by Lorenzo, DD
Having almost reached her car, she suddenly saw Marisol walking through the parking lot, back toward the building. She was alone, with no indication of where she had come from or where she had been.
She stared at Marisol with hatred, enjoying the potent rush that the emotion was discharging throughout her. It was a foreign sensation. She hadn’t experienced a great supply of it in her emotional repertoire, but its influence was making her feel drunk with the power she had over the beautifully grotesque woman before her. She was definitely not the girl she used to be.
“I saw you, Marisol.”
She dropped the comment like a bomb the moment she was close enough to be heard. The words dripped acidly, as her jaw locked and teeth ground tightly in anger. She had waited so long to utter those few words aloud that she said them with enough unspoken violence in her voice to pulverize the hardest stone, making Marisol take a step back from her. Her eyes went wide as she looked from left to right to see if anyone was around.
Aria didn’t care if they drew spectators or not. Her unleashed hatred toward Marisol for what she’d stolen from her wasn’t all she had to fear.
“You think I’m not aware of your game?” she asked, initiating her assault.
When Marisol noted that no one was around to hear them, she returned the stare with an equally evil one of her own, pompously defying Aria to intercept the strategy of her game with Declan.
“It doesn’t matter,” Marisol mocked. “I have him now. I knew you were an inconsequential threat when I first saw you in the theatre. You could never compete with me physically. I wanted Declan and you were trying to take him, but now I’ve outsmarted you.”
She smiled smugly.
“Go back to your sandbox, Aria. I’ve won.”
“So, that’s what this is about?”
Aria laughed, mocking her.
“Physical appearance? Declan is so far above that!” she spat at her, becoming unhinged. “You, Marisol, are a piece of shit—pure and simple. Toxic waste, actually,” she seethed the words through her teeth. “That’s what women like you are all about, isn’t it?” she questioned her, approaching and imposing her. “You don’t want the implants or the plastic surgery to make you feel good about yourself—oh no!”
Aria laughed, throwing back her head. She then stared into Marisol’s eyes, daring her to refute the type of woman she was exposing her to be.
“Good women become beautiful. You’re a thieving whore! A monster through to the core! You don’t even care for what you take; you just steal men for the hell of it! You really are a rotten bitch, Marisol, and the reason Declan hasn’t thrown you completely out of his life is because you stole and twisted his emotions at one of the most vulnerable times he could have ever experienced.”
Aria was shaking with rage. She had never been this angry, but she wasn’t backing away.
Marisol pointed her manicured finger in Aria’s face and sneered.
“What do you know about Declan?” she asked, baring her teeth like the shark that she was.
“He was fun before you tried to convince him that his life with me wasn’t enough for him. I am enough for him. Get it through your fat, ugly head beach girl—he doesn’t love you anymore! He is no longer your concern.”
Marisol smugly lifted her chin in defiance.
Inhaling and exhaling a deep breath that heightened her small frame, Aria felt fire breath in and out of her. Trembling with fury as she prepared to eradicate Marisol’s confidence in her manipulation, she issued her declaration with power she had never felt before.
“I will never justify my care for Declan to you! I can see that you’re nothing but a vicious leech, so look out, Marisol—get used to me watching you, because Declan will always be my concern! He isn’t aware of your game, because he isn’t conniving like you. I’ve never played emotional games with him, because everything I’ve ever felt for him was genuine and true.”
Aria moved toward her, closer and closer, as she approached her unconsciously. Her hands shook with anger for the pain that Marisol had caused, and she wanted to reciprocate just a small taste of that misery.
“Perhaps I did do Declan a disservice by not playing games with him, like you do. He didn’t recognize the most miserable beast with a twisted game when it came right at him—You!”
Aria lay the truth in front of her, daring her to deny it.
“You played with his mind when he was hurt and vulnerable,” she accused. “You used a man with a kind heart and made him into a game for your own sick and twisted pleasure. He didn’t even know he was a victim. The pathetic part is that you played with him for your benefit. You never cared about what happened to him, nor had his interests at heart!”
Marisol’s face tightened into a mask of monstrous hatred as she attempted a badgering look of her own, but Aria refused to be intimidated. After all these anguished months, she’d finally let go of all the hurt and anger, and have her say.
Moving as intimately close as she could without touching her, Aria knew Marisol could feel her breath hitting her in the face. She wanted to terrify her with this new found power—the power of the love she felt for Declan—the same power that could, and would, crush her.
She resolved that, before this night was over, this aesthetically beautiful piece of shit would comprehend that they’d be playing a different game from this point forward. She was being served notice that this time, she wasn’t getting away with her tricks. Declan would get his memory and his life back—no matter Aria’s personal cost.
“Declan may not love me, but I will always love him! No matter what happens, I will always look out for him. Don’t forget, Marisol, Declan only knows your version of the events. What he doesn’t know is the truth, but I do—and I’ll see you in hell before you hurt him!”
Just then, something fell to the ground and Marisol’s head turned.
“Declan…” she said, pitifully, as though she had been injured.
