Chapter 5
She had chosen the dress carefully. The eyelet pearl pink material was stunning and had cost her a pretty penny. It was not really a marriage, but she had to pretend it was.
Her mother had a very distinct attention to details and would be looking at everything. She had met Robert formally when they had lunch at her place and he had been charming to her, winning her over.
Sonya had gone over the details again with Michael and had made him promised to keep everything to himself. After today, she was going to have the freedom to do whatever she wanted, in terms of the charities she was in charge of. She could go all the way; do things she had planned.
Patting the smooth chignon, she stepped back from the mirror, she took a deep breath and went to grab her wrap. They had decided to have the ‘ceremony’ early enough to give them a chance to go on their ‘honeymoon’.
That was something she had not quite worked out yet.
“We could say we are putting off the honeymoon until later, she had suggested.
“Or go to a cabin out of state that is owned by the company,” he had suggested.
“It would be casual.” He added. “I have some work to finish up and I assure you that the view is spectacular. You could take walks and commune with nature,” he added teasingly.
“How long would we have to stay?”
“How does a week sound?”
She nodded. “I suppose we could do a week. What about the sleeping arrangements?”
“Three bedrooms and two baths.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
She was not going to think about being alone with him in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. She just had to get through today, before thinking of the rest of the week. She had work she could take with her. A proposal for the homeless shelter and the children’s home that was in such a deplorable condition.
She also had that clinic and the suggestions by the doctors working there and what was needed. Perhaps she should hit up Robert for the ventilation machine and the extra beds. Firming her lips, she headed downstairs.
*****
The ceremony was short and sweet and had her mother beaming. It was so realistic that she was almost convinced that it was a real wedding. Deidre had taken a three sixty degree turn over her ‘son-in-law’ and had gone all out with the decorations.
The ceremony was done outdoors in the enchanting gazebo and had ribbons streaming from the various slats. Tons of flowers decorated the interior and a carpet had been laid for the bride to walk towards her groom.
Michael had dressed the part, wearing a black robe over his faded denims and crisp cotton shirt. He had brushed back his shoulder-length wheat blonde hair from his face and had on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. He looked so different that she scarcely recognized him.
He had taken her aside and confided that he was trying out for a part in a period piece and decided that this was perfect as a dress rehearsal.
“Don’t worry, darling, your secret is safe with me,” he assured her with a smile.
Catherine wasn’t smiling as she stood with Brian and watched the ceremony.
“Now it’s time to kiss your bride,” Michael said with a flourish at the end of the exchange of rings and the rather long and fervent prayer that blessed the couple’s union.
“Oh!” Sonya whispered, staring at Robert in consternation. He had bought her a very expensive sets of rings that she had protested was not necessary.
“I think it is.”
“I will make certain to give it back to you, when this is all over.”
For some reason, he had looked very displeased at that.
“Shall we?” He asked now, a smile lurking on his lips. Taking her hands, he pulled her in. Framing her face between his hands, he tilted her face up, his expression inscrutable. Bringing her hands up, she curled her fingers into tight fists and closed her eyes.
Lowering his head, Robert forced himself to use control and barely brushed his lips on hers, before stepping back. His heart was pounding, and he could feel the sweat pooling at his armpits. Taking her hand, he tucked it through his arm and faced their family.
Telling herself that it was not disappointment she was feeling because of the way he kissed her, or the trembly feeling in pit of her stomach was due to nervousness and stress over the unusual situation, she gripped his arm and set about behaving like a new bride.
*****
“We are going in a helicopter?” Sonya stared at the transportation doubtfully. He had refused to tell her anything other than allowing her to grab her suitcase from her car as well as the briefcase filled with paperwork and her laptop.
“Don’t tell me you have never been in one.”
“No. I prefer large commercial airlines,” she told him firmly.
“Come on, live a little.” With an engaging smile, he took her hand and the made their way towards it. To her further surprise, the pilot hopped out and after helping her up, Robert went around to take the controls.
