by Aria Ford
Arran’s intent was to keep Carl’s attention away from Gabrielle and focused on the money he sought. “Let me speak to Gabrielle before I leave the money. I need confirmation that she is alive.”
Carl handed the phone to Gabrielle. “Hello?”
He spoke quickly and succinctly. “We are outside. If possible, get into the bathroom and lie flat. At least lie flat. Now!”
Gabrielle calmly held the phone out to Carl. “He hung up,” she said. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Gabrielle turned and went into the bathroom, immediately dropping to the floor as Arran had ordered. Carl stood in the room, holding the phone to his ear and shaking it when there was no response. In the next moment there was a din as bodies crashed the door and burst through the room’s window. Two simultaneous clicks and Carl lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. As the assailants stood aside, Arran stepped over the body and strode to the bathroom door, opening it. Gabrielle, lying on the floor with her arms over her head, looked up and began to cry when she saw who it was. He picked her up and lifted her onto the bed where he sat and held her. His hands ran through her hair and he kissed her forehead.
There was the sound of the helicopter landing immediately next to the building and within moments, Arran had Gabrielle inside, buckled and ready to take off. Alahan boarded while Serra stayed behind to remove any traces of their presence. She planted fingerprints, paraphernalia and remnants of drugs. Then she climbed aboard and within minutes, they were landing at the compound.
“I’m okay,” Gabrielle insisted as Arran moved to carry her inside.
Arran stopped and turned toward her. “That threat is gone, but there are as many equally, and far more lethal, threats who would like nothing more than to get to me by harming you. You are never to leave this compound unaccompanied again. Is that clear?” His voice was rough and tears formed in Gabrielle’s eyes as she realized how much danger she’d actually been in and that he’d rescued her.
Arran thought she was crying due to his harsh tone. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?” he burst out in a ragged tone.
This made her catch her breath. She nodded and he put his arm about her as they walked indoors. “Go now and rest. Wash away the memory of what has happened. It never happened, do you understand?”
Gabrielle nodded and then turned toward her room. Her mind was reeling. Who could get away with what he just did and have no consequences? It was then that she realized just how powerful he really was. Likewise, how dangerous he could be.
As the hot water of the shower cocooned her naked body, she began shake. Not only was her nemesis gone, forever, but she had innocently wandered into something she was not prepared for. The shock of realization set in and she felt the cold wave of fear descend over her.
She slid to the floor of the shower and cowered in the corner in a fetal position. All the memories of her random, miserable youth flooded over her. The shaking increased and eventually the hot water became warm and then chilled. She couldn’t seem to move outside the inner sensations. In the distance she heard noises that sounded like a drum beating and then there was a rush of cool air as the shower door was thrust open. Arran stood there, feet planted wide and as he looked down over her, a thousand emotions passed over his face. He hit the water faucet, stopping the stream of cold and scooped her up. He kicked shut her bedroom door with his foot and used one hand to throw back the covers on her bed. He slid her beneath, as carefully as one inserts a love letter of parchment into an unrelenting envelope. Stripping off his own clothes, he slipped in beside her, folding her against his own heat.
Arran grabbed a far corner of the blanket and gently patted her hair dry, kissing her forehead and murmuring things she couldn’t understand. He leapt from the bed and opened the window, allowing the heat of the dying sunlight to warm the room. This time he covered her with his body and although his first thoughts were to make her safe, the dampness of her womanhood cradled him. His need for her was taking precedence and with great restraint, he held to the task of getting her warm.
Eventually she fell asleep and the shaking subsided. Arran rolled to one side and slid his arm beneath her, holding her still against the length of his body. He laid there for a very long time, thinking. He’d never felt protective of anyone before. It was an altogether new emotion for him. Indeed, with all that life had to offer being within an arm’s reach, he’d never known the concept of coveting another human being. Yet now, he lay there with the only person in the world for whom he would gladly sacrifice his own life, and she wasn’t even aware of it. Overcome with the maelstrom of confused emotion, he realized he had tears pooling in his eyes. He reached with one hand to wipe his eyes and the movement awakened her.
He looked down to see her eyes opened and looking up at him. She reached to touch his cheek, wiping away the moisture that had spilled over. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
His answer was to bend his head and kiss her hard upon the lips. As if she was a fragile doll, he pulled her against him and wrapped arms around her nakedness. “Don’t ever leave me, Gabrielle,” he whispered furiously. “I won’t allow it.”
“Silly you,” she whispered. “You can’t order me to do what I’d already planned.”
Arran kissed her again and his lips moved to her cheeks and he nuzzled her neck. He breathed in the scent of her as though to burn in it into his memory. He filled his hand with her hair, holding it high and letting it slide off his fingers like a waterfall. Indeed, it reminded him of a silver ocean.
His hand cupped her round breast and it felt like a palm full of gold. He teased her pebbled nipples with his flicking tongue and she tasted like sweet honey. “I want you,” he whispered, but she didn’t think he was asking permission. Nevertheless, she gave it, nodding.
