by Ludi and angyxoxo
The next day was an unusually bright
and sunny Tuesday – not least because Christmas was fast
approaching. That afternoon Emma was supposed to be out eating lunch with
Sebastian Shaw, but instead she was in Rogue’s apartment – not that she had any
real reason to be complaining, since her date with Shaw last Saturday evening
had been a disaster.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like
him. In fact they got along well as
casual business acquaintances; it was just that anything more between them was
doomed to catastrophic failure. For one
thing he was a good twenty years older than Emma and Emma did prefer her
toy-boys. For another he was so much
like her that instead of flirting over dinner they’d ended up talking about
rate hikes and corporate takeovers.
Which was all well and good, but it didn’t make her feel any better
about the situation in hand, namely getting Bobby Drake off her mind for
good. Consequently she’d spent half the
meal with her mind firmly elsewhere.
Shaw was a thick-skinned old devil
though, and hadn’t noticed Emma’s mind wandering at all. In fact, he’d enjoyed their night of evil
scheming so much that he’d suggested they have lunch together the following
Tuesday. And like a fool, she’d
accepted.
Conveniently however, Rogue had
finally phoned the plumber to come round and had asked Emma to sort everything
out for her. At the time Emma had
grumbled and moaned about it, but now she couldn’t be more thankful for the
opportunity to avoid having lunch with the male mirror image of herself. So she’d driven to Rogue’s apartment, let
herself in, and waited for the plumber to appear.
In the meantime she pottered round
Rogue’s place, sighing at the dirty dishes still left in the sink, the
magazines sprawled all over the coffee table, and the unwashed clothes still
piled on the bed. She knew her friend
had been going through a tough time recently, but this mess really was
ridiculous. Then again, Emma did have a housemaid to clean all her stuff, but
she really couldn’t stand anything being in disorder.
Emma rearranged a few of the
romances on the bookshelf and sighed irritably to herself. Where was that godforsaken plumber? It seemed like everyone she met these days
was either unreliable or incompetent.
It really was most annoying.
Just as she was about to phone the
plumbing company and give them a piece of her mind, a knock came at the door.
“It’s about time,” she muttered to
herself and went to open the door. She
was very much surprised to find that the man in the doorframe wasn’t the
plumber at all. He didn’t have his
toolbox for one thing. He was dressed
in a very nice Armani suit and shades for another.
“Can I help you?” Emma asked in her
usual frosty tone. Nevertheless she
purposely took a bit of the edge out of her voice because a) he looked somewhat
respectable and b) he was drop-dead gorgeous.
Rogue, what exactly have you not
been telling me, she thought to herself as she looked this perfect specimen
of manhood up and down thoroughly.
“I’m lookin’ for Anna,” came the
reply, complete with prerequisite sexy accent.
Emma was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. “Anna
Raven. Is she in?”
“And you are…?” Emma asked, looking
him over again. He returned the favor,
just for a moment, no doubt appreciating the white bustier she’d chosen to wear
today – not to mention the two appendages it was supposedly supporting but was
vainly attempting to contain instead.
“Remy. Remy LeBeau,” he introduced himself, leaning against the
doorframe casually, a slight smile playing across his lips as he gazed at her
bosom. “I’m Ms. Raven’s boss.”
Emma sensed a man whose usual
tactics would be an attempted seduction, but he seemed far too distracted to do
so, much as he appeared to appreciate the generous vision of femininity before
him.
“Ahhhh,” she couldn’t help but
voice. So this was the infamous Remy LeBeau Rogue was constantly gabbing on
about. Emma had to admit, he certainly
was delicious – and she had a very big sweet tooth when it came to men. But she did
have morals and she had sense enough to know that if Rogue really liked him –
which she suspected she did – then he was well off the menu. “Sorry, Mr.
LeBeau,” she said, “but I’m afraid Anna’s out-of-state. Is there a message I can pass on for you…?”