“What are you doing?” She shouted as the blades started whirling.
“I am taking us to the cabin.” He handed her a set of headphones. “Put these on.”
“Robert…”
“I assure you, I am a very good pilot. Trust me.”
“It would be very tragic if we meet our deaths on the day of our fake marriage.” She muttered as she put them on.
“I should be offended, but I am not. Just look at the view.”
She felt a clutch in her stomach as he levered up and very soon, they were whizzing towards their destination. After a few minutes, she was able to put aside her fear and concentrated on the stunning view from up above.
“How are you holding up?” He shouted, half an hour later.
“Fine!” She shouted back. “It’s not so bad.”
“Good, we are going down.” He levered down without warning and had her clutching her stomach and screaming.
They landed in a clearing with surrounding trees and a car waiting a few feet away. Cutting the engine, he removed his headgear and hopped out. Opening her door, he took her hand to help her down. Taking the luggage out, he gestured towards the vehicle.
“How was it?” The quiet after the noise of the helicopter was a bit unnerving.
“Wasn’t as bad as I thought. My hair is a disaster.”
“You’re fine.” He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but did not dare. She had changed out of her dress and was wearing painted on denims and ankle boots.
The thin green silk sweater molded her curves and gave him more than a glimpse of her assets. He was wondering how the hell he was going to survive seven days being in such close proximity to her and did not want to think about it.
“Is this all yours?” She rolled down her window, so she could see the scenery.
“It belongs to the company. We have an idea of building a ranch type house for out-of-town business associates.”
“It’s beautiful and so much land.” The breeze was whipping her hair around her face, while she laughingly tried to control the strands. He was surprised that she allowed herself to be so disheveled and free.
Sonya Faulkner…. No, he mentally shook his head. She was still Beaumont. His mouth set in a grim line as he remembered that they were not really husband and wife. Tonight was not going to be his honeymoon where he got to see his bride naked and make love to her until the sun comes up.
They would be sleeping in separate rooms. He did not have the right to touch her, and he was wondering why the hell he had agreed to this damn torture. Pressing his foot more on the accelerate, he increased the speed. It was beginning to get dark, and he was not looking forward to tonight.
Sonya stole a glance at him and realized his mood had changed.
She was beginning to think that this was not a good idea after all. The place was isolated, and they would be spending seven days and nights alone, together. And she was the one who had put them in this untenable position.
She had just opened her mouth to apologize to him when he spoke.
“We are here.”
The cottage was pink and white and reminded her of a lovely two-tiered cake. It was in the middle of a veritable forest. There were trees everywhere and flowers – wildly beautiful flowers were in direct contrast to the lush green of the grass. A barnlike structure was to the left of the cottage and a corral.
“Are there horses?”
“There used to be.” Hopping out, he came around to take out their luggage and opened the door.
“The place originally belonged to a horse trainer.” He waited while she looked around. “You’re cold. The air is thinner up here.”
“It’s so beautiful and serene.”
“And isolated.” He faced her. “Not what you’re accustomed to.”
“Oh, I think I can manage to survive the quiet.”
“Shall we?”
She followed him up the steps and waited while he pushed open the door with one booted foot.
“Oh Robert!” Forgetting her earlier misgivings, she stepped into one big space that was the living room where a fire was burning in the hearth. “It’s so cozy.”
Her face was so animated and exquisite, he had to turn away from her as desire slammed full force through his body. The bitterness of his situation floated to the surface, reminding him that he could damn well look, but not touch.
“I will go and put these away.” He said gruffly, turning out of the room.
Shrugging her shoulders at his unfriendly tone, she explored the room, admiring the antique cabinet filled with memorabilia and moved over to run her fingers over the brick fireplace.
Robert stood in the largest of the three bedrooms and turned in a circle to ensure that everything was up to par. He had put in a call to the caretaker to make certain that the place was thoroughly cleaned, and the linens were laundered. The man and his wife had not disappointed him.
