Lipstick on His Collar

"Looking good, Livi!"

"Thanks, Luda!" Olivia Davis waved over at the megastar rapper as she waded through the large crowd gathered in the lobby of Dexterity Music. Smooth rhythms played over the loud speaker as party goers swilled the best champagne France could provide. Tonight, the lavish downtown Atlanta complex was the playground to the music elite, a couple of infamous housewives and anyone who was anyone in fame-dom.

"You know Luda?" her best friend, Mavis, exclaimed as they made their way to the bar. 

Olivia smiled at her friend's star-struck awe. "He's been trying to see Winston for months, but hasn't had any luck. So, he tries the next best thing - me."

"Really?" 

"He thinks I'll be able to slip him in without an appointment if he shows me some attention. Unfortunately, Winston is booked solid promoting Kango Smooth and he's been cancelling meetings, because of what's been happening with Malory." 

"The old lady hasn't cocked her toes yet?" 

"Mavis!" Olivia scolded slapping her friend's arm.

"Look, that marriage has been dead from jump. E'rybody knows that Wins was forced into that marriage by his financier daddy." Mavis retorted with a twist of her neck and a suck of her teeth. 

"Be as it may, you can't talk about the man's wife like that."

Mavis glanced at her sideways before taking a sip of her champagne. "Whatever, Liv? Don't act like you ain't hot for the man's sexy drawers."

"Mavis, will you shush?" Olivia whipped her head back and forth to make sure no one had heard her.

Mavis leaned in closer. "You let him tap that over your desk or his?" 

Olivia laughed despite herself as she watched her girl pump her hips like a 2-buck stripper. Hers and the petite cutie’s friendship had gone back to their days in the crib, when both their single mothers depended on each other for help and support when their deadbeat daddy’s didn’t bother. They were thick as blood. In fact, Mavis was the only person who knew about her crush on her boss, Winston Hamilton Dexter III, producer extraordinaire, retired rap star and heir to the Dexter fortune. What she hadn't told Mavis was how deep that crush had gotten over the last few months.

She had been thrown into tight quarters with Winston for months plotting the media blitz on Kango Smooth. They had traveled to various studios across the country, working with top producers and mixers to record Kango’s music. She remembered dinners with him where they talked about everything from their favorite music to trash TV. When there was a lull in the conversation Winston would challenge her to a game on XBOX, where she’d whoop him at several rounds of Mortal Kombat. They kept their friendship very professional, but the sexual chemistry was there.

There was one rainy night in New York she could never forget; the night when they had almost kissed in his apartment. He looked so good in his relaxed jeans and T-shirt, toiling over a musical storyboard. A guitar slung over his board shoulders as he worked out the chording on a piece for Kango. Olivia had been taking notes as Winston plucked out the love song to match the steam lyrics Kango had written earlier in the evening. The musician couldn't find the right tone, but Winston had felt so inspired, he took on the task. 

As he strummed out the notes, their eyes would occasionally connect over a lyric and hold. Those dark, steely slate colored eyes were magnetic. If she didn't know any better she could've sworn they were reading her thoughts, which were far from ladylike. His cocoa bean colored skin shun against the fireplace light, accentuating the ripple of his arms, as his long fingers strummed the chords with precision. She wondered to herself how they would feel over her throbbing cords. She looked away when she felt a blush spread on her cheeks.

Winston drew closer to her, the strains of the music growing more intensified, seductive. Olivia found herself staring back into his eyes trying to gauge the situation. The good girl in her wanted to back away and run, but the naughty tramp in her wanted to push him up against the dining room table and have her way with him. As the music began to heat up, they drew in closer and closer. Before too long his lips hovered just over hers, inhaling the breath she held. But, in the last second, Winston had caught himself, breaking the spell by waving it off as the inspiration going to his head. They had called it a night shortly after that and went to their separate bedrooms.

The next morning Winston had left a note saying he needed Olivia to get back to Atlanta to schedule Kango's sessions and several marketing meetings. Hurt had been her first feeling at being sent away, but once she thought logically she knew Winston was just reestablishing their boss-employee relationship. So, she had jumped on the next flight to ATL to dive head first into working on the next move for Kango.

Now after months of all that work, Kango Smooth was experiencing his first record release party. No thanks to Winston. Olivia’s eyes fell on the man across the room surrounded by a cavalcade of photographers, media critics, and moguls, extoling the lyrical mastery and visionary genius of his newest protégé. Winston looked so good in his Sean John suit, tailored made by Puffy’s personal stylists. He looked powerful. His closely trimmed fade displayed a well-shaped head, perfect for gripping in passion. His full lips were surrounded by neatly styled beard that framed a strong sexy jawline. His body was a masterpiece that he took pride in keeping up every day. Even on the road, he had made it a point to get two hours of workout time in. She had remembered seeing him work out on the treadmill in his apartment and almost passed out from the sight of his glistening chest in the sunlight.

Speaking of being blinded, she admired the huge Karat stud twinkling in the disco-ball light. She laughed, because Kango had convinced Winston to get it on a dare, during a drunken night in one of the studios. Winston had never indulged in such extravagances, but after a few shots of Hennessey, they had gotten a professional in to do the job. Olivia had spent the next day tending the wound for him, since he was still hung over. Now, here he was months later with a diamond rock hanging off his ear like a badge of honor. Before this piece, the only jewelry he wore was his wedding ring, which was not flashy at all, but a simple titanium band; one that blended in with his dark cocoa skin.



Winston could feel the heat creeping in on him, like someone was watching him, caressing him with their eyes. He tried not to seeking out the eyes for fear he’d give himself away. So he kept his eyes on the group before him, regaling them with stories of honing this music phenom into the current media prince he was now. He was proud of his work and was security in the belief that Kango was delivering a well-balanced product that was already getting critical acclaim by critics and the underground alike.

"So, Wins, you think this kid’s going be certified gold?" 

"Double platinum." Wins corrected sipping his champagne. "Kango Smooth has everything a listener could want: soul, depth, edge. He's two parts Al Green, two parts Kanye and all Kango Smooth."

"This will be quite a feather in your cap if you can make the touring schedule. He's putting you to some serious work. How's Malory handling it?"


Winston paused at the mention of his wife. Smiling pleasantly, despite the ire he felt inside, he turned to the reporter whom he recognized as one of those damn tabloid types. "Malory has been a consummate supporter of my work." 

"Will she put in an appearance tonight?" another female reporter asked. 

"No. My wife will be resting this evening. Now if you will excuse me." Winston walked away from the group, a cue to them he had no further comments. Little did they know, Malory Dexter was nestled in the arms of her current lover. Just days ago, she had broken the news to him upon his return from New York, where he had been hiding for months from his sexy assistant for fear he would act on his lust. After Malory’s bombshell the other night, all bets were out the window.  

Winston and Malory had known their marriage was name only. Despite that knowledge, Winston never took advantage or slept outside his marital bed. Malory apparently couldn’t say the same. Thankfully, his stint as a rapper had afforded him enough memories to stay focused on building his business, rather than chasing tail. However, there were days, like that night in New York that tested his resolve. Cursing himself, his lustful eyes suddenly fell on Olivia across the room. It had been months since he had seen the stunning beauty in person; not since that steamy night. He had spoken with her often about setting up meetings, delivering proofs and tracks, but he couldn’t even bring himself to Skype her for just a quick minute. His guilt had haunted him about how he had sent her packing back to Atlanta. In fact, he was still kicking himself for not kissing her that night.  

She looked so hot tonight in her metallic gold mini sheath. It molded to her curves and put her long, dark coffee legs on display. Legs he would love to wrap about him and show the utmost care. He had noticed her new hair cut almost instantly. Gone was the cascade of ebony curls, replaced with a short, powerful bob that was fit for a runway. But then again, Olivia was model beautiful. She could give Adriana Lima a run for her money with that body and face. Her eyes were doe-like set in the deepest color brown. Her pouty lips were like a kewpie doll. Her skin was immaculate, flawless in its rich darkness. Sometimes Winston dreamed he was licking her from head to toe like a Pudding Pop; her moans playing out like a Barry White melody. 

But Olivia Davis, his faithful, loyal assistant for the last three years, had been completely off limits to him. He had made the rule to keep himself from straying. However, now with Malory's admission, why should he be discreet or hold back on his own lust? Hell, since Malory was diagnosed with Hotchkinson's, they had not slept together, nor has she wanted him around. But he was sure Darren, her personal trainer, was getting it on the regular. His eyes switched their focus to watch as party goers bopped their heads to the insane beats of Kango's album, but immediately fell back on Olivia as she and her girlfriend gyrated about. 

"Killing'em with the know, Win Dex?" 

Winston smiled at his old rap name, then turned to man, who dared call him so. "Cajun Mal, where you been, man? Heard you and Kendra just had a baby." 