She saw his face fall and decided he
wasn’t used to having such a hard time with women. Way to go, Roguey, she
thought wickedly to herself, suppressing a chuckle. He’s totally into you, and
you’re making him suffer! Now there’s a
girl after my own heart!
“No,” he replied at last, “no
message. I was jus’ wonderin’ if you
had a phone number… or an address… or any way I can contact her?”
Jesus, he really was into her. Just wait until Emma told Betsy and Jean all this!
“Sorry, she didn’t leave anything…”
“Den you know how long she’ll be
gone?”
“She said maybe a week…”
“A week?” If he looked anything, it
was distressed. He ran a hand through
his hair, continued: “Listen, Ms. Uh…”
“Ms. Frost,” she offered. “Emma
Frost.”
“Emma… a pleasure t’ meet you, by de way… Is dere any chance y’ could tell
me where she is? Only I really need t’ talk to her and it’s
kind of urgent and…”
Emma almost felt sorry for him, and
that was not in her nature. Damn – he was really, really into Rogue!
“Look,” she interrupted, finally
taking pity on him. “She said something about going back down to
Mississippi. But if you want my advice,
you’ll leave her well alone.”
He looked deflated at her words and
she was moved to reassure him.
“Listen. She likes you,
loverboy. But wherever she is right
now, she’s upset, and I suggest you wait for her to get back to NY before you
tell her this ‘something’ that’s so urgent it’s got your boxers in a twist.”
She paused and he gave her a look, an odd mixture of innate charm and puppy-dog
sadness. But you’re not going to listen to my advice, are you, she thought,
and gave a theatrical sigh. “She’s gone back home to Caldecott County,” she
finally confessed, not knowing why she’d caved into him so easily. He grinned, and before she could protest
he’d taken her hand and kissed it.
“Ms. Frost, dis Cajun is eternally
indebted to you.”
“I wouldn’t owe me anything if I
were you,” she warned him half humorously, looking him over again and thinking
what a shame it was he was taken. “Not unless you have a masochistic streak and
a penchant for certain types of bondage.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Only wit’ de
right kinda woman,” he replied with a sexy little grin.
“And I sense that woman isn’t me,”
she sighed dramatically once again. “Now get going and stop wasting my time!”
“I hope you taught Anna a few t’ings
in de bondage department,” he added cheekily, and before she could think of a
suitable reply he’d gone.
Emma slammed the door shut and
frowned to herself. This latest
encounter had made an amusing diversion – at least it had proved to her that,
miserable as Rogue was at the moment, perhaps happiness was just round the
corner for her. And Emma felt
jealous. Yes, she actually felt jealous
of Rogue! Neither Rogue nor Remy may
have known it yet, but Emma could tell from a hundred miles away that those two
were crazy for each other. And what did
she have? A balding older man who
reminded her of just the person she was trying to escape – herself.
She suddenly wished she hadn’t been
so hasty and shouted at Bobby the other day, because, after all, she’d secretly
quite enjoyed they’re little tryst, not to mention the fact that he’d got
pissed enough to tell her exactly what he thought of her. And now all she wanted to do was go back to
the house and phone him… perhaps apologize to him…maybe even invite him in for
a cup of tea and a civilized chat… and quite possibly (if she was in a good
mood) give him the opportunity to kiss her again.
But she’d promised Rogue she’d wait
for the plumber to come and she couldn’t let her down, could she?
It was another half-hour before the
guy finally showed up, and by then Emma was literally itching to get back home
before she changed her flighty mind and decided not to call her handsome
gardener after all.
-oOo-
Betsy glanced down at her watch and
decided she was a little too early. She
still had a good ten minutes to kill before her interview with Glamour Inc
started, but she was just too excited to sit around in her SmartCar
waiting. Sliding out of the front seat
she brushed down her chic new suit and looked at the facade of the elegant old
building in front of her, the Glamour
Boutique where Millicent Collins sold her very own homemade fashions. Standing there for a moment she got a vision
of what this place could become if she, Betsy Braddock, became its proud new
owner. The first and best eco-friendly
fashion house in New York, the Braddock
Boutique.
