The Iron Tiara

by Beth Flynn

  She’d never believe that I’m right under her nose, Christy thought as she felt Anthony’s warm arms surround her from behind.

  He softly kissed the side of her temple. “We’re out of Lourdes’ meals. You wanna help me in the kitchen?” he inquired.

  “Yes, as long as you know to proceed at your own risk,” she teased.

  He led her by the hand to the kitchen, picked her up and sat her on the counter. She watched him pull some things from the refrigerator and cupboard, admiring his strong jawline and silky black hair that swayed just above his belt as he worked. Hair that a shampoo model would envy.

  At first, she’d been grateful that he hadn’t tried to do anything but kiss her in the last five days, but she started to wonder if something was wrong with her. He lay down beside her every night in his king-sized bed, and she fell asleep in his arms. She woke up alone every morning and usually found Anthony at his desk or in his shop. She still wasn’t sure if she was ready. She’d been a little intimidated after hearing Anthony’s stories about sleeping with so many women. Women that she was certain were skilled in physical intimacy. An intimacy that she knew only on the most basic level.

  As if reading her mind, Anthony swung around and looked at her. She sat up straight when she recognized the look in his eyes.

  “I don’t know if I can hold off too much longer, Christy,” he said, his voice thick. He walked to her, and she wrapped her legs around him. “I’ve done my best to stay back, give you time to come to me, but I don’t think I can climb into that bed with you one more night without touching you.” He kissed her, and she groaned into his mouth.

  She pulled back from him and relaxed her legs. “Why haven’t you tried anything?” she asked and leaned back on the counter. She chewed on her lip, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

  “I can feel you aren’t ready. Am I wrong?” he asked, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He couldn’t tell her the real reason that he hadn’t pushed her. Yes, he found that he respected her, unlike any woman he’d ever been with. But there was more to it. He knew that taking their relationship to a higher physical level would bring it to a higher emotional one as well, and he wasn’t ready to face what he might learn. He didn’t think he could bear to realize that she might be nothing more than another lay. He was afraid of waking up the morning after and feeling nothing. He cared enough about the girl to not want to hurt her in that way. Then there was the other side of the spectrum. Waking up the next morning and knowing that he didn’t want to live one single day without her. He wasn’t sure which scenario scared him more, and playing house for a week had brought him to a place he’d never been before. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he liked it.

  Having Christy in his home felt right, and for now, he wasn’t ready to give that up should it come to light that he didn’t care beyond what happened between the sheets.

  “A little. In the beginning. But…” She paused and then looked away. She took a deep breath and looked back at him. “But not anymore.”

  He could no longer deny his physical desire and made the instant decision that he was ready to go to the next level with her. He wasn't concerned about taking her virginity since her brother had already told him about the older boyfriend she'd spent months with. When he asked Christy about him, she refused to go into detail but insisted that it'd been over for years. She may not have opened up about the man, but she also didn't deny his existence. This told Anthony that she was experienced and he felt a stab of disappointment at not being her first, but tried to convince himself that it was a good thing in the event this turned out to be nothing more than physical attraction.

  Anthony leaned into her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist again, this time locking her feet behind him. He started to kiss her neck as he unbuttoned her blouse. She threw her head back and moaned when he lightly bit her nipple through the fabric of her blouse and bra as he made his way down the buttons. Without warning, he roughly picked her up off the counter and effortlessly carried her to his bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed and removed his shirt, never taking his eyes off her.

  She looked up at him, and he saw the uncertainty in her expression. He climbed on the bed and straddled her, bending down to kiss her. He drank her in slowly, hardening as he made his way down her neck and she groaned. She helped him remove her blouse, and he undid her bra like an expert, tossing it aside. He sat back to look at her, careful not to rest his full weight on her. The pain of his erection strained against his jeans.

  She rubbed her hands against his smooth brown skin, lingering at his abdomen where she traced the muscular lines of his stomach. Her fingers followed the contour of a long, raised scar. He scooted back a little and swallowed thickly before undoing her pants and sliding them, along with her panties, down her perfectly tanned legs. He was admiring her when he saw her hand creeping downward. He thought she was going to touch herself and realized she was trying to cover her most intimate place.

  "Christy?"

  She didn't answer and he told her, "Don't cover yourself. You're beautiful."

  He gently took both her hands and held them to her sides as he arranged himself between her legs. He still hadn't removed his jeans. He wanted to take his time with her and started at her neck, making his way slowly to her breasts where he lingered at each one. Her arousal was obvious as his hand found its way between her legs. The anticipation of tasting her was too much, and he kissed his way down her stomach, below her belly button. He was kissing the inside of her thigh when he sensed her stiffen and he felt her hands pulling at his hair. He looked up.

  She had a look of horror on her face. "W-what are you doing down there?" she asked.

  "I'm trying to go down on you," he said, the confusion on his face obvious.

  "You mean put your mouth there?" she asked. "Like, you want to kiss me there?"

  Kiss her there?

  He shook his head as if to clear it and sat up. She did too and scooted back from him, reaching for her clothes and using them to try and cover herself.

  "Christy? Are you a virgin?" he asked as he sat on his haunches.