"Got me two with that woman." The massively tall, dreadlock megastar Malcolm "Cajun Malice" Tresvant shook his hand firmly before pounding his back. He had caused quite a scandal a year and half ago by kidnapping his superstar life- coach wife after she tried to divorce him. News of the romantic adventure made the gossip mills. Then they were back in the news again when Kendra announced on her new talk show that she was pregnant - with twins. 

"And you look all kinds of proud.” Winston ribbed him, making the man beam with pride. 

"I warned her she couldn't break our bound. She was stubborn." 

"Bet you whipped it on her. If I recall our last tour together, before your marriage to Superwoman, you were the bedroom slayer." 

"No more, player. But you, you weren't too far behind me." 

Winston chuckled. "Guilty as charged." 

"What's this I heard about Malory? Is it true?" 

"Yep." 

"We'll pray for her.” After a moment, Malcolm stared his counterpart down. “No disrespect, Wins, you and her was never a match. Why your old man burn you like that?" 

Winston sipped his drink. "Old money, old marriage standards. Keep the lines pure, my brother." 

Malcolm laughed. "I can't get with that uppity mess. How do you do it?" 

Winston's eyes sought out Olivia's whereabouts. “Work helped. I had an empire to build.” 

Malcolm followed his eyes to the raving beauty at the bar. Kango Smooth had her cornered at the bar, talking her ear off. She was patient with him, but he could tell by her body language she was needing a rescue, and Winston seemed to want to oblige. "You gonna get on that white horse?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"You look like you want to save the gal. How long you been carrying a flame for Livi?"

Winston smirked at his old friend. "What makes you think I'm carrying a flame?" 

"It's all over that grill of yours. Better get over there before Kango Smooth work his magic." 

"C'mon, Livi, one dinner, that's all I'm asking." 

"Kango, you know I can't. Besides, I'm sure you got plenty of girls lined up around the block just phennin’ to go on a date with you." 

"But no one as lovely as you." Kango lifted her delicate hand to his lips before the sound of someone clearing their throat caught his attention. "Oh, hey, Winston. How you?" 

"Fine. Better if you'd unhand my assistant. That's all I need, for you to scare off the best assistant a man could have." 

Olivia blushed at the compliment, while Kango bristled at being blocked by his executive producer and boss. "Sure thing. I was trying to reward, Miss Davis with a dinner for all the hard work she put into helping get my album done." 

"I'm sure she knows considering I paid her a bonus for it. Besides, I would've paid for that dinner, too." 

Kango grinned unabashedly. "Well, for now anyway. By the look of this crowd, I may not have to eat Romen no more. Uh, looky here, lady..." 

"Play on, player." Winston laughed as the man moved on to his next target

"I could've handled him." Olivia assured him.  

"I know. I've seen you do it." Winston motioned the bartender for another drink, then his eyes glided up and down her frame. "You look very beautiful tonight." 

"Thank you. I got my hair cut last week." 

"It looks very couture." 

"Just trying to keep up with the Jones." 

"Here I thought it was the Kardashians," Winston jested. 

"I think they're here." Olivia peeped about the room. "I know Khloe and Lamar RSVP'd." 

"Her, I can stand."

"Winston! Are you saying you keep up with the Kardashians." 

"Not since that wedding episode. Gave up cold turkey after that." He laughed taking another sip. "Malory leaves it on the DVR." 

"M-hmmm." 

"No really." 

"Ok. Well, I need to go get the tracks up to Khaled before the speech in an hour." Olivia turned to go. 

"They’re in the office safe." Winston watched as she walked across the lobby to the grand staircase. His office was on the far side of the building in a secluded part. He had it soundproofed so he could hear the music without killing the rest of his team. There was also a secret studio in the back where he worked on his own music - a side project. His eyes watched her gold covered booty ascend then disappear around the corner. He sighed.

 "You're doing yourself no good by staring, brother." 

"Damn, Malcolm. What are you a fairy godmother?" 

"How 'bout Pimp Godfather? Go get it." 

"You must've forgot the part that I'm a married man." 

"Unhappily married man, who ain't seen action since the 90's." Malcolm pushed a stray dreadlock from his forehead. "Look, Malory's dying ass is getting some. Why can't you?" 

"How'd you know about that?" 

"TMZ." Malcolm shrugged. 

Winston sucked his tooth and turned away. 

"Don't miss your chance." Malcolm warned walking back into the crowd. 

Winston stared at the staircase then over at the side entrance. A thought crossed his mind and decision crossed his face, determination filling his slate eyes. "Ah hell." 

Olivia rummaged through the safe looking for the tracks. She wasn't completely focused on finding them. She was still reeling over the scent of Winston. He smelled so good, so sexy. It was a woody kind of smell like a fresh forest. Her body tingled and embarrassingly her nipples had hardened. Thank God for the metallic chain links on this dress. She released a shuttering sigh as she tried to focus on her task at hand. 

"Sorry, I had them delivered to Khaled earlier." 

Olivia whipped around in surprise, clutching her heart. His deep voice had run through her body like a touch. Their eyes connected and it was New York all over again. Did he get even hotter looking? Olivia gulp down the peach-pit sized lump in her throat. They had not been alone in the same room since that night. Running her sweaty palms over the chain links, she came away from the safe. 

"Well, I'll just double check with Khaled's people to make sure he has the right tracks. Those were 2 and 4, right-" 

Suddenly, Winston crushed her to his chest and began to drink in her lips. Olivia gasped but soon melted into his arms. He felt so good; warm and embracing. Her arms wrapped about his neck drawing him closer to her. Winston savored the feel of her generous curves along his frame. His hands drifted down her sleek back and over her full derriere, pulling her into him more.  

Olivia pushed away slightly. "Winston. We shouldn't..." 

"Liv, I made an awful mistake sending you away after what nearly happened in New York. I can't tell you how many times I kicked myself rotten over it." His lips trailed down her neck, hovering over her ear. "I want a redo." 

"What about Malory?"

"Liv, tonight there is no Malory." He didn't go into explanation about his wife's revelation, but after Malcolm's words of wisdom, he knew what he needed to do. 

He pulled away and began tugging his neck tie free. His movements were urgent, like he was being burned and needed to get out of his clothes. Olivia watched him, steam flowing into her eyes as he plucked button after button from his crisply pressed shirt. Once he had it unbuttoned, he drew her back to him, molding her against his hardness. Their lips folded over one another, tasting and feeling, nipping and biting. It was all so ravenous. It had been a long time since either of them had indulged in some naughtiness. Winston had gotten by on whatever scraps Malory had thrown his way, but Olivia had been long overdue. 

Her senses were on overload as she took him in. She could barely catch her breath as his fingers laced into the softness of her short bob, pulling it back to expose her long, swan-like neck. The feel of his lips touching the sensitive spot beneath her earlobe sent shockwaves down her body. Her pleasure was not lost on Winston. His mouth blazed the column, leaving a silky trail to her breastbone. Then he reveled in the hum coming from Olivia's throat as he retraced the path with his fingers.  

"Damn, you're so soft," he whispered in amazement. He lifted her up into his arms and brought her over to the plush couch.  

"Winston, what about the door?" 

"Locked it on my way in," he assured her, lifting the metallic dress away from her body. 

Underneath she wore a pair of black lace panties with matching bra. Both molded to her frame like a second skin, accentuating her assets delicately. Winston undid the front snap of the bra pushing the straps away from her shoulders to unveil the hefty breasts beneath. A shutter fell from Olivia's lips as she felt his warm fingers trail over the skin of her shoulders. His lips soon followed. It seemed with each kiss he laid in the heat increased, making her skin tingle.

Her fingers ran over his head, embracing it to her bosom, enjoying the feel of his body covering hers. She had dreamt of this many a night. Sometimes, when she found the need to fulfill her fantasies, in the heat of the moment, she would call out his name. He was her go to fantasy. Now he was real. The hands fondling her breasts her real, the lips encircling her nipples were real. So real. Olivia's head fell back taking in the sweet pressure. Sighs dripped from her lips as Winston's tongue flicked her nipple. 

Winston simply inhaled her smell, taking in the fresh and flowery scent. His hands roved her frame, molding her flesh in his palm. She was a real woman, strong and soft. Her nipples tasted sweet to his tongue as they rolled about. He buried his face between the soft pillows taking it all in, then he pushed back to gaze down at her. The fire in his eyes made Olivia gasp. It was so intense, hypnotizing. His fingers laced over her panties, then tugged them from her body. 

"I want to taste you, Liv."

Those five little words sent a maelstrom of feminine essence pouring out for her body causing a flush on her coffee colored skin. She tried again to swallow the lump in her throat as he descended on her mound, intent on worshipping at her folds. She'd never had a man do this. Her last boyfriend was “not that kind of guy” and her high school love barely knew where anything was let alone how to pleasure it. Her eyes stayed riveted on his head as it dipped between her thighs. When his tongue nudged at her slit, she thought she had been burned. 

"Relax." His soothing voice consoled gently pushing her hips back down. "I won't hurt you." 