It didn’t sound bad. It didn’t sound bad at all.
“So you made it after all.”
At the familiar voice Betsy swung
round to find Warren standing a little way behind her, dressed in a simple dark
gray pinstripe suit, his usually unruly blond locks combed back to reveal the
chiseled openness of his handsome face.
She’d decided that she wasn’t going to push things between them, but
even so she couldn’t help her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.
“I sure did,” she nodded. “And I
must say it was a surprise receiving that phone call yesterday. Your doing, I suspect?”
“But of course,” he grinned easily.
“I saw the ad in the papers and I just couldn’t resist. I know it was awfully gauche of me but I
hope you don’t mind. Nothing’s fixed
yet, of course – I just thought you’d like to have a look round, see how you
liked it.”
She laughed a little, unable to be
cross with him. “Don’t worry, I think I can definitely find it my heart to
forgive you. But Warren… I really have
to admit that even though daddy’s pretty well off – and while I still have some
savings from my modeling days – I really can’t afford to be buying an entire
fashion house – ”
“Oh, no no no,” he held up a hand
and brushed away her comment. “That’s not what I meant at all. Of course I wasn’t expecting you to put any
money into this venture, Betsy. That’s
what I’m here for.”
“You?”
she voiced in amazement.
“Well,” he colored slightly and
scratched the back of his neck in a way she already found adorable. “I was
thinking, maybe I could expand my interests into the fashion industry…
Worthington Inc needs this opportunity, Betts, now that one of its potential
mergers may not be pulling through… Only problem is, I don’t have a clue about anything in the fashion industry, and I
need someone to act as managing director in my stead… And I was racking my
brains to think of someone who had
the relevant experience and what the hey!
Your name just popped in there…” He stopped and looked at her,
continuing enthusiastically: “Just think about it a sec, Betts. With this place you’ll be able to make your
own clothes any way you want. No furs,
no skins, no nothing you don’t want.
And you’ll have your own workshops and tailors too, so you won’t have to
use those Chinese sweatshops you were talking about. It’ll be perfect.”
Betsy listened to his speech with a
growing sense of enlightenment as she realized that this was more than just a
potential joint business venture between them.
He was trying to show her how much he cared about her, how much he knew
she wanted to reconcile both these things she loved – fashion and the
environment. For the first time someone
understood her. Someone had taken
notice of her dreams, and it meant more to her than anything. If she hadn’t had an ounce of restraint she
would have flung her arms round him there and then, but she knew it wasn’t the
time for such public displays. Even if
she was grateful for his attentiveness, there was so much they still needed to
talk about first.
“Warren,” she began instead. “I
don’t know what to say. This is…it’s
more than I could’ve ever dreamed of.
I… I just don’t know whether I can accept…”
“Well, of course there’s no
pressure,” Warren hastened to add, thinking she was going to refuse him. If anything it made her warm to him all the
more. “Today is just a little tour and a chat with Ms. Collins afterwards. There’s absolutely no obligation – if you
don’t like it then you won’t hear another word from me. I promise.”
She glanced at him, trying to gauge
the sincerity in his eyes. As always,
she found nothing but warmth and honesty in his gaze. She’d been a fool ever to doubt him.
“Alright, Warren,” she nodded with a
grin. “I’ll play ball. In fact, I’d
love to.” She nodded to the entrance, said: “Shall we take a look inside?”
His face lit up as a relieved smile
played across his lips.
“I’m ready when you are, Ms.
Braddock. Always.”
He walked up to the threshold and as
he did so he held out an arm to her.
The only thing left for her to do was to take it, and so she did.