  She looked away from him. "No. I'm not a virgin, and you already know that," she huffed.

  He nodded. "Okay. I believe you. I know about the older boyfriend."

  She continued to look away.

  "Are you telling me that the entire time you were with him, he never went down on you?"

  "Do you mean put his face there like you were doing?" she asked without meeting his eyes.

  "You don't even know what it means to go down on a woman?" he asked, his voice carrying a pitch of disbelief.

  "I've heard that term before. And you said it when you were telling me about the older women you slept with. I know it’s when a guy puts his face there. I just don’t know why you would want to." She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “Or why I would want you to.” Her tone was defensive.

  He broke out in a sly wide smile. Oh, you’ll want me to, he thought.

  She turned her gaze back to him and seeing his roguish grin, quickly looked away.

  "You're twenty years old and not only did your boyfriend never go down on you, but you aren’t even sure what it means?" He ran his hand through his hair, still trying to come to terms with her naivety.

  What could she tell him? That she hadn't grown up like the typical teenager? That she lived under a rock? She didn't have girlfriends to swap secrets with and she certainly never discussed sex with Litzy or Vivian. She'd taken a sexual education class in high school, but she didn't remember slang being taught. It was more about birth control and sexually transmitted diseases. She'd never peeked at a girlie magazine, and she’d certainly never watched a pornographic movie. Her bank account may have been huge, but her world was very small. A blush crept up her face.

  "Have you ever had an orgasm?" he asked. "Do you even know what one is?"

  Christy took a deep
breath and started to answer him when her expression changed.

  "Someone's here," she whispered.

  "Nobody is here," he told her as he started to move up toward the headboard where she was perched against it. His long hair was swaying, and it tickled her legs as he approached her.

  "Yes, there is. I heard a car. Someone is here, Anthony," she insisted.

  He reached for the television remote on his nightstand and aimed it toward the set that was on his dresser. He pressed the power button and changed the channel. She was right. The hidden camera on his front porch showed two well-dressed men getting out of a four-door sedan and walking toward his door. They looked like the two men that he'd watched on the surveillance tape the night he let Lourdes clean his house.

  "Lock yourself in the safe room, Christy," he demanded. She jumped off the bed and started to put her clothes on when he told her, "Take them with you. You can put them on in there." She headed for his closet and turned around to say something when she saw him pull a gun from one of his dresser drawers and tuck it into the back of his jeans. She watched him put his shirt back on. A sharp rap at the front door broke the silence. Anthony saw her reflection in the mirror and noticed she was frozen in the closet doorway.

  "Go!" he whisper-shouted before he headed for the front door. "When you get inside, you page X. His number is by the phone. You put in two-two-nine-one-one. He'll know what it means. You got it?" he asked.

  She nodded, but he saw her eyes were as big as saucers and shiny. She was scared.

  He walked toward her and took her face in his hands. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Owani," he told her.

  She sniffled and asked, "What if they hurt you?"

  "It's not going to happen. Go, Christy. Promise you'll stay in there until X or I come for you."

  There were two more raps at the front door.

  He kissed her nose and watched her disappear into the huge closet. He didn't leave the bedroom until he heard the unmistakable slide of the hidden panel and knew she was safe.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Naples, Florida 1978

  Anthony approached his front door cautiously, opening it after the third brisk knock. Two men stood in front of him. They both wore expensive suits. He knew immediately by their posture and the way they carried themselves that they weren't a threat. He'd been in the business and played the game long enough to recognize the difference between a messenger and a mercenary. These men weren't dangerous. And handsome? Christy's landlord couldn't have been talking about these two.

  "Anthony Bear?" the older one with wavy silver hair asked. He was about six-foot tall, thin and his eyes were too close together. He had full, shiny lips and crooked teeth.

  "Who's asking?" Anthony asked.

  "I'm Dan Mikkelson, and this is Pete Germaine," the man said, nodding at his companion. The second guy was younger by a few years. He was also shorter and wider. He wore his brown hair in a buzz cut. He had bushy eyebrows that rivaled his mustache.

  Before Anthony could comment he added, "We represent Mr. Chapman."

  Anthony threw his head back and laughed. "Represent? Let me guess. You're attorneys?" he asked.

  "Yes," Dan told him. "Mr. Chapman sent us here to discuss his outstanding loan with you."

  Before inviting them inside, Anthony triggered a switch at his doorway that would automatically scan the men for weapons when they passed over the threshold. He put his right hand behind his back and clutched his gun. He stepped back and waved them in. When the alarm didn't beep, he motioned them toward his living room and pointed to the couch. Just as he'd suspected, they weren't a threat.

  Both men took a seat.

  He stood opposite them, his arms crossed.

  "Mr. Chapman wants to make a deal," Dan informed him.

  "I don't want a deal. I want my seventy thousand," Anthony sneered as he looked down at them. "Plus interest."

  "I think you'll want to hear us out," Pete chimed in. He hadn't said a word up to this point, and Anthony was surprised at his unusually high and feminine voice.

  Anthony nodded for him to go ahead and tell him the offer.

  "How would you like to make almost eight times that amount?" Dan asked.