He had come from nowhere, his harsh and agitated look demanding attention from both women. He looked from Marisol to Aria, and their eyes locked.
Instantaneously, Aria felt the magnetic pull. It was as if they’d never been apart, and it was more than she’d hoped.
“Aria? What is this?” he demanded.
Still breathing hard and seething rage, Aria’s anger hadn’t abated. Marisol ran to his side. He would have pushed her away, but for his brother’s sake, he played into her act.
“She tried to attack me,” Marisol reported. “She said she wouldn’t accept that you weren’t with her anymore.”
Marisol cleverly twisted words to further her own agenda, not realizing Declan was aware of her scheming. Declan’s stern expression never left Aria.
As she concentrated on his eyes, memories of Hawaii entered her mind, unbidden. The emotional storm inside of her threatened to break if she spoke, so she didn’t.
“Aria, answer me,” he commanded, his voice raised and thundering in a tone that made both she and Marisol jump. “In what game was I a victim?”
She opened her mouth, but her mind wouldn’t allow the words to connect with her lips. Knowing that only tears would fall if she tried to explain, she attempted to catch her breath and walk away while she still had her composure.
Taking a step, Declan reached out his large hand, and closed it around her wrist, pulling her to him.
“No, Aria,” he said, his eyes meeting her closer. “You’re not walking away,” he continued, compelling her to speak with the intensity that he radiated. “I heard you! I want an answer.”
He pressed in closer to her.
“Why did you say you still love me?”
Marisol, striving to regain control of the situation, attempted to dismiss Aria. She charged in between them and erupted in anger.
“Get out of here, Aria! Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
Declan and Aria separated and Marisol pushed her, causing her to stumble. Declan moved to assist her, but Marisol bl
ocked his path. Dismissing her with a waving motion, she spoke maliciously.
“That’s it, Aria,” Marisol cackled. “Get out of here…GO!”
Aria ran as quickly as she could—but stopped as she saw Declan’s body crumple to the ground…
Paige’s mouth fell open in shock. “What did you do?” she asked as she picked up her coffee.
“What could I do?” Aria answered. “I ran over to him. Somehow, I reached him before he hit the ground, and I managed to keep his head from hitting the cement.”
She lowered her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.
“I don’t know what I would have done if he had cracked his head on the ground. He just went down so fast…”
Aria’s voice trailed off with the memory of seeing Declan pass out.
“Does he know what caused it? Had it happened before?” Paige asked.
Shaking her head again, Aria answered, looking off in the distance.
“I stayed with him until he became conscious,” she answered. “He said it’s never happened before, and he didn’t know what caused it.”
She paused to take a sip of her drink, hugging the cup with both hands like a security blanket. She was still gazing off, looking at nothing.
“I wanted to call 911,” she said, “but he refused. I tried to convince him, but he just wouldn’t let me.” Her concern was evident to Paige.
“How did he get home?” Paige asked.
“Carter drove him,” Aria said, now turning more of her attention to their surroundings. “He and Blake came outside. Declan was standing at that point, but I told them what happened. I think he was mad at me, Paige, but I didn’t want him driving.”
Paige nodded in agreement. “What about Marisol? Where was she in all of this?”
“Oh! That’s the best part!” Aria threw her hands in the air. “When he was falling down, all she did was move out of the way so he didn’t bump into her! While he was out, I kept calling his name and rubbing his face. She kept saying to me ‘What’s wrong with him? Slap him! People will see him like that!’ And when he came to, She was like, ‘Oh, I was so worried,’ blah…blah…blah.” Aria rolled her eyes. “She’s such a bitch. I can’t stand her!”
Paige then rolled her eyes. “Did you tell Declan how she acted?”
“No,” Aria replied as she shook her head. “What’s the point? He’s going to see what he wants to see. I’m not going to play that game, which is why I asked you to bring the papers.”
Paige reached into her bag and retrieved a large, manila envelope. She then placed it on the table.
“You know you won’t have any legal ties to him after you do this, right?” she asked.
Aria nodded. “I know, but seeing him go down like that, I just can’t…I mean, he came out of that building and saw me and Marisol going at it…again. What if the stress of that was what caused him to pass out? He’s still recovering, Paige. I love him, but I want to help him, not hurt him. The Studio belongs to him, and it was never mine to keep. I want him to have it.”
Aria opened the envelope and signed the papers. Looking at them one last time, she neatly organized them on the table and placed them back in the folder. She then held the envelope out to her friend.
“If he can’t be with me,” she continued, “at least I know a part of me will always be with him.”
Paige silently retrieved the envelope, placing it in her bag. She knew that this decision was monumental for Aria, and that it cost her dearly, emotionally, to hand over the last thing she had in her possession that tied her to Declan.
“You know, Aria…you weren’t the cause of all of this,” Paige said, attempting to alleviate any of the guilt or burden her friend might be carrying.
Confidently, Aria looked her square in the eye.
“Yeah. You got that right,” she said, surprising Paige. “I know I’m not.”
