Chapter Thirteen
Bastian
Blast From The Future
She’s stunning. Glittering like a superbly-cut gemstone in a velvet display case. In this instance, the backdrop is a lavender-hued Valentino gown I’ve chosen for her. I have no idea of the price tag and care even less. All I know is that it was meant for her the moment I saw it. Flowing drapes of airy chiffon gather at the empire waistline with a diamond-studded buckle. A halter neckline plunges daringly in front, cradling her luscious tits, unfettered by a brassiere.
I struggle not to reach out and fondle them right here in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel; I don’t give a damn who’s watching, but I’m sure Liam Dunnigan does. He’s sitting across the round table from me, chatting with my CFO and his wife, pretending not to be aware of every move that Mara and I make at this charity gala for Natural Disaster Relief.
But he’s not the only one. No male, straight or gay, could miss Mara Snow tonight the way she looks in that dress and her sleek, dark hair swept in an elegant up-do. She’s been amazing over the last month and a half; there couldn’t have been better casting for the role of my imaginary intended. She handles the whole media spectacle with surprising self-confidence, considering her youth and inexperience with being in the public eye.
I certainly didn’t have to act the part of a smitten groom. I liked having her near me almost 24/7; hell, I loved every minute of it. Just touching the skin of her hand or arm made me hard. Damned inconvenient sometimes, with cameras rolling and reporters jabbering. Good thing there’s a bedroom in my office suite. I couldn’t get through a day without screwing her delectable little ass off, and she’s been more than willing to accommodate me.
And she’s a damn quick study, too. I can see why Ernst thought so highly of her. But what she’s learning from me has nothing to do with lab analyses or identifying geological formations. Who would have thought the girl in the lavender gown was a blushing virgin just six short weeks ago? She’s a scintillating performance artist in the bedroom, accepting of anything I take or give. A tigress when aroused, a lamb when subdued. Just the way I like it. She is well on her way to perfecting the best blow job on the planet, too.
She gives me exactly what I need in every way, though she may not know it. A pretty face to show the cameras, and a sexy body to boost my desirability factor in the tabloids. A bright mind with career ambitions to entertain my intellectual side, and a squeaky-clean reputation to confound the gossip rags. Liam and my Board of Directors were doing the happy dance.
Aside from all that, Mara is giving me something no one else knows about. Joy. Peace; a chance to heal the scars of my past. I still grieve for Celine, but I know she’d want me to move on, to try and find happiness. For her sake, and my own, and Mica’s.
Mara finishes her polite conversation with one of the other principal benefactors of NDR and walks toward me. The chamber orchestra on stage strikes up a waltz, and I rise from my chair to take Mara’s gloved hand in mine and lead her onto the dance floor. A perfect dress like that, on a woman like her, deserves to be shown off in the swankiest ballroom in the city. And it’s sure to get the digital lenses clicking like machine gun fire.
“Where’d you learn to dance?” I ask her as we sweep to the middle of the floor.
“My dad taught me,” she says. “And my uncle, after Dad passed away. What about you?”
I smile and direct her into a turn that flares her lovely skirt outward. “Are you kidding? I went to boarding school in Vienna. Frau Bergen, the headmistress, wouldn’t graduate anyone who didn’t earn honors in ballroom dancing.”
She laughs, her one-sided dimple coming out to play. “Let me guess. Frau Bergen is another ghost from the past that you want to purge from your memory?”
“Au contraire, I think her legacy is coming in handy right now,” I say, sending Mara into another twirl. As she sweeps back into my arms, I hold her close, collapsing the rigid dance frame that old Frau would have stomped on my toes for desecrating. Over the top of her head, I gaze across the sparkling room to see a figure by the bar that smothers my happy mood like a wet shroud.
Talk about old ghosts.
I take a deliberate turn to put my back to him, but as the dance finishes, I see he’s spotted me and is making his way across the room with a woman in tow. Damn. The price of fame; if you’re going to poke your head out of the bushes, you should expect to be picked off by snipers. I usher Mara off the floor and to our table before he catches up to us.