Olivia nestled back into the couch, taking in the erotic show happening between her legs. Soon, all the tension flowed from her muscles, replaced by even more intense sensations. Winston twirled her tiny joy button about his tongue like Pele would a soccer ball. Several times she caught her breath as he led her to the edge and back in a dance that only he knew and she followed.  

Winston lapped up the juice drizzling from her pulsing puss. He watched as her lithe body undulated up and down under his ministrations. He had never seen a woman look sexier or more stunning taking her pleasure. It was like he had imagined it to be. He tenderly kissed her mound before slipping his long fingers into her depth. He immediately felt the quivers of her muscles as they enclosed around his digits. She was tight and knowing how much made his dick thicken at the prospect of getting the same treatment.  

Olivia stifled a moan against her knuckle. “Ooh, Winston.” 

“Has it been that long, Livi?” 

“Too long.” Her admission struck a chord with him. He realized this could be no ordinary quickie. For as long as she had worked for him, he had never heard of her seeing anyone and that was three years’ worth. Who knows how long it had been before that? 

His fingers seemed to be obsessed with massaging a special spot in her. Olivia could feel the heat rise to her head, making her dizzy. Her breathing had grown ragged like she had jogged up 30 blocks and back. The pressure was getting to her and her body was not her own as it writhe to and fro on the couch. Winston reached over to the side table and popped open a secret compartment underneath to retrieve a condom. Olivia looked over at it then Winston. 

Winston laughed, understanding her surprise. “I had that installed when I first bought the building. The only other person who knows about it is my gopher, T’shawn, who replenishes it from time to time, when they expire. And usually he’s tossing out the whole box when that happens.” 

Olivia burst out laughing since she was well aware Winston pretty much kept it professional in his office. “I guess I can thank you for looking out for my health and yours. Now I know why T’Shawn had that blush on his face that one time.” 

Winston chuckled as he opened the packet and sheathed himself. “He’s never had the nerve to ask me why I keep asking to replenish that thing. He just does it. Thank you, T’Shawn.”

“Yes. Thank you, T’Shawn.” Olivia smiled as she drew Winston back down onto the couch.

Winston kissed her soundly as he settled between her legs. His hands gripped her hips possessively. “Liv, I want you so bad. I have since the first time I saw you.” 

“You have?” 

“Yes.” He whispered against her lips. “But circumstances kept me from ever acting on those feelings.

“And those circumstances have changed?” 

His eyes met hers, reflecting an answer of certainty and release of burden that had held him back from her. “Yes.”

Before another question could be asked, he pushed his way into her tight abyss. Their eyes never broke as their bodies adjusted to their unique fit. Winston had slid into home diving into her depths. She was warm and inviting, sumptuous. Her walls milked him deliciously, pleasuring him. Olivia reeled at the feel of him filling her so completely. He was smashing every wet dream she had ever had, any fantasy she’d imagined or any daydream she’d nodded off to. Her arms wrapped about his neck, holding on for dear life as he rocked her into the couch. 

Just when he had set one rhythm, he flipped the script on her and straddled her over his body in one motion. “I want you to ride me, Liv. I’m yours to control.” 

Liv was taken by surprise, but she was a quick study and took to the task readily. She rocked her hips against his in a blatant interpretation of his earlier movements. Her hands explored the ripples of his abs, loving how they contracted with every thrust. 

“That’s it, Livi.” His husky whisper turned her further on, pushing her movements into faster gaits. The more he groaned the more she wanted to hear him do so. She loved the control her movements yielded. They excited her, made her bolder. 

Intense pleasure began to fill her tiny core, spreading fire and electricity throughout her body. She gripped her breasts, tweaking the hardened nubs. But Winston quickly pushed her hands aside replacing them with his lips, continuing where he had left off the first time.

“Oh, God, Winston.” Her wistful sighs guided his actions as his hands clutched her pert ass, rocking it over his dick. “I don’t think I can…” 

“Go ahead, Livi. I want to feel you, hear you.” 

From his seated position, he thrusted his full self into her, rubbing against her walls, filling her space. All the while, Olivia rode him like her life depended on getting to the finish. Suddenly, the explosion that overtook her forced a scream of pure euphoria from her throat, along with endless ripples of ecstasy. Olivia’s legs began to shake as if she had complete muscle loss. Thank God, Winston was holding her. 

Not long after her fall, he was right behind her. His teeth grazed her neck hoping to quell the loud sounds of his climax. She could feel him stiffen, clutching for the final strains. Moments passed as they drifted back down from their cloud. They took in the sounds of their ragged breath, the smells of their joined bodies and the feel of their sweat mingling. 

“Did I dream this?” Olivia sighed resting her chin against his head. 

“No. But it was unreal.” Winston adjusted their position so that Olivia rested over his chest.

 “What are we going to do now?” 

“I know what I want to do,” he chuckled kissing her lips again. 

“Winston, be serious. I mean, I’m your assistant. You’re my boss, not to mention, married."

“Olivia…"

Suddenly, his cellphone went off drawing his attention. Glancing down, he immediately recognized the number and grew annoyed. Tapping the red key on the iPhone, he answered, “Malory, you have the worse timing- Darren? What the hell are you doing calling from… What? When?” 

Winston sat up pulling on his shirt. “Which hospital?” 

Olivia sat back as Winston got the details from someone named Darren. She had never heard him answer the phone so short with Malory. He usually was polite. They weren’t the lovey-dovey type of couple, but he never went out of his way to be rude. There was attitude in his tone, coldness, but now something was up. But what? Was their sleeping together a result of some altercation with his wife? And who was Darren? Her mind and heart began to race. 

“Olivia, I’m sorry, but Malory’s been rushed to the hospital. I have to go. Will you-"

“I’ll handle things here.” She used her most professional tone with him as she slipped her clothes back on, guilt and shame clamoring to claim her spirit. 

Sensing her pulling away, he quickly snatched her to him. “I promise to explain everything as soon as I get this thing situated with Malory. This is not how I wanted to end this night with you.“Please, Winston. Your wife needs you.”  

Winston saw he would not be able to make amends now without looking like an unfeeling jerk. But he promised he would fix it. He wasn’t wasting time anymore. He’d given up seven years of his life he was not going to lose his golden ring. Kissing her forehead, he turned and headed out his office, leaving Olivia standing there trying to reconcile her disgrace. Without hesitation, she went to her office.
  

At the hospital, Winston ran into the ER. He was immediately met by doctors and Darren who lead him to the ICU. Darren whined how they were keeping him out of the ICU because he was not her next of kin, but Winston couldn’t hear that noise. He simply assured the man he would fix it. He entered the room hearing machines beep and hiss with all the sterility of a hospital. There on the bed was Malory, covered in wires. She seemed weaker than the last time he’d seen her at the house five days ago. 

“We were able to keep her stable, but she is very weak.” The doctor further explained what had happened and said that her time was drawing near. Winston simply nodded his understanding to everything the doctor was telling him. “She wanted to speak with you privately before I sent in her –uh- other companion.” 

Winston glanced at the doctor and nodded, which gave the man the signal to leave. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, still flavored with Olivia’s essence. He should be feeling guilty for having cheated on his wife, but he didn’t. Not when she had been carrying on her affair with Darren under his nose for all these years. Guilt was the last thing he felt. 

“Malory?” 

She opened her eyes to look at him. She had been a stunner, but the disease had run through her robbing her of that beauty. Her caramel skin was now pale and sickly and the vixen green eyes were now foggy and dim. She wasn’t always the nicest of people, rude and snobby was more like it. She sure hell enjoyed the perks that his name, fame and money brought her. But that person wasn’t in the bed now. The eyes looking back at him were not the same. They seemed remorseful, reconciling. 

“I know you told me to go to hell four days ago after what I told you. And damn, if you weren’t right, Win.” She attempted a laugh but a couch came out instead. “I guess God don’t like ugly.” 

“Malory, shouldn’t you be conserving your strength.” 

“Win, there’s no strength left to conserve. I’m dying; plain and simple. But before I leave this earth I need to clear my conscience. I should’ve done a better job of telling you about Darren and me, but I didn’t. I’ll die with that on my soul. But I wanted you to hear it clear from me. You were a good husband, who didn’t deserve a viper like me.” She reached for his hand and clutched it tightly. “I am sorry for not having the guts to break this thing when you asked me years ago. I guess having seen how marriages work in our circle for so long, I thought I was doing us both a favor. What I did is torture you and I am sorry. You deserve happiness.” She cleared a stray tear before finishing, “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me. Hell, I wouldn’t. But promise me you’ll get yourself a girl who truly loves you.” 

Winston bent closer to look her in the eye. Sadness filled them. As angry as she had made him with her admission, her current plea brought on an air of forgiveness he never thought he would feel for her. Tightening his grip on her hand, he kissed her forehead.  

“I will. And I promise I won’t put you in last season Alexander McQueen for your casket.” 