The quilt on the queen-sized bed smelled like flowers blooming in the summer and there was a low-grade fire simmering inside the hearth. A rocking chair was facing the hearth, and the thin light green drapes were opened offering a stunning view of the river that ran through the property.
This bedroom was ideal for her because it had an attached bathroom. He would take one of the smaller ones – the one farthest away from her and he knew he would spend the nights unable to sleep because of the close proximity.
He tensed when the scent of her perfume assailed his nostrils.
“This is where you’ll be staying,” he murmured, without turning around.
“Hardwood floors. I like it. This place is incredible.”
Moving to the side, he shifted so that she could get by him and watched as she wandered over to the bed and run her hand lovingly over the colorful quilt. Unable to bear any more, he turned towards the doorway.
“Mrs. Ellwood left some food in the warmer if you’re hungry.”
“I just need a cup of tea.” She looked up and smiled at him. “Thanks.”
With a curt nod, he retreated and closed the door behind him.
He was imagining her lying on the bed, naked, with her hair spread over the white pillowcase and it was unbearable. Taking his things into the bedroom further down the hall, he slammed the door and leaned against it, his breathing labored as if he had been running a marathon.
She did not seem in the least bit disturbed by the idea of spending time alone with a strange man. Which left him to wonder if that was her usual style.
He knew the lifestyle of the rich and famous and that bed hopping was like an art form to them. The bitterness strangled inside his throat as he wondered if she was like that. She was beautiful and incredibly sexy and would just have to crook her finger to have men running to do her every bidding.
How many men has she been with? The bitterness was threatening to overwhelm him, but he could not stop his thoughts from diving into what was becoming too painful for words. He recalled the men she had been linked with.
Several actors with their glossy good looks and a few models. There had been a lawyer as well as a judge and one or two NFL players. Had she slept with all of them? That asshole, Jason, would have been her first and the violence he felt towards the man was astonishing.
He had done the inadvisable and followed her on social media while he was struggling to make something of himself. Easing away from the door, he walked jerkily over to the sofa tucked beneath the window and lowered himself there, a frown on his brow.
He had told himself that he was doing so to inspire himself to be the best - to make what he was doing count. But all it had accomplished was to show him how hopeless his feelings were for her.
He had seen photos of her with her mother and some glaze-eyed rich prick, at fancy restaurants, going about town. Shaking his head, he stared moodily out at the encroaching darkness.
He had not eaten much at the faux ceremony; his stomach had been tied up in knots. But he was not hungry – at least not for food. The gnawing need for her was collected in one place, the lower part of his body.
He was so deep in thought that the knocking on the door was like a cannon ball and had him jumping reflexively.
“Robert?”
Even her voice set him off, he thought grimly.
“Yes?”
“Are you decent? I made us some sandwiches and I know you would be starving. I know I am.”
He almost ordered her to go away but decided not to at the last minute.
“Come in.”
She came in bearing a tray. He noticed that she had taken off her boots and had on slipped on fuzzy slippers. Placing the tray on the table, she stood back and stared at him.
“Look, I know this is not where you want to be and especially involved in this debacle, and I want to apologize for involving you.” The apology was quiet and sincere, and he would be a perfect asshole if he did not acknowledge it.
“Sit.” He waved a hand towards the opposite end of the sofa. “There is no need to apologize. You did not hold a gun to my head. What have we here?” Forcing a smile, he lifted the covers and sniffed at the roast beef sandwich. “Smells delicious.”
She stared at him for a few seconds as if wondering if he was being sincere, before handing him a plate. “There’s tons of food inside the warmer and the kitchen is quaint.” She bit off a piece of her sandwich, her eyes dancing. “Perfect for the little woman.”
“Little woman?” Settling back against the cushions, he quirked a brow at her.
“You know, the one who is delighted to be the stay-at-home wife, baking pies and puttering around the house.” Her impish smile was infectious and had him laughing.
