CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Everything was in full swing. Preparations were flowing. In director mode, Greta pointed over to where things needed attending. I crept up, head bowed, mouth in a tight smile. “Greta, I’m….”
She shook her head, not giving me time to finish. “It’s all under control. The lighting was kept intact from the last function. There’s not much more to do.”
Greta glanced down at her watch. “I’ve got to get my hair and face done. Can you keep an eye on the table arrangement?”
I nodded, and Greta smiled brightly.
Was this the same woman I’d met five weeks earlier? Greta’s blue eyes reflected a glint of hope and optimism. Just like me, she seemed excited but scared. We were two women in love.
“Leave it to me, Greta,” I said, steadying my voice and in business mode. “I’ll also check the garden and make sure everything’s in place.”
Just as Greta was about to leave, I asked, “Are you wearing your hair up or down?”
“Down. Why?”
“Good. Dad’s always been a sucker for long hair,” I said with a smile.
Her lips curled. Greta touched my arm. “I know.”
After I’d made sure everything was in place I went off to get ready.
Transformed into a beauty salon, my office reeked of hair lacquer and other noxious perfumes all designed to make me delectable. I imagined needing paint-stripper to remove the makeup, or vigorous sweat-inducing sex, the thought of which made me heat up.
From zero to extreme in three weeks, I’d turned into a sex maniac. Post-coital endorphins certainly beat any happy pill available to humankind. The sensation between my legs was relentless, with each throb setting off a delicious reminder of my well-endowed lover.
In his heavy Italian accent, Mario asked to see the dress I’d be wearing. I held the dress up against me. And after a few moments of switching his studious eye from dress to me, he suggested a goddess hairdo. He lifted a fistful of hair, then twirled and bunched it on top while leaving some to hang over my shoulder to one side. The hairdo was just a rehearsal, but I loved it.
“With your longish face and neck, this will work very well.” Mario squinted into the mirror, studying my face.
I had been transformed. Mario had captured something masterful. Classical in design the hairstyle matched my empire-line dress. The cherry on the cake was the pair of earrings, which set off the whole outfit magnificently. As I studied myself in the mirror, it was obvious that no other jewelry could compete with them. So instead, I tied a thin black-velvet ribbon around my neck.
My cleavage ballooned out of the empire bodice, making that cut at once feminine and sensual. Go, Jane Austen. Although the hips and lower regions got a little lost in the cascading silk, there was a hint of curve when one moved.
I leaned into the mirror and studied my face. The make-up seemed exaggerated, all eyes and lavishly painted red lips, a bit pouty. But Mario insisted we go dramatic. In that effete Italian accent of his, he crooned, “You have divine eyes and lips, the window to the soul and to the promise of”—he kissed his fingers— “passion.”
I squeezed my lips tight in order to suppress laughter. Mario was such a cliché, albeit a lovely one. His florid description of his beloved Italy was so engaging I almost stopped thinking about Aidan for an hour.
With shoes in hand, I descended the stairs, reproaching myself for not practicing how to walk in them earlier. The last thing I needed was to stumble. Overlooking the fact it could be fatal, I was more worried about the humiliation of it all.
As I sat on an ornate chair at the bottom of the stairs to do up my shoes, a familiar deep husk vibrated through me. “Do you need a hand?”
I looked up and my jaw dropped. Before me stood a man who took my breath away. Aidan, likewise, devoured me with his eyes.
Before I could answer, he’d knelt down and finished the job of buckling my shoes. “Shouldn’t this happen at the end of the night?” Aidan grinned, testing to see if they were too tight. When he finished, his hand slid up my calf, sending the butterflies in my tummy deep down south.
“That’s only if I’m running away and lose a shoe,” I retorted. “And there are two reasons why that won’t be happening.”
Aidan’s brow twitched. “Two?” He cocked his head. “Let me guess: no stepsisters to get away from.”
“That’s a third reason.”
“Now you’ve got me curious.” Aidan’s impossibly blue eyes twinkled playfully.
“For one, I can’t run in these shoes, and for two, dressed as you are, Mr. Aidan ‘Drop-Dead-Gorgeous’ Thornhill, you could be the very devil, and I’d still be the one undoing that silk cravat at the end of the night.”
Aidan laughed. “Well said.”
He helped me up off the Louis XIV chair. “My only regret so far this evening is that I didn’t watch you descending the stairs. Clarissa Moone, you’re a goddess.”
I wobbled a little. How the hell was I meant to walk, let alone glide along gracefully? “I’m having a hard enough time standing, Aidan.” I giggled.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Aidan kissed me on the lips. “They’re stilts, all right. I didn’t even have to bend down to meet your face.” He brushed my cheek affectionately. “And what a gorgeous face that is.”
