She raised her eyes and met his steadily. The hot anger in her eyes conflicted with the ice in her voice. "You are the ultimate chauvinist! I think I am entitled to some explanations about all of this. What about Isabella da Costa? The lady in question certainly acts as though she owns you. Does she know you had plans to propose to me? You're like a ring master -- crack your whip and your minions jump. How can you be so bloody sure of yourself? Are you so conceited and selfish that you don't even feel it necessary to ask your future wife how she feels about any of this?"
She had his full attention. He looked at her strangely as if questioning his true motives and wondering if he had insulted her.
"You make love to me and storm out, then you go flying off without a word. The next thing you do is order me here and tell me you are going to marry me as though it is all cut and dried. Is this really what you view as a working marriage? Is this really for PJ, or are you keeping your precious name unblemished to earn everyone's sympathy? The great Raoul Metier, suffering from the death of his dear wife, marries suitable nursemaid for his beloved daughter. When the publicity dies down, what then? He goes his own sweet way, and does his own thing, maybe? Would we be any more of a family for PJ? Because of your power, everyone will accept your reasons for sweeping Isabella aside, like dust under a rug, and they won't even question the calculated way you proposed to me for logical reasons."
She stared at him defiantly. Her temper did not flair often, but when it did, she was unaware of how her cheeks coloured and of how her eyes took on the dangerous glitter of a lynx.
"Is that a 'Yes?'" he mocked, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
He made as if to hold her, but she shrugged away and stared at him for a second.
"Has it occurred to you that being Madame Metier might be convenient for me, too? You don't really know me. How do you know that I wouldn't take advantage of...."
"You? Take advantage!" He burst out laughing. "Go on, by all means."
Saving face, she carried on self-righteously. "I will attend your functions, run your homes, and I will care for PJ as my own. But from now on she must be a primary consideration. She loves you and I won't see her growing up with a father figure that's nothing more than a shadow that flits in and out of her life when he sees fit. Have you slotted her into this whole crazy wedding scheme of yours? It would be a heartless thing to do if you excluded her. After all, it's hardly a romantic occasion for us, and her being there might add to the public effect you're looking for."
"Well, well, the lady has spirit." He clapped his hands in mock applause. "First of all, this chauvinist pig cares nothing for the rumours about Isabella. I will marry the lady of my choice without anyone else's assistance. Secondly, I don't want my six-year-old daughter dragging around after us in Hong Kong. We'll have a tight schedule and a business trip. Believe me, she won't enjoy it. When she's older she'll enjoy the shopping, but for now, she's best left where she is."
He bowed infuriatingly. "I figure that when all of your fierce maternal instincts and self-righteousness dies down, you will concede that this time I am correct.
"And give me some credit where PJ is concerned." Unexpectedly, he said in softer tones, "We both love her, Kris, and I am sure that between us, with care and discipline, she will grow into a perfectly balanced young lady. And the sooner it starts, the better. Why do you think I asked you to marry me?"
As he spoke, he took her hand and bent forward, his eyes never leaving hers. Her heart lurched and she knew she was in emotional danger. He pressed the back of her hand to his lips, fleetingly. "I have topped up your balance, so go and get some finery for the announcement tonight. I want you looking stunning..." He conceded a compliment. "...As you always do, I might add. We'll leave at seven-thirty. Oh, and by the way, there is no point in becoming coy. I've arranged a room for you at my apartment."
He had swept her along uncontrollably. In wild frustration, she stood up abruptly, looked at him once more, then tossed her head and walked out of his office. She tried valiantly to burn his smug grin from her memory.
Once she was outside, her knees suddenly felt as if they would fail her, so she hailed a taxi. She directed the driver to Lauren's office block.
Kris entered the lobby in a daze. Standing before the elevator, she stared blankly at the numbers then cursed when twice she pressed the wrong ones. Her hands were shaking like mad.
Lauren's office door was ajar. When Kris knocked softly and entered the room, the look of delight that lit up Lauren's face quickly faded to one of concern.
"My, God! You look as if you've seen a ghost. Here, let me give you a shot of the stuff that cures, then we can totter off to lunch and you can tell me the hair-raising story."
Kris leaned over the desk and wordlessly held out her left hand. Lauren's mouth opened and shut in amazement...several times.
"You are joking, of course? You can't do this, you...it is Raoul Metier, isn't it?"
Kris nodded.
Lauren smacked her hand to her head. "You fool, you idiot, you stupid clown, this can only be disaster! I guess all those rumours I've heard lately about an impending engagement to Isabella are wrong. I know she wants you tied to the kitchen sink so-to-speak, and PJ isn't her scene either, but this...I can't believe she'll take this lying down, even if she is as cold as ice. You can't be serious!"
Kris remained mute -- no words of explanation would come.
Then with a resigned sigh and a shrug, Lauren went on, "Someone once said, If you have to be unhappy, at least do it in comfort. I reckon that's where you're headed, my friend."
