“If you don’t mind me asking, what is the family business?”
Ivan chuckled. “You know you are the only person I have ever met who doesn’t know that. I find that beyond refreshing. In answer to your question, oil primarily, plus hefty real estate holdings and lately, several other ventures, including importing and exporting businesses. Since you’re unfamiliar with the Myerson name, it follows that you’ve never heard of Myerson Oil International, right?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, the company was founded by my great grandfather and handed down to my grandfather and was eventually supposed to be run by me, but it wasn’t what I wanted so I relinquished the role to my mother, who is now the President and CEO.”
“Sounds like you always—ah—had money,” Andrea said, sorry the minute the words were out of her mouth because she saw a change on Ivan’s face and knew she had overstepped a private boundary.
“It would be more to the point to say that money always had me,” he said brusquely.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”
“You didn't,” he reassured her.
To change the subject, she asked, “So what happened to your brother?”
“Well, to make a long, sordid story short, mother had always left it up to me to corral Alan, but the more I tried to talk to him, the more belligerent he became. Unfortunately, Alan and I never seemed to agree on anything. Mostly we argued, and then one day Alan just disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” She asked incredulously.
“Yes. Alan was a strange kid. He hated any kind of authority; always wanted to do the opposite of what he was told to do or what was expected of him. By the time he was fourteen, he’d run away twice but each time he’d been found by the police and returned. Then, when he was sixteen, he left again and this time we never could find him. I can only hope he is alive and well somewhere.”
“That’s awful. I hope he is, too.”
Then Ivan surprised her by supplying a fact Andrea had been wondering about, but was too afraid to ask.
“To round out my life’s story, let me say that I am thirty-three and have never been married. Haven’t even come close.”
“So, there is no one special in your life?”
Holding her captive with his intense, gray-eyed gaze, Ivan said succinctly, “Not yet.”
They fell into a few moments of strained silence while Ivan studied her so keenly Andrea began to squirm in discomfort.
“Tell me, Andrea, where do you see yourself in say, oh, three to five years down the road?”
“Well, I haven’t given it much thought, but I suppose if I have a choice, I’d like to see myself having my songs published and sung by real artists and then maybe I'd like to see myself in love, married with children, in a nice home, just being happy.”
“And you don’t see yourself as a real artist? You know you have a very good voice, Andrea. And your songs are pure and unaffected. You’re like a revitalized Janis Joplin or Emmy Lou Harris. But I suppose you don’t even know who they are, do you?”
“I’ve heard of them and read about them, too. I’m certainly not that good.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. But that simple a life is what would make you happy? Having your songs cut? Being in love, married and having children? Possibly living in a home such as this?”
“Yes. And I don't consider it simple. Just the opposite really,” she admitted. “And I’m sure I’ll never be so fortunate as to live in a mansion like this. It truly is the most magnificent house I’ve ever seen, more like a castle really. You sure have great taste, in a house and in the decorating of it, in everything.”
Ivan smiled as he reached across to lay his hand over hers. “It pleases me that you think so.”
Andrea was surprised that talking to Ivan was much easier than she’d thought it would be because he listened avidly, as though every word she said was important. And for the first time in her life, Andrea actually felt important.
The more open and animated she became, describing the type of home life she wanted, secure and content, with happy, well adjusted kids, the more Ivan seemed to hang on her every word, his eyes devouring her in a way that left her mentally floundering.
Can it be possible that he finds me attractive? Oh, God, let it be so! Andrea silently pleaded.
She was suddenly aware of how scruffy she must look, with her torn, faded jeans and wrinkled shirt. She wished she had taken more time with her hair.
A man like Ivan Littlefield could never find me attractive. But if he doesn’t, what is that look he’s giving me? It seems warm and almost inviting.
It made her heart skip a beat.
When they’d finished the meal, Ivan said, “Shall we go into the media room? Would you like to watch a movie?”
“I don’t want to keep you from your work. I know you must have a ton of things to do.”
“Right now, the only thing I want to do is relax and watch a movie with my guest. What is your preference? You can choose the genre. Action, adventure, romantic comedy. You name it.”
“What would you like to watch?”
“Not what you’d think, I would imagine. Not action or adventure. I think a light, romantic comedy would be refreshing. Have you ever seen that old movie ‘When Harry Met Sally’?”
“No. I’m afraid I haven’t been to the movies much at all.”
“Well, you’ll like that one, I’m sure.”
She followed him through to the back of the house and down some stairs into a sprawling, immense room that, at first glance, seemed Spartan except for an entire wall of stereo equipment and speakers, two rows of theater chairs and two leather sofas with a table in between.
Noting her confusion, Ivan explained with a smile, “If you’re wondering about the lack of a TV screen, let me enlighten you.”
Having said that, Ivan went to a bank of electronic controls, touched a button and suddenly the large, Stewart retractable TV screen appeared from its Cabaret enclosure.
“My heavens, it’s like being in a regular theater,” she commented.