-xXx-
Jean set down the phone and walked
from the balcony to the lounge where Scott was sitting going through some more
paperwork. Surprise, surprise. With a sigh she threw herself down on the
couch and snuggled up beside him as best she could.
“More paperwork?” she asked,
slipping her arm through his.
“Yup,” he nodded absently. “Have to
go through the main points raised at the conference before I go back to work.”
He paused, looking down at the top of her head. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Oh, just Rogue letting me know
she’s okay,” Jean replied morosely.
“How’s she holding up?” Scott asked
with genuine concern. Ever since he’d
come back, Jean had noticed that he was investing more effort into their
relationship, and apparently this even extended to her friends, whom she knew
he’d never approved of.
“Could be better,” Jean sighed. “She
said she went to the viewing today, which of course was very difficult for
her. Apparently Cody’s parents totally
blanked her – as if things weren’t bad enough for her already,” she added
distastefully.
Scott hmm-ed his agreement, now
completely focused on his work again.
Jean frowned up at him. He’d
barely been back a day and here he was, nose to the grindstone yet again. It frustrated her.
“So,” she began flippantly, “when
are you going to tell me about this Madelyne?”
She physically felt him freeze under
her touch. Nevertheless she’d gotten
his attention. His jaw was set as he
slowly he placed his papers down.
“Jean, I told you the truth
yesterday.”
“I don’t doubt that you did,” she
returned seriously. “But I need to know the truth. The full truth.”
His mind was now totally focused on
her. Turning, he took her hands in his
own and looked her deeply in the eye.
“Her name’s Madelyne Pryor,” he
explained after a moment to gather his thoughts. “She’s my counterpart in our
California-based sister company. We met
at the private bash the night before the conference started. We exchanged a few pleasantries, had a nice,
normal chat. She seemed…like a nice
person, Jean. I had no idea of what
would happen next.”
“And what did happen next?” Jean asked in a murmur.
“I honestly don’t know,” he replied,
his tone troubled. “I don’t know whether it was something I said or what, but
she just suddenly became fixated with me.
I couldn’t get rid of her. At
first it was just little things, like insisting she eat breakfast at my table
every morning, or making a point of sitting next to me at the conference
table. I thought she was just being
friendly. But then she started getting
too close for comfort – touching my hand while we were talking, making
suggestive comments. Jean, believe me
when I say I hadn’t done anything to warrant such attention. I just didn’t know what to do to get rid of
her.”
Jean listened quietly. From the agitated look on his face she could
tell that he was still genuinely troubled by his encounter with this
woman. In a way she was kind of flattered
that another woman found her fiancé attractive, but the thought disturbed her
and she put it aside.
“So what did you do?” she queried.
“Well,” he continued, “I started to
feel really uncomfortable, so I told her that I wasn’t interested in her as
anything but a colleague and an acquaintance, and that furthermore I was
engaged to be married. I thought it’d
get her off my back, but if anything it made her even more determined to get
her hands on me.” He took in a deep breath before carrying on. “That day – the
day you phoned – she’d managed to worm her way into my room and when I came
back from lunch she was waiting for me on my bed. In her underwear, no less!
Well, needless to say I was shocked.
I didn’t know what to do. I told
her the only woman I was interested in was you and I wanted her to get
out. But she just came on even
stronger. And then you phoned.”
He raised his eyes to hers, exhaled
a long breath. “I know I sounded as guilty as hell, Jean, but it was only
because I was so flustered. She just
wouldn’t get the message, even when you were right there on the phone to
me. After you’d hung up, I finally
managed to turn her out.”
Jean saw how flustered he still was
and attempted to reassure him, reaching out and affectionately straightening
his collar for him. “And did she come back?” she murmured. He rolled his eyes almost humorously.
“She sure did. But no way near as strong as Friday, thank
God. Seems she kind of got the
message. Didn’t stop her from flirting
when she could though.” His face straightened and he cupped her cheek with the
palm of his hand, stroking her softly. “I’m sorry I worried you Jean. I promise you, there’s no one I want but
you.”
