Trust Me (39 page)

“It’s
a good thing you have green eyes,” he smiled. “You have the temperament for them.”

“So
what else are you into, aside from blondes with big boobs?” Sandra asked around a mouthful of cranberry crepes.

“You’d
be surprised all the things I’m into,” he answered with a wide smile.

“Such
as? And remember, we’re in a public place, so keep it clean.” She tore a piece of a baguette off and dipping it into the sweet water fish stew as they spoke.

“Well,
I like to spend occasional afternoons playing video games. I like watching cartoons on Saturday mornings, especially Scooby Doo reruns, and I often download jokes on my phone and read them during boring business meetings.” Sandra though of this handsome man in an expensive three-piece suit, reading one-line jokes.

“I
just realized I don’t really know much about you.”

“What
would you like to know? Ask me and I’ll tell you anything.” Sandra took a sip of her tea and thought about her answer.

“How
did you start your business?” she asked a few moments later. “I mean, you’re awfully young to be a multimillionaire.”

“Believe
it or not, I started by making lemonade.” Sandra nearly choked on her drink, looking at him across the table.

“I
can’t imagine you making a million dollars…or euros….with a lemonade stand," Creighton chuckled.

“It
was actually more of an orchard. My maternal grandfather left all of us kids a rather large trust, mainly for school. I was introduced to a man the summer after the Miriam incident, when I went to my grandmother’s to help with her horses. I was fascinated by his organic gardening methods, so after I graduated high school, I asked him if I could use his orchard as an experiment. By the time I graduated university, I had made my first million. Everyone wanted a natural juice and I learned along the way how many other things lemons could be used for, so we started manufacturing organic cleaners, detergents and even spices, not to mention the fruit itself. I purchased the orchard and increased it tenfold, adding oranges and limes to the mix. After that, I just branched out into other fields.”

“So
that’s where you got the idea of solar powered yachts?”

“Sort
of. However, that’s only one branch of my business.”

“I
don’t think I’ve ever met a millionaire before, much less dated one.”

“I’m
very happy for that,” he assured her.

“So
tell me more. What kind of books do you like? What is your favorite movie? What kind of music do you listen to? Your favorite color, favorite food, favorite actor, favorite vacation spot, favorite season, you know, all the typical stuff you should know before you say
I do
.” Creighton smiled as he continued eating.

“I
have a very eclectic taste in most things. I like mystery books mainly, Ellery Queen, Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie; they are my favorites, but I do enjoy adventures like Robin Hood, Robinson Crusoe and Twenty Thousand Leagues; that sort of thing. Music, I like jazz mainly, but I enjoy country, pop and some rap. I like the theater more than movies, but I do enjoy a good comedy, something to forget everyday drudgeries. My favorite color is robin’s egg blue or sunflower yellow; like that dress you’re wearing. My favorite food is spotted dicke, the kind my mum makes is the best. My favorite actor is Johnny Depp and actress is Meryl Streep. My favorite vacation spot is anywhere warm; there’s a lot of rain in England so sunny is a great break and my favorite time of the year is usually spring when everything is coming alive.” Sandra listened with interest. She couldn’t believe how many things they had in common and found a sort of kindred spirit with the man.

“I
know a lot about you as well,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Like
what?”

“Well,
you’ve already said your favorite books are the classics, but you too have an eclectic taste; romance and adventure I think would be your passion. I know your favorite colors are bright colors; blues, yellows, pinks. I know you love your family, but you tend to back down to your sister in order to avoid an argument. I know your favorite food is pasta; your favorite actor would be Orlando Bloom or Ryan Reynolds, someone handsome and romantic. Actress, probably Anne Hathaway or maybe Charlize Theron; strong, independent, beautiful females like yourself. I think your favorite season would be summer so you can run and your new favorite vacation spot is France. How close was I?”

“Not
bad,” she said with a blush. “But why do you think I back down to Cathy?”

“The
way you talk about her, the way you’re always worried about what she would say to everything you do. You don’t seem like the confrontational sort of person, though you do have a temper; so I think you would rather back away than stand your ground. You’re not afraid to speak your mind when you know you’re right, or you’ve just had enough.” Sandra was silent for several moments, thinking about what he said. He was right; she wasn’t confrontational. She didn’t like fighting and even if she knew she was right; she would still shut up and turn away.

“You
know what else I think?” he said, bringing her out of her silent contemplation. “I think your sister is afraid of you.”

“What
would she have to be afraid of?” Sandra frowned as she sat her fork across her empty plate.

“What
kind of person is Cathy?” he asked, following suit and setting his empty plate aside, reaching for his drink.

“She’s
attractive, outgoing, popular, smart, what’s not to like?”

“Here’s
what I think; you were the athletic one in school, am I right?” Sandra nodded. “Cathy didn’t like sports and was probably just a really cute girl, not wanting to put herself out to try for cheerleader or class president, passed her classes with what, a C average?” Sandra frowned but nodded. “She dated a lot, probably lost her virginity around age fifteen, maybe sixteen. After that she became the girl all the guys wanted to date, still is. She graduated with a GPA just barely high enough to get her into university and probably received her degree with a mediocre standing. She got a job in politics because she knew someone, who knew someone, who helped her get her foot in the door. She continually holds you down because she’s jealous and afraid that if you take a step forward; you'll outshine her.

