Aphrodite's Stand

by Sandra Scott

  His answering sigh was heavy. “What do I want?” he asked. A subtle hardness changed his tone. “I want you to leave my brother. Divorce him. Do what is right.”

  She wanted to slap him again but held back. The second time would feel too primal—too sensual.

  Andra found she couldn’t break free from his penetrating gaze.

  “Leave him.”

  She shivered at the nearly perfect inflection of his voice; it came across deadly, yet not in the sense that she feared for her physical life.

  The danger was how it messed with her feminine emotions, causing her to mistrust her ability to resist his magnetic pull.

  “No, I won’t do what you say. You can’t make me,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound like a willful child. His eyes lowered to her mouth, causing her to moisten her lips. “I’ll never give Jayson a divorce. I love him, and he loves me. Get over it.”

  “How?” he asked. His mouth was positioned so close yet appeared a million miles away. “How do I get over it?”

  Confused, Andra grew quiet. His question didn’t seem compatible with what they now talked about.

  His head lowered.

  Fighting the urge to meet his lips, Andra ducked underneath Stefano’s arm and scurried for the exit. A warning shiver immediately shot up her spine, alerting her that he chased in hot pursuit.

  Panic billowed from her gut to explode inside her chest, making it hard to breathe. She knew if Stefano caught her, he would sweep her into his embrace, and the forbidden opportunity she’d avoided just a few seconds ago would be an inevitable, undeniable fact.

  Her fear flowed downward to virtually cripple her, making her knees wobbly and her sandaled feet slippery. She knew she wouldn’t make it to the closed door before he captured her. Feeling a slight tug and subsequent release of her skirt from behind, Andra realized Stefano had barely missed seizing the material within his grasp.

  She darted to her right.

  Racing for the room’s center, she reached the circular mahogany table with the flower centerpiece mere seconds before he did. Her shaking hands grasped the curved edge of the furniture as she quickly rounded it to place the heavy barrier between her and her pursuer. She nearly coughed up her heart when she observed Stefano stop on the other side.

  Slowly, his body circled the heavy furniture, his dangerous eyes aglow with passion.

  Huffing as if she’d just run a grueling marathon, Andra felt her chest unwittingly tighten beneath Stefano’s probing gaze. During her flight, her top had separated to display her twin crests, each drenched in beads of nervous sweat that slid down her neck to gather at the cleavage between them.

  Stefano’s dark eyes thirstily followed the watery trails leading to her unbound breasts clearly outlined against her damp bodice.

  Shaking her head, she circled the table, timing her shifting in direct correlation to his. “Get thee behind me, Satan,” she whispered.

  Stefano’s brow lifted quizzically, painting for Andra a sardonic face that proved irresistible in its presentation. She held back a groan at the seductive sight.

  “Why? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Attempting to slow her breathing, Andra drew in deep, ragged breaths. “Look, I’m your sister-in-law. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Stefano stopped in his tracks, forcing her to halt as well. His eyes took a moment to disconnect from her heaving chest to rise and meet hers. “What am I doing?” he asked quietly. He produced a slightly arrogant shrug. “I am attempting to speak with you. However, you continue to run from me.”

  “You’re trying to come between Jay and me—that’s what you’re doing,” she said. “And I’m not running from you! I’m just …” Scared.

  “Come to me.”

  The three words slipped off his tongue as a soft command, producing an irresistible summons to her ears. The command disabled her reasoning processes until they were completely deactivated; her legs, which were as unsteady as a newborn calf’s, now grew strength.

  Mesmerized, Andra took a step around the table toward Stefano.

  Behind her, she heard a perfunctory knock, and the library door swung open, breaking the magnetic spell.

  She whipped around in time to see Helena fill the door’s threshold, a surprised look upon her face.

  Ashamed at her near compliance to Stefano, Andra shifted her books to her chest, crossing both arms over them to hide his effect on her.

