I’m speechless.
“So I’ve decided to change my will, but you mustn’t tell Michael about it, do you hear?” Her eyes are demanding, her voice stark, angry even.
This is news! “Yes.” I sound like I’m asking her a question.
“The will remains the same. But there will be an amendment added at the end. When Michael marries you, he will receive his inheritance. But the day he divorces you is the day he loses his inheritance,” Diane says.
I’m shocked. “But why would you do that—for me?” Is it for me? Now I’m not so sure.
Diane smiles. “Because anyone who loves my son the way I know you do, deserves to have the upper edge. And I trust you to do the right thing, Scarlett. My son, not so much.”
Suddenly I’m liking Mrs. Manning a whole lot more. “But how do you know I love him? You can’t just tell by looking into my eyes.”
“When you told me that you felt you had come home, it sent chills down my spine. I know a lie when I hear one, Ms. Hansen, and I know love when I see it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am not feeling well. Please give my regards to the rest of the family.” She gestures for me to leave and I pass a servant on the way out.
I saunter out to the living room, where truckloads of wrapping paper has been tossed around the room. These kids are serious about opening their presents.
“What did my mother want?” Michael says, almost sounding like he’s worried. He kisses me.
I can’t really help but smile. “She just wanted to officially welcome me into the family. She bought the whole cake. I’m in, and the inheritance is yours.”
Michael smiles and kisses me deeper. “Want to go upstairs and celebrate?” he speaks in a low, raspy voice.
Oh, he is so seductive. Even when I hate him I want his hands on my body, touching me, stroking my insides until I feel that burning heavy desire. “I think I’d prefer spending Christmas with your family,” I say.
“Really?” His eyes are confused.
“Can I take a rain check, maybe?” I smile innocently.
“Okay,” he says.
“Great!”
After all the presents have been opened and the wrapping paper cleared, we all hang out in the living room, with wine bottle after wine bottle popping open.
I’m starting to feel a little woozy, which is not good, since I need to keep my priorities straight—especially concerning Michael. I’m sitting wrapped in his arms and he kisses my hand and cheek alternately and from time to time. And for a moment, I almost think that this is my real life and that I’m actually marrying Michael. Only wine gets me in these ridiculously romantic moods. I decline the next glass offered to me.
Once the last guest has left, around 3:00 a.m., I excuse myself and head to the shower. I lock the door before hopping in. Michael is not coming to join me. Once I’m out of the shower, I hear a faint knock at the door.
“Yes?” I say.
“May I come in?” Michael says.
“Just a minute.” Ha. A minute. I’m going to take an hour, I think. I towel dry my body and hair, blow-dry my dark long locks and the slip into my flannel, un-suggestive as ever, pajamas.
When I step out, I see Michael passed out on the bed on his back. He’s still wearing his pants, and his dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned so I can see his sexy chest. I scowl at myself for thinking he’s sexy. I carefully slip under the covers, hoping I won’t wake him. His cologne brings to mind the awesome encounter we had last night and this morning.
Ugh!
I’m still completely spellbound by this man. But I must not be! Even after he wanted to be with someone else, and after he lied to me, I still want him. Well, he didn’t technically lie, did he? He just left out some very important information and wants to cheat on me. Why am I making excuses for this guy? I frown at myself and punch my pillow.
I force my eyes shut and try to fall sleep, but it’s hard to ignore that the man who has given me so much pleasure is lying right next to me, and if woken up, would ravish my body over and over. I sigh, and finally after what seems forever, I fall asleep.
24
The next morning, Michael still hasn’t figured out that I’m mad as hell at him. But I guess I can’t blame him too much. It’s not like I’m actually telling him about it. But how clueless is he to my emotions?
He tried to make a move on me this morning, but I said I had a pounding headache—classic, I know. After breakfast and a nice long shower (yes, I locked the door again) I ask him to take me home. I need to work on a couple of things and visit my dad, I tell him.
“Are you sure you want to be alone?” he asks, dropping me off.
“Yes. Don’t take it personally. I just need to catch up on a few things.” I smile wearily.
After dropping me off, Michael heads home, or at least that’s where he told me he’d go. Can’t believe a word out of that guy’s mouth.
I step into my house and crack open my laptop, curious to see if there are any more emails from Mr. Manning to Samantha. I’m surprised that there aren’t any. But now it’s my turn to respond, or Samantha, I should say. I hit the reply button.
From: [email protected]
RE: Merry Christmas!
Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:12 am
_______________________________________
Dear Mr. Manning,
I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your emails. I’ve been in the hospital, seeking treatment. But don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Just comes with the job.
I leave just enough of a hint, I hope, that I could be in need of treatment for a sexually contracted disease. I laugh wickedly and then continue typing.
I hope this email finds you well. I have had time to reconsider your offer. I’d love to meet with you again. I too have been thinking about you. But the terms are the same. I want to meet you in the Sanctuary, but as before, absolutely no sex will be offered. I can come in today even, if you’d like and are desperate to see me.
