Rose of Betrayal (31 page)

           
The intimidating Keller mansion,
resplendent with light, made Bernie's heart thud with each step.
 
It didn't matter she was scared out of her
wits, more than ever she was determined to make Brad proud.
 
Refreshing her memory, mentally she called
upon her newfound knowledge of etiquette.
 
If it killed her, she would prove just once in her life
  
Bernice Augusta
Henshaw
could mingle properly with high society.

           
Upon stepping onto the polished
marble entranceway a gloved hand, quickly covering her mouth thankfully caught
an unexpected gasp.
 
Resembling a scene
from “Gone With The Wind,” an intricately carved center staircase curved in
opposing directions.
 
At the landing a
stained glass window featuring a summer garden with flowers, trees and
birds.
 
Hanging overhead an enormous
crystal chandelier sent sparkling slips of light in circuitous directions.
 
Classical music followed as she was lead in a
trance from room to room ogling the rich brocaded furniture in dark colors and
the fresh flower arrangements scattered throughout. Numerous gilt-framed
portraits of sober-clothed, awe-inspiring individuals draped the walls, the
candlelight flickering across their bird bright eyes' making them appear as
though they were inspecting her every move, an
 
eerie feeling nudging her closer to Brad.

           
Rugs in various sizes, patterns, and
colors were scattered taking care not to cover completely the impeccable,
glistening marble and parquet floors.
 
Never before had she seen such, tall ceilings, carved woodwork, and ornately
decorated rooms. Beneath the charming, antiquated veneer was a peculiar virile
elegance speaking of the owners’ prominence and wealth.

           
It was not until she felt her hand
lifted, and kissed that she found herself face to face with the regal owner,
his appearance that of a king void of his crown.
 
A little smile of nervous admiration played
over her lips despite herself as she contemplated his astonishing ease and
indescribable handsomeness.
 
Holy shit,
some people had everything, she concluded, wondering instantly if he was
married with children; and what life would be like living in such luxury.

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Dressed in a black tux, Ted prepared
himself a strong cocktail pushing the stirrer in circuitous patterns while
positioned on a stool in front of the penthouse bar waiting for Sam. During the
past week, he had delved into the work piled upon his desk only taking short
respites for liaisons with Stacy.
 

           
His absence from Sam only made him
realize he desired her more than ever before. No one could take Sam's place, no
one.
 
He had made a decision.
 
All he had to do now was muster the nerve to
follow through.
 
Squeezing the small velvet
box inside his pocket, he struggled to summon the courage to change his
life.
 
Sam waltzing into the room
completely obliterated the speech he had prepared.

           
Not until she saw Ted did Sam
realized how much she had missed him.
 
Suddenly, she found herself looking forward to the evening despite the
business requiring his attention.
 
Fear
that his desire for her had waned had built up from his indifference during the
past week.
 
Relief soothed those fears
when rushing toward her he crushed her to him ravishing every inch of exposed
skin.
 
A mind derailing onslaught making
her secretly vow tonight she would grant his every wish.

           
The chauffeur swung open the doors
to the sleek, white chariot.
 
Bending to
get in, Sam’s eyes captured the splendor of a dozen, long stem, red roses
spread on the seat.
 
The heart shaped
balloon bobbling in the corner inscribed, “I Love You,” the champagne chilling
in a silver ice bucket beside a crystal dish of caviar, crackers, and cheeses.

Easing down next to
Sam, reaching under the seat Ted withdrew a beautifully wrapped box.
 
“This is for you, my darling, God, how I've
missed you.”

Elated, yet confused
by his rare sentimentality, Sam replied, “Ted, this is . . . this is all so
magical, so wonderful, I . . .

Pressing a fingertip
to her lips, “Don't say anything darling, just open it.”

           
Fumbling with the box, Sam's shaking
fingers lifted the lid. On a bed of emerald green satin rested the most
exquisite diamond and ruby necklace she had ever seen.
 
“I don't know what to say, Ted.
 
This is . . . much too expensive.
 
I simply . . . couldn't.”

           
Ignoring her, Ted retrieved the
necklace, opened the clasp, and fastened it around her neck.
 
Task completed, he kissed her
passionately.
 
“Nothing in this world
will ever be too expensive for you. I love you, Samantha Waverly, if you only
knew how much.”

           
Struggling to steady her heart and
regain her senses, Sam whispered, “You don't have to buy me expensive gifts to
prove your love, Ted.
 
I can see it, feel
it.”
 
For the first time, she returned
his passion equally.

           
Ted's hand sliding down came to rest
upon the box secure within his jacket pocket.
 
Not now, not so fast, he thought, there was time, plenty of time.

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Standing solemnly, eyes fixed upon
the
Aubusson
, and Oriental carpets, Brad heard a
familiar deep throaty laugh.
 
Raising his
head, he saw Keller kissing Sam's white gloved hand.
 
In all probability, Peter was typically
showering her with delectable compliments.