  “Signomi, Mr. Stefano,” she said hesitantly. Moving farther into the room, she then looked at Andra. “Excuse me, Dr. Andra.”

  In Andra’s peripheral vision, Stefano’s frame came into view.

  “It’s all right, Helena. My sister-in-law and I were in a discussion,” he said. He shifted closer to Andra. “What is it?”

  “It is the telephone for you, Mr. Stefano,” she said in broken English, which Andra suspected she used out of courtesy for her. “I was told to search everywhere.”

  “Helena, could you tell whoever it is I will return the phone call as soon as I am through here?”

  Andra snatched her opportunity for an escape. Clutching her books tighter, she sprinted toward Helena—and the freedom provided by the open door directly behind her.

  “No, no—it’s okay. You take your call, brother,” she said. Breezing by the plump woman, Andra lightly touched her arm. “If you come across Jayson, tell him I’ll be locked inside our bedroom to get some reading done. I’ll see him when he gets back.”

  “Nai, Dr. Andra,” Helena responded, her voice puzzled. “I will do.”

  “Sister, we will finish our conversation at a later time,” Stefano called out after her. “I promise you.”

  “Not ever!” Andra said her shoulder.

  As if the devil himself hunted her, she increased her speed to hit the main stairs running, taking them two at a time. She made it in record time to her second-level bedroom, where she slammed the door and locked it, not bothering to care how loud a noise it made downstairs.

  24

  The morning broke to hues that were bleak and dreary. The Athenian sun hid behind overcast clouds whose gloom made the bedroom darker than normal at seven o’clock.

  After Andra’s mind crawled into consciousness, she opened her eyes and squinted against the austere day only to shut them again. The dismal-looking sunrise was a sure sign the day could only get worse, so she decided once again to become a willing prisoner inside her and Jayson’s bedroom.

  Behind closed lids, Andra heard Jayson’s padded footsteps round the foot of the bed and felt the atmosphere shift once he arrived on her side.

  Exhaling wearily, she turned and faced the other way, pulling the cover to her ear. Her eyes fluttered open again, taking in Jayson’s empty pillow and ruffled sheets, before shutting them against the now routine sight.

  “So, Doc, you’re just going to ignore me?”

  She burrowed deeper into her bedding. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing to me since we’ve got here?” she asked, her voice muffled against the pillow. “Go away.”

  She heard him sigh. With her mind’s eye, she imagined his frustrated stance, with his left hand resting on one hip and his right hand running agitated fingers through his hair.

  “Keep it up,” she said. “You’re going to go bald.”

  “How did you know?” He sighed again. “Baby, please look at me. We need to talk.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since when what?”

  Andra threw off her covers, struggled into a sitting position, and glared at him. With precise, jerky movements, she untwisted her pajama top and then adjusted her bottoms for comfort. “Since when have you wanted to talk?”

  Jayson exhaled impatiently, his eyes raking over her sleeping attire. “Since when have you ever worn clothes to bed?” At her silence, he said loudly, “Until recently, never!”

/>   “Maybe I didn’t feel the need until now—you ever thought about that, husband?”

  Exasperation driving his expression, Jayson paced beside the bed only to stop and look over at her. “Can’t you at least come downstairs this evening to dine with the family?”

  A mental picture of Stefano scrutinizing her from across the dinner table with a hungry yet disdainful expression, not to mention Sly’s eyes bouncing between the two of them as if she watched a forbidden Ping-Pong match, made Andra’s stomach queasy. “No.”

  Losing steam, Jayson’s feet slowed until he eventually stopped. His face weary, he returned to Andra’s bedside. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, but I’m trying to do something here for the family.” Lowering to sit on the mattress, he gently took her hand. “I owe them as much. I already feel like a third-class heel for trying to disentangle myself from the business so that we can return to Florida.” His hand tightened upon hers. “But, Doc, you’ve got to be patient!” At her frown, he chuckled lightly. “Sorry—no pun intended.”

  She didn’t return his smile.

