Daniel and I seem to measure our time together not in the actual time we spend together but rather in the space between seeing each other. Another month has gone by, because as I thought, he did have to fly back to Balwart the night after our second date. There was an emergency with the King. Daniel’s youngest sister was also having a problem in school. Everything seems to be against us now that we decided to what we’re doing.
The second date ended better than the first, but it started off rough. It was the night after he saved me. Daniel proved a true gentleman, not making a single move on me, despite my overt advances. We never made it to his house. Instead, he took me to a posh upper east side restaurant. The chemistry between us is explosive. He wants to “take things slowly,” which I understand, but I’m dying of sexual frustration.
It has been six months since we first met and all we have done is kiss. We speak on the phone nearly every night for hours. Our conversations are easy, discussing topics from politics, fashion, and entertainment to family. Most times I find myself confiding in him the way I do Dante. He invited me to Balwart before he left, but I couldn’t take the time off work. I couldn’t imagine going anywhere abroad without Dante. I think Daniel realized that and didn’t press it. The two of them have come to some sort of understanding where I’m concerned.
I’m waiting for him to return at the end of this week. Keeping busy has been hard most days. My mind always wanders back to him. I often wonder if he is sees Elizabeth or not. I trust that he is not lying to me when he said he didn’t have feelings besides friendship towards Elizabeth.
Dante started seeing a new guy, Jonathon, who I don’t like. He’s been monopolizing Dante’s time, but I can’t complain because Dante deserves it. Unfortunately, Jonathon is making demands about the amount of time Dante spends with me. Jonathon is the girlfriend I never want Dante to have. Jonathon sees me as a threat instead of the ally I should be. Hopefully, Dante figures Jonathon out before he invests more time. But Jonathon is giving Dante something I can’t.
With Dante occupied and Daniel aboard that leaves me more time to myself. Tonight, I decided to pamper myself. My favorite tea is brewing and one of my all-time favorite books, Pride and Prejudice, is waiting. The combination of tea, a good book and quiet, should help get my mind off Daniel. About half way through chapter three, the phone rings interrupting my quiet time.
“Hello.”
“Daphne, its Al Picco, private investigator.”
“Oh, hi Al. What’s up? Did you find anything?”
The suspense has been killing me since we hired him a last month. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but it is difficult not to. Dante and Daniel both know how anxious I have been about finding the man who donated to my genetic makeup. I’ve never cared before now, but now it feels like there could something tangible.
“Yes. I did. There is by the name of Michels in Olather, Kansas. There never was.”
“Are you sure?” I ask bewildered, but somehow not truly surprised.
“I double checked. No one by you or your mother’s name resided in the state of Kansas, so I widen the search further. Your mother’s name is unique. The only Delaney Michels I could find was an immigrant who entered the country twenty years ago and that was after a lot of digging.”
“Wait. What?”
“The only Delaney Michels I found was an immigrant who came here twenty years ago.” He repeats.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but usually when there’s no information prior to that like in your mother’s case, it means she made the name up. Probably to hide who she really is. I see this in cases where the person is running from someone or something. I’m looking further into it.” He states.
“Did it say if she entered the country with a child? I would have been less than a year old.”
“That’s the weird part. She arrived alone. I’m checking the passenger manifests of the ship prior to the immigration office here in the States. It’s taking longer because I had to request actual paper copies from the port of departure. I’ll compare the two lists and find her real name if she did indeed change it.” He explained.
“I don’t understand.” I say more to myself than to him.
“I’ll let you know when I find out more.”
I don’t think there is a word in the English language that could adequately describe what I’m feeling. Who was my mother? Who am I? Has my whole life been a lie? The room is whirling. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.
“Okay, thanks.”
“Sorry for not having more answers.” He says.
“I wasn’t expecting this. Call me as soon as you find out more.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears.
“Will do.”
I hear a click but it doesn’t register and I find myself still clutching the phone five minutes later. She did not come from here. Where did she come from? How could she not tell me? Was she trying to protect me? What happened to her? I keep returning the bigger mystery- who am I?
“Daph, you okay?” Dante says softly.
When did he get home? He’s sitting next to me on the couch looking at me worried filled eyes.
“When did you get home?” I question absentmindedly.
The tart smell of something burning is heavy in the air. Remembering dinner, I rush to the kitchen to see smoke rising from the oven door. I quickly open it only to be engulfed by a puff of white smoke. Coughing, I quickly remove the burnt food and throw it on the counter. The smoke alarm goes off. Dante quickly disconnects it as I open the windows.
