The young man sucked in a breath, trying to keep his composure. “Um,” he said, licking his lips, nervous lust obvious on his pale face. “There's another box out here, sitting next to your door.” He stooped, picking up a small box off the mat in front of her door and handing it to her.
“Thanks again,” Alex said, taking the box from him.
His lips curled in a weak smile. “Have a good day,” he said before heading back toward the stairwell and on his way. He paused, turning once more to catch a glimpse of her standing in the open doorway, and Alex chuckled as she shut the door between them.
That was an ego boost, she thought. Even in a robe, with no makeup on and her hair still wet and tangled, she could make young men weak in the knees. She laughed, imagining that kid going to tell all of his friends about the hot, mostly naked woman that had thrown herself at him when he knocked on her door. She was sure that he would embellish the story, perhaps turn it into a pornographic scene of lavish lovemaking on her kitchen counter. Oh well, let him have his fun.
She looked down at the small package in her hands. It was wrapped in brown paper, and had no label or store markings that she could see. Her mother had probably ordered her accessories to go with her gown for tonight, but strange that the delivery person from that store had not knocked or rung the bell. Perhaps she had been in the shower at the time, and had just not heard them when they arrived. She ripped away the paper, tossing it onto a chair in the living room, and flipped open the small, white box.
A paste jewel sparkled at the bottom of the box, nestled in black velvet. It was beautiful, catching the sunlight and transforming it into tiny rainbows that danced across its surface. She slipped her fingers under the delicate silver chain, lifting if from the box, and held it up before her eyes. It seemed to be alive, colors moving through the depths of the jewel. She loved it. Walking to the mirror in the entryway of her apartment, she held it up to her throat. It was the perfect length and size to snuggle itself safely between her breasts, shining like a star against her alabaster skin. She was amazed that her mother could have picked out something that she would enjoy so much; normally they didn't have even slightly similar tastes.
Setting the necklace on the counter, she lifted the cover off the box containing the dress. A simple but elegant gown, floor-length black satin, thin straps that wrapped around her neck, leaving her back exposed. She ran her fingertips along the fabric. The soft, slippery feel pleased her. It would feel fantastic against her skin. And with her natural red hair and pale skin, she would look ravishing in the stark black.
Nestled in the box with the dress was a pair of heels, three-inch stilettos with a shine all their own. This would do, she thought. It wasn't too terrible. She thought of the dresses that her mother had picked out for her when she was child, all ruffles and lace, acres of fabric piled up around her as she sat like a doll on display in one of her mother's cabinets. She was glad that her mother was finally starting to see her as an adult, as a woman.
…
His heart was hammering in his chest, his palms damp with sweat as he sat on the bench outside her apartment, trying to catch his breath. It had been risky, to go to her door like that, but he had wanted, needed her to have the beautiful gift that he had bought for her. She had rewarded him, displaying her body for him, dancing languidly in front of the open windows, showcasing her love for him as he gazed upon her beauty from stories below on the street.
He had loved her since the moment that he had laid eyes on her, outside the gallery downtown where her pictures were being shown. She took such wonderful photographs, capturing the beauty and pain that truly was life. No one appreciated her work, not like he did. No one saw the way that she toiled, day after day, night after night, attempting to create perfection. He saw it, he saw her efforts. He wanted to reward her, for everything that she did for him, and so he had gotten her the gift, left a treasure for her to find, letting her know that there was someone in this dark world who understood.
He wiped his palms on his jeans, still trying to calm himself after he had run into the delivery boy on his way up the stairs to her. His heart had stopped when he had made eye contact with the boy, stepping away from her door, where he had been resting his hands on the warm wood, feeling her presence resonating from the other side. He had darted down the stairs, leaping down the flights, escaping the eyes of someone who would not understand.
He had seen the boy come out of the building, lust and desire clear on his face, and he had wanted to attack him. What gave him the right to talk to her, to touch her? She should belong to him, he thought. He was the only one who deserved her. He had kept so close to her, for so long. He had given her so much of his time, of his heart: he was the only one who should be allowed to be near her.
Rage boiled in his chest as he watched the boy walk away, his lustful smile plastered on his face. He stood up, taking one last look up at her windows, longing to have the ability to go to her, to pull her into his arms, laying gentle kisses on her sweet face. But first he must take care of this boy, this little bastard, so smug and satisfied with himself. He would wipe the smile from his face.