  “Andra.” He exhaled. “Listen, it’s not so easy to simply walk away anymore, especially now, when the family’s dealing with this investor situation.”

  Her first impulse was to snatch her hand from his. Yet they’d not caressed each other practically since the day they’d arrived, and she craved his touch. Nevertheless, the hurt that had been on a steady incline over the last few days due to his neglect overshadowed her desire for him.

  She pulled away. Still, despite her emotional wounds, Andra’s curiosity was piqued. “What investor situation?”

  “The real reason Stefano asked me to return home.”

  Andra snorted. You mean summoned you home, don’t you?

  He ignored her snort, and his expression swiftly deepened with worry. “Stefano believes if the groves keep going the way they have, there won’t be enough future crops to sustain the family business and keep the workers on. He has a plan to allow the grove’s soil to rest for a time while we infuse it with a product manufactured specifically for this type of agricultural problem.” He sighed forlornly and then continued. “But it will cost money, not only to allow the fields to rest for a season or two but also to purchase enough of the product to cover the entire acreage for at least another three seasons. This is where the investors’ money comes in.”

  “So where’s the problem if investors are the solution?”

  Jayson stood to restart his pacing. “I guess there shouldn’t be a problem. However …”

  “However what?” she asked, exhaling impatiently. “Although at this point, I don’t even know if I care.”

  “Andra, don’t be like that.” At her silence, he sadly shook his head. “Stefano believes taking on investors could be a slippery slope. Unfortunately, when any business chooses such a path, there’s always the chance of a possible takeover once outsiders are allowed in.”

  “But if it’s the solution, why—”

  “This is our family’s livelihood, Andra,” he said. “This business has been in our family for generations. Stefano’s under a heavy burden; he feels a strong obligation not to allow a setback to happen while he’s at the helm. And he’s asking for my help. Even Paulo has volunteered to come on board to assist wherever he’s needed.”

  Jayson’s expression pleaded for Andra’s understanding. Returning to the bed, he waited anxiously for her response. When none came, he gently covered the hand she had retracted earlier. “Baby, there are also the villagers, the people who rely upon our groves to provide for their families. If we go under, they go under as well.”

  Ouch! Low blow! An attempt to evoke sympathy with the “We’re about to lose the farm, and the hired hands won’t have enough food to feed their families” scenario. Wasn’t that playing on the late show the other night?

  With a heavy heart, she mentally recapped her present situation.

  The manipulative Stefano wants his brother—minus her, his black wife—to stay put in Athens to help him run the business. Furthermore, if Paulo was involved, then his sister, Sly, couldn’t be far behind with her “assistance.”

  Any way she looked at it, she fit nowhere in this Theonopilus plan.

  Andra felt a retching despair at being systematically pushed from Jayson’s life; the reality of the situation bubbled its way past her esophagus to nearly choke her. She swallowed painfully in an attempt to force the sensation back.

  “You know what I think, J. J.?” she said, imitating Sly’s accented voice upon saying his nickname. “You don’t want to go back to the States. I believe since you’ve returned, you kinda miss it here and want to stay. You’re just too chicken to say it to my face.”

  Jayson turned away but not before she captured the confirmation on his face. Inside, her beating heart deflated.

  Seconds later, he faced her again. He shook his head. “Doc, my home is where my heart is, and my heart is with you,” he said, and Andra’s own heart twisted as Jayson’s glistening eyes displayed his conflicting emotions. “I can live anywhere—as long as it’s with you.”

  Andra’s mind reached forth to wrap itself around Jayson’s lie in an attempt to hold on to it, wanting desperately to believe his declaration of faithfulness to her was the truth.

  Slowly, he moved toward her, and as he did so, her tears fell. “Andra, the question is,” he said gently, “can you?”

  One by one, Jayson undid the buttons on her top, and when the last one was freed, Jayson slid the garment from her body. His dark eyes held hers captive as he pushed her onto the bed, her back arching when he captured her breasts. Her surroundings magically faded into obscurity once he removed her bottoms.