He lifted one of the silk layers of my dress. “This is a sensational dress.” Aidan touched my earrings. “When Cartier designed these, they had you in mind.” He leaned over and kissed me. That was it. I was seriously swooning.
Aidan wore a sky-blue jacket, tailored to perfection, capturing his broad shoulders masterfully and the color setting off his magnificent eyes. Beneath the linen-silk jacket, a white silk shirt hung elegantly over his manly chest, while the cream-colored linen pants fell elegantly from his waist. If that wasn’t enough to make me want to faint, the turquoise cravat with tiny burgundy polka dots had me gasping for air.
“Aidan, you look like you’ve just stepped out of European Vogue. I’m almost expecting a little sparkle when you open your mouth.” I chuckled.
He laughed. “Now you’re being ridiculous.” He held me. “Are we ready for showtime?”
“I suppose.” My voice was unsteady.
“Hey, it’s only a charity event. We’re not meeting the Queen.”
“Strangely, that wouldn’t make me as nervous. Perhaps only having to curtsy would pose a problem.”
“For me, it wouldn’t, not with that low-cut dress of yours.” His eyes shone flirtatiously.
What was a girl to do? For one, take the arm of the sexiest man alive.
As we descended the outside stairs, I used stomach muscles, something I’d learnt from my childhood ballet classes, to help me balance. With my arm entwined with Aidan’s, I miraculously floated along—only to be awakened from my dream as cameras flashed in my face.
Aidan whispered, “I hope you don’t mind. They’re an annoyingly necessary feature.”
“I don’t mind. It just looks like we’re a couple,” I replied.
“Isn’t that what we are?” Aidan asked, pausing to look at me.
“If you say so, then we are.” My voice wavered.
It was so overwhelming, with people staring and whispering. I had to keep reminding myself to appear natural as my eyes zeroed in on a tray filled with glistening glasses of champagne. Fortunately, the waiter came straight to me. Taking a glass with a trembling hand, I quickly took a sip.
It was a repeat performance—not only the entertainment, but there were guests from the last function as well. This time, many of the husband-seekers had men attached to their arms, although as I looked about, I did notice a cohort of scantily dressed girls. Their eyes skimmed over me before settling on the prize: Aidan.
With my arm locked in Aidan’s we moved about the crowd. It was such a perfect evening with a pink-orange twilight that made the clouds look like balls of fire. The grounds were in full bloom, and birds chirped along to the gentle, undulating sounds of violins. My preferred sensation, however, other than Aidan’s cologne-infused male scent, was the salty, floral air that gently massaged my flesh.
“Aidan, you’re looking as handsome as ever. And who is this magnificent creature?” asked an older woman.
“I’d like to present, Clarissa Moone.”
She held out her diamond-laden hand. “How lovely to meet you.”
“This is Marianne Kingsley, a novelist and a neighbor,” said Aidan warmly.
I smiled. “Pleased to meet you.”
“My, you are enchanting. You’ve also made every girl here green with envy.” She chuckled. “I love your dress. It’s so classic and feminine. Not like the crass excuse for dresses on display. I mean, none of that pouty flesh is real, is it?” Her lips curled derisively.
Marianne was so down to earth I liked her immediately. She lit a cigarette and directed her attention over to my father. “Hey, who’s that gorgeous man?”
Aidan cast me a side glance. “That’s Clarissa’s father. I’m afraid he’s spoken for.”
“Oh, what a pity, all the handsome ones are always taken,” she said, sighing theatrically.
Wearing a subtle grin, Aidan held out his hand. “I hope you have a pleasant night, Marianne.”
We continued to greet so many guests that I had no hope of remembering their names. It was all a blur. I was already on my second glass of champagne, which was helping me relax, when Aidan exclaimed under his breath, “Fuck.”
I saw a tall, attractive woman with long, chestnut, bouncy hair heading towards us. She could have been a model. And like the other Aidan hunters, she wore a dress with a slit down to her tummy, her bust ballooning out. The fact that her breasts didn’t jiggle had me speculating that they were fake. I know if I wore something like that, mine would swing out of control. The dress was low-cut in the back as well, all the way to her curvaceous butt. She was very beautiful. My veins iced with jealousy.
Her unwavering attention was on Aidan. Upon arriving at our spot, she initiated a hug. Aidan’s frame went discernibly stiff when she kissed him lingeringly on his cheek. By that stage, I was as green as her dress.
