocked her out. She woke at five o’clock with an incredible headache. Good thing they all had a day off on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving.

  Eric’s door was shut, and she didn’t try to enter. Obviously, he wanted privacy—absolute privacy, as in not sharing with his girlfriend. Did she still qualify for the title if he couldn’t share his problems or the mysterious phone call he’d received?

  What had the phone call been about?

  By nine o’clock, she heard Brian clanking pans in the kitchen, trying to cook something. Ken wouldn’t come today. She slid out of bed to brew a pot of coffee and fix breakfast. Enjoying his day off, Brian ate his pancakes and chattered about his sports activities.

  Catching her many glances toward the hallway, Brian said, “Eric’s not back yet.”

  “Back from where?”

  “I saw him leaving at eight. He said he had some important meeting. And then we’ll go skating.”

  So, things would go back to normal when he came back?

  The seamstress called her. Her ball gown was ready to be picked up. Not a moment too soon, with the DIF ball the next day.

  “Do you want to come with me or wait for Eric?”

  “I’ll wait for Eric. I don’t want to be late for skating.”

  At the seamstress’s, she tried on her red dress and loved it. Charlene had already paid for the alterations. When she returned home, Eric hadn’t come back yet. Tough, she could use her time to rehearse her show. Determined not to be concerned about his actions, she changed into a leotard, threw her coat on, and called a taxi.

  In the deserted studio of the ballet school, where she usually held her classes, she practiced her steps, rehearsed the two dances, and repeated the song she’d present.

  When Charlene had asked her to prepare a show, Natalie had thought it would be a good idea to use the concept that had brought her a standing ovation in Las Vegas. To thank Eric and express her love, she’d challenged herself to sing the modern piece “Need You, Love You” that she’d presented at the Colosseum and had spent the past three weeks rehearsing the new lyrics she’d created for the music.

  Concentrating on the next day’s performance, Natalie immersed herself in her art and completely forgot to check the time. It was 8:00 p.m. when she checked her phone and realized she’d received four texts and three phone calls from Eric—the last two messages in a worried tone. Bummer, her phone was on vibration mode, and she hadn’t heard it buzzing with the loud music playing.

  She called right away.

  “Natalie, where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m at the ballet school, rehearsing for tomorrow. I didn’t realize it was this late.”

  “I’m coming to pick you up.”

  “I’ll wait at the door.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Eric jumped out of his car and pulled her into his arms. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “As I said, I didn’t realize the time passed by.” She glanced at him. “I wasn’t sure you’d notice.”

  “How could you say such an awful thing?”

  “Eric, you ignored me all night and all day.”

  He scratched his forehead. “I was overwhelmed after talking to...to Paul. Imagine, he called last night when we were at Charlene’s. I couldn’t believe the things he said.”

  “Good things or bad things?”

  His jaw tensed and his expression grew somber. “He talked about the past. About my father. About himself and his brother and sisters. The way they tried to cope with the tragedy. It was as if he opened his heart. A one-time flooding. And then he offered reparation in a way...” Eric’s voice broke and he inhaled. “I was stunned. Not knowing what to say, what to think. He wanted an answer today.”

  Frustrated, she pressed her hands on her knees to stop her feet tapping. Eric had summarized the whole conversation in a few words. He hadn’t trusted her with real confidences.

  “An answer to what?”

  “To his suggestions.”

  “Listen, Eric, stop dancing around your words. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. I won’t insist.”

  “It’s not like that,” he said in a dull and troubled voice. “These are events that happened so long ago. They won’t interest you.”

  “Anything about you interests me. Either we’re a couple or we’re not.”

  “Yes, of course. As part of his reparation, he wants to transfer my parents’ caskets to Rensy Island and honor them with a state ceremony, and he insists on reinstating me with a full title and returning to my sisters, brothers, and me the full estate of the family.”

  Eric was right. These were very personal decisions she shouldn’t be part of.

  “And what did you decide?”

  “I spent the night on my computer, looking at old pictures of my family, recalling my father’s words. He was crystal clear about his intention not to set foot on Rensy Island ever again. Then I sent an email to my sisters and brothers in the morning. Teresa and Helen are older, married, with children. One lives in Columbus, Ohio, the other in Baltimore, Maryland. My brothers are younger but wiser than me. Carl is a captain in the Navy, and Steve, a resident in surgery in New York. Guess what? They can’t agree. The sisters want to have the ceremony, the brothers say it’s too late now. Besides, I was always the black sheep of the family, and they won’t listen to me.”

  “The most important thing is that you made peace with Prince Paul.”

  “Yes, and now I want to forget them all.” He chuckled with a dry, cynical sound. “And I feel like running away again.”

  “Ah,” she managed to grumble through stiff lips.

  “Not alone. With you.”

  “I’m staying right here.”

  “Then I’m staying with you. I love you, Natalie.”

  “I love you, too,” she said in a sigh. Would their love survive the stressful problems arising every day?

  At home, they found Brian asleep.

  “Are you spending the night on the computer again?”

  “I’m staying right here with you.” Eric gathered her against him for a deep kiss. “Don’t ever forget I love you.”