  Vulnerable, she lay before him feeling like a naked sacrifice.

  Sensually, he worked her body with his mouth and hands, forcing it to climb to greater unworldly heights of pleasure until her writhing frame burst into a billion orgasmic particles. Once she was fully satisfied, he arose from the bed to remove his own bottoms and then blanketed Andra with all his gloriousness.

  Jayson joined with her, and she wrapped her limbs around him, pushing him deep inside. Silent tears ran like tiny rivulets along her face and into her hair; her lips, open and straining, let out a powerful utterance birthed from both sexual gratification and grief-stricken sorrow.

  “I love you, Doc,” he whispered against her damp earlobe.

  Mute, Andra received his words with a bittersweet grain of salt. She too loved her husband, more than life itself, yet she also knew she had to find the strength to leave him behind in Athens and somehow find a path to a new life back in Florida without him.

  25

  Gazing at her blank stationery, Andra was unable to hold a single thought in her head, except the thought that she planned to leave Jayson.

  The ticking clock was the only evidence that time continued to pass, but she wasn’t sure how much had slipped by when she heard the knock on her bedroom door.

  Warily, she regarded the locked door, the unwritten letter to her family concerning her plans to return home quickly forgotten. An image of Stefano standing just on the other side mentally emerged, his sensual, full mouth curled into a ravenous smirk and his dark eyes turbulent and hungry. The thought made the ballpoint inside her grip tremble.

  She slowly rose, allowing the pen to slip through her nerveless fingers onto the blank stationery. She couldn’t find the strength to propel her legs forward. Wiping sweaty palms on her shorts, she coughed to clear her throat of the obstruction that now clogged it. “Who is it?”

  The person on the other side paused, heightening her anxiety.

  “It’s I, Doctor Andra—Helena.”

  Sighing with relief, Andra made her way to the door and disengaged the lock. She swung it open to reveal the amply built woman quickly straightening from her bent position. Andra forced bac
k laughter at the inquisitive servant who looked only mildly embarrassed at being caught peeping into the keyhole.

  “Good afternoon, Helena,” she said, enunciating her words carefully to make sure the Grecian woman understood her English. “How can I help you?”

  Helena gave the resemblance of a small curtsy. “Good day, Dr. Andra.” Her voice too decelerated to perfect her return greeting. Holding one corner of her apron, she grinned excitedly. “Visitors are here. They come for you.”

  They come for you? Sounds like a mob with pitchforks and torches ready to subdue the monster and take it away, safe and sound from the villagers. She swallowed hard. “Visitors? For me?”

  Helena nodded. “Yes, Doctor Andra. Family!”

  “Family?” she asked, confused. “What?”

  Helena turned to leave, beckoning Andra with a soft, meaty hand. “Yes, come. They are in sitting room,” she said. Andra watched her wide girth hurry down the length of the hall. She was extremely quick, much too fast for someone her age and weight. “I start all refreshments!”

  “But, Helena …” Andra’s words fell upon an empty hallway as the woman disappeared around the corner leading toward the curved staircase and the first floor.

  Standing alone inside the doorframe, she exhaled in frustration.

  It was one thing to meet Jayson’s family with him by her side, but it was quite another to meet-and-greet them all by herself. Turning toward the dresser’s mirror, she gaped in horror at the prison garb she’d hastily thrown on upon rising with the understanding she wouldn’t venture outside that room. Knowing it was too late to change, she smoothed over her sleeveless light blue tunic and white shorts, and on sandaled feet, she left the room.

  Like a condemned prisoner walking the last green mile to her execution, Andra traveled the long hall toward the second-level staircase.

  Andra, girl, you can do this! You’re a doctor, for goodness sake.

  She imagined entering the formal sitting area, her arm extended in welcome, and flashing a confident smile to her unknown in-laws only to get a sandal caught on the edge of an expensive throw rug, trip, and fall on her belly, her prone body sliding with the rug across the floor to unsuspecting, shocked feet.