He began his journey of conquer by sliding up between her opened legs. Running a tanned finger slowly between her thighs, his hands pushed them open wide and his mouth took over the assault. His tongue invaded her labia, pushing the swollen lips aside and he tasted her willing juices, flowing freely now as he tenderly massaged the nub of her clit. Her hips pumped a rhythm as old as memory as she moaned and her head rolled from side to side, holding out her arms to him to be taken, thrusting her hips toward him and begging to be sucked. He chuckled and enjoyed her submission.
Moving on to her breasts, he suckled there, his hand continuing to massage her soaked pussy with a circular motion. He dipped in his finger and then licked the scent of her from his own finger, the woman juice stimulating his dick to full attention. He moved her hand to touch and to hold his dick and she sighed with relief as she felt his massive erection, knowing he would more than fill her and the mere idea made her ache deep inside with craving. She knew now that he wanted her and would accept nothing less. They had come too far, the two of them, to turn back now.
Arran entered her with a reverence that befitted a queen. She accepted him, reaching to part her own lips with her fingers and invite him; the feeling went far deeper than just a tactile sensation. She accepted him, his love and everything he was. She had no doubt he was capable of anger, greed, and all the evils humans possessed – but she knew that with her, he would always be loving and gentle.
She felt the quickening begin low and as it spread out, her vaginal muscles gripped him inside herself more tightly, pulsing to milk his dick like internal lips. Their souls seemed to be in time; a bow to a sweet violin. When it was over, she laid in his arms and fell back to sleep. Arran was content. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he truly did have everything the world had to offer.
Chapter Nine
“How long will you be gone?” she asked, trying to hold back the tears.
“No longer than I have to.” Arran’s face was dark and troubled.
“Is there anything I can do?” Gabrielle didn’t want to be left alone, but Arran had gotten a text from his family that required an immediate trip back home. Gabrielle’s passport hadn’t come through yet so she wouldn’t be
permitted to accompany him.
“Yes, there is. Miss me,” he requested and smiled to cheer her up. “Serra will look after you, and of course the remainder of the staff. You can sit by the pool and do your nails all day.”
“I would rather come with you,” she whined a bit and this made his heart warm.
“I would, too. We’ll do something special when I return,” he promised.
The Rolls was waiting to take him to the airport. He pulled Gabrielle into his arms and gave her a hard kiss. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled away and she nodded in return, her heart singing.
She watched the car roll down the drive and through the gates. Her heart sank and she turned to go back into the house. Putting on her suit, she took a swim in the pool, but even swimming the laps caused her to miss Arran. It was as if the air was thinner; his powerful personality was not there to add the electricity that kept everyone on their toes and gave color to an otherwise bland landscape.
She sat in the home theatre and watched every movie she’d never seen, or so it seemed. She went to town with Serra and shopped, even stopping by the casino to say hello to Ben and see if anything had changed. The casino never changed; it had perpetual life twenty-four hours a day. It was predictable and that was the secret of its success.
Gabrielle had never learned to cook – never having a complete kitchen or the opportunity to be at home for her meals. The chef at the compound knew all of Arran’s favorite recipes and he agreed to teach Gabrielle how to prepare them. These were all new and strange tastes for her to get used to. On one hand, it was exciting to learn about his world and on the other hand, if frightened her. She didn’t want to leave the U.S. and live anywhere else. She knew he was a powerful man in his country and had serious responsibilities. His family was deeply embedded in the economy there and he was in charge of all of that. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, but she hoped that no matter how much they might travel to conduct his business, that they would always come home to the U.S.
There was only silence from Arran and this concerned her. She knew he’d arrived safely; bad news always finds wings. It was the idea that she couldn’t just reach out and talk to him that bothered her the most.
As the days passed, Gabrielle grew listless and bored. She bought books on the world’s religions and cultures and studied these, hoping to get closer to Arran. She even took up painting watercolors, setting up her easel and paints by the pool where the light was unparalleled. Although her talent was limited, there was a sense of peace and creativity in what she did.
She experimented with the grand piano in the sitting room. At one point in her childhood she’d lived with a family whose mother was a piano teacher. Students came and went throughout the day and although the woman never offered to teach Gabrielle, she was smart enough to listen and often sneaked in to practice what she’d heard when the house was empty.
I have a life of half-filled dreams, she realized. This bothered her considerably. She badly wanted roots – family, children, and a sense of belonging to someone. It was an elusive goal, however, even with Arran. He belonged somewhere she could not, and did not want to go.
She was painting by the pool one afternoon when Serra came out to stand next to her, waiting to be recognized.
“Did you need something, Serra?” she asked.
“A phone call has come through. It was not directly from Sheikh Muhalla, but he sent a message to be relayed to you. I’ve written it here for you,” she said, handing Gabrielle a piece of paper.
Gabrielle accepted the note, wondering why in this age of technology, Arran hadn’t called or texted or sent an email. Now, he was sending a message by way of other people and it was delivered on a slip of paper.
Then she understood.
Sheikh Muhalla has wed. Coming home.
Gabrielle grew woozy and slid onto a patio chair. Arran had married someone else? How could this happen? Was this the emergency he had to return so quickly to resolve? Why did he profess his love for her before he left? Did he think she would remain his mistress on the side while his wife took her place with him at formal functions? Was that how it worked?