“I’ll haunt you if you do,” she laughed clutching his head to hers. She sniffed the air between them, then noted the smeared lipstick on his collar, and grinned wickedly. “I think you already started your search.” 

A blush crossed his cheeks. “Maybe…” 

“Touché, Win. Touché.” Malory settled back into her bed, and like a light switch her old self was back. “Now, get the hell out of here. I want to be out of your hair come morning and I want to spend my last night on Earth with my stud. Will you send him in?” 

Winston rolled his eyes and started out the door. He motioned Darren in. Looking back one last time, Malory blew him a kiss and he caught it fondly. “Catch you later, Malory.” 

“Only if you heading where it’s hot,” she laughed, waving him away. “Get back to your woman.”

Winston nodded and left the hospital. He was elated and free.


When he entered the building, the press was gone as were the guests. His PR team must’ve known to clear the place. He marched up to his office to see if Olivia had stuck around. He was crossing the room, when he noticed the light glaring from his computer. As he approached, he noticed his inbox was up with an e-mail from Olivia with a subject line of “Resignation”. His heart started beating fast. He refused to read and instead jetted for the door.

He ran down to the parking garage to get his Astin. Firing up the sports car, he rolled out in search for his lady. “Damnit, Livi. I’m not gonna lose you.”

Aris and Evangeline - The Finale

More days slipped away from them. The air in the house was growing increasingly tense by several degrees. Since that night, Evangeline had refused to see or speak to Aristotle, which piqued his guilt and ire at the same time. There had been many times he had wanted to go to her, but he couldn't. Both their prides were getting the best of them in the worst way. After a tumultuous week of bitter silence, Evangeline had finally had enough. During the predawn hours, she had packed her things and moved into the townhouse to avoid any potential contact with him. Aristotle had not taken well to the news of her departure. In fact, that morning, the servants had hidden away while he shattered practically everything within reach; plates, glasses, vases. The house was a shambles, but no more than the shambles of his insides. Jacques was the only brave soul to try to stop him from storming out of the house to go after her.

"Monsieur, give her time!" the valet pleaded. "You both are stubborn and will not listen to reason."

"Listen to the man, Aris." Jean's voice echoed entering the messy foyer. He had watched from the doorway as the two men struggled. Jacques was trying desperately to stop the steam train know as Aristotle, who didn't seem too deterred by the slim man. As Jean stepped gingerly over broken glass and porcelain, he gestured for Jacques to go on, sparing the man a potential loss of employment. "Come along, mon ami. You look terrible."

Aristotle allowed his good friend to lead him back into his study. Glancing about, Jean immediately noticed that Aristotle had been practically living in the room. Strewn rum bottles lay everywhere as well as dirty plates of untouched food and a blanket carelessly draped over the sofa. "When was the last time you slept in your own bed?"

Aristotle shrugged. "I find my own bed lacking."

Jean studied his disheveled  friend. He'd never seen him this way. His face was covered with a thin beard, his usually neat plaits were matted, bags weighted his eyes and his bulk seemed diminished. Either Aristotle was ill or he had the worse case of love he'd ever seen. "That bad, mon ami?"

"She's heartless, Jean. I knew that from the beginning. Yet, I was the fool," Aristotle shrugged.

"How do you know your affections are not returned?"

"Because she can't wait to leave me!"

"Did she say that?"

Aristotle snorted as he settled into his chair. "She's made no bones about our arrangement. She keeps having to remind me our association is temporary. I've even asked her to renegotiate the time, but she refuses."

"Have you told her of your feelings?"

This gave him pause. He hadn't told Evangeline of his feelings. He had just assumed she had known and was blissfully ignoring them. Would her attitude change if he did tell her? Doubt began to cloud his mind. Evangeline valued her independence above everything else, of course her attitude wouldn't change.

"It wouldn't matter, Jean."

"Are you sure?" his friend ventured, pointedly.

Aristotle thought again, then glanced up at his friend. "What do you know?"

Jean sighed, leaning on his desk. "Eloise went to see Evangeline at the townhouse this morning. The woman is angry with you that is for sure. Eloise couldn't even repeat half the ugly names she'd called you. But it sounded like she was more hurt than insulted. You actually called her an amusement - to her face?"

Aristotle dropped his head in his hand, then nodded it in affirmation. He heard Jean tsk him disappointedly. "Aristotle!"

"I was angry, Jean. The woman can be callous about my feelings but I'm to go lightly her. You know her tongue is viperous. Then those two bastards show up here to come collect her and she doesn't look the least bit saddened, delighted was more like it. How am I supposed to feel?"

"I see." Jean finally understood the real reason for his friend's rage. He was going to loose her and he didn't know how to handle it. "Aris, if you love the woman-"

"Love!" Aristotle scoffed.

"This is me, Aris. Lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. Remember, when I was deep in my cups over Eloise. The pretty thing had how many suitors after her. Many more well qualified than me."

"And she couldn't stand any of them." Aristotle mused with remembrance. "If I recall you had rebuffed her advances."

"And you convinced me that I was twice the fool for doing so. Had I not taking your advice-"

"More like throttling."

"I would've lost her, Aris. Now, you love that minx. It's written plainly on that haggard face of yours. And if you don't let her know now, you will regret it."

With that Jean left Aristotle to his misery. Sadly, Aristotle had stopped lying to himself. He just couldn't bring himself to admit his love openly. It was the fear of her rejection. But was Evangeline feeling the same? What was keeping her from admitting her love for him? If it was even there. He thought back on all their conversations and began to notice a common thread. Dear God, why hadn't he seen this before? He rose from his chair to gaze out the window. The storm had cleared up allowing the sun to break through the clouds. He had a choice to make: love her or lose her. With resolve, Aristotle turned and left his study.

"Jacques, ready me a bath and my clothes."


Evangeline was in bed, where she had spent most of the morning since settling into the townhouse. She had been up before dawn packing her things in a mad dash to get out of the manor. Everyone, including Aristotle, were most likely under the impression she had left to get away from him. In actuality, she had done it to keep herself from doing something foolish, like running to Aristotle and blubbering about how much she loved him. If only she could have erased those awful days and nights alone in her room. She could've made everything right that afternoon he'd come to her. They could've kissed and made up and all would've been well.

Why had she intentionally jab him? Her selfish pride. That awful beast. She couldn't let it go that he had cut her so deeply. It was that same shameful pride that had her running from his house and straight to his townhouse. Why had she come here and not gone to the hotel to stay with Como and Rui? She hated to admit it but she couldn't loose his closeness. She still had to feel his spirit somehow.

Her only respite from her vicious pride was the morning's visit from Eloise, but even then her ire had been fueled again retelling what had happened. It made her feel justified in her anger and shame. However, she had felt terrible when she'd seen the blushes crossing her friend's cheeks at her colorful words. But she was hurt. And wounded prides were not very eloquent at all. In fact, they were vulgar.

To think she had reconsidered her thoughts on the carriage ride home that day. She had actually considered lengthening her stay and sending Rui and Como back to Cabo Verde. Well, at least he'd exposed his true self before she'd made a complete fool of herself. At least, his true feelings about her were now front and center and unmistakeable. To hell with Aristotle Beauvois, the arrogant swine. Let him find his amusements elsewhere, because her shop was closed.

Her eyes drifted out the water-splattered window to see the storm clearing, the sun breaking into the clouds. Her hand rested casually on her middle faintly while thoughts of the good times rolled around in her head. How foolish they were? Worse than most foppish of fops. Right now, they could be on their morning ride along the beach, taking in the salty sea air or if the rain had not let up, they'd be curled up on the sheltered veranda watching the rainfall. Suddenly, pain constricted her throat forcing her to swallow the hurt.

"Damnit, Evangeline, pull yourself together. He's like all the others. He doesn't matter." She scolded herself sitting up. But it was no use, the dams broke open and she fell back on the bed, sobbing, under the impact. Why did this hurt this much? Because he stole your heart, silly girl, and you let him. A soft knock on the door sobered her, quickly. "Entre."

The petite maid, Emily, who had helped her settle in, shuffled into the room with a curtsey. "Madame Montiero, Monsieur Beauvois is down below."

Evangeline hid her surprise, but not her ire. "Tell him I am taking no visitors."

She knew she was being ridiculous considering she was in his townhouse and he had every right. She rose to stand at the window, dismissing the girl with a wave. Fearfully, the girl scurried away to tell her employer his guest refused to see him. A moment barely passed before Aristotle burst into the room, slamming the door behind him. He was seething. Evangeline had whirled around to stand her ground, hands firmly on her hips, ready to battle. She was almost undone by his appearance. A freshly shaved and attired Aristotle glared at her through tired eyes. If she would just pack away her damnable pride, then she could pull him into her arms and show him how much he meant to her.

Aristotle was having the same dilemma. His rage had been piqued when the little maid come to tell him she had refused him an audience. The nerve of her to dismiss him in his own townhouse. Did she never learn? Now, with one look at her stunning face, he was undone yet his anger still prevailed.