Chapter 3
Pulling into the drive of the family estate, Alex was awed at the display that her mother had created for this event. The trees along the road were all strung with hundreds of tiny, white lights, twinkling in the darkness of the warm August night, lighting the way to the house, expansive and impressive in the distance. As she approached, she saw that the balcony of the second floor had been strung with the same lights, mixed with boughs of flowers draped along the railing. It was beautiful, though ostentatious, thought Alex. Her mother had really gone all out for her father's big day. She wondered, for a moment, how it was to be in other families, who didn't come from a bloodline of wealth and prosperity. How did they celebrate birthdays? With barbeques and cake, balloons and beer. Sounded nice, she thought, a small gathering of loved ones, relaxed and enjoying their time together. But not the Grimes family. Their parties were lavish affairs with caterers and champagne, hired waiters and musicians. Every birthday that she had growing up was the envy of all her friends, the clowns, the petting zoo – there was even a pony when she was seven. This was normal to them. This was also a large part of the reason why she had tried to distance herself from her family’s wealth when she became an adult. She wanted to know what normal was to everyone else. She wanted to know what it was like to work for the things that you wanted, to feel like you had earned your success instead of being handed it on the day you were born. It didn't please her mother that she had walked away from the afternoon teas, from the shopping trips in London, and taken an apartment by herself, had started a career, had become her own woman.
A valet stood at the end of the drive, in front of the expansive entryway to the house, and he smiled as she approached, walking toward her side of the car and opening the door for her as she came to a stop.
“Alex,” he said, “nice to see you.”
“Hey, Barry,” she said, stepping out of the car.
He glanced down at her bare feet, her bright pink toenails peeking out from under the hem of her elegant gown. She followed his eyes, chuckling. She turned, reached into the back seat of her car, and extracted the heels, setting them on the ground near her feet and slipping them on.
“You ever try to drive a stick in three-inch heels?” she asked, laughing as she handed him the keys to her car.
“You know,” he said, mockingly pretending to think it over, “I think there was that one time, in St. Louis.”
They shared a hearty laugh, and Barry slid into the driver's seat of her car, pulling it behind the house to park with the rest of the guests’ automobiles. Alex lifted the hem of her dress, climbing the steps to the front door of her family home.
The doors were thrown open, letting in the warm evening air, and Alex stepped inside. A quartet of musicians were playing softly near the entrance to the dining room, and people stood around the main g
allery, sipping at cocktails or champagne. They were each impeccably dressed, the men in tuxedos, the women's gowns sparkling in a rainbow of bright colors and rich textures. Alex stepped into the room, and several heads turned, acknowledging her entrance. She stood, shimmering in black satin, the skin of her bare arms and shoulders catching the warm light of the chandelier, alluring and beckoning to be touched. The dress clung to her, contouring her slim waist, her full hips. Her hair was pulled up, curled and tousled on top of her head, small tendrils escaping to brush the delicate skin of her neck. The jewel that she so liked was draped around her throat, catching the light of the room, sparkling, nestled in the deep cleavage of her gown.
“Darling,” called her mother, crossing the room. “You look wonderful.” She put her hands on Alex's bare shoulders, leaning in and kissing the side of her face. Putting her at arm’s length, she assessed her choice in gown for her daughter, pleasure in her eyes at the beauty that she had created. “But what is this?” she said, lifting the jewel from Alex's skin, holding it before her eyes, squinting at it.
“It's the necklace that you sent,” said Alex. “To go with the dress?”
“It's beautiful, for sure,” said her mother, “but I didn't send it. I don't usually pick these kinds of things.” By “these kinds of things” she meant paste jewels, thought Alex. If her mother had picked this trinket for her, it would have been diamond, she should have known that.
“Oh well,” said her mother, “let's go and find your father, shall we?”
“Okay,” said Alex, as her mother ushered her through the crowd, pausing occasionally to introduce her to the governor and his wife, an actor that had recently been given an award of some kind, several of the benefactors to the university in town, and hundreds of other people whose names or why she should know them she would never remember. Alex recognized many of the faces as people that had been attending her father's parties her entire life, but she never did have the ability to remember more than their faces, though she had been introduced to them many times.
“Here he is, the birthday boy!” exclaimed her mother, reaching out for the hands of her father. He too was dressed to the nines in a tuxedo that probably cost more than Alex took in for a salary in a year, perfectly tailored, a crimson handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, giving him a flair of color. His silver hair was combed back, his mustache groomed and ready for action. He looked fantastic, debonair, and suave, as a ridiculously wealthy older man should.
“Alex,” he said, pulling her into a warm hug, pressing his hand into the small of her back. Her father wasn't like the rest of them, she thought. He wasn't pretentious and rude, using his money to prove to the world that he was better than the rest of humanity. He worked to help people, making generous donations of both time and money to causes all over the world. He understood what Alex wanted to do with her life; he supported her decision to branch out on her own, to take charge of her own future. He did what he could to help her along her way, but would toss her off a cliff, if that's what she needed to learn how to fly on her own.
“Happy Birthday, Daddy,” Alex said, snuggling into her father's arms. She kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of her bright red lipstick on his skin. She chuckled, wiping it away with the pad of her thumb.
“Thanks, baby girl,” he said. “Another trip around the sun for this old guy. Let me take a look at you.” He held her at arm’s length, taking in her dress, her hair, while at the same time assessing her health, making sure that she was taking care of herself, since she was no longer under his roof, where he could keep an eye on her.
“This is pretty,” he said, gesturing at the jewel around her neck.
“I got it today,” Alex said, holding it up so that he could see it sparkle in the light.
“Bought yourself a present for my birthday, eh?” said her father, chuckling.