  She lay in his arms all night. They didn’t talk and didn’t make love. And she could feel his distraction.

  His family was claiming him, chaining him with golden manacles. Would he go to them or run away again?

  In both cases, she’d lose her Prince Charming.

  16

  “WOW! You look breathtaking.” Eric bolted from his chair in the living room, where he’d been waiting for Natalie. “Good thing I’m going to that ball with you, ’cause I wouldn’t have let you go alone, babe.” He ogled her, his grin widening. What a captivating picture she made in the red dress that molded to her like a second skin, transparent on her arms, legs, and back. And her hair piled on her head displayed a lovely neck.

  “May I return the compliment? You look stunning in a tux, my Prince Charming,” she quipped back with a disarming smile that sent his senses reeling.

  He kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat and trailed kisses along the tantalizing flesh of her neck. “Brian has already gone to Charlene’s house with Ken. How about we stay here together, and you dance for me alone?” He touched her cheek in a wistful gesture.

  “I wish we could. I love you, Eric. Don’t ever forget it.”

  He’d told her as much last night, and he’d meant it, yet he hadn’t found the strength to commit.

  “Wait a second.” He remembered the precious package Paul had given him last night and rushed to open the safe in his closet, digging out a velvet pouch.

  “Turn around and close your eyes.” He hung t
he pendant, a round sapphire surrounded by diamonds, at her throat and clasped the gold chain at her nape. “Don’t open your eyes yet.” He walked her to the mirror. “Now you can look.”

  Her eyes rounded, as big and blue as the pendant, and her jaw sagged. “Oh my God, this is so beautiful.”

  “It was my mother’s. A gift from Grandmother Catherine at her wedding. Paul brought my mother’s entire jewelry collection that was left behind. There’s a card indicating which piece goes to whom.”

  “Eric, it’s too big, too much for me.”

  “Nothing is too much for you, my love.” He kissed her softly, not wanting to mess up her makeup, and enveloped her in her warm coat. “Let’s go. We’re taking my car.” He grabbed the carry-on containing her dancing outfits and ballet shoes.

  In the hallway leading to the main ballroom, people were already milling at the bar. With her husband at her side, Princess Charlene welcomed her guests, in a gorgeous lime-green dress that highlighted her huge eyes.

  A hand on her back, Eric ushered Natalie toward a stunning couple, the man tall and confident, the beautiful blond woman in a blue dress smiling at her with curiosity. “Let me introduce you to my cousin Paul and his wife, Dr. Amy. I just met her yesterday.”

  They greeted Natalie with a warm affability that allowed her to relax and regain some poise. Prince Paul clapped Eric on the back. “Your girlfriend is a beauty. I can see you put your mother’s pendant to good use.”

  Natalie blushed to her ears as she overheard the male chat spoken in a low voice, while Amy asked her a few questions. “I can’t wait to see you dancing. Charlene sent us a video of your previous performance.”

  “I prepared a special show for tonight. I hope people will enjoy it.”

  A glass in hand, Scotch for Eric and a non-alcoholic daiquiri for her, they munched on the appetizers and mingled with the few guests Eric had worked with. An hour later, Eric escorted her to the dressing room where she’d don her dancing outfit. “Take your time. You have half an hour while the guests are proceeding to the ballroom and sitting at their dining tables.”

  Eric accepted another glass of Scotch from the bar, picked up his seating card, and scoffed at the labels with Prince Eric Devereux and Ms. Natalie Borikov. The day before, Paul had officially returned his title to him and insisted he should use it. Suppressing a shrug that attested to his spurn of titles, Eric ambled to the ballroom, where sumptuously decorated round tables of eight awaited the VIP guests. At the end of the huge room, a purple curtain hid the stage where Natalie would perform.

  Charlene had notified him that the three front tables would be presided by family members, with Paul and Amy at the center table, and Charlene and Scott at the one on the right. A hostess directed him to the front table on the left that Prince Eric should preside over. The place suited him. He planned to stand at the extreme left as he had at Caesars Palace to encourage and cheer his favorite dancer.

  At his table, he introduced himself and greeted the two couples already present, an oil tycoon from Texas and a major jeans manufacturer from Tennessee. Never short on pleasant stories, Eric played his role of royal host and had his guests laughing at his jokes. Taking advantage of the joyful mood at his table, he bragged about the dancer and had his little audience prepped to admire and applaud.

  From the main table, Prince Paul signaled Eric to come over. Eric excused himself and sauntered over to his cousin.

  Paul pushed out his chair and stood. “I’d like to introduce one of DIF’s new clients.” The man next to Paul turned and straightened. “Mr. Hugh Callahan.”

  Eric froze in his tracks, the blood draining from his face.

  Paul continued the introductions. “Please meet my cousin, Prince Eric Devereux.”

  “Prince Eric, my pleasure.” A smug grin on his face, Callahan held out a hand.

  Eric automatically shook it and nodded with the snobbishness of a born prince. Growing up in a palace had taught him at an early age to keep his expressions in check, and later, gambling in Las Vegas casinos had reinforced the necessity of a good poker face.

  “Prince Paul mentioned you’ve spent several years in Vegas, yet I don’t recall we’ve ever met.”

