“Get over here, Saarah.” He pointed to his lap, where a tent between his legs had newly formed.
My heart hammered while I hedged and hawed. As much as every ounce of my body craved his man, I wasn’t keen on him ravishing me in the limo and messing up the princess I’d become. His eyes bored into me giving me no choice. Hesitantly, I climbed into his lap, letting my ball gown sprawl over him and across the backseat. His hardness penetrated the layers of the dress and pressed against my pantyless sex. My pussy was on fire, and for a split second, I wanted him to rip off my gown and fuck me senseless. My heartbeat sped up as wet heat spilled down my inner thighs.
To both my surprise and relief, he gently pressed my head against his chest and just held me in his arms. He sighed out my name as if letting out all the tensions of the day. Sinking further into him, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes, and let out my own soft sigh while his heartbeat sung in my ear like a lullaby. It felt so good, so safe to be in his arms. We were both feeling something beyond lust and desire. Something special. Something deeper. I think it was called love.
We stayed locked in this position for the rest of the ride. As we pulled up to the Waldorf, he kissed my neck lightly and whispered in my ear, “Saarah, my princess, you are so fucking beautiful.”
As much as his words moved me, I wished he had said something else.
###♥###
The Waldorf’s grand ballroom was straight out of a fairy tale. Several stories high, it was a glittering spectacle of gorgeously dressed men and women, candlelit tables with soaring floral arrangements, and sparkling chandeliers. Hooking his arm in mine, Ari escorted me to our table. All eyes were on us, and many guests stopped Ari to shake his hand or to say kind words. My Trainman was as respected as he was riveting.
Truthfully, I hadn’t given much thought to who would be seated at our table, so when I got there I was in for a little shock. In addition to a few executives who I recognized from my tour of Ari’s company, including Anne and her stunning partner, Ari’s mother was there along with his son Ben and his sister Gwen. The latter made my stomach churn.
Ben, adorably dressed in pint-size version of Ari’s tux, jumped out of his seat to give me a hug.
“Sarah, are you a Disney princess?” His words warmed my heart, and from the corner of my eye, I could see an amused smile on Ari’s heart-stopping face.
Ari’s mother, dressed in an exquisite black beaded gown, also rose and graciously gave me a kiss on each cheek.
“My dear, you look absolutely lovely.”
“Thank you.” I smiled.
Gwen, wearing a simple but elegant emerald green silk sheath, eyed me coldly as I lowered myself into the chair that Ari had pulled out for me. I ended up sitting between him and his son. Thank goodness, I didn’t have to sit next to his fiendish sister.
A white-gloved waiter came by and filled our goblets with wine. Ben was drinking lemonade. In the background, the orchestra played the overture from West Side Story. My heart fluttered as I wondered: did Ari purposely select this music because of me? Had I ever even told him how much I loved this musical? Maybe it was just a coincidence.
“Daddy, when are you gonna get your award?” asked Ben.
Ari winked. “Patience, my young man.”
Across from me, Gwen sipped her wine while never losing sight of me. Then, suddenly, the glass slipped out of her hand and went crashing to the floor. All color drained from her face as did Ari’s mothers.
“Well, hello, Ari. Hello, Sarah.”
Oh. My. God.
Ari lowered his glass to the table and stiffened. I thought the floor was opening beneath me and that I would cave in.
It was Catherine!
Dressed in a black and white gown that screamed Chanel, she slithered over to Ben and cupped her long manicured fingers over his shoulders. “You must be Ben. It’s so nice to see you again.”
As Ari and his family sat shell-shocked, Ben’s eyes widened. “Daddy, who is this lady?”
Nausea was rising in my chest.
“She’s no one,” Ari growled, like a ferocious lion ready to attack.
Catherine rolled her jade green eyes; they were identical in shape and color to Ben’s. “Ben, that is so not true.”
Gwen clapped her hand to her mouth, knowing what was coming next, while my heart leapt to my throat. A poisonous smile slithered across Catherine’s face.
“I’m your—”
“Madame, I’m going to have to ask you to return to your seat. The award ceremony is about to begin.”
Thank goodness for the waiter who ushered her away. As he did so, her eyes clashed with mine.
“I’ll be back,” she hissed.