“Shit!” I exclaim, sucking on my burnt finger. “Sorry. That was supposed to be dinner.”
Dante takes my hand, turns on the cold-water faucet and immerses it in the steady steam.
“What was it?” He asks still holding my hand and viewing the burnt dinner.
“It was a pork roast.”
It doesn’t even resemble meat any more.
“I wanted us to have a nice dinner just you and I especially since we haven’t seen too much of each other recently.”
His stare is unnerving.
“What?” I ask, irritated and upset, but not with him.
“You ignored me when I came in and it was a couple of minutes before you acknowledged me. What’s up?”
“Al called.”
“And?” He asks impatiently.
“I’m not who I think I was.” I mutter.
“What?”
“My mom is not from here. She’s-” I start to answer but he cuts me off.
“We know that. She’s from Kansas.”
“No, she’s not from America. There is no record her. The only record of someone with her name is from twenty years ago. That was an immigrant. Al is trying to find out more.”
“I’m confused. What do you mean you’re not from America?”
“I mean, I don’t think I was born here. My mother never existed prior to the day she arrived here. There are records of her from immigration, starting when she arrived, and prior to that, nothing in the good ole U.S.A. Al is trying to get a copy of the passenger manifest from the ship she supposedly came over on.” I sigh. “Dante, maybe she was trying to protect me. Maybe there was someone after us.”
My whole life I thought she was crazy. Now, I don’t know what to believe.
“You didn’t know. How could you have known? You were only a baby yourself. Have you told Daniel any of this?”
“No, I just hung up with Al before you came home. Daniel should be calling soon. He’s flying back tomorrow. I’ll talk to him then rather than telling him over the phone.” I pause. “How do I tell him this?”
“What are you afraid of?”
He’s right. What is there to be afraid of? Absently, I rub my shoulder above the birthmark. When I look at Dante, he is watching my movements then stares at my shoulder. Maybe this is the only clue.
“Can you take a picture of this? Daniel took one before he left for Balwart to give to his people. I should have asked him to send me a copy.”
I look over my shoulder. Grabbing the camera, he angles it, snapping a few pictures.
“Great, let’s email that to Al. Maybe he can find something out about it. I think it may be a bigger part than I thought.” I instruct him.
“You may be right.” He types away on his phone. “Okay, it’s sent. Now let’s get something to eat. My treat. Sushi?”
“Sounds great, but do we have enough money?”
“Don’t worry, we’re fine.”
He wraps me in a one-armed hug as we leave the apartment. I shiver thinking back on all my mother’s warnings. Maybe I should have given them more credit. When we step outside, I search the surrounding area, looking for what, I don’t know. Who was my mother? And who is my father? Is someone following me like she thought? Any one of these people could be out to get me.
God, I’m going crazy like my mother.
“Hey, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
He squeezes me closer. I wrap both arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder.
҉
Daniel never called last night, but texted to say that something came up and he would see me today. The town car arrived exactly on time. Surprisingly, it is one of the guys I saw at the fight. Well, at least I know he does have some sort of body guards. The drive through the city is quick even in rush hour. The suburbs we drive through are quiet and affluent. Most of the homes are two story colonial or Victorian styles with large front lawns.
When the gates open to a rambling estate, I laugh manically. The same feeling since I first met Daniel overwhelms me. I feel extremely out of place. The car stops in a circular driveway near a double-sided, grand staircase leading to the front entry way. The stone country house is immense from the outside. The circular drive has a beautiful fountain in the center, ringed by flowers and rose bushes.
A man is waiting by the door when my door open by the chauffer. Walter, the butler I find out, oversees this house.
“Good evening Miss Michels. Follow me please. Sir is in the office.” Walter states formally.
The luxurious surroundings add to my discomfort. Our first date was informal and the second was in a posh restaurant that I could fake my way through, but this? This is beyond me. Walter leads me to a section that is older and draftier than the rest. The floor to ceiling windows offer a great view of the grounds. There is nothing but grass and trees as far as the eye can see. The double wooden doors open without a sound, as opposed to what one might expect based on the size.
We enter a room that is something out of history text book, transporting me back in time. There, the Duke sits behind an exceptionally large desk, writing orders to his vassals. I blink away the mirage. Walter waits for Daniel to finish then takes the papers from him.