“Bastian, you old devil! Never thought I’d see you back in action.”
I stiffen and turn to face him, feigning surprise. “Dirk,” I say, looking his tuxedoed frame up and down. “I could say the same of you. It’s been a long time.”
“Seven years, I believe,” he replies, glancing between Mara and me. “If I start the introductions, will I get to meet your lovely companion?” With the same smarmy smile, I remember all too well, he pulls the woman on his arm forward. “This is my wife, Melinda. Melinda, this is Bastian Kingsley, my old... uh... partner in crime, shall we say?”
We shan’t, you shifty bastard. Because it’s too close to the truth.
“A pleasure, Melinda,” I say as I shake her hand.
“Likewise.” She nods.
“May I introduce Miss Mara Snow, my soon-to-be new wife. Mara, this is Dirk Reinhart, my former business partner and old friend from school. Another of Frau Bergen’s protégés.”
“Pleased to meet you, Dirk, Melinda,” Mara says, her practiced smile cranked up to full wattage. Man, she’s something.
“Ah yes, the whole city’s abuzz with the news of your engagement. Congratulations,” Dirk says. “Mara, what a lovely name,” he continues, raising her gloved hand to his lips. “And a welcome, pretty face to expel the frightening vision of Frau Bergen from my mind. Thanks for that, Bastian.”
“I can’t take the credit,” I say warily, keeping a watchful eye on a man I once trusted; with my life, my vision, and my cash. Together we’d raised the joint capital to launch the Pretoria operations almost twelve years ago to great success. It paid off big time, at first. We’d been best friends since our teens. We were young and ambitious and full of ourselves back in the day. Unstoppable. Until one day we weren’t. We were stopped—cold—the day the mine collapsed.
A slow burn ignites in my gut at the way he’s looking at Mara, despite the fact his wife is by his side, clinging to his elbow. Leopards don’t change their spots. He’d looked at Celine the same way.
“So, what did you do to deserve this rusty old sailor as a husband, Melinda?” I joke, but not completely in jest.
Melinda laughs anyway. “Let’s just say I learned to tie my knots very well,” she quips, playing along. Dirk did have a love affair with boats.
“Say, you’ve just reminded me, my dear,” Dirk says, reluctantly diverting his attention from my woman and back to his wife. “We’re going sailing tomorrow, off Long Island.” He gestures at us. “Why don’t you two join us, Baz and I can catch up, and we can all get to know each other. Weather’s going to be a charm tomorrow, I’ve checked the forecast.”
“You’ve booked a charter?” I ask.
Dirk beams at both of us. “Charter? Hell no. I own her. The Melinda Lee. A seventy-five-footer and she’s a beaut.”
Trust Dirk to make a splash, literally. I’m not sure what he’s done since we parted ways to keep himself in yachts and wives, but as always, he’s certainly the type to flaunt it when he’s got it.
“You own a yacht?” Mara asks before I can respond, her eyes bright. “I’ve never been on a yacht. How kind of you, that sounds great. Are we free tomorrow, Bastian?” she asks, mindful of Liam’s carefully plotted schedule for us.
“Of course you’re free,” Dirk insists. “Baz is never one to pass up a good time, are you Baz? And how could you say no to such a beautiful girl? It’s a double date. Slip 27 at the Montauk Yacht Club, 10:00 am. Don’t be late!” he says as he turns to leave, grinning triumphantly.
“See you in the morning,” Melinda says with a wave of her free hand, her other latched firmly onto her retreating husband’s arm.
“Goodnight, nice meeting you!” Mara calls after them. “Isn’t that nice of him?” she says, looking up at me with her trusting aquamarine gaze. Dirk’s right. I can’t say no to her, seeing the excitement in her eyes. “We can go, can’t we?”
Dirk’s hasty invite and even hastier exit have me suspicious. He made it clear long ago that he didn’t trust me any more than I did him. Not since the accident. I know he still blames me. So why is he letting bygones be bygones all of a sudden? He’s playing at something, and I intend to find out what.
“Of course, darling,” I tease, basking in our shared conspiracy. “Anything for my favorite fiancée.”