“I know,” she replied quietly,
leaning into his touch and wishing she still felt that warmth inside, the
warmth she felt when Logan touched her… Scott leaned forward and kissed her
tenderly, and she closed her eyes, letting him do so.
“So,” he asked her playfully,
breaking their kiss by just an inch. “What did my gorgeous fiancée get up to
while her man was away?”
She wanted to tell him about Logan,
but she couldn’t get the words out; because Logan was still on her mind,
because she couldn’t tell Scott that it was truly an affair that was over and
done with. So she smiled a forced smile
and said: “Oh, nothing much. Just the
usual. You know, wedding stuff…” She
shrugged.
“Now I almost feel guilty for having
all the fun,” he remarked jokingly. “But since we’re on the subject, how about
we go through those wedding costs again?
Just to be sure?”
Jean watched on as he got out his
giant calculator, and she thought, just this once, she’d indulge his obsession
with money. While she went to get the
receipts from the bedroom, Scott’s words consumed her mind. There was no doubt in her heart that his
words were sincere and that she should have been grateful.
So why was she still wishing that
he’d given into temptation? Why did she
still wish that she had a reason to run into Logan’s arms once more?
-oOo-
Bobby was done with blondes. He was done with beautiful, sophisticated
ladies. He was also done with insane,
rich women who had a penchant for sado-masochism and who just happened to be
his boss. In short, he was done with
Emma Frost. From now on he was going to
date nice, normal girls who liked to do the usual thing – eat out at the
nearest Italian and make out in the theater.
For this reason he was now sitting in the college cafeteria attempting
to chat up the new Japanese exchange student.
Opal Tanaka was pretty and black-haired and brown eyed, about as far
from Emma Frost as you could get.
Besides, all the guys said that Japanese women were hot for Western men,
so Bobby didn’t think he could fail to score even if he tried to. So far it was working. Opal sat and talked to him in her broken
English, batted her eyelids and twiddled her hair a lot. It would’ve been fine if Bobby could stop
his mind wandering onto Emma and her stupid rich boyfriend, Sebastian Shaw, or
whatever his name was.
He was just in the middle of being
taught how to say ‘konnichiwa’, ‘sayonara’ and ‘domo arigato’ when his cell
phone went off. The caller was unknown,
and, very much confused, Bobby picked up his phone and took the call.
“Hello?”
“Bobby?” It was Emma’s rather shrill
voice, and he immediately gave an inward groan. Alarm bells went off in his head. Why was she calling him?
“What do you want?” he asked rudely, not knowing why he didn’t turn the
phone off there and then.
“Well…you, actually,” came the
reply, sounding very desperate indeed.
Bobby didn’t know whether to be shocked or pleased or angry, or all of
them together.
“What? Why? Are your fish dying
again or something? Because I already
told you on Saturday, I quit.”
“I know, I know,” Emma interjected
quickly, sounding as if she was going to have a nervous breakdown. “And yes,
for your information, my fish are
dying, but that’s not why I called you.
Bobby I need you to come round so that I can explain myself and my
actions properly and –”
Bobby rolled his eyes and
glowered. Here it came. Emma Frost being her usual, manipulative
self. No doubt if he did go round like
the puppy dog she thought he was, she’d trample all over him yet again. He was tired of being her love-slave. He didn’t trust her as far as he could kick
her.
“Ms. Frost, you made yourself
perfectly clear on Saturday,” he interrupted coolly. “I could do without
hearing anymore, thanks very much. And
by the way, I’m with someone right
now. A girl. Listening to you rant
is the last thing I want to be bothered with.”
Usually he’d be skating on thin ice
and he half expected her to start shrieking at him for his insolence, but she
didn’t.
“Bobby, I want to say I’m sorry!”
Emma literally pleaded. “Listen – I was wrong.