"How dare you-"

"I dare when it's my property," he bit quickly stopping her rant.

"Well, then I'll just go stay with Como and Rui," she huffed brushing passed him.

"You do and I'll call them out!" He threatened snatching her back.

Evangeline gasped at the threat. Was he serious? His eyes sure registered so. Well, if a duel would be called then it would be she who would honor it, not them. "If you want to draw guns, Aris, I hope you're a good shot because my marksmanship is unmatched."

Her statement actually surprised him. If it had been any other time he would've laughed, but he knew his Evangeline would not appreciate that. He took in a breath to calm his nerves. This was not how he wanted to do this. Running a weary hand down his face, he sighed. "Evangeline, please, I didn't come here to fight."

"Then what?"

"I came to bring you home."

Evangeline was suspicious. "Why? So, you could make sure your amusements are close enough?"

"Damnit, Eve! I am sorry. I should've never said that to you. I was a fool-"

"Damn right!" She spit back.

Aristotle gripped her shoulders to quiet her. "Listen to me, Eve! I want you to stay with me longer than our arrangement. In fact, I want done with this whole thing of arrangements. That day in the foyer, I was just unnerved with the appearance of your brother and Como that I had taken leave of my senses. Please come home with me. Let's forget this unpleasantness-"

"Unpleasantness! You want to call what happened mere unpleasantness?" She shrieked shaking off his hands. "You want to dust this off as if it was a mere nothing. A slip of the tongue. A misunderstanding of the situation. Go to hell, Aristotle! I've spent my entire life being treated less than I am, a trinket, something to barter, something to use. I finally find myself in a place of pure independence and respect in my life and you, you foolish man, come along and try to ruin it all. I know I mean nothing to you, Aristotle. You did a fine job of spinning me into your lies, giving me a sense you valued my mind, spirit and body, but I was just a novelty. And novelties wear off with time. Eventually, you would realize that you aren't man enough to handle a woman like me. So-"

No further words came. Aristotle had snatched her by the shoulders and slammed her to the wall, the impact knocking the wind right out of her, but Evangeline was quick and fought like a hellcat. She may not win but she'd give him the devil's try.

"Not man enough?" he growled, his face inches from her own. "You have gotten away with far more than any woman has with that snake's tongue of yours. I bet you don't realize just how heartless and callous you can be."

His hands tore down the front of her shirt. Then his lips crashed against hers bruising them. "Would you have rather this, Evangeline? Instead of all the care and tenderness I gave you, would this have made you more happy?" He pulled her skirt hem up enough to rip her drawers. Without hesitation, his rough fingers jammed  into her, causing her to yelp, forcing tears to spring into her eyes. "Would this have made me more man enough for your liking?"

Despite the show of her tears, Evangeline still held strong trying to fight him. Her awful, awful pride was being worn away by his words. He had been gentle with her. He had made her feel cherished. Their affair was not cheap. She was the one painting it so. And he was more man than she could handle. Why could she not relent? Aristotle was nothing like Arnoldo, or Anwar. He wasn't using her. Had she taken the moment to see that, she would've spared herself this awful pain.

"I offered you love, Evangeline, but you were too stupid to see it. Too prideful. I admitted my wrongs to you, begged for your forgiveness, but you shoved them down my throat. Go, get on the first boat crossing the Atlantic then, if I've hurt you so badly. See if I care." With that he shoved her away, stalking from the room before he took back his last decree.

In the wake of the storm, Evangeline slid to the floor clutching her torn blouse. Touching her lip, she didn't need a mirror to know they were bruised and swollen; however, no more than her stupid, worthless pride. Her body shook with sobs as she wrapped her arms about her middle. She could still feel the empty throb of her womanhood echoing the pain of her heart. She had pushed him. She had cut him with her words, when he was offering his love.

Oh, God, he had said he loved her!

And what had she done? His had assessment of her had been spot on. And what was worst, she could hear Amelia's words in her head: One day, you will encounter a man who will be your contemporary and you'll want to grow old with him. Just don't be too stupid to pass him by, because of what you've seen of these fools. She had been the fool and now she had hurt the one man who truly loved her. The one man who let her feel everything and be her true self. Had she gone so far that it was irreparable?

Her eyes glanced at the empty door. If she hurried maybe she could stop him. Slowly and carefully, she began to crawl across the floor to get her barrings. She couldn't let him go. Her voice was a faint raspy whisper calling out, "Please... come back."


Aristotle had entered the study downstairs, clutching his plaited head. Frustrated tears dotted his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Never had a woman brought him such pain. Of course, he'd never loved a woman so strongly. For God sake, what had he done? Her words had cut him so deep he had lost all reason and sense. If she didn't hate him before, she certainly did now. The smell of her essence lingered on his fingers and it sickened him, pained him to think he had hurt her. Clearing his eyes, he poured a stiff drink from the decanter, then swallowed it in one swoop. He recalled her tears; her angry tears. He exhaled wearily, then reached to pour another drink when a figure in the door caught his eye.

There she stood; a solemn, rumpled mess. Her lips were swollen as if bitten by a bee, and her cheeks streaked in tears that refused to dry. She held her shirt together, clutched to her bosom. Dear God, the damage had been far worse than he imaged? He could just kill himself. Unable to bear the sight, he began to turn away, when suddenly, Evangeline ran to him, falling to her knees clutching his leg. She had assumed he was disgusted with her and couldn't bare the sight of her.

"I'm sorry, Aris. Please forgive me." Her voice was barely a rasp over her sobs. "I was a fool and a awful bitch. You were right. I was too stupid to acknowledge your love and even more the idiot for not admitting my love for you. I was afraid. I was so fearful you would cast me aside once the novelty wore off. I couldn't stand to feel this pain of being without you. Please, please, please, don't send me away." 

Surprise covered Aristotle's face as she spilled her heart out to him. Instead of blaming him for the physical pain he'd caused her, she was begging forgiveness for the hurt she'd caused him? Touched by an overwhelming need to comfort her, Aristotle fell to his knees, drawing her into his arms. He rocked her gently, shushing her sobs, as he ran his hand over and down her back. It seemed like hours had passed as they lay huddled there on the carpet. Eventually, Aristotle lifted her into his arms to carry her back upstairs. Once back in the the room, he carefully placed her on the bed.

Evangeline had quieted down a bit but she still trembled. The fear of nearly losing her love still resonated to her core. Aristotle retrieved the wash cloth and basin from the dresser to clean her face of the tears, praying the cold water would also sooth her lips. Evangeline met his concerned gaze, and without a word between them she drew his lips down to hers. Passion quickly flowed like a river, speaking of their longing and love. Aristotle tossed the cloth aside to hold her to him. Their bodies molded firmly to one another.

Her hands steadily removed his jacket, then immediately went to work on the buttons of his shirt. She was desperate to feel his skin upon hers. She could tell he was doing his damnedest to be gentle with her after his earlier rage, but her patience could not oblige this need at the moment. Her tongue goaded his mercilessly, teasing and nipping. Aristotle tried to temper her urgency, but she was tempting him beyond his control. He eased the torn blouse from her body, then slid her skirt from her legs. He made quick work of her under things, tossing them aside.

His breath caught at the sight of her nakedness. It was like he had been long denied this visage. His hands ran over the plain of her belly, making Evangeline flinched under the touch. He leaned over to take a sip of her breasts, taking their fullness into his mouth. She moaned at the tenderness as she cradled him closer.

"Aris." Her sigh fell on his lips. "Promise me we will never hurt each other like this ever again."

"You have my word, Eve." His fingers trailed down her hips, then over her thighs, parting them. This time, they delved into her depths with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. She gasped with immediate pleasure as her hips rose to meet his fingers. They moved deliciously over the swollen folds tightening the coil deep with her, frazzling her nerves. "Under one condition."

Evangeline opened her eyes to meet his. "What is that?"

"You must marry me."

Evangeline bit her lip against the desirable pressure building in her nethers and the big decision placed before her. It was not hard answer and her wicked smile gleaming affirmed it. "I agree to your terms, under one condition."

Aristotle laughed. She wouldn't be his Eve without a stipulation of her own. "And that is?" He kissed her belly sweetly awaiting her answer.

"We live part of the year in Mindelo and part of the year in Port-au-Prince."

He stared her down sternly before teasing a nipple sinfully with his tongue. "I agree to your terms, my Evangeline," he conceded before plunge deep within her, sealing the arrangement.

It had to be the best negotiation she'd ever done. Feeling his body connected to hers had been like coming home. The intensity, the fire that coursed through them was a signature that would remain with them eternally. They made love all afternoon until sleep had claimed them. By the time the sun set, Evangeline and Aristotle lay exhaust in each others' arms enjoying the fading light and their new arrangement. Aristotle toyed lazily with the strands of her hair between his two fingers. He loved their silken feel, just as much as he loved the feel of her cheek against his chest. A knowing smile played on his lips.