  “I often travel incognito.” Keeping his back ramrod straight allowed him to dominate the man he was itching to punch.

  Callahan’s eyes narrowed inquisitively and bored into Eric’s, as if searching his memory for a face. “If you ever come to Vegas again, I hope you’ll do me the honor of a visit.” Callahan handed him a business card that Eric pocketed without a second look.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you, Mr. Callahan. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded and spun, his head an inferno of anger and tension.

  Natalie would start her show in ten minutes. How was he to prevent her from meeting the man who’d almost abducted her in the past?

  Instead of returning to his place, he sidled by Charlene’s chair. “Please come out to the hallway. I need you.” He continued to the door.

  A few minutes later, she joined him. “You look upset,” she said.

  “I am. Immensely.”

  She tilted her chin, urging him to explain.

  “D’you know the man sitting next to your brother?”

  “Hugh Callahan, a new client from Las Vegas, and a very wealthy one.”

  “The same one Natalie was running away from. The one who offered her a restrictive contract to tie her to himself. The same one who wanted to get rid of Brian by sending him into rehab.”

  “Oh, no. I had no idea. He seems like a charming man.”

  “He’s an expert at trying to charm women all the way to his bedroom. Imagine if Natalie notices him before the show.”

  “I’ll make sure she stays backstage until it’s time for her dance. She’ll be in the spotlight, and the ballroom will be totally dark. She won’t see him. But later... I don’t know what to tell you, Eric.” She eyed him with the stern look that often intimidated employees and clients. “And frankly, I don’t understand you. She lives in your condo. You seem to care about each other, but you haven’t made a move yet.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  She shrugged. “She’s a gorgeous woman, a talented dancer, and a sweet person. If you need ten years to make up your mind about commitment, others won’t be so shy. Deal with it.” With a tip of her chin, she spun and returned to the ballroom.

  Deal with it? Damn it, how was he to protect Natalie now?

  Not that he had time to dwell on the problem. A bell chimed. “Our show is about to start,” someone announced over the loud-speaker. “Ladies and gentleman, the incomparable Natalie Borikev.” Thunderous applause burst throughout the ballroom.

  Eric snatched a white rose from the vase adorning the appetizer table, squeezed through the door kept ajar, and navigated his way to the left side and the front of the ballroom all the way to the edge of the stage.

  The music started, a piece from Gisele, and the curtain lifted, revealing the dancer in a short pale pink tutu, her arms forming a graceful circle in front of her, her long legs incased in matching hose and bent in a curtsying pose. She raised her head, scanning the darkness with a trembling smile and glancing to the left.

  From his vantage point, Eric noticed the sparkling pendant gracing her neck. She hadn’t removed it. Good Lord, she was a dream come true, a man’s fantasy, her face, her figure, her stance... His heart burst with pride. He waved his white rose and grinned.

  A dazzling smile replaced her timid expression. She straightened and lifted herself en pointe, and started to dance. For ten minutes, the guests remained entranced, following her every move, drinking in her beauty, flexibility, and artistic motions. She ended the dance with her trademark twenty-five fouettés, followed by a chassé—a few steps left, then right, allowing her to relax, and finally a cabriole that ended with her sliding to the floor in a split, a perfect grand écart, her head resting on her knee and her arms arched in the front.

  The mu
sic died, and the applause exploded. She lifted her head and smiled, then slowly straightened and bowed. The guests stood, clapping and shouting “bravo” and “encore.”

  She bowed again, ran en pointe to the right of the stage, and curtsied and waved, then sprinted to the left, bowed, and sent kisses. Eric threw her the white rose, and she bent to pick it up and brought it to her face to smell it and kiss it. She backed up and the curtain fell.

  The lights were switched on, allowing Eric to catch the satisfied smirk on Callahan’s face. The invitation had included an announcement of the show and the dancer’s name. The jerk had known he’d see her at the ball. And maybe he’d come specifically to woo her to Las Vegas. The bile rose in Eric’s throat. No one, not even the powerful Callahan, would take Natalie away from Eric. The lights switched off, and the music resumed for the next dance, The Firebird by Stravinsky.

  In a flame-red tutu, Natalie danced to the powerful music, jumping and running en pointe as the music’s crescendo escalated, pirouetting and imparting her emotions to the dance, and ending in a series of split leaps with one leg in front of her body and the other in back.

  She received another standing ovation and then disappeared backstage to change while Eric waited for her in the small corridor outside the dressing room. She exited the room, as beautiful as ever, with her dark hair now cascading on her back and her sky-blue eyes gleaming with euphoria.

  Eric wrapped her in his arms. “You were amazing, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, Eric, I got a standing ovation. Twice.”

  “You deserved it. You were fabulous.” He held her hand and escorted her to their table. The three couples congratulated her.

  Soft music played in the background, while sommeliers and waiters circulated, serving wine and setting the salad plates in front of the guests.

  The guests at her table toasted her success. Now off duty, Natalie indulged in a glass of rosé. She’d just finished her salad when a pretty blonde bent to her left and murmured, “Ms. Natalie, Prince Paul asked me to bring you to his table for a minute.”