I was going to be sick. Very sick. Grabbing my beaded bag, I bolted out of my chair. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Saarah—”
Neither the touch of Ari’s warm hand nor the concern in his voice could hold me back. Though my knee was throbbing beneath my gown, I dashed through the packed ballroom to find the restroom. Please don’t let me throw up here.
As I neared the exit, an announcer roared: “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to our guest of honor, the Chairman and CEO of Golden International and Founder of Meds Without Borders…Mr. Ari Golden.”
Cheers and applause filled the ballroom. I stole a glance backward and saw my beloved Trainman striding toward the podium. Oh God! I was going to miss his award! Tears flooded my eyes as my nausea consumed me.
Just in time, I made it to the ladies’ room. I ran into an empty stall, crouched down, and spilled my guts out into the toilet. Tears were pouring down my face. Everything felt wrong. So, so, wrong. Finally, when there was nothing left inside me, I stood up and then staggered out of the stall to wash up.
I set my bag down and pulled off my gloves, and then over a sink, I rinsed my foul-tasting mouth, using my good hand. I stared at my tear-stained reflection in the mirror before me. Princess Sarah looked wan, almost ghastly. I wiped off the rivulets of mascara that had dripped down my cheeks from crying and took out my lip gloss from my beaded purse. As I applied a layer to my chalky lips, another face appeared in the mirror. I gasped. Catherine! I spun around to meet her face to face.
“Well, well, well, we meet again.” Her tone was sinister.
I said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed into daggers. “Remember what I said, Sarah. You’ve stolen what belongs to me, and now you will pay the price.” She dug her hand into her clutch and pulled out an envelope. “And so will he.”
My blood curdled. Inside my head, I heard my mother’s voice. Sarah, Warrior Princess. Donning imaginary armor, I fisted my hands and held her fiercely in my gaze, armed with courage, strength, and rage. I hurled my response at her.
“Ari doesn’t belong to you anymore. Neither does Ben. I know everything you did to them…you sick bitch.”
Unaffected by my fiery words, she handed me the envelope. “Watch your mouth and think again. Every child needs their mother.”
With trembling hands, I opened the unsealed envelope and unfolded the letter that was inside. The letter was from the law firm, Allen & Allyn.
Dear Ms. Sinclair:
After reviewing your case, I would be delighted to represent you on a contingency basis. My partners and I agree that you have been wrongly denied custody of your son and strongly believe that we can reverse the emotional damage you have endured in a court of law. No child should be denied his or her mother and vice versa.
We look forward to a mutually rewarding association and to awarding you full custody of your child.
Sincerely,
Frederick Allyn
Partner
With a wicked smile on her face, Catherine snatched the letter away from me. I stood there motionless, in shock. Oh, God what have I done? A thousand crossbows shot through me. Sarah, Warrior Princess, had been defeated. On the verge of collapsing, I gathered up what remained of my strength and stormed out
of the restroom, but not in time to spare hearing my evil boss cackle, “And, Sarah, you can also say goodbye to your job. You’ll be fired at the end of next week.”
I had to get out of here. I had to! Tears rushed down my face as I flew by the ballroom; Ari’s voice sounded in my ears. He was giving his acceptance speech. He was an impeccable orator, the words so heartfelt and passionate. But what meaning would this award have when he was about to face the biggest loss in his life? The one thing, the one person who meant more to him than life itself. His beloved son Ben. If he lost him, it would be all my fault.
Trembling with grief, I held up the edges of my gown and galloped down the three flights of steps that led to the Waldorf’s elegantly appointed lobby. Everything a blur, I pushed my way through the revolving doors at the hotel’s entrance, straight past a wide-eyed doorman, who offered to get me a cab.
Without stopping, I hurried crosstown on 49th Street toward my apartment. If people were staring at me in my ball gown and tiara, I was oblivious, blinded by my tears. Halfway home, the wind kicked up, and flashes of lightning flickered in the night sky. A loud clap of thunder startled me, and soon after, the sky began to weep with me. It began to pour. By the time I reached my brownstone, my beautiful gown was soaked through; my hair hung loose like a wet mop, and my face was coated with teardrops and raindrops. My knee throbbing, I hobbled up the steps to the brownstone landing. Chilled to the bone, I couldn’t wait to take off my dress and get under a hot shower to erase the memory of this horrific night. Except I had a very big problem. Oh my God! I left the beaded purse with my keys, along with my gloves, behind in the restroom of the Waldorf. How could I have done that? I slumped against the front door, letting the relentless rain pound me.