XOXO Samantha
I press the send button and wait. He’ll never go for today. He’s got a bunch of family commitments and then he’s meeting the real me later. Ok, Mr. cheater. Come to me. When there is no reply, I decide to go check the mail. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the mailbox, and I might have missed some Christmas cards from extended family members. At the mailbox, I pick up a pile of letters and cards and once inside, I start opening them. Then I hear that ping, notifying me I’ve received an email.
I run upstairs as fast as I can, my heart in my throat and sit down on my bed with the laptop on my lap.
From: [email protected]
RE: Merry Christmas to you too!
Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:20 am
_______________________________________
Samantha,
I am pleasantly surprised and delighted to get an email from you. I must admit, I thought you’d never contact me again, and I was quite upset that I’d never have the chance to see you again. Having said that, though I do appreciate your willingness to see me, I have moved on. I wish you the best of luck in the future, and have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Michael
I frown. Rejected? I smile. Could it be that by saying he’s moved on that he’s moved on with the real me? I wish he had expounded on his email a little more. Like, would he admit to seeing someone else?
It’s a strange sensation when my stiffest competition is myself. Should I email him back? Invite him a little more seductively? See if he’s really had a change of heart? Yes. Guiltily, I hit the reply button.
From: [email protected]
RE: Merry Christmas!
Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:25 am
_______________________________________
Dearest Michael,
I completely understand moving on. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything to upset you. I just thought we had such a wonderful time in the Sanctuary, and I think about your strong, sensual hands on my body. Your touch sent me to an
other place, sent my head spinning and my heart beating so fast, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. And your mouth on mine felt so right, so raw and honest. I thought maybe you had felt the same. But of course I understand if you don’t want to meet again. Sometimes the best thing is to shut the door to the past and move on. If you change your mind, please email me. The offer is still open, and I’d still love for you to explore my body even further.
XOXO Samantha
I press send. Come on, Michael, don’t take the bait! Don’t take the bait! I know I’m acting totally irrational, being a bitch even, but I can’t help it. My heart is hoping he’ll stay faithful to me, but I have to know he really means it. There is a ping on my computer. Shoot.
From: [email protected]
RE: Merry Christmas to you too!
Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:29 am
_______________________________________
Samantha, meet me in the Black Chapel today at noon.
Michael
Oh crap! I didn’t think he’d actually want to meet me today on Christmas! I need to call Laila, tell her I’m working with Mr. Manning today and that she needs to open the club. I’m sure she’ll take me back in a second; it’s worth a lot of money for her.
I bolt out the door, hit the gas and speed through every street as if I had the devil tailgating me. While driving, I call Laila, and of course she is more than happy to accommodate my request. She doesn’t even ask me why I changed my mind. Better leave well enough alone, I suppose.
Once at the Black Chapel, I park right in front of the building. The Black Chapel sign, usually magenta neon blaring light, is off. The place looks dead. I wait a minute and then see Laila’s powder blue Mercedes pull up. I have no time to waste; Michael will be here in fifteen minutes expecting a hell of a performance.
Laila opens the front door and hands me the key. “When you’re done with him, drop the key in this slot.” She shows me a two-inch mail drop slot in the dimmed glass door. “Good luck.” She’s almost out the door when she stops. “Oh, and Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too,” I say.
I run to the dressing room and pick out my black fallen angel costume. The mask is heavy and I apply enough make-up that even Anne wouldn’t recognize me. The benefit of this costume, too, is that sheer fabric covers my entire body. I put on a padded push-up bra with faux diamonds on it, giving me the appearance that I’m a double D. It’s really hard to get into my wings, but I manage. I spray Anne’s perfume on heavily and with my shoes in hand, I jog to Jim’s booth. There, I put on some sexy music—a little louder than normal—and enter the Sanctuary.
Michael is there within a minute, and I both sigh and frown inside at the same time. Sigh because I made it here and because I’m in full, unrecognizable costume and frown because he’s here for the stripper.
I haven’t had time to really think about what I might say or do to Michael now that I’m Samantha. I’m not normally an aggressive person, but what I really want to do right now is punch him in the face. Of course that’s not what I’m going to do—I can’t let him figure out my secret. Because if he does, he’ll surely pull the deal and I’ll be back to square on, with no job, be swimming in extreme debt and worrying about an ill father who is slowly but surely dying of cancer.
I stand up to greet him. “Hi, Michael,” I say in my angel voice. The music is just loud enough to drown out my voice enough. “I’m really excited that you decided to come.”
His eyes scan my body, and from the look on his face, he definitely likes what he sees.
“Me, too,” Michael says. “I have to admit, I don’t really know why I’m here, Samantha. I thought I had moved on, but when you sent me your last email, I just had to see you again. It’s like you’re a drug to me.”