“I
can imagine she’s very envious of your beauty; you probably have a much nicer figure than she does. She very likely wears a lot of makeup and always has her hair done by the salon, never coloring it or styling it at home. You are breathtaking with or without makeup and I love how you can pull your hair back and not think about it. I’ll wager Cathy tells you that you are simple, plain and ordinary in order to prevent you from competing against her. I’m sure if you think about the friends you have based on the friends she has, you’ll have more; the kind that you’ve had for years and always will. I’m not talking about the guys she dates, or the lovers she’s had, but real friends.” Sandra frowned. He seemed to know a lot about her sister and it seemed to bother her in an odd way. She had never felt the need to defend Cathy’s honor before and it was strange feeling to sit across from the man she loved and hear him pick her apart.

“Don’t
get me wrong, Sandra,” he continued. “I’m sure Cathy is a really great girl, she just hasn’t found herself yet. You have. You know who you are and you’re happy with the person inside. You have a certain,
je ne sais qua
, a unique aura that attracts people to you. Where your sister is the sort of person who coos over a puppy, but would get angry when it chewed up a pair of new shoes and she would never clean up after one when it makes a mess. You, on the other hand, would not only clean up after it, you’d probably let it sleep on the end of your bed.” Creighton paused for a moment watching the expression cross Sandra’s face, allowing her a chance to contemplate all he had said.

“I
don’t think I appreciate your description of my sister,” she said at last. “You don’t know her. Cathy is a wonderful person; she was there when our parents died and she helped me cope with the emptiness and encouraged me to continue with school when I wanted to drop out. She supported me and guided me when I thought I was lost. My sister is a really great person, and she’s concerned about my making the same mistakes she did and fall in love with a European playboy who is only interested in a quick lay.”

The
anger began burning her insides as she tossed her napkin aside and stood up, leaving the man to stare at her as she left the café; walking back out to the street. She could feel the sting of tears filling her eyes and her throat thick with unshed screams. She was so angry, so hurt that he would accuse her sister of such horrible things that she felt like walking all the way back to Cote d’Azur; instead she found herself walking down the street in the opposite direction of the car. She didn’t really care where she was going at that particular moment. All she wanted to do was put some distance between herself and the man who had just verbally accosted her sister.

Creighton
was at her side a few moments later, silently walking next to her. She wanted to beat on him; she wanted to kick him and scream at him, but she didn’t know where to start. He was right; she didn’t like confrontations, but she didn’t like her family being insulted, either.

“Are
you angry at me for what I said, or because, deep down, you know I’m right?” Sandra stopped and turned to him, her eyes wide as she stared at the firm set expression on his handsome face. She tried to speak, but words would not come; she just stood there with her mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

“I
didn’t mean to upset you, but it upsets me when you belittle yourself because your sister wouldn’t like something you want to do.”

“She
does not belittle me and she is very encouraging,” she finally found herself saying, but in a tone much less convincing than she would have preferred.

“Really?
Then tell me five things you want to do, really want to do; and don’t think about what your sister would say, just five things, Sandra. You already said you want to cut your hair, so we’ll count that as one, what else do you want?” She continued to stare at him before turning and walking back toward the car; leaving him to follow in her wake.

“I
am not going to discuss this any further,” she snapped at him. “You don’t know a damned thing about Cathy and I will not play your stupid games.” They continued walking in complete silence before Creighton stopped her with a gentle hand on her elbow, beside the car. He unlocked the car by way of the keyless entry, holding it open for her to sit down in the passenger seat. Sandra tucked her feet in before he shut the door, and pulled the seat belt across her chest, folding her arms like an errant child. Creighton sat in the driver’s seat and silently, started the car and pulling back on the road that led to Paris.

They
remained in a tense silence for nearly fifteen minutes, before Sandra found her voice again, turning to him and narrowing her eyes.

“I
want to get my hair styled, have an expensive facial, get my belly button pierced, sit for an erotic portrait and get a tramp stamp.” Creighton looked at her with a half-smile.

“You
want a tattoo?” he asked and she lifted her chin in defiance. “Alright, we’ll do everything you want and to prove my point; we'll call your sister tonight when we get back to the hotel and tell her all about your day. Agreed?”

“And
when she doesn’t complain, will you apologize for what you said?”

“I
will not only apologize to you my love; I will apologize to your sister as well.” With a deep breath, she looked out the window ahead of her and nodded.

 
“Agreed.”

The
hotel was like the others they had stayed in, large, luxurious and expensive. There were two bedrooms, a dining room, kitchen, den and living room, as well as two very elaborate bathrooms. It was decorated in cream and gold and had everything a person could wish for. The kitchen was fully stocked with food, wines and champagnes as well as an espresso machine, microwave, toaster, blender and icemaker. The bedrooms each had a king-size bed and large flat-screen televisions, as well as complementary laptops and fax machines. The carpeting was a deep pile cream color and Sandra smiled as she kicked her shoes off in the bedroom, wiggling her toes in it.

They
had once again checked into the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Ashford and he again carried her over the threshold without objection. She no longer found herself able to find fault in his actions or anger in the way he reacted to her sister; there was some truth in what he said, though she would never admit it to him. Creighton took his phone out of his pocket, dialed a number and began speaking Italian into the receiver as he watched Sandra pull the luggage and many bags up on the bed, sorting through them.

“We’ll
meet Aryana and Daniel this evening for supper instead of this afternoon,” he told her as he hung up the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. “That should give us plenty of time for your list of desires. So, what would you like to do first?” He sat on the bed and watched as she searched for a change of clothes, suitable for walking the streets of Paris.