I was thinking about everything you said, and you were right about
me. I’m an insensitive, manipulative
cow and I don’t deserve you. But
Bobby…I want to deserve you. I really, really want to.”
Bobby didn’t know whether to be
dumbfounded or jump for joy. Here he
was, on the phone to what must be one of the most beautiful and powerful women
in the whole of New York – and she was practically prostrating herself before
him. Not only that, she wanted him. She wanted poor, dumb Bobby Drake. And he simply couldn’t resist getting a bit of his own back.
“Gee, I dunno Emma,” he began
airily. “I promised myself I was going to date nice, normal women now and well…
Opal here is real friendly, she’s been teaching me some Japanese and tonight
we’re gonna go watch some Kenuichiro Terosawa movies back at her place. I don’t think I have any time to come down
and listen to whatever it is you have to say…” He trailed off, feigning
indecision.
“Then tomorrow, how about you come
tomorrow,” she beseeched him.
“Tomorrow? Sorry, no can do, Opal and I are going to watch the college team
play.”
“Then how about the day after?” By now
it sounded distinctly as if Emma was going to wet herself if she didn’t have
her way. Bobby finally lost his temper
and gave up toying with her.
“Look Emma, to tell you the truth, I
don’t know whether it’s worth it. I
mean, how am I supposed to believe you’re not going to insult me again, or even
that you’re going to be serious with me for once? I just really don’t want to deal with my head being screwed with
again.”
He expected her to finally get the
message, realize her plan had failed, hang up and leave him alone. But to his surprise she continued, her tone
half angry, half earnest. “Please
Bobby. Listen to me. Do I sound like someone who’s scamming
you? Dammit, Drake, I’m begging you. I’m on my hands and knees here.
All I ask is that you give me the benefit of the doubt. That’s all
I’m asking. Please.”
Bobby pretended to think about
it. Truthfully he was skeptical about
anything Emma had to offer him, but there was one thing he couldn’t pretend and
that was that he didn’t care for his temperamental New York socialite. So he sighed and said: “Alright. How about Friday lunch time?”
“Yes! I’ll take the afternoon off, you can meet me here.” He didn’t
think he’d ever heard her sound so relieved. “Bobby…” her tone was suddenly
softer, “thank you.”
The next moment she was gone.
Bobby set down his phone
thoughtfully, not knowing whether he was going to suffer for this later or not.
Opal looked at him, confused.
“Who’s Kenuichiro Terosawa?” she
asked.
-xXx-
Millicent Collins was a tall, slim
and graceful woman in her seventies, and despite her well-earned wrinkles and
salt-and-pepper hair, she still carried herself with an air of elegance few
women half her age could muster. She
could also have taught a few of her younger contemporaries something about
fashion, wearing a classic blue dress suit topped off by a simple chiffon scarf
and a single string of pearls. Betsy
was thrilled to meet this legend amongst supermodels, and as she now sat across
from the older woman, with Warren sitting by her side, she wouldn’t have been
surprised if she was dreaming. But
every moment of it was real.
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you
Mr. Worthington, Ms. Braddock,” the old model smiled at the two over elegant
cups of tea in her function room. She
smiled a benevolent, white-toothed grin at Betsy. “It was such a shame when I
heard you’d given up the modeling profession, my dear. You had such talent.”
“Well,” Betsy replied rather
bashfully, “I think I outgrew modeling really, Ms. Collins. You see, there were other goals I wanted to
pursue.”
“I can well understand that,”
Millicent nodded seriously. “Modeling is a great career, but one often finds
that there is so much more one can offer the fashion industry – don’t you
think?”
“Oh, I absolutely agree,” Betsy
nodded enthusiastically. “Well…That’s why I was interested in this place,
really.”
“So, how did you find it? The tour of the workshops, I mean? They are rather small, I’ll admit – but I
prefer things this way, really. Call me
old-fashioned, but I prefer a close-knit atmosphere amongst my staff – it does
so much improve the quality of the garments we produce.”