"You know there was no way I was going to let you leave here with that parcel you have."

Evangeline looked up with feigned innocence. "Whatever do you mean, Aris?"

He playfully rolled her onto her back to lay kisses all along her body down to her navel. "Come now, Eve. You don't think I've noticed?" His hand cupped her belly with a jiggle and a deeper grin. "As many times as we've made love."

"Aristotle Beauvois, are you calling me fat?" she pouted evasively, hiding her own smile.

"I wouldn't dream of offending you that way, my dear," he assured her with a kiss to her lips. "But that doesn't change the fact that had I found out sooner about this, our negotiations would have been null and void."

"Would they?"

"Yes. And tomorrow morning we are going down to the church to see Father Maurice."

Evangeline sighed forlornly. "If you insist."

In response, he entered her smoothly, which brought out that wickedly seductive grin of hers he loved so much. "I do."


"When Jean told me we were meeting you and Aristotle in the churchyard, I wasn't expecting it to be for a wedding." Eloise gushed as she hugged her good friend as attendees to the ceremony filed out of the church.

The sun was shining brightly over the tiny garden as the manor and townhouse servants gathered to watch Evangeline and Aristotle get married. Jacques had received word last night from Aristotle to bring his best suit and everyone else for a celebration in the city. When the valet appeared on the townhouse steps that morning, he was a blubbering mess; he was so overjoyed. Everyone was. Thierry had gotten his mother to prepare an exquisite meal for them as well as bake the most decadent cake. It was all waiting for them at the restaurant. Aristotle had even sent for Como and Rui, who were shocked yet happy for their Evangeline. Como had warned her she would have quite a scandal on her hands when she got home.

At the moment, Jean, who had a laughing Jean-Pierre hoisted on his shoulder, joined their little circle. "That's because you were still digesting the news the old man was getting married."

Eloise blushed, then happily chided, "Jean, put him down before he falls."

"Already spoiling, Jean?" Evangeline laughed.

"I've got seven years to make up for, Madame Beauvois. Come along, Madame Monroe, before there are no seats left in Thierry's."

Eloise waved him along. "He is so happy to have his son. And I am pleased to have him as a son, too. Thank you, Evangeline."

"You're welcome, El. See you at Thierry's."

"Oui." The two women kissed each others' cheeks and waved good-bye. Evangeline watched as the newly formed family walked down the short walk to the restaurant.

Aristotle finished his business with the priest and was coming out of the church looking for his wife. That sounded so nice to his ears. He smiled at the sight of her looking immaculate in her pale lilac gown. Her hair tucked under a matching hat to shield her from the sun. Glancing downward, he could just make out the faint bump of her belly, a sign that his child grew with in her. He had seen it that day during the storm, but had not been sure, which had added more to his anger with Evangeline, because she had hiding it from him. Then when he had undressed her in the townhouse yesterday afternoon, he knew for sure and had been too overjoy to damper their reunion. She looked stunning and he knew she always would. With a relieved sigh, he came down the steps to join his wife, only to be halted by Jacque.


"Jacques, please tell me you aren't going to cry again?"

Jacques steeled himself, assuredly. "Monsieur, I will not disgrace you thus. I only wish to inform you that it is done. Word came in just this morning."

Aristotle smiled, fully understanding the message. "Good."

Now, their life would go on without hindrance and his wife could rest her spirit. He took Evangeline's hand and led her to the carriage to head over to celebration. "Aristotle, I can walk to the Thierry's," Evangeline scolded.

"My wife and mother to be will do no such thing," he stated firmly getting into the carriage with her. "Besides, I wanted to give you your wedding present."

"Oh. And that is?"

"Good riddance to the past. My men tracked down Arnoldo and, let's say, he will trouble you no more."

Understanding his gist, Evangeline smiled widely with happiness as she wrapped her arms about him. "Thank you, but how?"

"I discovered he had a bounty on his head in the States and worked a deal with the magistrate to capture him in return for a pardon. My men stuck around to see he was executed. After giving my men their cut, I put the rest of the reward in the bank for our child. It may not match your mother's inheritance, but it's a start."

Evangeline leaned against her new husband with relief flooding through her. "And I cannot wait to show you my land. You'll love Mindelo in winter."

"Winter!" he exclaimed, then smiled drawing his wife close to his side. "I guess a deal is a deal."

"There's no us without one." Evangeline laughed as they road off to their new arrangement.

Aris and Evangeline - Early Arrival, (Un)welcome Guests

Weeks passed and the warmer weather became more unbearably hot. Evangeline had to create a whole new wardrobe just to keep up with the oppressive humidity. Eloise helped her by giving her advice on what materials to buy and which seamstresses to use. The two of them had become fast friends, much to Aristotle and Jean's dismay since the two would gang up on them mercilessly. Especially during evenings where they played cards. Somehow the women had developed a system to communicate that insured their wins every time, which frustrated the men to no avail.

Since the night of the dinner party, Evangeline and Aristotle had called a silent truce as long as neither party brought up the time they had remaining. It made for a more soothing stay. They went about their affairs as if time was on their side. At night they made passionate love and during the day they made passionate love. Occasionally, they would interact with the world around them, but most often they were in each others arms, wherever they could find the privacy.

Madeline had kept her promise and had stayed in the country with her mother removing all tension from the house, which made it easier for Eloise and Jean to visit without fear. On certain nights, Jean-Pierre would join the couples at the dinner table and regaled them with stories of his little adventures. The visits gave Jean a chance to visit with his son without drawing suspicion from the boy. It was all quite nice. That was why Aristotle thought trouble would arise again when letters came from Madeline addressed to himself, Jean and Jean-Pierre. He sat in his study staring at all three notes debating what he would do.

"You'll drive yourself mad." Evangeline singsonged as she swished into the room staring at the grimace lining Aristotle's face.

"What is she planning?" he questioned aloud.

"Well, start with this one." She handed over the letter addressed to him. He looked at her, then took the note and opened it.

Aris,

I cannot begin to tell you the shame I feel for what I put you through these past years. I can remember the countless times you scolded me like child for acting so foolishly and recklessly. Here I thought I was being a woman of the world, but apparently I was a fool. I am ashamed to admit this but I was never ready to be a mother, but my greed, foolish pride and shame over what I had done kept me from admitting the truth. It was something that Evangeline said that night that brought about my revelation. I am loath to admit it, but she was right. I had to pull myself out of this drudgery and find myself. 

Mama was quite surprised when she saw me on her doorstep. She feared I had done something far worse than the last scandal. But she welcomed me with open arms and we had the most beautiful talk. She helped me come to some decisions that I think will be beneficial to me and everyone else. Something I should've done a long time ago really. As you will notice, you received letters for both Jean and Jean-Pierre. Please make sure they receive them and please explain to my son that I love him, but I am not the one who should raise him for I still have a lot of raising to do myself. 

I know this may not sit well with you, Aris, but, for once, I am thinking of the boy and not myself. You're a bachelor and cannot offer him the kind of stability and discipline that Jean and his wife can. That night I had seen to what depths he loves her and how well paired they are. I've heard of all the nice things she had done for Jean-Pierre while he was her student. Things that had made me feel sorely lacking. Hence why I had lashed out at him. Something that makes me very ashamed to admit.

I have also sent a letter to France for Count Devereaux explaining I will no longer require his services and have renounced him as Jean-Pierre's father. I'm sure he will not care, but at least my conscience is clear. I plan to do a lot of soul searching here in the country. Mama has already dragged me to several church socials with her hoping to assuage my sins. And you can inform your Evangeline that I did not burst into flames as she had predicted when I attended church last Sunday. I guess the Lord still does pay me mind. 


As for your Evangeline, as much as I hate to admit this, she pairs well with you, Aris. Her arrogance far outshines yours. And it seems she keeps you more than satisfied. Which reminds me: you may want to move your guest quarters to the other side of the villa to avoid any on lookers. Well, I do hope you come to visit. Mama has been asking after you.


Much love and care,
Madeline

Aristotle shook his head, smiling at his sister's words. When he glanced up, he saw that Evangeline had been leaning on his desk watching him the whole time. His sister's words had flitted across his mind again. He had been fighting his feelings for weeks now, but he had to admit, to himself at least, that he had fallen helplessly in love with Evangeline. He loved waking up with her by his side or snuggled close to his chest. He loved their discussions and debates over business. Her mind was far too sharp and quick witted for her own good. She made him do things, feel things he had never thought he would. Most of all, he relished their quiet moments, where they would sit holding one another on the veranda, watching the sun set into the ocean. He never thought he would find such joy in a simple act.

And then there was their adventurousness.