Kris strode around the desk, flung her arms around her friend, and burst into tears.
"Hey, come on, I didn't mean to be so harsh, hon. It's just a bit of a shock, let's face it."
Kris dried her eyes and smiled. "It's okay. I guess I'm just a bit overwrought at the moment -- it only happened about fifteen minutes ago, and I just arrived this morning at short notice. It was as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.
"Listen, can you spare me an hour? We have to go to a function tonight, and I need to buy something suitable for announcing the engagement. Can you help me? Then we can have a quick bite."
Lauren tugged on her friend's arm, stopping her from leaving. "Is this what you want, Kris, to be with Raoul? You deserve to be happy."
"I will be happy, Lauren. I'll have PJ...and a husband." Though Kris smiled, neither woman mentioned the obvious lack of Raoul as the husband.
The tension was gone between them and the two linked arms and left the office.
As always they had fun shopping together and Kris valued Lauren's suggestions and taste.
Over a sandwich and coffee, Kris began to relax a little more. Lauren didn't push her to talk, but she opened up as though she had to convince herself of certain things. Lauren was truly surprised to realise that deep down Kris seemed to harbour genuine feelings for the man that had only caused her pain from the time she'd first met him.
Later, with the shopping complete, they returned to Lauren's apartment.
"Tea, woman, tea." Laughing, Kris kicked her shoes off and threw herself face down onto the carpet.
"Ah-ha, to the manner born, quite the Madam already. Well, we'll see about that." Lauren filled a glass of water and -- creeping up on Kris -- poured a thin stream onto the back of her neck. Kris shot up, throwing her hands above her head. "Okay, I surrender!"
Lauren looked at Kris and smiled. "You know, Kris, I haven't seen you so like the old days as you were just then. Perhaps engagements suit you. You should do this more often!"
Kris gave her a look of warning.
Lauren laughed. "Nah, seriously, stay as you are, my friend. Don't let marriage and a man who can be a ruthless bastard kill your spirit and end up changing you. But most of all, remember that I am a shoulder to cry on...always -- and I do have a friendly ear."
"That means a lot to me, Lauren."
Together they made tea and sat in the kitchen as t
hey started to chat about the clothes and make-up they'd bought for the evening.
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* * *
Chapter Eighteen
Kris knocked nervously on Raoul's apartment door. A foreign maid opened it. "Come in, madam. I have been told to expect you. May I show you to your room?" Kris nodded and followed her to an airy bedroom overlooking a park.
"My name is Olga, madam. If there is anything you need, please tell me. Thank you." Silently, she left the room.
Kris set out her new things and stood back to admire them. Yes, she had shopped well, thanks to Lauren.
Leisurely taking a bath and washing her hair, she tried to relax. Though, in the pit of her stomach, butterflies still lurked. She decided to pile her hair up high for, what she hoped, would resemble a sophisticated, cool and calm look. She had always been able to do her own styles, as her hair was thick and manageable. All she needed was her trusty blow dryer and a good hairbrush.
Her understated make-up emphasised her eyes and lips. She knew too well that she would have her own natural cheek colour before long and didn't want to appear over-painted.
Her slim figure only needed flimsy underwear, and she gave a little shiver as she slipped on the shimmering pale green and gold-shot gown of heavy satin that draped smoothly over her shapely curves. Its pencil-slim skirt slit discreetly to the knee on one side, and the close-fitting bodice with the low and wide neckline showed her tan off to perfection. The sleeves puffed large to the elbow then ran tight fitting to her wrists, ending in a point low on the back of her hands, emphasising the glory of her emerald and diamond engagement ring. Apart from two small gold studs in her ears, she wore no other jewelry. She looked simply elegant and stunning. Slipping on high-heeled golden sandals, she gave herself a final spray of Joy for the hell of it, picked up a tiny purse that matched the shimmering dress and left the room. She was due in the lounge at ten past seven.
Raoul had not announced his arrival home. He was confident that she wouldn't be late. As he turned, his eyes widened at the vision she presented.
Kris couldn't deny the gratification she felt at the effect her appearance made on him, and there was no denying that he was impressed. Always the suave sophisticate, he offered his praises with seeming genuineness that made her pulse race -- he was a master at flattering the ladies. I mustn't be deceived by it, though, she warned herself.
"Magnifique." His accent seemed heavier and his voice deeper. "Any man would be proud to escort a woman so lovely, and I am no exception. It would be churlish not to tell you so."
He proffered his arm. "Shall we go? It will be quite interesting when we drop our little bombshell." He looked directly into her eyes, a hard assessment there. "It's going to cause a ripple or two, you know that, don't you? Are you ready for this night?"
Anxiety knotted her stomach. "Will Isabella--"
"What about her?" His eyes narrowed and his voice had a bite to it. "I told you that I am quite used to handling her, so leave her possible interference to me."
