Obsessive Surrender

by Bobbi Cole Meyer

  “It simply means half coffee and half steamed milk. If you’d like one of those blended coffee beverages, such as they serve at Starbucks, the cook is a master at whipping those up.”

  “I’ve never had a Starbucks beverage.”

  Benton snorted, “Waste of money if you ask me, for what is actually just coffee with a glob of whipped cream or some such shit.”

  “I think the—ah—café-au-lait would be fine,” Andrea said quickly, embarrassed by Benton’s snide remark.

  She settled in the chair across the table from Ivan, catching his eye and smiling appreciatively as he pushed some button she didn’t see, or in some way she didn’t discern, summoned Lydia and asked her for a café-au-lait.

  When she glanced at her father and saw the way he was watching her, Andrea lost the smile, wondering what was going on in his mind. She recognized that intense look and knew he had something up his sleeve.

  Ivan broke into her pensive thoughts with the question, “Did you sleep well? I must say you do look more rested.”

  “Yes, I did sleep well, thank you, and I do feel rested. That’s a real comfortable bed and so unusual. I mean, I’ve never seen a round bed before. And thanks for the bath oil and robe and everything.”

  “You’re quite welcome. If there is anything else you need, just let me know, or tell Lydia.”

  As Andrea saw the way her father was quietly studying the two of them, his eyes narrowed, a slight smile on his lips, she was puzzled, because she realized his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It reminded her more of a calculating sneer.

  “So Andrea, I was just telling Ivan how much we appreciate his hospitality and that we both are willing to do whatever he expects of us. That all he has to do is ask,” Benton said.

  “Of course,” she reiterated. “Do you want me to help around the house, Mr. Littlefield? Or maybe work in the kitchen?”

  “No, Andrea, of course not. I want you to just make yourself at home. You’re a guest here, not an employee. Your father is the employee,” Ivan said pointedly with a decisive look at Benton. “And please call me Ivan. Your father and I will be working in my office here during the morning hours and then we’ll go to the casino in the late afternoons. You have the run of the house, of course, and feel free to use the pool. Do you swim?”

  “No. I’m afraid I never got the chance to learn. I don’t even have a swim suit.”

  “We never had access to a pool,” Benton said, his tone of voice edged with jealous contempt. The remark garnered him a censoring look from Ivan before he returned his attention to Andrea.

  “Well, we’ll have to get you a swim suit. And perhaps at a later time I can instruct you. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, I would,” she said, her face flushing in the way Ivan found most appealing.

  For a few minutes they ate in silence, and then Ivan said, “Well, I hope you enjoy your breakfast. Right now, your father and I have a lot of business that must be tended to, so we’ll take our leave. Benton?”

  Ivan looked at Benton, silently issuing the order that meant get up and come with him with no further discussion, so Benton rose without hesitation, saying a curt, “See you later,” to Andrea.

  As she watched her father follow Ivan out, Andrea frowned in confusion at his belligerent attitude.

  Why doesn’t he recognize this opportunity Mr. Littlefield is offering as the chance of a lifetime? Why does he seem determined to screw it up?

  She knew the signs. Benton was nervous and irritable because he needed a drink. And knowing him like she did, Andrea knew by the covert digs he kept throwing out that he resented Ivan Littlefield’s wealth and easy life. She knew he was probably comparing it to the way they had been living and, in the way he had of dodging responsibility, blamed Ivan for accomplishing what he had failed to accomplish.

  Closing her eyes, Andrea offered up a silent prayer.

  Dear God, make Dad strong. Make him know this is the best chance we have ever had to have a real life. Help him to see that, please.

  She finished her breakfast and left the lanai. Walking back toward the stairs, she spotted a book on the table in the hallway. It was on the history of Las Vegas. Feeling Ivan wouldn’t mind, she picked it up.

  Chapter 3

  Dream Night

  Andrea spent a relaxing day reading on the lower back patio overlooking the infinity pool, enthralled with the illusion that pool created as it blended seamlessly into Ivan’s magnificently landscaped garden.