 
         
Ebony
satin strands smoothed, and swept from Sam’s face on each side by
diamond-studded combs allowed several layers of ringlets to fall gracefully to
the middle of her bare back.
 
From the
soft folds of white chiffon, her bronze body emerged stamen like.
 
Her floor length gown formed perfectly to a
stem like waist ever so slightly revealed the outline of her firm buttocks.
 
As she turned to face him, Brad's eyes jerked
to the bodice gathered at the shoulders with fluffy folds artfully draped from
shoulder to shoulder, skillfully designed to reveal only a tantalizing portion
of full breasts and cleavage.
 
Below the
alluring
vee
of her body, the gown split at
mid-thigh, no doubt provided by the opportunistic designer herself, divulged
silky, delicious legs with each short, graceful stride.
  
The natural beauty radiating from her face
required no distracting bangles to hang from tiny ear lobes.
  
Pure and simple, Sam was the Queen of the
night.

           
 
Brad knew it was not her explosive necklace
snatching every man's breath while each appraised her openly, but her ethereal
beauty.
 
She was an angel and about as
approachable.
 
Balling his fists at his
sides helped to fight the urge to punch their lights out for looking at her
suggestively with desires in their eyes.
 

           
With a brisk posture, Sam moved with
willowy strides, a flawless creature that had a way of making her presence
known.
 
Captivated by her beauty, Brad
wondered how such a precocious woman-child could fit into the order of his
life, or was it merely the challenge making the possibility so appealing.

           
Ted steered Sam toward Bernice and
Brad.
 
Sam smiled a brief phony smile
full of obvious dread.
 
She heard Brad's
deep voice in the background mellifluously stirring within her something
dangerous.
 
In his formal attire, he was,
perfection incarnated in male flesh, as though Michelangelo - too perfect
to be real, looking as though awaiting his place on top of a pedestal.

           
Exchanging greetings, Brad smiled at
Sam a private smile as though something she had said amused him, there was no
denying the unexplainable sadness radiating from his eyes that seemed
unconventional to her.
 
Acclimated to receiving
woman properly, automatically sweeping Sam's hand into his, he pressed it to
his perfect mouth, though there were no words spoken, a rivulet of warmth, hot
and electrifying detonating pools of blue and black made Sam blush to the roots
of her hair.
 
Feeling as though she had
been on the receiving end of a shock, she briskly extracted her hand.

As if mind readers,
Bernice and Ted peered at one another.
 
Both saw the invisible sparks arching between their partners.
 
Mutual alarm realigned their facial
expressions.

           
Buzzing with curiosity over the two
unfamiliar guests attending the gala, and where the women acquired such
fabulous gowns, a swarm of gleaming, chattering women interrupted the
foursome's conversation.
 
While Brad and
Ted made the necessary introductions, Sam's thoughts reeled.
 
Bernie looked conspicuously ravishing with
Brad's arm around her holding her close; hers slipped possessively around him
both with a newfound satisfied gleam in their eyes, it was obvious they had
just been intimate.
 
They made a dazzling
couple as if matching bookends meant to be together, and, while despondency
swamped her, refusing to believe she was capable of such feelings Sam barely
suppressed a debilitating rush of jealousy.

           
Though Brad was one man in a room of
many, she noticed his very presence demanded a cynosure of glances he totally
disregarded.
  
All around him the aura of
command as though he was a giant among men, surely she should curtsy and kiss
his ring.
 
It was transparent the women
swarming were not interested in Bernie or her, but the demon king himself.
 

Leaving the women to
their gossip, Brad spoke for Ted’s ears only, “Did you complete the proposal?”

“You would be proud
of me, buddy.
 
I had our attorney cover
every angle possible to release us of any responsibility should this merger go
sour.”

“Don't forget for one
minute who you are dealing with.
 
An
attorney will be the least of our worries.
 
I don't like this Ted.
 
Something
tells me this will ruin us.”

           
Feeling utterly smug, Ted replied,
“Jesus, I'd swear you didn't trust me.
 
We
did not build our business on whims.
 
I
know what I'm doing.
 
Not only will this
work but bring in a fortune in the process. I promise.”

           
Uneasiness rolling in waves in
Brad's stomach induced furies beginning to play beneath his skin.
 
“I don't give a shit about your neck it's
mine I'm worried about.
 
You screwed
yourself when you got in debt with slime.
 
So help me God, this better fly, because if it doesn't . . . “

           
“Lighten up, for heaven's sake.
 
We are here to have fun.
 
Shake it off and go rescue that gorgeous
piece of ass.
 
You finally nailed her,
huh?
 
I've never seen Bernie look so
fantastic.
 
Who performed the miracle?”

           
Ted did not miss the anger casting a
shadow in Brad’s eyes over his vulgar insinuations, or the way Sam's name
floating over his lips slipped out as though he wrote each letter in silk.
 
He barely heard his friend's explanation of
how the women spent the week together, becoming friends in the process.
 
Dismissing his anxious thoughts, Ted
exclaimed, “Bernice and Sam, never.”