“I thought it was wonderful!” Betsy
enthused. “And to be honest, I’m not really looking for anything big. My idea for the business – if Mr.
Worthington and I purchase it, that is – is really quite small-scale. At least at first. I’m hoping to appeal to rather a niche market, so the size of
your workshops isn’t a problem at all.”
“Excellent!” Millicent smiled, “I’m
so glad you approve, dear.” She turned to Warren, who’d been sitting quietly on
the sidelines watching the two women talk with a slight smile on his lips. “And
you, Mr. Worthington? What did you
think?”
“Oh, I know absolutely nothing about
the fashion business, if you’ll forgive me, Ms. Collins,” he replied
good-naturedly. “If Betsy here thinks everything’s in order then it’s fine with
me. Of course, we shall have to discuss
things a little more between ourselves, but we were both very satisfied with
what we saw today…Right, Betsy?”
Betsy nodded vigorously over her tea
and cake, which was enjoying very much indeed.
“I’m so very pleased to hear it,”
Millicent grinned. “And if you should buy Glamour Inc, I should be even more
pleased to know it was being left in such capable hands!” She sat up, her
expression turning more serious. “But shall I get the contracts now – just for
the both of you to have a look through before you make your final decision?”
“Of course, of course,” Warren spoke
up. “We’d love to.”
While the older woman was busy
getting her secretary to fetch the relevant documents, Warren leaned over
towards Betsy and murmured: “So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re wonderful,” she
replied, her mouth still full of cake.
He beamed.
“And I think you need to swallow
before you speak,” he joked.
“Shut up!” she shot humorously at
him before swallowing.
“Seriously,” he said.
“Seriously, I think you’re
wonderful, Warren.”
His smile grew so big she thought
his face would burst.
“Flattery will get you anywhere,” he
replied saucily, then paused before asking in a rush: “You wanna go out for
dinner tonight?”
Betsy almost choked on her
cake. He was kidding, right? She couldn’t want for anything better… Slowly she laid down her cup of tea and
replied: “Warren, you already know I’m spoken for…”
“Yes, I know,” he interrupted
quickly. “I’m sorry, that came out totally the wrong way. What I actually meant was…” he rubbed the
back of his neck again, betraying his sudden nervousness to her, “…would you
like to join me for a business dinner?
Where we can discuss the contract details?”
He finished, glancing up at her
hopefully, expecting her to say no once more.
But instead, she laughed.
“What?” he questioned in confusion.
“What did I say?”
“Warren,” she replied breathlessly,
“you are so transparent!” He gave a wounded look and she hastened to
add in a lower tone: “Look, Warren… I’d love to go out with you, but right now…
it’s not the right time to be making that kind of decision. I…I really have to sort things out with Neal
first.”
“Sort things out?” He frowned. “You
mean…?”
“I mean…” she replied prettily, a
slight smile on her lips, “I’d really like to join you for dinner sometime this
week – after I tell Neal it’s over between us for good.” His expression
lightened and she smiled, added: “Maybe you and I could have, you know…just a
casual date? Nothing serious, just a
nice, normal meal out and a friendly chat?” She reached out and ran a finger
under the lapel of his jacket, added: “At least until we figure we want something
more?”
He looked down at the light,
sensuous movements of her finger before returning his gaze back to her deep
violet eyes. “I know what I want right now, Betsy,” he murmured, “but if you
want us to wait, we will. I’m willing
to do anything you want.”
She raised an eyebrow seductively.
“Anything?”
He grinned back wickedly.
“Anything.”
-oOo-
It’d taken more than just his
well-renowned charm to get a super last-minute flight down to Mississippi. It’d taken a whole lot of begging, pleading,
tearing out of hair and a general humiliating self-debasement. But it was something Remy had been willing
to risk if it meant he was going to find Anna again.