  The book she had borrowed was both fascinating and informative, elaborating on the many exploits of the infamous men who had laid claim to Las Vegas’ meteoric rise. According to the author, they had fashioned the town into the uninhibited playground it had become. She was so into it, before she realized the time, it was noon and Lydia had appeared with a light lunch.

  When she had finished eating, Andrea went up to her room and lay back on the bed, intending only to rest, but with her stomach full and her mind at peace for the first time in longer than she could remember, she fell asleep.

  When she awoke, Andrea was surprised to see the room lay in quiet, early evening shadows.

  My heavens, what time is it? I wonder if Dad and Ivan are home?

  Sitting up and stretching, it dawned on her that she had inadvertently referred to Ivan Littlefield’s house as her home. Going to the bathroom, she reminded herself of the fallacy of that kind of thinking.

  “This could all disappear in a minute,” she warned her image after washing her face and hands. “So don't get too comfortable. It’ll just make it harder when it goes away. Just treasure the moments that you have it all, especially that soft bed before you’re relegated back to the car.”

  Wincing at that possible and more than probable future, Andrea went downstairs in search of her father and Ivan. She hoped to find Benton more adjusted and less irritated, but was ready to accept the fact that that might not be the case.

  The best scenario she allowed herself to hope for, was that her father could at least hide his irritation from Ivan long enough to get established and prove himself a valuable employee; long enough for them to enjoy the comforts of this fabulous home for awhile.

  When she saw the housekeeper, Andrea asked, “Is my father still with Mr. Littlefield, or have they even returned from the casino?”

  “Your father hasn't. But Mr. Littlefield is in the library. He wanted me to ask if you would like to join him there.”

  “Thank you. Where is the library?”

  “This way, miss. Follow me.”

  Andrea followed Lydia into another unfamiliar part of the house. Lydia led the way down an impressively wide wallpapered hallway and stopped before a beautifully hand-carved door the woman indicated was the library.

  Andrea knocked and Ivan called out, “Come in.”

  When she entered, Andrea found Ivan standing on a sliding ladder attached to the massive full-wall bookcase, reaching for a book. He glanced down at her and smiled.

  “Just be a minute. There’s a particular book I thought you might enjoy. Or perhaps you’ve already read it. Lady Chatterley’s Lover.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Do you like to read, Andrea?”

  “Yes, very much. Reading has pretty much been my only form of entertainment over the years. I’ve started a book I found on the table outside the lanai about the history of Las Vegas. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed it. It’s very interesting. I had no idea there were so many—ah—colorful characters involved in the early stages of Las Vegas.”

  “Not at all. Consider any book you happen upon yours for the reading, Andrea. And “colorful” is a polite word for mobsters, right?” Ivan asked, chuckling as he confided, “I’ve read that book, too. In fact, I confess to leaving it on the table instead of replacing it in the library. Glad now I did if it gave you pleasure.

  “It seems the founders of Vegas, with all their heavy-handed antics, made it what it has ultimately become, adding volumes to the legacy
of ‘sin city’. However, Lady Chatterley’s Lover is a far cry from that, but it is an entertaining read. It was considered scandalous in its day. But even though it contains some mildly graphic passages, it is decidedly tame compared to the explicit fiction currently being written.

  “So tell me, Andrea, how was your day?” Ivan inquired as he stepped off the ladder and handed her the book.

  “Good. It’s so quiet and peaceful here. I read on the patio overlooking the pool, and by the way, that is the most fantastic pool I’ve ever seen, or even imagined. It just seems to float into the horizon.”

  “Yes, that’s why they call it an infinity pool.”

  “It’s amazing. And Lydia brought me lunch. After I ate, I went to my room and fell asleep. You have a really beautiful home. Did you decorate it yourself?