  Without showing any kind of reaction at the exorbitant offer, Anthony blandly asked, "How much exactly are you talking about?"

  "Half a million," Pete blurted out.

  "Based on how much he already owes me and how long it's taking for him to pay me, I'd expect to collect almost that much anyway," Anthony stated.

  The men looked at each other, and Anthony knew they'd anticipated his response. Pete nodded at Dan.

  "A million," Dan said.

  "And how exactly does Van plan on paying me a million when he can't even come up with seventy thousand?"

  "It involves his daughter, Christy." Without waiting for Anthony to comment, Pete continued, "Mr. Chapman thinks you might be the best man for the job."

  "What job?" Anthony asked through narrowed eyes.

  "Let us give you some background first," Dan interrupted. He cleared his throat and shifted forward on the couch, sitting on the edge.

  "As you probably already know, the Chapmans have two children. They've both been receiving sizable distributions from their trust since they were sixteen. The oldest, Richard, squandered his yearly stipend and Bobbi cut him off before he was twenty."

  "But the daughter, she's a smart one," Pete broke in. "In the last four years, Christy Chapman managed to invest her yearly allotments. Aside from being a generous philanthropist, Miss Chapman is one of the biggest real estate holders on the Gulf Coast. Who'd have guessed?" he asked, his high-pitched squeal grating on Anthony's nerves.

  "But you'd never know it," Dan piped up. "She lives simply and wisely. She's never flaunted her wealth. She's already worth millions and hasn't even come into her real inheritance yet. Up until now, she's been getting allotted draws on her trust. When she turns twenty-one next year, she gets it all."

  Anthony tilted his head to the side and could see that Pete was chomping at the bit to tell him the amount. When the man couldn't contain his excitement any longer, he blurted out a dollar figure that caught even Anthony by surprise.

  "What does Van want from me?" Anthony asked.

  "Van, um...Mr. Chapman knows about your camp and your gang," Pete said, looking away from Anthony.

  "So?"

  "Well, he knows about the type of women that hang out there," Dan added.

  Anthony’s forehead creased.

  "Mr. Chapman wants you to find his daughter and bring her to your camp. You'll have to restrain her, but he's certain you can introduce her to enough drugs that after a short amount of time, she'll be dependent on them. And of course, he would expect you to use her and share her with your men." After not being able to read Anthony's expression, Dan looked away uncomfortably.

  "The end result is what's important," Pete said. He'd taken a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweaty forehead. "Mr. Chapman can have her declared incompetent to handle her trust. It shouldn't take long before we can have her committed to a facility and make sure that her father is legally in charge of her estate. He's willing to write you a check for a million dollars as soon as this happens. All you have to do is find Christy and help ruin her."

  "And you two will take care of the rest? All the legalities?" Anthony asked, looking from one of the men to the other. He tried to camouflage his disgust as profound interest.

  Pete's excitement was palpable. He sat up. "Exactly!"

  Anthony nodded as if he was on board. "What if I find her and she's done something crazy, like say...run off and eloped with someone? Wouldn't her husband be in line to run her estate?"

  Both men looked at one another and then back at Anthony. Dan stammered, "Well, yeah, but that's not likely."

  Anthony didn't need to ask why. He remembered Nadine sharing with him that Christy didn't have any friends, let alone a boyfriend. If Nadine had suspected that
Christy might've been gay, it’s possible these men did too. They probably hadn't heard about her older lover from so many years ago. It didn't matter. The plan was beyond ridiculous, and it showed how desperate and evil Van Chapman really was. It was a rotten thing to do, even to a stepchild. No wonder Christy hated him.

  "Where are the Chapmans?" Anthony asked.

  Dan cleared his throat. "We're not at liberty to reveal that."

  "I don't plan on going after Van," Anthony told them. "I'm curious as to where they've been hiding."

  Pete shrugged his shoulders. He could tell Anthony where they'd been without revealing their exact location. "Vivian is somewhere in the middle of the ocean on a six-month cruise with enough prescription meds to kill a hippopotamus."

  Anthony nodded and looked at Dan.

  "Mr. Chapman has been in an out-of-state drug rehabilitation facility. He's cleaning himself up so he can better manage his late mother-in-law's dealerships and—"

  "And his daughter's finances," Pete interrupted.

  "Tell Van he has a deal," Anthony said, his face unreadable. "I'll find Christy Chapman."

  Both men stood then, their relief obvious.

  "And the rest? You'll make sure she becomes...incapacitated?" Dan asked. Without giving Anthony a chance to respond, Dan quickly said, "And we'll take care of the rest. You can get in touch with us at Mikkelson & Germaine. We're in Tampa," he added. "When the time is right we'll handle the paperwork." He pulled out a business card which he handed to Anthony. Without looking at it, Anthony tossed it aside.

  "Oh, I'll find Christy Chapman, but I won't be taking her to the camp to get her hooked on drugs or raped."

  The two men exchanged glances and Pete once again retrieved his handkerchief.

  "Well...what? What are you going to do with her?" Pete stammered, his voice an octave higher.

  Anthony gave them a slow smile. "I'm going to marry her."