“Exactly how I meant for it to seem, and the surround sound will make it seem even more so,” Ivan said, adding, “Since I find the couch more comfortable than the theater chairs and definitely more intimate for conversation, why don't you have a seat there while I find our movie.”
Andrea blushed, thinking his last remark meant he wished them to be intimately close. She settled on the couch, watching as he touched another button that slid open the cherry wood paneling to the left of the stairs.
Inside the massive hidden compartment were a myriad of shelves filled with movie selections.
“Goodness,” she exclaimed. “How will you ever find the movie you want to see in all that?”
Ivan chuckled. “It won’t take long. They’re alphabetized.” He stooped to retrieve a CD from the lowest shelf. “Ah, here it is.”
He inserted it into the slot and then shed his jacket, loosened and pulled off his tie and tossed all the discarded clothing items to one of the theater chairs. After dimming the lights, with yet another touch of a button, he settled next to her.
“Now the only thing missing is popcorn. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”
Andrea laughed, liking this relaxed side of Ivan Littlefield. She fantasized they were on a date as she leaned back to get more comfortable, kicking off her shoes as he instructed her to and curling her feet beneath her.
When Lydia appeared with popcorn, having been summoned by Ivan via the intercom, Ivan started the movie. They ate popcorn and watched in companionable silence.
Andrea thought it was the best movie ever. She was beet red as she watched the scene where Sally faked an orgasm. She couldn’t look at Ivan, but felt him looking at her intently and wondered if he knew how being so close to him affected her.
At the end, as the credits rolled, Ivan asked, “So, did you enjoy that?”
“Yes. It’s a great movie. Thank you.”
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She was having trouble meeting his eyes again and when he lifted her face as he had before, with a finger beneath her chin so she was forced to stare directly at him, Andrea hated that she couldn’t help but blush with the furious rush of her thoughts.
I wonder how it would feel to have the kind of orgasm Meg Ryan’s character faked.
“You are very sweet, Andrea. And innocent, I believe,” Ivan said, breaking into her silent reverie. “By the way, I have a pre-birthday gift for you.”
He crossed the room and returned with a new guitar case and handed it to her.
“Thank you. My old case is about shot.”
“Open it.”
She did and gasped. Inside was a classic Gibson; something she had wanted all her life.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Tell me, Andrea, who taught you to play the guitar?”
“I just taught myself. I’ve always loved music and believed I could play so when I finally got a second hand guitar and I just kept trying until I could.”
“Amazing. That’s quite a talent. So, how about a song?”
Andrea tuned the guitar then sang a song that reminded her of Ivan, blushing as she shyly met his gaze.
“When I found you, life took on new meaning.
No one has ever made me feel the things you do
Like a daffodil washed by a spring raining
I spread my wings, opened my heart and soul to you
“When I think love, I think you
When I feel happy, I think you
Never in my wildest dreams come true
Did I imagine me ever loving you.”
As her voice faded away, Andrea gave Ivan a look that tugged at his heart.
He asked softly, “You haven’t had much happiness in your life, have you? You sing beautifully about love, but tell me, have you even had the chance to date, moving around so much?”
“No, I haven't,” she admitted.
“And when is your birthday again?”
“The 24th of May.”
“Yes, I remember now. You will be nineteen. Ordinarily your eighteenth birthday should have been the special one but this forthcoming birthday will be very special, believe me. What would you like for your nineteenth birthday, Andrea?”
“You’ve already given me this beautiful guitar and the case. I couldn’t possibly ask for anything else.”
“But if you did, what would it be?”
Ivan waited for her answer, but Andrea just shrugged, suddenly shy and not knowing how to answer. She couldn’t say that she wanted only to stay here, in his house, close to him, to have her own room and bath, to feel alive and wanted.
She opted to change the subject.
“I wonder where Dad is. Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Sorry. He will be staying in the penthouse tonight, finishing up what needs to be done. Does it bother you that we’re alone?”
“But we aren’t really. I mean, there’s Lydia the housekeeper, and Millie the cook and, well, those men, your bodyguards. Do they have their own rooms in the house, too?”
Ivan’s smile widened as he said, “Ned, who is my personal bodyguard as well as my chauffeur, has his own apartment downstairs, next to Lydia’s and Millie’s. The other two, Sean and Marty, share an apartment above the garage. And the ones you’ve seen walking the grounds only come in shifts. They don’t live here.
“You really are an innocent, aren’t you, Andrea? You do realize, don’t you, that none of those mentioned would intrude unless I actually summoned them. So, in all essence of the word, we are alone. But rest assured, Andrea, you are quite safe. I don’t molest children.”
“I am not a child!” she protested vehemently, her face flaming as soon as the retort was out of her mouth because she realized how that had sounded, almost like an invitation.
“No?” He teased. “Well, perhaps I misspoke. But if you are no longer a child and not yet a woman, exactly what are you, Andrea?”
Words failed her. She opened her mouth, then licked her dry lips nervously, unable to think of an appropriate answer.
“Tell me, Andrea, has your vagabond traveling about given you time to have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“But you have been kissed, right?”