Her heart was breaking and her mind was seething with rage at being lied to and used, once again. She had finally decided to open herself to a bit of trust and this was her reward? To be used and promised to be taken care of and then dumped into the desert? She didn’t even have a job now. There was no way Ben would take her back at the Bellagio. Surely he’d replaced her by now, and there was no way she would subject herself to the humiliation of working for the man who had broken her heart.
She didn’t know when Arran was due in, but she certainly wasn’t going to be on hand when he and his new wife arrived. She went into her bedroom and pulled out a case, angrily pitting in the clothes she’d come with. She’d telephoned a taxi and told it to wait outside the compound gates. She met it there, bag in hand and a very upset Serra waving goodbye. Gabrielle felt badly for leaving Serra in a precarious position, but there was nothing to be done about it. It was Arran’s treacherous doing – not her own.
The only thing Gabrielle kept from Arran was the salary he’d paid her. She had no option to do otherwise as there was no paycheck waiting for her at the Bellagio, they’d gotten rid of her old car and her apartment was rented out to someone else. Once she got back on her feet, she’d send the money back.
The taxi dropped her in at the train station where she put her luggage in a locker and went in search of a car dealership. She hated to be walking in, it made her a target, but there was nothing else she could do. Used cars were plentiful in a town where tourists were caught up in the gambling flu.
She bought a mini-van, thinking she could sleep in it if she needed to. She picked up her bag from the station and then headed east out of town. She couldn’t get far enough away from Vegas.
Chapter Ten
Gabrielle kept driving until she was hopelessly lost. This suited her perfectly and she pulled into a motel and took a room. LaPorte was a small town in Kentucky; the kind with a courthouse that sat in the town square. It was surrounded by benches holding old men without teeth telling war stories. There was an unassuming peace that permeated the atmosphere and it felt so far different from the Vegas lights that at last Gabrielle began to relax.
She’d spent over two thousand miles hating Arran but despite that, she knew she was still in love with him. Rationale told her that the devastation stemmed from his betrayal – no matter the cause, he owed it to her to stay in touch. Most of all, he owed it to her to mention that he was marrying.
She discovered, much to her chagrin, that much of Kentucky was dry and there were no bars where she could waitress locally. She drove to the nearby larger city of Louisville where there were all kinds of clubs and began applying for positions. Her résumé including the Bellagio went a long way toward getting her interviews and she finally accepted a position at the cocktail lounge at the Hyatt. Her new boss was Margie Carr, a woman of mysterious descent who smiled often and worked very quickly. She and Gabrielle hit it off immediately and it wasn’t long before Gabrielle fell into the familiar rhythm of a server’s life.
With her first paycheck, she found an apartment in town in a very modest, working man’s neighborhood. Her neighbors were young parents and some seniors for the most part, although there were a few misfits from society who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. The building had two stories and a grassless, miniscule front yard with only on-street parking. Gabrielle was glad she’d not bought an expensive vehicle; the temptation to thieves in the area would have been too great. She felt at home here, despite the shady environment. These were her kind of people – they may not have owned much in the way of possessions, but there was an unspoken sense of integrity. If you made a bad name for yourself in this world, there was nowhere else for you to go.
Gabrielle had a tiny balcony, barely large enough for a folding chair and a single Gerber daisy in a pot. She sat ther
e, drinking orange juice and marveling how much her life had changed yet again. She had gotten rid of the cell phone that Arran had provided and bought an untraceable model with mobile minutes. That suited her purposes quite well. This life was so much simpler… or so she tried to convince herself. She made no plans for the future, but had decided that for the moment, she would let life come to her unscripted.
Margie had a large family she supported. Her husband had been killed by a drunk driver and this made her all the more wary of how she served her customers. She lived in a double-wide mobile home on the far west end and one Sunday she had invited Gabrielle for dinner.
Gabrielle arrived with a tray of fresh fruit in hand and found Margie’s heart to be big, but her house, not so much. Her children were all under the age of fifteen and they ran in and out, fighting and screaming at one another. When she opened the lid of the fruit she’d brought, they set upon it like locusts. She had the feeling that Margie couldn’t afford such fresh foods for her family and this made Gabrielle very sad. Was this what her own future looked like now?
Gabrielle headed home that night counting her blessings. She had no idea what lay ahead.
* * *
It was Friday night and there was a huge convention in town. The cocktail lounge had seen a steady flow of primarily men since noon. There were essentially two kinds: those who came with their wives and drank to forget that fact and those who came without their wives and were trying to find a lady for the night. Often the loner left the bar with someone’s wife in tow. It was very entertaining to watch the soap opera of partners on a convention weekend. For two precious days people lost their inhibitions and behaved like depraved animals. By Sunday night they were traipsing out of the lobby, wet cloths over their foreheads, dragging suitcases and dressed in whatever rumpled clothing they rescued from the room floor. She got more than her share of proposals. People seemed to think that hotel employees were there for whatever pleasure the guest wanted; no holds barred. She systematically smiled and walked away.