* * *
At that moment Alex looked up and saw his wife rush out the door. “Wait! I can explain. Brigitte, please don’t go! Brigitte!”
“Let her go,” said Susan. “She was bound to find out about us someday. It might as well be now.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He dressed as fast as he could and ran after Brigitte.
* * *
Real despair did not hit Brigitte until she got home. She sat in her darkened bedroom alone, trying to understand what she had done wrong.
If only she had not resumed her painting again.
If only she had spent more time with Alex.
If only she had known what to do when he began drifting away from her.
If only… Now it was too late. Everyone I have ever loved has betrayed me. I wish I was dead.
* * *
When Alex arrived, the bedroom door was locked. He knocked. “Brigitte. Please, I have to talk to you.” There was no answer. He had never imagined that he could feel so miserable. The ache in his heart made his head spin and his ears pound. When Brigitte refused to answer, he went over to the couch to wait.
The next morning, Alex did not go to work. Brigitte came out of her bedroom, her back straight and her head high. Alex followed her to her studio, pleading, “Please Brigitte, let’s talk about this.”
I will not let him see how much he’s hurt me. She picked up her brush and began to paint. “What is there to talk about? You’re having an affair. It’s not the end of the world.”
This was not the reaction he had expected—tears maybe, anger certainly, but not this coldness. “So you won’t leave me?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
The relief was evident in his voice. “Oh, thank God. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d left me.” He took her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “I love you. And I promise I’ll never hurt you again.”
Brigitte resisted the urge to cringe when he held her. The memory of what she had seen in the trailer was stamped indelibly on her mind. I hope I can forgive him.
* * *
Natalia Berenson’s brownstone was steps away from central park. She sat on her silk taffeta sofa surrounded by dozens of satin and velvet beaded pillows. Her heavily made-up eyes were inscrutable as they stared at the multitude of silver framed pictures on the baby grand piano across the room.
Brigitte sat before her, nervously trying to explain her decision. “The only way I can make it work is by devoting myself entirely to being Alex’s wife. I cannot balance a career and still give one hundred percent to my marriage. It is just not possible.” She ventured a glance at Natalia. “I know how much you wanted me to succeed. You were so kind, introducing me to so many influential people, and especially helping me find an agent. I just hope you are not angry with me.”
Natalia softened. She shook her head, sending her many chins quivering. “Angry? No, I’m not angry. I’m disappointed. That’s not the same thing. I’ve been married myself, a number of times as you know, and having my own career and interests has always been a great satisfaction in my life. Husbands can come and go, but a career is yours as long as you want it. Brigitte, you are very talented. You have as much to contribute to this world as Alex does. I don’t think leaving your career will in any way improve your marriage.” A sudden suspicion came to her mind. “Did Alex ask you to do this?”
“Alex has nothing to do with this. He didn’t even know I was considering it.”
Natalia studied Brigitte. She noticed the circles under her eyes, the resignation and sadness in her smile. “Then for God’s sake, why?”
Brigitte looked down at her hands. “This is what I have to do.”
* * *
Gerald Masson’s reaction was stronger. As soon as he heard, he drove over to the Ivanov residence and confronted Brigitte. “Is it true? Natalia just told me you want to stop painting.”
Brigitte invited him in and he sat at one end of the white vinyl-covered sofa.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” she said, trying to delay the conversation she knew would come. She disappeared and returned a moment later with a glass of Cabernet which she handed to him, avoiding his eyes.
“Tell me it’s not true, Brigitte,” he repeated.
She sighed and said, “I can’t give one hundred percent of myself to a career, to being a mother, and a wife. I simply sorted out my priorities.”
Gerald looked resigned. “Brigitte, your talent is a gift. You can’t ignore it. I know you. Painting is oxygen to your soul. You mustn’t give it up.”
“What I decide to do is my business. I don’t see how it affects you.”
Gerald’s voice softened. “It affects me, Brigitte, because I care for you.” As he spoke, he moved closer to her and almost against his will, his hand lifted up to caress her cheek. “Haven’t you guessed by now the way I feel about you? I only want to see you happy. And I know that if you stop painting you will be very unhappy.”
Brigitte pulled away. When she spoke, her voice was strained. “That’s very sweet of you. Of course I care for you, too. You are a very dear friend.” She forced herself to smile and patted his hand affectionately. “But this is a decision I’ve made for my husband and for our marriage.” The meaning could not have been any clearer.
Long after he had left, Brigitte remained shaken. Why did she feel such turmoil every time she saw him? If only Alex could be more like… How can I even think that way? she reprimanded herself guiltily. I love Alex for the man he is. He doesn’t have to change in any way. He is my husband.
* * *
Although she made a sincere effort to put the discovery of Alex’s infidelity behind her, Brigitte found it impossible to forget. Even when Alex swore to her that he had ended the affair with Susan Temple, Brigitte kept her distance. In bed one night, Alex snuggled close to her. “Are you sleeping, sweetheart?”