On one of the hottest days on the island, while out riding horses by the seashore, Evangeline had slid off her mount, stripped down to her shift, then dove flawlessly into the ocean. Aristotle had nearly lost his mind with fear until he realized the silly girl could swim like a fish. He had dove into the surf to save her, but was dunked soundly for his effort. But afterwards they had made love in the sand; unashamed and uninhibited. There had been so much passion in the act that it had been the first time he had recognized how much he actually loved his Evangeline. Time had gone by far too quickly - three months worth. He dreaded looking at his calendar for fear he would go mad. A couple of times, when he was alone with his thoughts, he would grow dark and would brood over the idea of her leaving. He was tempted to plead for her to stay again, but knew it would only cause trouble.

"What did she say?" Evangeline broke into his thoughts, pulling him into the present.

"She's doing well. Mama is happy to have her and she's made some decisions."

Evangeline smirked teasingly. "What brought about the smile?"

"An observation she made." He folded the letter to tuck into the desk drawer.

"Are you going to share?"

He chuckled, drawing her onto his lap for a kiss. "Let's say she may shine you in a different light."  

They both giggled at the thought, when they noticed Jacques' slow approach. "Monsieur, a Como Andrade is here - for Madame Evangeline."

"Como!" Evangeline exclaimed merrily leaping from his lap to run into the hall. She had missed the surprise and sadness that had flitted across his eyes. It was too soon, Aristotle thought. Sighing heavily, he rose from his desk to follow her into the hall. When he entered the foyer, he found Evangeline hugging the petite man, who returned her embrace wholeheartedly. Watching the exchange was not making Aristotle any more happier with the man's early arrival. He wasn't due for another month. Why was he here now?

"Oh, Como, I have missed you," she sighed, touching his face.

"The gossip mills have missed you more." Como teased with a wave of his hand. "It seems you had neglected to inform your lovers of your sudden departure and there was quite a stir in one of your establishments."

"Oh, Johnny and Franco! Did they cause too much damage?" she cringed.

"Nothing Nato couldn't handle. I had to escape the island incognito so they wouldn't be tempted to follow."

"Which brings up my next question? Why are you here so early?"

Como gave a leery look over to a frowning Aristotle before answering in their language. "I assumed you would've wanted an earlier exit if he had grown tired of you." Evangeline blushed slightly drawing her friend's notice. "I guess I assumed wrong. Singha?"

"Singha." She concurred with a smile. "We will talk later. Now tell me, did everything go well?"

Como sighed wearily. "I had made it back to the island just slightly ahead of your stepfather. I gave the missive to your solicitor who quickly dispatched the men to handle him. Unfortunately, that wily bastard escaped after being informed. No one has been able to find him since. I'm sorry, Evangeline."

Fire sparked in her golden eyes at the news. Como waved away the unpleasantness to add, "Besides, your brothers were highly concerned that you had not returned home with me, even after I explained you were alright. So, I was forced back on the next boat coming this way."

"And of course, I could not let him come alone," a voice added from the doorway.

All eyes fell on the tall, handsome gentleman dressed in a finely tailored gray suit. His eyes were the same golden brown as Evangeline's as was the broad smile he beamed. Women would be paralyzed by such brilliance. He dripped charm and seduction just like Evangeline did. He entered the foyer straight for Evangeline, who had tears of happiness in her eyes. Aristotle watched the man carefully. He didn't like his presence in his home.

"Rui!" she screamed embracing him. She was lifted from the ground and swung about. "Look at you!"

The man stretched out his arms and twirled about for her approval. "You scamp! I'm sure you had the female passengers drooling."

He blushed slightly. "Following in my sister's footsteps. When Como told me what happened I had to come."

"As you can see your sister has come to no harm," Aristotle interjected drawing the man's eye.

Evangeline quickly recognized the possessive note in his voice and thought to ease the tension. "Aristotle, this is Rui, my youngest brother."

"So I heard." He drew her closer to his side while his dark brown eyes bore into the young man, who didn't seem too please by his move.

"I've come to collect my sister, Monsieur Beauvois. I hope this will not pose a problem."

"It does since your sister has promised me five months of her service and you are far too early to collect her." His tone was edged and Evangeline could see the tick in his cheek. He was on the brink of anger and she had to quell the tension quickly.

"I'm sure Como has informed Rui of the nature and terms of our arrangement and just thought it prudent to be here earlier to collect me rather than make me wait." Hearing that Aristotle tightened his hold on her. What had gotten into him? He was acting like a jealous lover. He knew this time was coming. She had to admit she had not been prepared to see her old friend, much less her brother, there to pick her up, but they were there. In all earnestness, she had forgotten about the time, which was strange because with each passing day her heart tightened at the thought of leaving Aristotle.

She had grown accustom to their chats and their lovemaking. He made he feel so beautiful and so cherished even though she knew only lust was in his heart for her. She had tried her hardest to push her feelings away, discount the emotions she felt when he was with her, but now she knew it was a full-blown case of love. How was she going to walk away from him? Now, with her brother's arrival, the final strains of their agreement were coming to an end and she dreaded its coming.

What she hadn't realized was how her words effected Aristotle. His eyes had pinned her to her spot with such an intensity she was speechless. Was that what she really thought? She couldn't wait to leave him. Again, his ire had been piqued over her callousness. This really was just an arrangement for her and nothing more. He envied how she could turn off her emotions so easily. He only wished he could do the same.

With the tension so thick, Jacques quickly stepped up to break the silence. "Monsieur, should I prepare rooms for the two men?"

"No." His curt reply caused Evangeline to gasp slightly.

"Why not?" she demanded, stepping out of his hold.

"I don't think I have to explain. They are not welcome here, but I will make sure that they find adequate lodging - in the city."

"Aris!"

He raised his hand to silence her, cutting off her complaint. "Evangeline, we will discuss this later. Now I will go so you can attend to your guests. When they are ready Jacques will take them to town."

With that he stalked away from the hall leaving a baffled Evangeline.


Aristotle had gone for a horse ride to clear his thoughts. He had been in such a rage since the arrival of both her companion and brother. It was fear that had goaded his reaction to them. He was actually afraid of her leaving. What would life be like without Evangeline? He had grown far too used to her. He hated to admit it but he needed her. But how could he want a woman who refused to return his love? Yes, he had never said the words to her, but she had to know. He recalled all the times he had hinted at her to lengthen their arrangement or how he encouraged her to run her business from here. She would always wave him away with one excuse or another. Her primary issue being that she had her own life back home that she refused to let go. She made it seem he was an inconvenience and a bother.

So, why did he still want her? Any other woman would've been cast aside if she had spurned him as Evangeline did. Because he loved her. He foolishly loved her with every fiber of his body. At any given time, he could conjure her image and his heart would swell, his nose would be filled with her scent and his desire would run rampant. Her name fell so easily from his lips and was the sweetest thing to his ears. How could he convince her to stay when she was set on leaving? He pushed his horse into a full gallop, hoping to find the answer.


Aristotle had not returned home. So, Evangeline had decided to escort Como and Rui to the town to see them settled in. She sat in the open-air coach; her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had tried to be a pleasant hostess but it had been so hard. Why was Aristotle being so difficult?

"What troubles you, Eve?" Rui's hand covering hers had snapped her to the present. "Are you not happy to see us?"

She glanced down, trying to frame her thoughts. "I'm so glad to see you. Both of you, but your early arrival has put a damper on what has been a most pleasant escape."

"I take it things have grown rather comfy between you and Monsieur Beavois?" Como observed.

"Very."

"I noticed it immediately. You look so relaxed. Not a hint of the stress you were experiencing back home. Why, even the mention of Arnoldo's name and the unfortunate circumstance had not set you off in a tizzy."

She smiled at her good friend. "I feel so carefree here, Como. It isn't that I do not miss my life back home. But being here has made me feel a sense of freedom I had never felt before. I've had no worries or concerns. My needs are met."

"He's that good?" Como chuckled, earning a stern glare from Rui and a laugh from Evangeline.

Sobering, she settled back into the coach. "Very much so, but I cannot indulge him. My life is back home and I've been spoiled by this life of widowhood that I couldn't possible give up."

"Would you give up your life, if he asked you?" Rui asked, taking his sister's hand.

Evangeline fell silent. Could she? If Aristotle professed his love for her and asked her to stay and marry him, would she do it? Her heart was yelling its affirmation, but her mind was reluctant to follow suit. It meant giving up everything and past transgressions had proven that giving men control of your heart or your life had dire consequences. With that reminder, she knew what was best.

"I'd consider the offer, but ultimately I think I would decline. Even though I'd be greatly disappointed by my own answer."

"My word, Eve, what are you saying?" Como inquired.

She looked at her long time friend. "I find myself far too enchanted by him. An infatuation that far exceeds the one I had for Anwar. I can be my true self with him, but will that self be acceptable in the long run. Will the novelty wear off and he finally realize I am not worth it? Then where will I be? Trapped here, hopelessly in love, on an island with no one to turn to. No escape route. No, I refuse. Better to remove myself before it gets to be too much."

Como leaned over and covered her hand. "I'm afraid it may already be."

Her tear-rimmed eyes glanced up at her old comrade. "I fear you're right."