Steely eyes bored into her soft-troubled ones, and she felt pangs of misgivings once more. She was about to embark on marriage. She felt that they should live harmoniously, not simply existing with one another. She couldn't help but wonder how she was to achieve this when their communication sucked?
Mercurially, his manner changed. "Now, let me take the belle to the ball." His eyes practically danced, and for a moment, his face transformed into the fine-honed good looks that everyone knew.
As a couple, they were extremely handsome; but dressed for a gala occasion they were outstanding. Raoul Metier's self-assured sophistication was the perfect foil for her youth and femininity. There was a gasp of admiration as someone announced their names, and all eyes were upon them as they descended the stairs to the crowded reception chamber.
Many women fantasize about being courted and cosseted, flattered and intimately loved by men of foreign origins, as their special ways with women make them feel beautiful and desired, and oh, so physical. This meant there were many envious and catty thoughts in the hearts of the ladies present, both married and single. Critically giving Kris the once over, they wondered what it was that had ousted Isabella and put her in the pride place beside the prize of society.
Raoul held Kris' arm as they circulated amongst the guests. He was a familiar figure at such functions, but the girl presently by his side was unknown to all except his closest friends and the business acquaintances that had been privileged enough to visit his home.
Matchmaking mothers had tried hard to partner him with society's elite and beautiful daughters, always hoping for an alliance that would be such a feather in the social and financial cap. Raoul, ever suave and charming had steadfastly remained unattached. For a while, the gossip writers, hot on the trail of a romantic story, always linked his name to someone, but nothing, not even the hint of a scandal, ever materialised.
That was until Isabella appeared on the scene, and they were confidently predicting an imminent union with the fiery Portuguese -- a storybook merger, two beautiful people and two powerful companies. For many months, he'd never appeared at an official function with anyone other than Isabella.
The society watchers here tonight were baffled. What now? they whispered just out of earshot. Raoul was his charming self, but gave nothing away of his feelings for the poised, cool beauty beside him.
The large, shimmering rock on her finger heightened the mystery. The women talked bitchily together and kept a firm hold of their men folk who blatantly undressed Kris with their admiring eyes.
Suddenly, a hush descended over the room as Isabella and her brother arrived, only moments before the dinner was announced. A rather dull and formal evening promised to become interesting after all.
The red lace that Isabella wore enhanced her dark beauty. The ruffles high on her throat emphasized her strong features, and her arched eyebrows raised over her glittering black eyes as she searched for Raoul.
When she saw him she gave a delighted cry and, with outstretched hands, moved towards him, only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw his fingers resting low on Kris' hip. Her smile froze, twisting into a grimace, and her eyes glittered dangerously. Slowly, she walked toward the couple. Obviously, there was no love lost between the two women and it was equally obvious that Isabella had no real idea why Kris would be on his arm.
The fact that her brother escorted Isabella, and that Raoul had announced he was bringing a guest, had not presented a problem to the organizers when they'd made the seating arrangements. How could they have known there would be a potentially explosive situation when they placed the women on either side of him?
The guests began making their way in to the dinning room. Isabella, escorted by her brother, trailed Raoul and Kris into the room.
Once seated, Isabella tried to be nonchalant and engaged Raoul in non-stop chatter while Kris had a stilted conversation with the man seated on the other side of her, acutely aware that all eyes were upon them.
After the inevitable toasts and speeches were made, the place became electrified as Raoul stood up, drawing Kris with him.
"My friends..." A hush descended on the room. "I wish to thank you for all your matrimonial efforts on my behalf in the past, but the search need go on no longer. I would like you to join me in a toast to the beautiful lady at my side who has consented to be my wife." He raised his glass. "To Kris Castell...my intended bride." With the characteristic nod of his head in her direction, he took a sip of his champagne. Noticing her troubled eyes, he whispered, "Don't say I didn't give you a moment of glory!"
With glasses raised amidst cheers and congratulations, Isabella froze. When Raoul turned her way, though, she regained her composure and said sarcastically, "Congratulations, darling! It's like a fairy tale; I can't wait to hear the next chapter."
Moving across to Kris, she put her champagne glass on the table. "My congratulations to you, too, my dear." She bent forward to kiss Kris' cheek. She w
hispered for Kris' ears alone, "You think you've won? I guess you offered him more than a pretty face, 'eh?"
The inference caused Kris' cheeks to change from pink to scarlet. She knew she would come up with a snappy retort two hours too late, but before she could say anything, Isabella leaned down to pick up her glass of champagne and knocked over another one full of red wine. The spilled contents ran down the front of Kris' exquisite dress, leaving an ugly spreading stain.
"Darling, how terribly, terribly clumsy of me. I am so sorry."
Isabella was all fuss as she mopped ineffectively at the ruined dress. Kris looked up and from the triumph mirrored in Isabella's eyes, she knew it had been no accident. She was devastated. The events of the day had finally caught up with her, almost on queue.
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