Brigitte stirred but did not answer. Alex tried again. “Brigitte?” His hand traveled slowly to her breasts. Her body stiffened. He rolled over and sighed with exasperation. “How long are you planning to keep punishing me?” he asked.
There was a short silence before Brigitte stirred and answered. “I’m not punishing you,” she replied. “I’m doing the best I can.”
Alex’s voice rose sharply. “You’re not doing a thing. It’s been weeks and you still won’t let me anywhere near you. How long is this supposed to go on?”
“I-I don’t know.” Suddenly the tears she had held back for so long came pouring out. She felt Alex’s arms wrap around her as he whispered sweet words in her ears. The pleasure was so intense; it drowned out the misery of the last few weeks.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Don’t you know you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved?” The words were like balm to her shattered soul.
“And I love you,” she replied through her tears. Suddenly, her body was on fire. She wanted him, needed him with a passion she had never experienced. When Alex entered her, her pleasure was so intense that she exploded in waves of ecstasy.
Afterwards, as they lay in each other’s arms, Brigitte told him of her decision to stop painting.
“I want to be a real wife to you,” she said. “I want to cook for you. I want to iron your shirts. I want to…”
Alex covered her mouth gently with a finger. “Stop. This is too much. I admit I wasn’t thrilled that you went back to painting, but you don’t have to cook for me. Réjeanne’s cooking is fine.”
Brigitte laughed. “What? You don’t trust my cooking?”
“I plan to keep you so busy in the bedroom, you won’t have time for anything else.”
As she drifted off to sleep, Brigitte thought she had never heard such beautiful words. I made the right decision. Abandoning my career is a small price to pay for a happy marriage. I’ll devote myself entirely to him, and everything will be all right.
* * *
Over the next five years, the relatively new field
of co-op properties witnessed an incredible growth. At the forefront of this movement was Power Properties. During that period, Power Properties bought, renovated, and sold buildings at a dizzying rate. The company’s success was more than even Alex could ever have anticipated.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d make so much money you’d never want to work again?” Alex asked Brigitte one night. It was their wedding anniversary and they were enjoying a rare evening alone.
Brigitte smiled. “I never doubted for a moment that you would become successful.”
“You know,” said Alex thoughtfully. “I think it might be a good idea for us to be more visible. We should start working on becoming more socially prominent. Why don’t we ever have people over? We can’t expect to get invited anywhere unless we do so inviting, too.”
Brigitte hesitated. An occasional evening is the only time alone I have with my husband. If we start entertaining, I won’t even have those anymore. All she said was, “If that’s what you want.”
Alex was ebullient. “I think it’s a great idea. Do you have any idea how many deals are made over dinner tables?”
The next morning, Brigitte called Natalia. “Natalia, I was thinking of giving a small dinner party. Do you think you could help me make up a guest list?”
Although their first dinner party was no more than a dress rehearsal, as Alex called it, the guest list was short but impressive. There were Burt Holmsby, the owner of Holmsby Hotels, and his wife Tricia, who was mentioned in the society columns almost as regularly as the newly married Jackie Onassis. Also present was Donald Richardson, who had made a name for himself as the promoter of a number of sports figures. His wife was Betty Moore, the star on one of the popular daytime soaps, also attended.
“Small and intimate,” specified Alex. “After all, this is our first effort. We don’t want to start off with too big an affair.”
Brigitte decorated the dining room into something out of One Thousand and One Nights. She covered the table with a gold lamé cloth. For a centerpiece, she used a dried flower arrangement which she had spray painted gold. The gold-plated cutlery, borrowed from Natalia, and the crystal—purchased at Sotheby’s for just this occasion—sparkled in the dimmed lights. For the occasion, she planned to serve seafood fettuccini sprinkled with caviar, and for desert, a spectacular Mousse au cognac flambé.
“You did well,” observed Alex after the last guests had left. He lay naked on the bed, a towel covering his groin. “But you know, I don’t think serving pasta was a good idea.”
“Why not?” asked Brigitte. “Everybody loved it.”
“Of course. Don’t get me wrong. It was very good. It’s just that…pasta, for God’s sake. Can’t you think of something more imaginative? After all, we were trying to impress those people.”
Brigitte did not reply. Why do we have to impress anyone?
“And I think we should start looking for a proper house. I was embarrassed to invite them here.”
“Alex, our apartment was featured in City and Country Homes. Everyone loves it.”
“That was fine while I was still making a name for myself. But now it’s time to live like the rich folks, because sweetheart, that’s what we are. Rich folks.” He laughed. “Tomorrow, I want you to start looking for a new house. I want it big and impressive.”
Brigitte looked around the room which she had decorated with so much love when she first arrived in New York. I’ll miss this place. “I’ll call the real estate company tomorrow,” she said.
* * *
The president of Power Properties and his vice-presidents were gathered around the conference table of their luxurious new headquarters. Alex picked up the last quarterly financial report and handed copies to Gerald and Andrew. He waited for them to study the figures.