After assuring the men were well settled in, Evangeline had returned to the villa and was just now entering the dimly lit foyer. Her heart felt so weighted against her chest; the pressure crushing her sunken spirit. Como, Rui and she had shared a beautiful dinner in Thierry's restaurant, where she was able to discuss the business venture further now that her brother was there. They hatched a business strategy that both parties could agree on. Rui had been in agreement that his assistant would love the opportunity to travel across the Atlantic to manage the affairs for them. Once they returned home they would send him along. Thierry would draw up the paper work with his solicitor and have them sent to Evangeline for her approval. Evangeline was pleased that it had worked out, but her heart had been elsewhere during the negotiation. And now, she stood in the foyer wondering what awaited her.

"Are our intruders settled in?" Evangeline glanced over in the direction of the sneer to see Aristotle leaned casually against the open salon doors swishing a glass of rum in his hand. His linen shirt was unbutton at the neck. If the tension had not been so high at the moment, Evangeline would've run into his arms and undid the remaining ones and had her way with him. He looked like such a rake and she found it sexy.

"They are," was her simple reply as she came forward.

Aristotle could feel the heat surge through the hall. Despite the anger he felt, he wanted Evangeline badly. She looked far too fetching in that outfit. He almost lost his nerve, but he had to remember his plan and stick to it.

"And what will they do while they wait around to collect you?"

Evangeline noted his tone was tinged in ice, aloofness. "I'm sure Rui and Como will keep themselves busy with amusements."

"Just as long as they don't ruin mine." He stated pushing away from the door to re-enter the salon, leaving a baffled and insulted Evangeline.

"What does that mean, Aris?" She entered the room, stopping at the door.

"I thought it was obvious, my dear Eve."

She knew it was obvious, she simply didn't like the way it sounded. So, she's a mere amusement, she pondered. Is that what he thinks? Gathering her wits, she knew she was not in the state to battle it out with him. Her emotions were too heightened and exhausted. She turned and left the room.

Aristotle had not anticipated her refusal to take the bait. He had been sure that she would've engaged him. Evangeline had always been so quick and sharp with her replies. This brought on an inexplicable rage in him. She had walked away, dismissed him. Again! Slamming the glass into the fireplace, he ran after her. Evangeline was half way up the stairs, when he snatched her elbow. She fought to get it back, but was not strong enough to break free.

"Does it sting, Evangeline?" he growled.

"No, Aris. It doesn't," was her emotionless reply. Years of practice had taught her to hide her feelings for moments like this. She refused to let Aristotle see how his words had cut her. However, she didn't realize how much it fueled his anger. "I wasn't the confused one here. I know the nature of our arrangement. Fully understand it. In fact, I engineered its boundaries, if you'll recall. Therefore, I'm not the silly one who broke them."


It was Aristotle's turn to be cut; and it was a deep one. She had placed the blame right at his feet, but, then again, she was right on all counts. He had been the one to foolishly fall in love with her. So much so, he couldn't see straight. She had been the consummate professional.

Without a word, he dragged her up the remaining stairs. Evangeline struggled against his grip. "What are you doing?"

"Come, come, Eve, you of all people know where we are at this hour," he sneered without so much as a glance back.

They were usually nestled on the veranda watching the last of the light fade into the night. It was the part of the day she loved best, aside from the lovemaking afterwards. His arms wrapped about her. Their breathing in perfect sync. Anticipation fluttering. He couldn't be suggesting they continue as usual when at the moment it was clear they could not stand one another.

"I suggest we postpone."

He swung her about to face him. His eyes were alight with fury, the bitter opposite to his saccharine tone. "Why, Evangeline? It's merely par for the course, part of the deal. Keep the silly customer happy-"

He didn't expect her hand to sting his cheek. His face had not flinched under the impact and Evangeline refused to show how much her hand smarted from the force of the slap. Despite his dark skin, she could make out the faint imprint lines that her fingers had made in his cheek. Silence resounded through the hall as they just glared at each other, anger and hurt coursing violently in their veins.  It was all too overwhelming. Aristotle wanted to throttle her, but he couldn't. Evangeline wanted to rip his heart out and stomp it like he had done to hers, but she couldn't. Not without feeling the repercussions. In a silent truce, they both stepped back from one another, uncertain. Without another word, they turned their backs on each other and walked away. Sadly, this was only the quiet before the storm.


Days later, Aristotle sat in his study staring out the rainy window at nothing in particular. Rivulets squiggled against the pane as three empty rum bottles lay strewn across his desk. Since that night, he had not seen or heard Evangeline. She was up before he was and out of the house most of the day. The whole house was sullen. The servants avoided him at all cost unless summoned to fetch him a new bottle of rum or whiskey. Jacques had tried to get him out of his mood by suggesting he see Jean, but he refused and had ousted the man from his study.

He was inconsolable in his melancholy. All he wanted to do was make love to his Evangeline, not war with her. It was his hurt pride that had made him say all those awful things; his fear of her leaving him. But he was spiting himself by not cherishing the last moments he had with her. But he had his pride and would not fall prey to a heartless woman. The sound of the door closing caught his attention. Rising from his chair, he made his way toward the sound.  He peered around the corner and saw who had come in. His heart stopped.

She looked ravishing, despite being soaked to the bone. Her unbound hair was dripping wet and her clothes were plastered to her curvy frame. Had she not realized a storm was coming? His body began to betray him. It had been too long since last he had loved her, touched her. He needed her to assuage this awful pain.

"Madame Evangeline!" Jacques scolded.

"I am awfully sorry, Jacques. It seems I had not been paying attention and had left without a parasol or hat. Had I known this storm had been brewing I would've stayed in."

"I will have Francois send up a soup for you."

"Thank you." She mounted the stairs to her room as Jacques left for the kitchen.

Aristotle entered the foyer then glanced up the stairs she had just vacated. He couldn't possibly think to follow her? Was he insane? Yet, there he was following suit after the woman. It was like he was fighting his conscious. His feet were slow to move, dragged along the carpet behind the wet barefoot marks she had left. He stood before her door now, his breath hastening at the anticipation of feeling her. Trying the door, he was relieved to find it unlocked. Pushing it ajar, he glanced about looking for his quarry. When he located her, his heart stilled for the second time in his chest.

She had already stripped out of her clothes and was standing before the mirror, giving him a dual view of her back and her front. She was beautiful. Her breasts fuller than usual sat temptingly on her chest, accentuating the swell of her hips and backside. Her skin and hair looked softer, silkier. He itched to touch them both; to feel his hand glide over their richness. He pushed the door further and stepped in. She had not heard his approach, was lost in her own thoughts.

Suddenly, she whipped around and met his intense gaze. He looked terrible, haggard; the image of her insides. She was certain their were bags under her eyes; her concealing powder was sure to have been washed away by the storm. No words exchanged between them. They simply stared at one another; unspoken feelings transferring in the space between them. Then it hit like a match strike. Aristotle wrapped his arms about her waist and drew her to him. His lips claiming hers, devouring them like a starving man.

Evangeline was caught up in the feelings that surrounded her. She had missed him; his body. She had contemplated going to his room last night but had chastised herself for the thought. Even now, she was disappointed in herself for relenting to him, for being tempted into a tryst. If an amusement was all he wanted then he could take it and be done with it.

Aristotle began to venture down her neck leaving hot trails of passion in his wake. She fought hard against her feelings and the tingles forming on her body. The sensations had been missed terribly these last days. Her traitorous body wanted him, proven more so by the pooling in her inner thighs. As if scorched, she gasped when his hot lips encircled a tender nipple and began to suckle. The fire spread from there as he pushed her back onto the bed. His hands laced with hers drawing them above her head. His body rubbed hers, causing a delicious friction all over her. He let go for a moment to shed his clothing, tossing them every which way.

He returned to her lips nibbling their softness, drawing Evangeline further into the spell. "Oh, Eve, I've needed you," he admitted.

Hearing those words pricked at her heart, because it was his fault. He was the one who had denied them both. Suddenly, the anger crawled in to quell her passion. "It's not I that kept you from your - amusements."

Her words, more like his own, stilled him. It was a bitter taste of his own folly that choked him. Once again, her knife had jabbed deep and turned for good measure into his heart. He raised up on his elbows to stare down at her, meeting that cool arrogance he so hated. It was chilling and, instead of deflating his desire, it enraged it. Evangeline felt him stab her core mercilessly with his manhood, but she hadn't flinched, merely excepted it. Like swords drawn against one another, in and out, he rammed his angry organ into her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her react. They just stared at one another coldly. Neither one gave an inch.

The minutes ticked away before finally a disgusted Aristotle rolled away from her. In a flash, he had gotten up, swooped up his clothes and left, slamming the door for good measure. Evangeline just stared up at the netting on her bed. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes pensive. It wasn't long before she regained feeling again. Finally, the pain bubbled to the surface breaking the iciness of her face with tears. Rolling onto her side, she cried herself to sleep. What had she done?