Just Another Damn Love Story (12 page)

Sterling was a good man.  He understood love, and yes, he understood her.  She felt safe with him, even if not entirely comfortable.  He wasn’t dangerous, just hard to figure out.  What was it about him that made people want to flock toward him?  What made people want to befriend him?  What made people just want to be in his presence?  She too loved being around him.  He made her smile, just being near.  Whether it was the way he winked at her across the room, or that smile he gave her that made her feel desired.  What was it about him?

How could a man be so open, so honest, and yet so mysterious?   She had been to his apartment.  Tonight, she was going to his home.  She had been to Vespasian, his place of employment.  She had all of his telephone numbers, from his Blackberry and iPhone, to his home number, to his office number.  He wasn't hiding anything, and yet…

“Girl, does he treat you good?”  Mia asked.

“Yes,”  Kimberly said, snapping out of her thoughts.  “He does, he treats me really well.  And yes, I do like him, I like him a lot.”

Could she tell them?  Of course she could, they were her best friends, her sisters in fact.

“I told him that I loved him,”  Kimberly said softly.

“What?”  Mia leaped off of the carpet.

“You told him that?”  Brittany asked.

Kimberly nodded.

“It was during sex right?”  Mia asked.  “If it was while he was putting the smack down on your candy ass then it doesn’t count, right?”

“Right!”  Brittany agreed.  “You can say anything during really great sex and get a pass for it the next day.”

Kimberly laughed.  “I don’t get a pass.  I don’t want a pass.”

“Kim!”  Mia shouted.  “How could you?  I know I taught you better than this!”

“You can't tell the first sausage you get in years that you love it!”  Brittany told her.

“You want to scare the poor guy off?”  Mia asked.  “You’re just getting started!”

“Men can’t handle the
L
word until after you’ve been dating for at least a couple of years,”   Brittany explained.

“They’re like animals,”  Mia told her.  “Think of them like wild lions, and you’re like Siegfried, or Roy.  You have to build up their trust.”

“Yeah, you have to talk gently to them, pet them, feed them for a couple of years,”  Brittany added.  “And then you can move into their cages with them.”

“And after they’re comfortable with you being around, then you can use the L word in front of them,”  Mia explained.

Kim placed her hands on her hips.  “Guys, it’s that kind of thinking that gets us into trouble in the first place.  Besides, he…”

“He what?”  Brittany asked.  “He said it first?”

“No,”  Kim said, shaking her head.

“He said it back?”  Mia asked.

“Not exactly,”  Kim told them.

“You said 'I love you', and he didn’t say 'I love you' back?”  Brittany asked.

Kim shook her head.  “I told him that I was falling in love with him, and he told me to fall right in.”

“Ugggghhhh!”  Mia pulled at the ponytails that Brittany had just placed in her hair.  “
I can’t believe you
, Kim!”

“Are you really falling in love with this guy?”  Brittany asked.

Kimberly stared at them for several seconds, before slowing nodded.

“That must have been some really good…”  Mia started, before Brittany elbowed her.  “What?”

“Okay, then,
Houston we have a problem
,”  Brittany declared. 

Mia exhaled.  “If you’re really falling for this guy, then I guess it’s time we give him a thorough examination.”

“And investigation,”  Brittany added.  “It’s time we called out the circle and find out every little detail about Mr. Sterling Williams.”

“Thanks, guys,”  Kim told them.

“Hey, if he’s going to have our sister’s heart in his hands, then we’re going to make damn sure that he doesn’t break it,”  Mia told her.

The three of them gathered in a circle and hugged.

“Hey, you’re meeting him tonight for dinner right?”  Mia asked.

  Kim nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Get a piece of his hair,”  Mia told her.  “I’ll have my friend over in the CSI lab run it through his database and do a fifty state check on Mr. Sterling.  If he’s gotten so much as a parking ticket in Alaska, we’ll know about it.”

“Mia!”  Kim and Brittany both cried out in unison.

Mia shrugged.  “Just trying to help."

*****

The Estates of Valhalla was the premiere community in northern New Jersey.  Located in Montville, New Jersey within the upscale Morris County, Valhalla was a luxurious community of old world estates, nestled on four acre lots.  Located only twenty eight miles from midtown Manhattan, the Estates of Valhalla were home to some of New York’s biggest movers and shakers.  The cheapest mansion within the estates priced out at over three million dollars.  Sterling’s mansion, was one of the largest in the community.