“Actually, no,” she said, confusion knitting her brow. “I don't know where it came from. Just sort of showed up on my doorstep. I thought it was from Mom, since she had the dress delivered, but she said that she didn't pick it out.”
Concern darkened his eyes. “That's curious. Could be nothing, but you should keep an eye out. You're very visible in your line of work. Something as simple as a secret admirer could be a point of concern.”
“It's just a necklace, Daddy,” she said, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. “Don't worry about it.”
“Okay,” he said, “I won't.” But Alex could see the worry in his eyes, watch his brain turn to all the scenarios that could come of this. She wouldn't tell him about the photographs, not tonight. It was his party, his celebration, and she didn't want him to spend the evening worrying about her wellbeing.
“Let's party,” she said, reaching out and plucking a glass of champagne from a tray that a waiter was carrying nearby and taking a large gulp from the glass.
The evening was a whirlwind of rich food and expensive champagne. Small talk with strangers became interesting as the night went on and the conversation was greased with alcohol. Alex laughed, flirting openly with rich old men while being whirled around the dancefloor until she was dizzy. Her father made a speech, thanking his guests for their attendance, and toasting friends and family for their support and love of each other. While he spoke, Alex noted that his cheeks were rosy, that he too had imbibed his share of celebratory beverages throughout the night. Everyone was having a wonderful time.
Alex's skin grew warm from the revelry, and she took herself out to the patio to enjoy the cooler air of the summer evening. The stars danced in the sky, and the full moon reflected off the river at the end of the lawn. It was a beautiful night.
“Tired of dancing?” asked Barry, leaning against the railing of the patio, a cigarette dangling from between his lips.
“Hot in there,” she said, sliding up onto the railing, letting her shoes drop to the tiles below. “Too many people. Nice out here though. Give me a drag of that.”
“Your dad will kill me if he catches you smoking,” said Barry, reluctantly handing over the half-smoked cigarette.
“I'm a big girl,” said Alex, taking a drag of the cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke into the night sky. She picked up her glass, downing the rest of the champagne, and burped, loudly.
Barry laughed. “You sure are all grown up.”
“Shut up, you,” she said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.
“You staying here tonight?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in concern. She had had a lot to drink, and it was showing. Barry knew that she lived on the other side of town, and the idea of her driving didn't appeal to him.
“Nope,” she said. “I've got a ton of photos to sift through from a shoot today. I'm going to be in the studio all day tomorrow, and I want to get an early start.”
“Well,” he said, stubbing out the cigarette on the concrete below, “I get off here in an hour. Can I drive you home?”
“Not if you're trying to get lucky with the boss's daughter,” she said, laughing at her own joke. She hiccupped, knocking the champagne flute from the edge of the patio railing, sucking in a surprised breath as it smashed to small, sparkling pieces on the concrete at Barry's feet.
“Um,” said Barry, smacking his lips. “That wasn't my first thought, seeing as I prefer a little more masculine company.”
“Huh?” Alex said, hiccupping again, “OH!” Realization washed through her. She had known this man for years, and never heard anything about a wife, or girlfriend. She giggled. “Guess I don't have to worry about you trying to get fresh then.”
“Nope,” he said, “just wanting to make sure that you make it home safe.”
“Yeah,” she said, putting her hand to her forehead. Her head was swimming from so much to drink, and she probably shouldn't be driving. “Okay. Meet you in an hour?”
“I'll come find you,” he said, walking off into the darkness.
Chapter 4
Alex sat on the sofa in her father's study, her shoes discarded on the f
loor, her bare feet tucked beneath her. He sat behind his desk, a cigar between his teeth, leaned back in his big leather office chair, pleased at the evening's festivities.
“Daddy,” she said, her voice small and timid, as if she were still his little girl.
“Yes, my dear girl,” he said.
“I think I should tell you…” She hesitated. “Something else strange happened to me today. Other than the necklace just showing up at my front door.”
“Hmm?” he said, taking a puff at his cigar.
“I was doing a shoot down at the waterfront.” She hesitated again, images of bored models in the blinding sun floating into her mind. “It wasn't going well, so I called it off, and when I went to go and pack up my gear, I found something.”
He sat forward in his chair, resting his hands on the surface of his desk, his attention focused on her now. “Another gift?”
“I don't know,” she said, her expression filled with confusion, “it was weird.”
“What was it?” he asked.
“Pictures. Of me.”
“Like from the magazine articles, or the newspaper?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.
“No,” she said, “not like that. Polaroids. From today. Like somebody took a bunch of pictures of me and left them on my table.”
“Did you see anyone? Was it one of the models?” he asked, standing up, crossing the room to sit on the sofa next to her.
“No,” she said. “I was focused on them, and they didn't do it. And I didn't see anyone else. I don't know why someone would do that, take pictures of me and leave them there.”
“I don't like this,” her father said. “Somebody is following you, taking your pictures. They know where you live, we know that because of the necklace. This guy wants you to know that he's there. He's trying to catch your attention.”
The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 1 Page 2