Aidan pulled away first. “Jessica, this is Clarissa Moone; Clarissa this is Jessica Mansfield.”
While Aidan remained tense, Jessica stood close. Too close. Apart from a slight curve of her spongy lips, she regarded me with indifference for a moment. After that, Jessica ignored me.
“So how was London?” Aidan asked in a disinterested monotone.
“Oh, it was okay, a bit gray and cold. I missed sunny California. I missed the hunky guys,” Jessica gushed. She looked at my dress and then back at Aidan. She stroked his cravat. “This is a nice touch. Color coordinated, I see.”
Jessica turned to me suddenly. “That’s an interesting dress.” Her eyes checked out my chest. I wondered if that expression was envy, considering that my breasts were soft and real. Miaow.
“Thanks,” I replied coldly.
“It’s different,” said Jessica, not hiding a mocking tone. Turning away and discarding me again, Jessica cast her attention back on Aidan.
“Aidan, I’m just going to chat with my dad,” I said, unable to tolerate pompous Jessica any further.
Not as well-practiced at arrogance as Jessica, I nodded and left the two former lovers to chat before Aidan had a chance to respond. My chest was so tight I’d forgotten to breathe.
While performing the sexiest strut I could muster in my heels, I made sure I avoided the grass.
“Hi, Daddy.” I hugged my father. He looked handsome in his linen suit. “You look so debonair, Papa.”
“As do you, Clarissa. You’re a masterpiece.” His dark eyes were filled with so much love and admiration I wanted to cry.
Noticing a waiter with a tray of champagne, I asked, “Do you mind if I have one of those, please?” He came straight over, and we took a glass of bubbly each.
“I say, this is truly magnificent. It’s a class event, honey. And you designed it all. I’m proud of you, daughter mine,” my father said effervescently. It was not his normal demeanor. I put it down to nerves and liquor. Like me, he got rather excitable in new situations.
“Where’s Greta?” I asked.
“She’s dealing with some fellow named Bryce.”
“Oh God, it just gets better and better.”
“What is it, sweetheart? You seem a little flustered.”
“Aidan’s ex-fiancée is here. She’s all over him, and she’s beautiful.” I bristled.
In his subtle way, my father took a moment to survey the situation. “Oh, the one in green, dressed like a prostitute.”
I laughed. He sounded so old-fashioned. “Oh Dad, that’s the latest fashion.”
“It’s horrible. All fake and out there. Leaves nothing to the imagination. Can’t compare her with you. You’re a beauty, Clarissa, classically and naturally so. Come the morning after, when all that make-up has gone, one would make a dash for the door.”
I giggled. “Oh, father, I’m so glad you’re here. I’m just jealous and frightened.”
“Frightened of what, dear girl? Aidan is besotted. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s with the most beautiful girl here by far.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re my father,” I said, squeezing his arm affectionately.
Noticing my father peering over my shoulder, I turned, and met Aidan’s eyes. How could one not be possessed by that gorgeous man?
“It’s good to see you here, Julian,” said Aidan, shaking my father’s hand. “Love the suit.”
“Thank you,” my father replied. “You’re looking rather continental yourself.” He pointed at Aidan’s cravat. “That goes brilliantly with Clarissa’s dress.”
Aidan smiled at me. “I had no idea Clarissa would choose that color.”
I remained cool.
“Can you excuse us for a moment, Julian?” Aidan asked, taking me by the arm gently.
When we were away from the crowd Aidan whispered, “I didn’t invite Jessica. I don’t know how she bought a ticket. I’m seriously pissed.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because she’s a notorious flirt.”
“But don’t all women flirt with you, Aidan?”
His eyebrows drew in sharply at my bluntness. Aidan studied me. “I suppose some do.” He took my hand, and staring into my eyes, added, “Clarissa, it’s you and only you I want. Jessica has this way of claiming people. Whatever her body language might suggest, it’s you that I am here with. She’s nothing to me except a pain in the neck.” The last comment was muttered irritably to himself.
“I’m just overwhelmed by all of this attention. And”—I sighed— “I suppose the fact that she’s so good-looking.”
“Jessica’s nothing compared to you,” returned Aidan, eating me up with his intense eyes. “I’ve never met or been with anybody remotely like you, Clarissa.” His voice filled deep with emotion. My legs weakened, and I fell into his arms.
I inhaled the smell of his flesh— an intoxicating cocktail of cologne mixed with male desire and tension— as I would an afternoon rose.
As we hugged, I spied Jessica watching us. Her eyes met mine. The bliss emanating from me must have been so blinding that her caked-on haughtiness hardened into resentment.