Kimberly pulled up to Sterling’s palatial French country style estate, and found herself nearly breathless.  Not only did the massive mansion take her breath away, but the Rolls Royce Cornice, the Bentley Continental GT, The Bugatti Veyron, and the Lamborghini Aventador sitting in the driveway, left her speechless.  It all made her very nervous again.  Who was this man who lived in this massive mansion, had an apartment in Trump Place, drove Rolls Royces, Ferrari, and Lamborghini, and moved in the same circles as Oscar de la Renta, Caroline Herrera, and Jean-Paul Gaultier? 
Who was he?
  The question that really scared her, was why was he interested in her?  Was he simply toying with
her
?  What could she offer him? 

“Hey!”  Sterling said, opening the front door to his mansion.

“What?”  Kim asked, lifting an eyebrow.  “No housekeeper?”

Sterling laughed.  “Actually, I have three.  But they’ve been given the night off.”

She was being sarcastic, but it backfired.  He had three.

Sterling waved for her to enter.  Kimberly stepped inside, and could do nothing but gasp.

The home was decorated in French Empire.  The interior furnishings, moldings, and gilded walls and ceilings looked as if she had just stepped inside of the French royal palace at Versailles.  All of the Louis’s were represented in the furnishings.  Chairs from Louis XIV, settees from Louis XV, armoire, mirrors, tables, etc. from those Louis and others.

A dual staircase with intricate wrought iron banisters greeted visitors upon entrance into the foyer.  A massive stain glass dome sitting some forty five feet up topped the foyer, while luxurious imported marble floors ran throughout.  Kim peered into the grand dining hall just off of the foyer.  Gold ceiling tiles, and a massive Swarovski crystal chandelier made her clasp her chest.  Her heart felt as though it had skipped a beat.

“Sterling, this house!”  Kim gushed.

“What?”

Kim shook her head in befuddlement.  “I can’t believe this house!”

“Okay, you teased me about my apartment being too modern,”  Sterling told her.  “So now, you’re going to say that my house is too what?”

“I’m not going to say
anything
bad about this house,”  Kim told him.  I can’t believe it.”  She started down a central hall, and came to a gallery hall that led to the formal living room.

“Is this what I think it is?”  Kim asked.

Sterling nodded.  “A Picasso?  Yeah.”

Kim’s mouth fell slightly open.

“Oh, that’s right.  I forgot, you
like
the White boys,”  Sterling laughed.  “I told you that I kept them here at my home.  Well, here they are.  Picasso is there, there, and there.  Monet is over there.  Renoire is over there and there.  Rembrant is over there.  Dago is over there and there.  Cezanne is all over the house.  I also have two more Rembrants, three more Monets,  two more Picassos, and three more Renoires.  Since you
like
the White boys.”

Kimberly laughed and punched him.  “Stop it!”

“Me, I’ll take my Jacob Lawrences and Paul Goodnights over the White boys anytime.”

“How did you manage to build up this kind of private collection?”  Kim asked.

“Just catching them whenever they go up for sale,”  he told her.

“I know Vespasian doesn’t pay you this kind of money!”  Kim said, shaking her head.

Sterling looked at her and smiled.

Kim lifted her hand.  “Sorry, I’m not trying to get into your personal business.  But
damn
!”

Sterling nodded toward the rear of the house.  “C’mon, I’ll show the rest of the house, and then we can come back downstairs and eat.  I have the lobsters on the grill outside.”

“Lobster?”  Kim asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Lobsters, shrimp marinade in a delectable honey, garlic, and butter sauce.  Stuffed crab rolls, grilled salmon, a fresh Cesar salad, asparagus tips with a lemon garlic sauce that will make you cry.  And a nice chilled bottle of Krug waiting for us out near the Jacuzzi.  And if you feel up to it, I had some fresh strawberries dipped in white chocolate.”

Kimberly closed her eyes and swayed slightly.  She knew that after tonight, she was going to have trouble walking again.

Chapter Fifteen

Purchase Estates in Westchester County was one of the areas most prestigious developments.  It was home to many of Westchester County’s most prominent residents, and homes within the community started at two million dollars.  At least back when one could actually buy a home within the community.  Long since sold out, the asking prices now started at four million dollars.  Dr. Neel bought his Tudor style mansion at the pre-construction bargain price of 1.6 million dollars, back when the community first opened up for development.  He often touted the purchase in Purchase, as one of his best investment decisions ever.  It was in this investment where Kimberly and her sister Beverly grew up.