He’s so close to me now, smelling my skin, pulling on my body. I know he wants me. He’s hungry and needs to be fed.
“How much do you want me?” I moan, unable to resist my body from responding so favorably to his.
He kisses me, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth; it’s so arousing. My knees weaken. My body tingles and I feel this deep, thumping desire, wanting him to touch me, finger me, give me my release, there.
“I want you so bad,” he says. But then something unexpected happens. He steps back and sits down on the white couch.
“What’s wrong?” I say.
He touches his temple. “I think it was a mistake coming here.”
“What do you mean?” I sit down next to him.
“I’ve met this girl—” Michael says.
I smile inwardly. “So,” I say. “She’s not here right now, I am.”
“She’s absolutely amazing.” Michael’s eyes light up, and I see that he’s really thinking about me.
“Really, why?” I ask, pretending not to care too much.
He seems surprised that I would ask that question, but I don’t care. I need to know why I’m so absolutely amazing.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable talking to you about her,” Michael says.
“Oh, please. I’ve heard everything. And I won’t be jealous, I promise.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
Michael’s eyes narrow. “She’s just everything I’ve ever wanted a woman. I mean, at first I thought she was just an average girl, cute and sweet, but somewhat boring. She just seemed too tame for me.”
“And she’s not that anymore?” I ask.
“She never was. I just didn’t see it. And another thing is my mother has never approved of any woman I’ve ever brought home,” Michael says.
“Well, I’d be careful marrying someone just because your mom likes her.” I say, as mockingly as I can in my angel voice.
“Of course. But Scarlett is different. She seemed like a prim and proper, and dare I say prude girl at first, but she isn’t that at all. We have a deep connection. It’s like she sees me for who I really am.”
His words warm my heart. “But if she’s so amazing, why are you here with me?” I straddle him and grind against him. I’m in my stripper mode now, and the seducing side of me takes over naturally.
He looks at me, so serious my heart nearly stops beating. “I don’t know why I’m here. I have to go.” He pushes me gently off and then stands up.
On the outside I’m trying to look confused, but on the inside, I’m grinning from ear to ear. This might actually work! I’ll have Samantha die a gruesome death, from this new deadly strain of sexually transmitted disease or something, and only Scarlett will remain. He’ll never need to know I worked as a stripper and that I was one and the same person as Samantha.
“I’m sorry I dragged you down here on Christmas day. I’ll pay Laila for your troubles,” Michael says.
“You know what? Don’t worry about it. It was a pleasure helping you figure out your life. Good luck with Scarlett. She sounds great,” I say.
I watch him disappear through the curtain and I’m left smiling like a kid on Christmas day. Crap, it is Christmas day! I’m going to head home as soon as I can and then seduce Michael so thoroughly, he won’t know what hit him.
25
After I’ve showered and I’m back in my normal clothes again, I head home. Michael’s rejection of the stripper is the best Christmas present I’ve ever received. Michael has finally realized he wants to be faithful to the real me. Life is just wonderful at the moment, and I’m thoroughly excited about my future again for the first time since—I can’t remember, it’s been so long.
When I get home, I’m very pleased, but slightly uneasy that Michael is waiting for me in the driveway.
“I’m sorry I showed up unannounced. I just had to see you,” Michael says.
“No problem. I just came from—visiting my dad,” I lie.
“Can we talk?” Michael says.
My stomach does a summersault. “Is it something serious? Because if it is, I’ll have to make you wait until it’s not Christmas any more,” I tease.
“It is serious,
but also very happy, I think.” Michael’s eyes darken and my heart skips a beat.
“All right,” I say and we walk in together to my house. It’s unusually cold and I turn on the furnace.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee or tea?” I ask, rummaging through my bare maple kitchen cupboards.
“No thank you,” Michael says.
I sit down at the table with him. “So—?” He looks so attractive in that navy turtle neck, his eyes sincere, gazing at me intently.
“I don’t exactly know how to say this, so I’m just going to blurt it out.”
I smile and nod, my insides feeling like liquid.
“I wanted to see if we could formalize our engagement a little more,” he says.
“Oh? What did you have in mind?” I smile.
“I don’t know about you, but I have really had an enjoyable time with you since I met you,” Michael says.
“I’ve had a great time, too,” I say. What’s he going to say?
He leans forward. “But it’s more than that. I feel we have a special something here.”
“A special something, huh?” My tone is playful, but my heart is pounding something savage.
“What I wanted to ask is if I could date you—for real.”
“For real as in, there is no deal?” I say.
“No. We’d still have the deal, but I’d like to see if our relationship could actually lead somewhere other—than—in a pre-meditated divorce.” For a moment, he seems hesitant, shy even, and his breathing has become shallow.
I look him in the eyes. “So like—you’d take me on a real date?”
He nods his head.
“And kiss me for real?” I say. The atmosphere has changed around us now, and it’s dangerously electric.
He nods and takes my hands in his.
“And—?” I say.
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