Ari
I don’t know how I got through my speech. I was totally rattled. A fierce combination of rage and apprehension whirled through me like a tornado, taking with it my sanity. My ability to think straight. Goddamn fucking Cassandra. What the hell was she doing here? If she came anywhere within twenty feet of my son, I was going to leap off this stage and take her down. My eyes stayed riveted on Ben as I spewed the moving words I’d committed to memory. I shuddered at the thought of how close the psycho bitch had come to telling him she was his mother. Thank goodness, Vadim, Olga, and Andre were all stationed in the imposing ballroom keeping an eye out for her. She had disappeared. And so had someone else.
My princess. Right after the Cassandra encounter, she had paled and excused herself just as I was called to the stage. The chair next to Ben’s was still empty; she hadn’t come back. A foreboding sense of apprehension charged my cells like electrical particles in a storm. I felt myself rushing my words, just wanting to get off the stage and back to my table. At the very end of my speech, I cut away to a moving five-minute film put together by my marketing team, showcasing the admirable work Meds Without Borders had done around the world. The lights dimmed, but were bright enough for me to see the audience clearly. While their eyes stayed riveted on the screen, mine darted around the vast space searching for both Cassandra and Sarah. Neither was anywhere in sight and that disquieted me even more. Every muscle in my body was as taut as a tightrope and I could fall apart at any minute.
The film ended with an awe-inspiring moment—a shot of Kamau and me high fiving. The lights went back on. I was done at last and quickly thanked everyone for their support. While the audience gave me a roaring standing ovation, I jogged off the stage straight back to my seat.
“Daddy, you were awesome,” exclaimed my little man standing on his chair and clapping madly. Setting down my award on the table, I took him into my arms.
“Thanks, but I want you to go home now with Aunt Gwen.”
My little boy frowned. “But Daddy—”
“You’re Daddy’s right,” interjected Gwen. “The rest of the night is so boring.”
“But I want dessert.”
“I’ll bring you home a big piece of the cake,” I replied, handing him off to my sister and asking her as I did, “Have you seen her anywhere?”
Shaking her head, Gwen bit down on her lip. “It’s as if she evaporated.”
“Shit.”
Ben giggled. “Daddy, you said a bad word!”
In any other situation, his reaction would have humored me, but right now, I was too charged up with anxiety and apprehension.
“What about Sarah?” I asked my sister, who narrowed her eyes at the mention of her name.
“Yeah, Daddy,” chirped Ben before Gwen could utter a word. “What happened to her? Why did she act all weird and miss your whole speech?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered, my anxious eyes scanning the room. “But I’m going to find out.”
But first, I had to take a leak. I gave Ben a kiss on his head, told him he could wait up for me, and then took giant steps toward the men’s room. Along the way, many congratulated me and shared kind words about my foundation. Eager to find Sarah—dammit, if only she had a cell phone—I responded to each with a throwaway “thanks” and kept moving as fast as I could through the crowd.
After doing my business in the men’s room, I literally bumped right into one of my most ardent supporters, Ike Abrams, the head of Ike’s Tikes, the toy company Sarah worked for; I’d never gotten around to mentioning to her that I knew him. He, too, had started a philanthropic organization—one that supplied toys to underprivileged children around the world—at about the same time I started mine, which was six months after I divorced Cassandra. He had never met her, and for all intents and purposes, believed she had died in a fatal car crash like the rest of the world.
He gave me a man hug. “Awesome speech, Ari.”
“Thanks,” I said hurriedly, not wanting to be rude.
“I saw my head of boys’ toys talking to you and one of my protégés earlier.”
My heart leapt into my throat. What was he talking about? “You mean…”
“Catherine Sinclair. You know her?”
All air left my lungs as my muscles clenched. Sarah had once mentioned that her demanding boss’s name was Catherine—that first time I was at her apartment. I was putting two and two together faster than any Einstein. Holy shit.
“We just met,” I stammered.