“Pass me the celery,”  Marjorie told her daughter.

Mother and daughter were inside of the home's quarter of a million dollar kitchen.  Custom cabinetry, granite counter tops, and custom, stainless steel, Sub Zero and Wolff appliances dominated the room.  The kitchen had even been featured on the Sub Zero-Wolff website at one time.  It was Marjorie Neel's pride and joy, as well as her favorite part of the home.

"Celery!" Marjorie repeated.

Kim handed her mother the celery, and then continued to chop her onions.

“So what brought you up to Westchester today?”  Marjorie asked.

“I came to see you and Daddy,”  Kim said.

“And what a wonderful surprise it was to see you,”  Thornton said, winking at her from the family room.  He unfolded his newspaper and leaned back in his easy chair. 

Marjorie glared over the bar into the family room, where her husband was seated.  “Don’t encourage her, Thornton.  You know as well as I do, that she has never come home on her own accord.” 

“Mother!”  Kimberly protested. 

“And she walked in, washed her hands, and began helping prepare dinner?”  Marjorie glared at Kim.  “The only question left, is how much?” 

“How much?”  Kim huffed.  “Mom, I don’t need any money.” 

“Sure you do.   You’re thin as a rail.  That job of yours doesn’t pay diddley squat.  And you just came back from New Orleans.”

“I’m not rail thin, my job takes care of my bills, and the trip to New Orleans was work, so it was paid for by my job.”

“How was your trip, dear?”  Thornton asked from the family room.

“It was wonderful!”  Kim gushed.  “I got to meet some of my favorite designers!”

“Any of them offer you a job?”  Marjorie asked.

“I have a job, Mother.”

“A
real
job?  Like in their accounting department?”  Marjorie persisted.

“Who did you get to meet, Sweetheart?”  Thornton asked.

“I got to meet Marc Jacobs, Caroline Herrera, Oscar de le Renta, Christian Lacroix, Karl Lagerfeld, Roberto Cavalli, Jean-Paul Gaultier, Ralph Lauren, Tom Ford, and Muiccia Prada, just to name a few.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic, Sweetheart!”  Thornton told her.  “Did you get any autographs?”

“Dad!”

“What?”

“I couldn’t ask for their autographs!”

“Why not?”

“Because, that would have made me look... unprofessional.”

“Admiring someone’s work so much that you want their autograph makes you look unprofessional?”  Thornton asked.  “I would think that it makes you look like a student of the industry; someone who appreciates talent, and skill, and art.”

“Oh,
hush
, Thornton!”  Marjorie told him.  “You are so old fashioned.  The girl can’t go around begging people for their autographs.”

“What is it about this day and age, when you can’t appreciate another person’s work?”  Thornton grumbled.  “You can’t say job well done anymore, or people accuse you of being a sycophant.   That’s what’s wrong with young people today.  They have no sense of direction or purpose, because they refuse to accept guidance.  They don’t believe in mentors anymore.”

Marjorie huffed.  “So you actually got a chance to meet Oscar de la Renta, and Caroline Herrera?”

Kimberly paused, and then smiled.  Those were two of her mother’s favorite designers.  Coco Chanel, being the third.  “Yes.”

“What was she like?”   Marjorie asked grudgingly.

“She was wonderful,”  Kim said.  “Very elegant, very gracious, very warm.”

Marjorie would never admit that her daughter’s job was interesting, but still.  Meeting Oscar de la Renta, Tom Ford, Marc Jacobs, and Caroline Herrera had impressed her.  “So, how did you manage to meet them?  Did they have you picking up the chairs after the fashion show?”

“Ha, ha, real funny, Mother.”

“Give the child a break, Marjorie,”  Thornton called out from his easy chair.

“Oh,
read your newspaper
, Thornton!”  Marjorie shouted back.

“I got to meet them through a mutual acquaintance,”  Kimberly said.  Almost instantly, she regretted it.

“A mutual acquaintance?”  Marjorie asked, lifting an eyebrow.  Her motherly instincts were buzzing full time.  She smelled the codeword for boyfriend.