She swallowed hard as she admitted, “No.”
“Well, we need to remedy that,” he declared as he leaned toward her and placed a light kiss on her lips, fulfilling her wildest dream.
When he withdrew, her body swayed, automatically following him in avid yearning until he steadied her, pushing her back with a wicked grin.
“Now you can’t say you’ve never been kissed, little Andrea, and I think you’d better go to bed before I forget you are only eighteen.”
More than anything, Andrea wanted to kiss him again, but this time she wanted that kiss to be deeper, lingering, with his arms wrapped around her.
Her desires were so plainly written on her face that Ivan had to fight back his own rising tide of emotion, knowing he could take what she clearly was offering. He stood, pulled her to her feet and gave her a slight shove toward the door.
“To bed. Goodnight. Tomorrow is a new day, Andrea.”
“Goodnight,” she said, thinking, no matter what happens tomorrow, even if Dad causes all this magic to fall apart, I’ll always treasure this night of my first kiss with my handsome prince.
Chapter 4
Consequences
The next three weeks were a hub of activity for both Andrea and Benton. Ivan had his secretary, Margaret, take Andrea into town to purchase her a complete wardrobe, talking down her protests and refusing to take no for an answer.
He had outfitted Benton, as well, and also had their dilapidated Chevy towed away, replacing it with a new Escalade, which was identical to the one he already owned, except in color. This one was beige and Ivan had given the keys to Benton when it was delivered, stating that an employee of his could not be seen driving a junker.
Andrea saw very little of her father during those hectic days. Ivan kept him busy at the casino, and many nights Benton was required to stay on in the penthouse. Those nights alone with Ivan Andrea came to treasure as though they were jewels. Sometimes they watched movies. Sometimes she sang to him per his request and other times they just sat together and talked after a shared meal.
Ivan had not kissed her again, but there were times he touched her in the library while they were both reaching for a book, or when they exited the room simultaneously, coming close in the aperture. And all those times left her breathless and wanting him.
By the middle of their third week at Ivan’s, only a few days away from her birthday, Andrea was hopelessly in love with Ivan.
Three days before her birthday, she had started her period and lay abed with cramps. She tried countermanding her discomfort with thoughts of Ivan and the fact that, more than once, he had mentioned her forthcoming birthday, hinting he intended to make it one she would always remember.
On the eve of her birthday, however, Andrea’s childish dreams of Ivan Littlefield being her incorruptible knight in shining armor took a hard, irrevocable fall as she stood before the partially opened office door where her father and Ivan had been closeted, in what seemed to her, for hours.
She had intended to knock, but when she heard her name being mentioned, for the first time in her life, Andrea decided to eavesdrop, curious as to what Ivan was saying, thinking it might be something pertaining to the surprise he had hinted would be forthcoming.
In stunned disbelief she listened to their heated negotiations that ended with Ivan asking, “So we’re clear about the agreement concerning Andrea, Benton?”
“We’re clear.”
“There’s no going back once it’s done. You’ll take the money. I’ll not turn you over to the authorities for your inept attempt at burglarizing my penthouse safe and I shall forget your, shall we say, creative accounting. I’ll even get your ass right with the guys wan
ting to take you apart for what you owe them, all in return for your convincing Andrea to marry me. Got it?”
“Yeah, I understand. I knew this was what you wanted all along, you know, me out of the way so you could have a go at Andrea. Don’t think I didn’t see through you right from that first day, Ivan. I’m not stupid, man. I could tell you were chomping at the bit to pop that cherry!”
“You’re a sorry piece of shit, Benton, talking about your own daughter that way.”
“The truth kinda stings, don’t it? I might be a piece of shit, but I see you for what you are, too. You’re a jaded playboy who hasn't had a virgin in years, if you ever have, and you’re curious, right? I know how it works for guys like you.”
“Guys like me?”
“Yeah, more money than you know what to do with but bored and needing a shot of adrenaline by way of a new sexual toy. You want to hump her like crazy until the thrill wears off, and then toss her out like you have all the other twats you’ve used up. Or maybe just keep her secluded in this mausoleum you call home while you screw around. If the truth was known, I bet you’ve screwed your way through all your own showgirls and most of the others in town.”
“Andrea will be my wife! I will never toss her out, nor do I think of her as just another twat. Don’t project your own low morals on me, Benton.”
White faced, Andrea stood rooted to the spot, unable to move even though she wanted to turn and run from what she was hearing.
“My low morals?” Benton exclaimed. “You’re a big one to talk about morals. So, what’s the plan? Bet it’ll be like I said. Once you tap that pussy, you’ll keep Andrea for pleasure at home, knocking her up, while you fuck all the beauties who work for you on the sidelines. I’ve heard about your kinky sex habits, too, Ivan. I know the truth about you.”
“What truth is that?”
“That you’re into bizarre things like S&M, that no one woman will ever be enough for you, that you’re hung like a horse and would rather screw than eat.”
“You have a filthy mind, Benton! And if you believe all that, why the hell would you coerce your only daughter into marrying me?”
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