  “Afraid not. I had a professional do that, but I claim credit for everything having to meet my taste, which is somewhat eclectic, or so the designer told me, the times we argued that if I had my way, it would not be ‘cohesive’, I believe that’s the word she used, and it would lack the ‘fluidity of unification’.”

  Ivan laughed. “Is that description as confusing to you as it was to me?”

  Andrea laughed as she admitted, “Yes.”

  “I think what she meant was that in one room I wanted an ultra modern look, such as in your bedroom, but in another I preferred an old world, European style. I imported several choices of wood for alternative trim work—bamboo, teak and Snakewood. Some I acquired from South America, some from Africa and Europe.

  “Needless to say, I won all those arguments because money talks and grumpy designers who refuse to accept that, walk,” he quipped with a grin. “And what you see is the result.”

  “I’ve never heard of Snakewood before.”

  “It’s a wood infused with the pattern similar to that of a snake’s skin. It’s very unusual. That trim work is prevalent in my bedroom. I’ll have to show it to you.”

  Andrea blushed as she digested that thought, as Ivan held her eyes captive to his briefly before putting her at ease with a change of subject.

  “In my opinion, there is nothing more eye catching that fine interior doors, such as the Affinity door to the library here. Did you know long ago people believed that by entering through special wooden doors, their souls would be transformed into something greater than they had been before?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Forgive me if I’m boring you, but it’s an odd hobby of mine, researching ancient beliefs. I think more truths lie beyond fables than we even know, even to the name of the town Toad Suck,” he added with a smile.

  “Well anyway, I’m glad you find my home pleasing. I hope you also find it comfortable.”

  “I do. And you could never bore me, Mr. Littlefield,” Andrea said, blushing again as her eyes met and held his.

  “I appreciate you saying that. And please call me Ivan. You're making me feel old with your Mr. Littlefield.”

  “You are far from being old,” Andrea blurted out, blushing again as he smiled at her in that mysteriously warm way of his.

  To get beyond that awkward moment, she asked, “Is Dad still at the casino?”

  “Yes. I gave him a few assignments and left him to it.”

  Ivan saw the look of concern cross Andrea’s expressive face and instantly recognized it as fear that, left to his own devises, Benton would just get drunk and screw things up, which no doubt was the man’s MO.

  Having already considered that, he had left explicit instructions that Benton was to be watched carefully and he was to be called if things seemed to be getting out of hand.

  Reaching out to touch Andrea’s arm as a gesture of reassurance, Ivan felt her shiver and asked, “Are you cold? Shall I adjust the thermostat?”

  She shook her head, her tongue flicking out unconsciously to lick her full lips, unaware of the affect of that innocent motion; that it caused a wave of sexual awareness to wash over Ivan.

  Damn, I’d like to ravish her mouth right now.

  The heat of that imagined kiss pooled in Ivan’s abdomen as he said, “Have a seat, Andrea, and let’s talk.”

  She sat down on the plush leather couch and he sat down next to her.

  “How long has your mother been gone, Andrea?”

  “A little over nine years.”

  “I take it you and your father have had it rough since then.”

  “The first few months after she died things weren’t so bad. I mean, it was horrible losing mom, but she’d been sick for a long time and in pain. She had cancer. So I tried to think of it as a release for her. Mom was very religious and she said she was ready to go, reminding me that one day we’d meet again in heaven. That made it a little easier to accept. At least we still had the house then, and Dad had his job even though things weren’t so good anymore.”

  “Was that when he started drinking?”

  She nodded, and then hastened to his defense. “But he tries. Honest he does, Mr. Littlefield.”

  “Ivan, remember?”

  “Ivan,” she amended with a smile. “Yes, sorry. I just hope Dad….”

  “You hope he doesn’t mess this up again, right?”

  Andrea struggled to contain her emotions as she nodded.

  Ivan lifted her downcast face with a finger beneath her chin.

  “It’s going to be all right, Andrea. Trust me. I promise you that your life is going to be different now.”