And now he was in his office,
packing a few things randomly into his briefcase even though he knew they were
things he wasn’t likely to need. The
only thing he’d need once he got there was his charm, his good looks, and a
script full of ‘I love yous’ if he was ever going to get her back.
Dammit, he sure was swallowing a lot
of masculine pride these days. He
wasn’t sure his ego could take much more.
He’d just called himself a cab to
the airport when Monet entered his office without knocking. Normally he wouldn’t have been too
enthusiastic about seeing her, but he was much too preoccupied to care right
now.
“You going somewhere?” she asked him
when he ignored her entrance.
“M’gonna be away for a while,” he
explained, hunting his pockets for his wallet. “Be a darlin’ and tell JP for
me, willya?”
“Away?” she repeated in a suspicious
tone. “Where? For how long?”
“Mississippi. Not sure how long yet.”
Monet followed his actions with
narrowed brown eyes. “Mississippi? Anna
Raven’s been away the past couple of days.
Does this happen to have anything to do with her?”
“As a matter of fact, Mon, it does,”
he replied firmly. “You got a problem wit’ dat?”
She was silent a long while, quietly
assessing his words, her expression slowly lifting with enlightenment.
“You finally did it, didn’t you!”
she finally spoke, her tone one of breathless amazement. “You finally broke
through that stuck-up hussy’s barriers!
You screwed her and sent her packing!” She sat on the edge of the desk,
clapped her hands and laughed. “Well, this is all too good to be true!”
He glowered at her, finding an utter
dislike for the woman he’d never felt before. “I’m glad you find it amusin’,
Mon,” he stated between gritted teeth. “An’ just for de record – it did not happen dat way.”
Her eyes went wide at his venomous
tone. “Remy – darling! You’re taking this completely the wrong way!
You got what you wanted and I’m happy for you! But don’t you see that chasing after her is a big mistake?”
“Non, I don’t,” he replied firmly,
making his way for the door. Seeing he
really was in earnest, she jumped off the desk and stopped him halfway across
the room.
“Remy, don’t be an idiot! Isn’t it painfully obvious? You scared her off and she wants nothing
more to do with you!”
“I’d prefer her to tell me dat to my
face, rather than hear it from you, thanks very much,” he insisted, moving to
the door again, but she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and forced him to face
her.
“Remy, don’t you get it? She knows you used her, she knows she’s
played with fire and she can’t take the heat.
Leave her be. She’ll be back
sooner or later…”
“Who says I used her!” he
interrupted loudly, beginning to lose his temper.
“Pfft, come on, Remy,” she scoffed.
“We both know what you really want. You
want this.” She tugged him towards her, rubbing her body seductively against
his. “And you know I can give it to you,” she added breathily, before raising
her lips and capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. It was one step too far.
He didn’t mind being teased, taunted, or even beaten at his own game if
the times required it. But not
today. Not in his present mood. He pushed her away roughly and she staggered
back, confused, angry, humiliated.
“What was that for –?”
“What d’you think!” he interjected
before she could finish. “I don’t know what kind of illusion you’re under here
Monet, but I assure you, it ain’t reality!
Okay, we had some fun, and it was great while it lasted. But when are you gonna get it into your
thick head dat it’s her I want, not
you!”
She glared at him, breathless, the
truth finally dawning on her. And she
looked hurt. She actually looked hurt,
but he was so angry he didn’t care anymore.
“I ain’t been wit’ another woman
since she came here,” he continued to explain in a low voice. “She’s de real
t’ing, Mon. I’m sorry.”
She stood for a while, his words
slowly sinking in. Then she violently
swiped the back of her hand across her lips, wiping away the taste of his mouth
as if it were some disease.
“You’re scum, Remy,” she spat at him
as she finally left. “She’ll never want you back.”
Spinning on her heels she stalked
out of the room without once looking back, slamming the door shut and leaving
her parting words echoing ominously in his ears.
-xXx-
Go to chapter 18 : Go
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