“I take it you’re not that type.”
She shook her head as she continued to devour her sandwich. It just occurred to her that she had not eaten much at the reception either.
“I entertained the idea that I should learn the fine arts of cooking.”
“And?”
“It was a disaster. I love to watch the British baking show. Anything to do with art fascinates me. So, I would see them dishing up these succulent meals, these sinfully decadent pastries and told myself that it couldn’t be that hard.
I have this tendency to outpace myself. I hate to lose and have this competitive spirit that is sometimes impossible to live with.”
“I recall that you were determined to win every game while you were in high school.” She nodded, her eyes dancing. “It was a source of discontent among my friends. Anyway, like I said before, I loved watching the show and, on a whim, decided to try out a recipe for plum pudding.”
“How did it go?” He asked in amusement. He was so caught up; he did not realize he had finished his sandwich and was reaching for another.
She laughed softly, eyes glowing. “I gathered all the ingredients together, went out to grab a few more that was missing and came back, determined to take the baking world by storm.”
“And you did.”
“No.” She shook her head ruefully. “I took the baking world by storm in a way that almost burned my house to the ground. After putting the pudding into the oven, I decided to take a nap – which ended up to be a very long one.
I was jarred awake by the acrid scent of smoke and when I jumped up, it was to see clouds of it pouring from the kitchen and into the living room.”
She shook her head at the memory. “For a second, I had no idea what was happening and then it hit me that I had something in the oven.” She laughed ruefully. “I had a lot of cleaning up to do and it was then I decided that some things were not for me. I am content to order takeouts when I am home.”
“You never learned how to cook?”
“No. And I am not interested in doing so at this point.” She gave him an appraising look. “But I can guess that you can whip up a meal.”
“Or two.” He told her lightly, reaching for the cup of tea. “For a long time, it was just me and my mother. She worked three jobs and was often too bushed to come home and cook. I decided to learn so that I could take that burden off her.
I would have a warm meal waiting for her when she got home. The only thing was that she was too tired to even partake of it.”
The gaiety vanished from her face as she visualized the boy slaving over a stove, only to have his efforts ignored.
“What happened to your dad?” She asked softly.
Putting down the cup, he turned his head away and stared out the window. He was quiet for so long; Sonya was about to apologize for intruding when he spoke without turning his head. “He turned tail and ran when I was too young to remember. He did not want the responsibility of a wife and child and took the easy way out.”
She swallowed the sympathetic lump in her throat and wisely intuited that the man seated a few feet away from her would not appreciate her pity, even though it was not pity she felt.
I am so sorry. Where is he now?”
He turned to look at her then and the softened look on her exquisite face was almost his undoing.
“He’s dead. But he had been dead to me for a very long time. He came around when I started making money and I told him to go to hell. By that time, he was suffering from cancer, stage four and was on the verge of dying.”
“When was this?”
“Five years ago. I did what I could for him out of a sense of duty and because the damn reporters had dug up the connections between us. He died in a nursing home – one of the best money could buy.”
“Did you ever forgive him?”
“No. No one gets a second chance with me.” It was said with such deadly conviction that it had Sonya starting, a frown touching her brow.
“That’s unhealthy. Surely, he had remorse and wanted to make amends?”
“He did.” Putting away the rest of the sandwich, he stretched his long legs out and shot her an amused smile. “You believe I should have forgiven him.”
“Well yes.” Putting down her cup, she turned to him earnestly. “Forgiveness heals us and it’s more for us than the person who wronged us.”
“Where did you get that? Off a fortune cookie?”
Ignoring the caustic tone, she continued. “I got that from the Bible.” At his startled look, she laughed softly. “And from a self-help book I read some time ago.”
“You’re religious.”
“I believe in a higher being, yes. You?”
“I believe in working damn hard for what I want.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we should both retire. Leave the tray. You brought it in, I will take it back out. Goodnight.”