“I think we’re ready to diversify,” he said as soon as the last sheet had been put down.
Gerald looked up from his brief. “What have you got in mind?”
Alex opened his folder and pulled out a stack of pictures. “Take a look at this.” He handed them out, leaned back and watched their reactions.
Andrew quickly flipped through the pictures and looked at Alex, puzzled. “These are shots of the old Grand Palace. The place is a dump. The city wants to tear it down and build a new hotel on that spot. What would Power Properties want with a place like that?”
Alex smiled arrogantly. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you have any vision, Andrew? For over half a century, the Grand Palace was the most prestigious hotel in the city. Even now, decades after it has lost its reputation, the name is still recognized all over the world. The Grand Palace is a landmark. People will always remember the balls held there, the stars who stayed there, and the glamour of the place. I don’t want it to be torn down. I want to buy it so that Power Properties can restore it to the old luxury hotel that it used to be. And that, my friends, will make Power Properties a household name.”
Gerald looked at Andrew and shrugged. “You know he won’t give us a moment’s peace until we agree to it, don’t you?”
* * *
When Alex approached the mayor and made his proposal, the man laughed. “Just because you were successful in renovating a few old buildings into co-ops doesn’t mean you can handle a project of this size. Even if we wanted to restore the Grand Palace, which we don’t, we would give it to an established firm, not to some newcomer like Power Properties. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”
Alex was more determined than ever. “What we have to do,” he told his vice-presidents later, “is drown city hall with petitions to save the hotel. The Grand Palace is not just a landmark. It’s a piece of New York’s history. It’s a part of every New Yorker’s heritage. It would be a crime to tear it down. As far as I’m concerned, the mayor is a fool. He’s just an old man without vision.”
Gerald Masson sat quietly during Alex’s tirade against the mayor. At the end he said, “What we need is someone with a lot of influence to gather support for us.” He paused for a second before continuing. “We need Natalia Berenson.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” asked Alex. “Okay, Gerald. Whatever it takes, get her to come work for us.”
* * *
When Gerald approached Natalia, she listened to his offer in silence, petting the cat on her lap. For all her calm outward appearance, she had never thought faster in her life. Since her divorce from Number Seven, she managed to live a comfortable life, selling off her famous jewelry one piece at a time and replacing them with high quality fakes, but she’d had enough of this life. She wanted to be rich again, as she had once been. And you can bet your ass that I won’t be losing it to another pretty boy this time.
“So what do you say, Natalia? Are you interested?” asked Gerald once he had outlined the plan. “Alex has authorized me to offer you one-hundred-thousand dollars a year.”
“One-hundred-thousand a year?” asked the old movie star. It was a fortune, and she knew it, but it wasn’t nearly close to what she had in mind. She picked up a strawberry from the bowl on the occasional table and studied it. “I’m sorry,” she said, “that’s not nearly enough.” Then she popped the berry in her mouth.
If it had been anybody else, they would surely have been stunned, but Gerald did not appear surprised in the least. “So, what is it that you want, Natalia?”
“I want to become a partner,” she said, and after a long struggle and some hard negotiations, she got her deal.
“Welcome on board,” said Alex to his new vice-president of public relations, sounding none too pleased. “You’d better be worth the money we’ll be paying you.”
“Don’t worry, dahhhrling,” she replied. “I’ll be worth my weight in gold.” Of all the board members, she laughed the loudest and the longest.
Natalia rose to the challenge with fervor. She got on the telephone, and within days she was booked on every popular television talk show in the city. Once she had made the rounds of New York, she hea
ded west to Los Angeles and made the rounds out there.
She sat before the camera in a tight size twenty-two dress with a deep décolleté, and flashed her world-famous thirty carat Canary diamond, the only real stone she had not sold. “It would be a crime to tear down the Grand Palace,” she told Dina Merill, who nodded her approval. “Why, I remember when I was just starting at MGM, Joan Crawford had her spring ball there one year. Everyone came. Howard Hughes was there. I remember…” She went on with story after story of the glamorous events that took place at the Palace.
She appealed to the public and they responded in droves. Letters arrived by the bag fulls at Power Properties, some of them with donations, which were immediately sent back, along with a thank you note and a signed autograph of Natalia. One month later, Alex went back to see the mayor.
“You again.” The man said when he recognized Alex. “I thought I told you—”
Alex interrupted him. “I believe you might be interested in seeing this.” He signaled to the delivery boy who followed a few steps behind him. The boy left and reappeared moments later with two mail bags full of letters which he promptly emptied on the mayor’s desk. Envelopes flooded the top of the desk and spilled over onto the floor.
Alex smiled innocently. “I have seven more of these bags out in the hall. Would you like me to have them brought in?”
“No! No!” The major tried to push the mass of envelopes back into the empty bags. “This is ridiculous. Get these out of here. I have a meeting with the election committee in a few minutes.”
Scorpio Series Boxed Set Page 30