“Send them immediately and tell Donald, I’ll be there in two days’ time.” Daniel explains to Walter.
“Right sir. Will there be anything else?”
Daniel looks to me.
“No, we’re fine. What time is dinner?”
“Eight.” Walter responds, closing the door behind him, leaving us in complete privacy.
Daniel stands, watching me like a predator watches his prey. Eventually, the distance proves too much and he strides to me, stopping mere inches from his prey. I anticipate a scorching kiss by his movements, but instead he kisses me gently on the forehead. Disappointment and longing are felt deep. I sigh and feel him smile without looking. He walks to the side bar.
“Miss me?” He inquires as I turn looking at him with his brow cocked.
The relaxed jeans and white button down shirt add to his sexual appeal. I walk slowly until I’m standing directly in front of him, invading his personal space like he did moments ago. I slide my hands up his chest to the collar of his shirt, adjusting it as if it is askew somehow, but it sits perfectly. I wrap my arms around his neck and look up at him with begging eyes.
“Yes, I did. I think I deserve a better kiss than that since you never called last night.”
His melodious chuckle surprises me. He is usually so serious, but this sound brightens even the darkest of rooms. Never having heard it before, I realize I love the sound.
“Is that so? I believe I did text you. Doesn’t that count?” He counters jovially, placing his hands on my waist.
“I guess it could, if I would settle for that, but I’m feeling a bit….” I let the sentence hang there for him to interpret as he wishes.
“Oh, I see.”
My hands fall to his waist. He lifts his hands, cupping my face, bending until his lips meet mine. His slow bend only increases the anticipation. The kiss starts off sweet, but when I blindly grope for him it turns passionate. My fingers weave and clutch at his hair. He ends the kiss too quickly, giving us the oxygen our bodies crave. I pout good naturedly.
“I always want to grant you anything, but we both decided to take this slowly. This is not slow.”
I choke out, “Not slow. We have known each other over six months and the most I have gotten from you are chaste kisses. I believe this is slow even by the medieval standards you’re accustomed to. Anyway, you decided, not me.”
I pout knowing I’m still going to be a member of the V-card for the immediate future at least. He grabs my hand, walking us to the artful, uncomfortable settee.
“Don’t mistake my beliefs as me being a monk. Because I assure you that I am not.” He leans into me whispering in my ear. “If and when the time comes, your body will never forget the things I’m going to do to it.”
I shiver at the erotic images his words create. My cheeks flame. He quirks a beautiful, sculpture-like eyebrow at me with a lopsided grin, reading my thoughts, teasing me.
“Like what?” I dare.
“Not going there with you. You tempt me too much already.”
“Come on. Let me know what I’m missing.” I whine.
He ignores my question.
“So, what’s been up?”
Fine.
Sighing I answer, “Al called yesterday.”
He looks quizzically at me.
“The private investigator.” I explain.
“Really? What did he say?”
“He had some interesting news to impart. It seems that you are not the only immigrant in the room.” He looks at me curiously. “It seems my mother came to the Unites States twenty years ago.”
“That’s interesting.” His thumb strokes my palm.
“I always thought her ramblings where that of a crazy, doped-up person, but this information has me questioning everything she ever did or said to me. I was only six when she died, so how do I tell the difference between reality and ramblings?”
He gazes at me intently.
“Was she trying to protect me? If so, from what? I can’t help but think there is more to my birthmark than I originally thought.”
I look at our joined hands, lost in my thoughts.
“Did your people find anything out?” I ask.
“They couldn’t find anything either. I’ll give them this new information and see if that helps.”
“I had Dante take a picture of the birthmark. We were going to Google it, but we haven’t had a chance yet.”
“Can I see it again?” He asks.
I turn my back to him, unbuttoning the front of my shirt then pinch the front closed. I lower it to reveal not only the birthmark but my entire back. His hand gently caresses the birthmark. His warm fingers leave a trail of fire along my flesh. I know when he gets to the mark because his fingers pause as he examines it closely.
“I know I asked before, but do you ever remember being burned as a child?” He remarks.
“No. She never said anything, only that it was his mark? I don’t-” I abruptly stand, clutching the front of my shirt and look around for a mirror. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“It’s around the corner in the hallway. What’s wrong?”