  “I can't tell you how much I appreciate your giving Dad this chance—ah—Ivan.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Now, let’s see that smile. You have a very pretty smile, Andrea, which I’m sure you haven’t used much. That, too, will change.”

  “I wish there was some way I could show you my gratitude. I’d like to do more than just say thank you.”

  “Perhaps you can. We’ll discuss it later. Right now, what say we grab a bite to eat? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I told Lydia to inform the cook we could use a light dinner. Would a crab salad, herbed rice and rolls be sufficient or would you prefer something more substantial? I usually don’t eat heavy meals late.”

  “That sounds great.”

  Andrea rose as he did, and when he put his hand against her back, steering her toward the door, she felt a tingling awareness.

  Breathing in the clean, masculine scent of him, enhanced with a hint of musk, Andrea was almost overwhelmed by his nearness and experienced a quickening in her senses that seemed to coalesce in the valley of her sex, both confusing and exciting her.

  How would it be to have Ivan kiss me; to have his arms around me and hear him whisper loving things in my ear while his hands took liberties with my body?

  Andrea had never been with a boy. In all their hasty moves, she had never had the opportunity to meet or date anyone. All she’d ever had were her dreams and nightly erotic fantasies. Now, silently reveling in Ivan Littlefield’s manly presence, those heated thoughts almost made her sigh openly.

  When she glanced up at Ivan and found him staring intently at her, Andrea got the feeling he had somehow crawled inside her mind and witnessed her every heated fantasy concerning him; that he knew she was wet with thinking of him. She blushed furiously.

  Ivan’s smile widened as his mesmerizing gray eyes held hers for that brief, knowledgeable moment. His hold on her back tightened before he pulled out the dining room chair and seated her.

  They chatted amicably as the cook that Ivan introduced as Millie came from the kitchen to serve them. They talked about everything from Andrea’s impression of modern-day chaotic Las Vegas, which she described as like a continuous circus, to what they had both read about the olden days in comparison, when gangsters seemed to rule the day.

  Then, under the probing questions from Ivan, the conversation shifted to Andrea’s vagabond life before their move to Vegas and she admitted it had been hard. In answer to his questions concerning other relatives, Andrea confided there were no others. Her grandparents on both s
ides of the family had passed, so it was just her and her father.

  Though she hadn’t asked him any personal questions, Ivan intermittently supplied facts about himself—that he came from New England originally, adding the off-side comment that a lot of people would argue Connecticut should not even be referred to as New England, that his mother still lived there, that his father had died a few years back of a heart attack—that one set of his grandparents had died in a plane crash the day before his twenty-seventh birthday, the other in a car crash before he was born—that he had one brother, ten years his junior, that he hadn't seen in awhile and didn’t even know where he was now.

  “I made the successful move to Vegas only five years ago when I purchased The Royale Flush.”

  Surprised to learn he’d only been in Vegas such a short time, Andrea said, “You sure have come a long way in five years.”

  “Shows what a man can do with a lot of hard work and determination, Andrea, not to mention a ton of money. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Myersons?”

  “No.”

  Smiling that smile that gripped her heart, Ivan said, “Good.”

  She wanted to ask him why he said good but then he satisfied her unspoken curiosity by stating the Myersons were his maternal grandparents, but he did not want to be categorized as their cloned descendent and everyone who knew of them were inclined to do that.

  Detecting a note of bitterness in his tone, Andrea wanted to ask him to explain what he meant, but she didn't. She listened as he related that his father’s parents had both died in a car accident before he was born and that the Myersons were the only grandparents he had ever known, but they were far from being role-model types.

  When he stopped speaking and waited for her response, she simply said, “My goodness, I’m sorry. You sure have suffered a lot of loss, too. I mean both sets of grandparents and your father. And losing touch with your brother. Were you and your brother close growing up?”

  “When Alan was little, we were fairly close. But, like I told you, he was ten years younger than me, so we didn’t really have that much in common. Alan became a rebellious teen-ager when I was just getting through college and entering the family business.”