Paige was confused. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t say anything to Declan, and I won’t say anything else until you swear to me that you won’t—no matter what.”
Paige agreed. “I’m fine with that. I’ve never betrayed your confidence. God knows you have enough of mine!”
Aria took a deep breath and sat back. As the waitress asked them if they’d like a refill on their coffee, they both said yes, and Aria explained what memories had been unlocked through her therapy.
After more than two hours had passed, Paige had listened to her friend tell her all that she remembered about one of the most terrible days of her life. She also assured her that she wouldn’t reveal anything she had been told.
As they prepared to leave, she mentioned that she had to stop back at the office, and remembered that she had something to give to Aria.
“I almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her bag. “A message came to my office from the Vencedor attorney. It seems that somebody left their tools at a property and they want you to pick them up,” she said, handing the message to Aria.
“That’s odd. Most of my guys own their tools. They guard them with their life, but I’ll swing by and get them. I’d feel terrible if someone took them.”
Writing on a notepad, Paige tore off a piece of paper, handing it to Aria.
“This is the combination on the lockbox. There should be one on one of the doors,” she said, handing the paper to her. “I have the same combination on all of my houses, and I always leave at least one until the owner assures me that they are all moved in. I haven’t heard from the owner of this one, so there should be one on the back door, for sure.”
Taking the paper, Aria put it in her pocket.
“I’ll stop there on my way home. I have nothing on the books for the next few days, so I’m taking it easy,” she informed her. “A nice long bath, a good bottle of wine, and watching some movies is all I have planned.”
Paige sighed. “Ahh…sounds great…”
They walked to the parking lot together. Paige opened her car and put her bag in the back seat. She then turned back to Aria to give her a hug.
“You okay?” She heard the concern in her own voice.
“I’m fine,” Aria assured her friend. “I just need to let time work things out—if they’re supposed to work out. Don’t worry about me, okay?”
Paige nodded, getting into her car. She watched Aria walk to hers and then drove away.
It should be very interesting to see how Declan reacts to this news…
Aria listened to relaxing music on her way to the residence. Pulling out the message, she saw the address written in the subject line.
I remember this house! This is the really nice one, right on the water. I loved that place. Gorgeous driveway, beautiful grounds, flat flagstone patio…really pretty. I loved listening to the water while I was working. Whoever got this house got a beauty!
Driving down Coastal Highway, she analyzed her motives for signing off on The Studio. She did believe that her heart was in the right place, and she truly wanted Declan to have it—free and clear, without any strings attached. It was his, and she didn’t want him to feel any obligation to her with regard to the business.
Acquiring a building for him; even renovating it, was what she did every day for every client. She had no emotional attachment to them, yet it gave her a great deal of pleasure to deliver to them a product that pleased them. That was the perspective she needed to keep; that The Studio was delivered to Declan as a final product that pleased him. The thought of that made her happy. She’d provided him security. A flood of pleasure rushed in, and, smiling, she admitted that it felt good!
Reaching to turn up the volume, she began to sing, happy that she—Aria Cole—had given Declan Sinclair—Mr. Supermodel—something unique that no one else in the world ever could—the fruition of a dream.
Take that world!
Pulling up in the driveway, she saw a light turned on in the house. Paige said that no one had moved in yet, so maybe it was a lamp on a timer to ward off a would-be thief.
Closing her car door, she left her purse inside. There wasn’t anyone around, and she’d return for it in just a minute.
As she approached the house, she stopped to admire the pretty landscaping. She’d have to complement those guys when she got back to the office. They had done such a nice job!
Noticing the new boxwoods that were planted on each side of the walkway, she ascended the steps.
It looks like they had added a creeping shrub further up the walkway, she thought as she got closer to the door.
“Pretty. Very Pretty,” she said out loud in admiration as she stepped onto the porch.
Opening the door, she noticed that the lockbox Paige said would be there wasn’t hanging where it should be, but as she touched the handle, the door was slightly open. She pushed on it, barely peeking in. Glancing to the left and right, she saw no one, so she moved it slightly further and saw that the home was furnished.
“Great. Just great,” she whispered, thinking that the occupants would be incensed with someone’s dirty toolbox laying around.
“Hello?” she called, barely raising her voice.
She stopped for a moment to listen for a reply. Not hearing a sound, she moved further inside.
“Hello…” she repeated a little louder.
Again, nothing.
The last thing Aria planned on being that night was a trespasser. She just wanted to get the tools, get in her car, and go home to a bubble bath that was calling her name.
No one seemed to be here. Maybe if she just looked in the rooms on the first floor she’d see the tools, grab them, and go. Then everyone would be happy!
Thinking that would be a good plan, she started to make her way through the downstairs. Walking through the massive living room, she checked in corners and along the walls for the missing tools—nothing.
Quietly, almost tip-toeing, she went into the family room, making her way around an overstuffed sofa, club chairs, and a bar—again, nothing. Remembering the fireplace, she made her way in that direction, thinking one of the guys might have placed the toolbox in there, out of sight.