I can’t answer him because what I’m thinking is barbaric and to voice it out loud would make it more real. Once in the bathroom, I remove my shirt completely, leaving only the lacey bra, which does nothing for sudden chill I feel. I turn around with my back is facing the mirror when Daniel walks in. In my haste, I forgot to close the door behind me. Our eyes meet. I see the hunger in his eyes after they return from leisurely perusing my nearly naked form. It matches my own every time I see him. My breathing grows labored, my birthmark forgotten. His breaths are erratic as the air ignites between us. He steps closer, shaking his head and clearing his voice.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, trying to reign in his lust.
“I was just remembering what my mother said and then your comment.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” He replies.
“What if….” I pause, thinking how to word my thoughts. “What if my father actually marked me? I mean physically branded me. I read somewhere how live stock was returned to their owners when they were lost or stolen by the brand of their owners. Slaves were also mark by their owners before the civil war.”
“It’s true, they did that. It is whispered in my country that we used to do that before it was banned as being cruel. But why would someone want to do that to you?” He questions.
“I don’t know, but my mother told me my father’s enemies were following us. Maybe she felt I was in danger and escaped before something happened to me?” I theorize.
“Maybe.”
He looks closely at the mark again, but makes no further comment. His features are completely hidden behind a mask of politeness. I’m overwhelmed by our physical closeness, my breasts rubbing against his chest. Our eyes meet again. I turn, afraid he will see how turned on his mere closeness causes. Before I turn though, I see the same raw need reflected at me.
Daniel’s hand slowly glides to my breast leaving tingles in its wake. His thumb grazes across the roughness of the lace bra, eliciting a shiver from me. I arch instinctively. He gently squeezes it, prompting stars to appear behind my closed eyes. I open my eyes, watching as he slowly and leisurely lowers his head until our lips meet. The storm that erupts between us takes no prisoners. His arms wrap around me, lifting me on the counter top. Both of his hands caress and tease my breasts to attention. My hands knot in his hair, pulling him harder to my lips.
The door slams shut behind him. My bra disappears. His mouth finds the turgid nipple and I moan. He growls back. His teeth are hard, wild, nipping, and teasing. I gasp at the shock. My legs open to bring him closer. His thighs lean against my center, creating the most pleasurable pressure. Trying to ease some of the tension building there, I move forward but he grabs my legs yanking them further apart.
He growls against my lips, “Mine.”
Bewildered, I pull back from the kiss to look him in the eyes. His eyes hold mine. A whimper escapes. I’m terrified yet thrilled by what I feel. An animal has been unleashed and it’s possessive. Something buried deep inside me reacts to his possession.
I snake my hand down between us to grab him, but he pulls it away sharply, moving it behind my back. I struggle to pull them free, desperate to touch him. He anchors them firmly together with my discarded bra.
“Don’t move.” He growls. “This is mine.”
He attacks my breast.
“Yes, yours.” I reply deeply satisfied.
Encouraged by my words, he attacks my lips brutally. The slightest hint of bitterness seeps into my mouth, as I taste blood. He steps closer affording me the opportunity to feel his hardness. We start grinding against each other, feeling the friction, wanting more, having lost our common sense.
A sharp knock on the door has the same effect as if we were doused with cold water. A throat clears on the other side of the door.
“Sir, dinner is ready.”
He growls in my ear.
“We’ll be right there.” He says crisply and firmly.
He buries his head in the crook of my neck, trying to gain control over the situation we created. He inhales deeply.
“This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.” He looks up at me despondently. “But I don’t regret it. You’re mine. Engagement be damned.”
He kisses me briefly on the lips then pushes off the counter abruptly walking, adjusting himself at the door. He turns leaving me. I should feel bereft, but his words feel like they secured my place at his side.
“A little help here?” I say, pulling at my tied hands.
He turns with a smile that holds much promise.
“I don’t know. I kind of like you tied up for me.” He winks.
Unfortunately, Daniel is the always the gentleman. He unties me and holds true to his original promise. There are no more explosive kisses or fireworks ignited. The rest of the night is tame. We sit, watching the new Thor movie. He politely disengages my numerous attempts to illicit some reaction. My libido has been burning for six months and I thought for sure it would be extinguished after the bathroom incident. But, sadly it has been disappointed again.
Almost immediately after the movie, he drives me home in his beautiful electric blue Ashton Martin V12 Vantage. He took great pains explaining how it is unique because of its color. I didn’t care about that. The car is simply beautiful with its slick lines and soft leather interior. The flames of my already overheated libido are fanned to a wild fire as I watch him handle the car’s gears. At the same time, I can’t help but feel a growing distance between us.