“She must have gone over to your table to say hello to her assistant, Sarah. That girl’s a little dynamo.” He paused, putting his own two and two together. “Hey, Ari, don’t tell me you’re dating her?”
My mind was racing at the speed of a runaway train, and my heart thudded. Fuck. Sarah’s life was in danger. Every buzzing nerve in my body confirmed it. I had to get to her before Cassandra did.
“Listen, Ike, I’ve got to run. We’ll have a drink and catch up soon.”
“Sounds like a plan. And by the way, you’ve picked a good one.” He winked at me. “Sarah Greene’s a winner.”
And I was going to be the world’s biggest loser if I didn’t find her. Panic gripped me by the balls as I sprinted back to the ballroom. Where the hell could she have gone? And then it hit me. Where she always ended up after some kind of misunderstanding or crisis. Her apartment. Jesus. Why didn’t I think of that before? The Waldorf wasn’t that far from it either by foot or by cab so she should be there by now. I yanked out my phone from my breast pocket and immediately speed dialed her home number. I held my breath waiting for her to pick up. Come on, my princess. Pick up. The phone rang five times and went straight to her voicemail. I left an urgent message.
“Sarah, as soon as you get this message, call me. Keep your door locked and don’t open it for anyone except me.” I ended the call.
Five minutes later, I was racing through the streets of Manhattan in my tux. There was no faster way to get there—not even Andre could work miracles with the insane Friday night traffic. Adrenaline pumped through my veins while dread filled my heart. Tonight, tonight… Were we going to have our own tragic West Side Story?
Sarah
The bullets of rain pelted me. I was a shiverin
g wet mess. Frantically, desperately, I buzzed Mrs. Blumberg’s apartment. Thank goodness, I had given her a spare set of keys in case of an emergency. No answer. The rain kept coming down in buckets. I buzzed again and again and again. Still no answer. I was beginning to fear that Mrs. Blumberg slept with earplugs. Falling to my knees, I sank to a new level of despair. Everything was so, so wrong in my life—the uncertain future of Ari and his beloved son, my ailing mother, and that of my career. I was a total trainwreck. A fucking disaster. As the rain fell harder, I began to sob. Loud, ugly sobs that wracked my body. Finally, a voice filtered through the intercom.
“Who’s there?”
Staggering to my feet, I rasped, “It’s me, Sarah. I lost my keys.” My voice was raw, almost inaudible.
“Hold on.”
I choked out a sigh of relief when she buzzed me in. My relief instantly gave way to more uncontrollable sobs as I trudged up the stairs in my soaking wet gown, which felt like it weighed a ton. I tried hard not to bend my aching right knee. My nose was running, and tears kept pouring down my face. I stopped at the second floor and knocked on Mrs. Blumberg’s door. After peering through the peephole, she unbolted the door and opened it. Wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and a headful of pink curlers, she glared at me with a mixture of shock and compassion.
“Oy! Would you like me to make you some nice chicken soup?”
Chicken Soup for the Soul. My mother had made me read that book in high school when I was going through a rough time, but there was nothing that could comfort my soul right now. Nothing.
“Thanks, Mrs. Blumberg,” I sniffed, “but I really just want to take a hot shower and call it a night.”
“Okay. But if you change your mind, you know where I am.”
She handed me the spare set of keys, and after bidding her goodnight, I trekked up the last flight of stairs to my apartment. Every step was an effort. Breathing heavily and blinded by my tears, I jammed the key into my lock and jiggled it. With my bandaged hand, soaked and sore, it wasn’t easy. My hand was shaking. The damn door wouldn’t open. I tried again, using my other hand. No luck. Moreover, my phone was ringing. Ari? Oh, God. Did Cassandra get to him? Let him know of her intent to take his precious Ben away from him? Then another horrific thought crossed my mind. Maybe something had happened to my mother. Shivering with cold fear and hopelessness, I kicked the door. How could this night get any worse? Finally, the lock gave way, and I stumbled into my pitch-black apartment. Before I could get to it, the phone stopped ringing. A meowing Jo-Jo brushed up against my ankles. Then, on my next labored breath, something gripped me tight around my neck and—POW!—a gut-wrenching punch to my stomach sent a rush of bile to my throat. I doubled over in agony and winced.
Trainwreck 2 (Trainwreck #2) Page 11