His exhortation left her reeling and she gulped, her heart thrumming, her mind giddy as a slow flush spread across her face. She needed to stall, get her wits working.
"Wyatt, did you ever consider that I might have a not-so-sweet aspect too? A whole lot of 'em in fact."
"Like what?"
"I sleepwalk."
"I know that. Last night I found you in the closet saying you had to feed your cat. You don't have a cat."
"I fly. No way I'm giving that up."
"I'll deal."
"I'm a screw-up. And I have secrets, Wyatt, not bad secrets, nothing that would ever hurt you or shame you, but... stuff."
"You think I don't know that? I was there, Angelique, in Cory's room. Remember?"
He rolled over on top of her cradling her head in his hands, pinning her to the pillow, locking his eyes on hers.
"It's up to you, Angelique." He stroked her hair. "We consummate this marriage or not. We do... you're my wife. And you act like it. Decide." He could feel her breath quickening under him, feel a patina of sweat break out over her body.
"Wyatt, I'd make you an awful wife," she whispered, desire charging the atmosphere in the room, her body beginning to tremble.
"Let me worry about that."
Senses in disarray, her judgment inexplicably yielded to the effervescing thrill coursing through her and she unfurled beneath him.
They consummated their marriage. And after, they both laid next to each other in tender reflective silence knowing everything had changed as dawn slowly lightened the room.
And the thing above in the heavens knelt down to Wyatt and bestowed upon him a grateful blessing of all the love it had to give.
And all the power.
Chapter Five
"That's three locked doors," Angelique exclaimed entering the elevator with Wyatt, George and Johnson.
"This is a very exclusive Vegas jeweler, Ma'am," Johnson said. "Their security has to be tight."
George desperately squelched a smirk.
"I don't want anything sparkly," Angelique pronounced.
"You don't want your diamond to sparkle?" Wyatt responded, baffled.
"No. Nothing flashy. I'd like it to look like a little piece of spring river ice about to melt on my hand."
Spring river ice? You betcha, Wyatt thought dubiously. The poor jeweler. He was surely expecting on selling them a rock, not "a little piece of spring river ice," not to mention it having to be a diamond that wasn't "sparkly."
They walked into the large room decorated in mute calming colors except for the man in the severe pinstripe suit who rose from a table greeting them.
"Mr. Cochran," he said, extending his hand, "and the lovely bride." He always did it this way, he of course knew her name (no way she'd get in otherwise) but he never knew if the woman was keeping her own name or changing it to her new husband's. But he had a theory. The bigger the diamond the man purchased for her was directly correlated to whether she'd changed her name.
"My wife, Angelique Cochran," Wyatt introduced. Well that took care of that the jeweler thought without showing the least response even when he noticed the momentary flash of shock cross the woman's face. Christ, she was beautiful. It would be a two carat at least. He mentally calculated his commission.
"My brother, George, and my assistant, Johnson."
The jeweler nodded to them all and waved them to sit at the table.
"And what kind of stone are you interested in?" the jeweler asked careful to address both Wyatt and Angelique together. He never knew at the outset who would actually be wielding the decision power.
Three trays of diamond rings later the jeweler was about ready to rip his hair out. Nothing sparkly. Too big. No foo-foo. Was she nuts? She'd hooked herself a megabucks sugar daddy and she didn't want to reel him in?
"Wyatt, I don't need a diamond," she finally said trying to make it sound like it wasn't important to her, "the band is okay by itself."
Darn, he was going to lose the entire sale.
"I have a stone you might be interested in," the jeweler said quickly, trying to keep the distress from his voice. "It is almost two hundred years old, with few facets, by modern standards crudely cut. It definitely could pass for a piece of river ice. But it is," he smiled fondly, "a DD diamond. In other words, in terms of quality it is very rare, quite literally off the scale." He was already rising to get the antique. He returned and handed it to her.
She lit up as he placed the stone against the skin of her finger. It was square shaped, it screamed not-fancy-dancy but simple, indeed rather like something she actually had picked up one day walking along a river. It wasn't small but it wasn't garish-big either, it was... perfect.
Angelique's face glowed.
"How much?" she asked.
"We'll take it," Wyatt said.
"Wyatt, no, we have to see how much it costs, if it's--"
"This is a reputable establishment, Ma'am," Johnson interrupted. "The price will be appropriate."
"Set it in a plain rose gold setting," Wyatt said looking at Angelique who was biting her lip trying to conceal how much she liked the jewel. "No foo-foo," he added, his heart swelling as he saw how visibly happy she was with it. And as far as cost was concerned, he could always buy her more diamonds. Heck, she could have all the friggin' diamonds she wanted.
Even as Johnson drove them in the rental to the airport, Angelique couldn't take her eyes off the ring, a little smile quivering on her lips.
"It's a nice ring, Angelique," George smiled at her, "though perhaps not what people will be expecting."
She didn't know what that meant. What it meant was it sure isn't what Maureen picked out. And still wears.
"It was too expensive," she said though her eyes didn't budge and neither did her smile.
Wyatt snorted and George knew they were both thinking the same thing --the cost of Angelique's ring compared to the cost of Maureen's. George wondered what people --read Maureen-- would read into the discrepancy. But George had to admit, Angelique's ring, though no where near as expensive as Maureen's, was still somehow nicer. Better taste. Prettier. And that would register, even with Maureen. Younger and prettier, yes, that's what would be sticking in Maureen's craw.
"So when are you gonna lay all this on the family, bro?" George asked.
"No time like the present," Wyatt answered pulling out his cell phone and pushing buttons.
"Oh criminy," Angelique swallowed finally prying her eyes off her ring.
"Hello, Mom?" Wyatt said. "Yeah, hi. Look, I have some news for you. Yes, good news. I got married yesterday. We're here in Vegas on our way back, we just arrived at the airport. Mom? Mom?"
George's face splintered with laughter.
"Yes, that's George, he was best man. It was a very small ceremony, in my hotel room." And the bride was bombed out of her gourd, Wyatt didn't say. "Angelique. Angelique Reising. You remember the Gala? Remember that song I sang you liked so much? Yes, that's her. Twenty. A couple of weeks. Mom? Mom? ...Oh, hello, Dad."
"Tell him I won half a mill at the tables, that'll soften him up," George urged gleefully.
"Yes I did. No. No, I don't want one. It was my decision. A student at the university. Uncle Mal met her when we were at a restaurant once, ask him. Look, I know you all want to meet her, but I'm going to hold off on that for a few weeks, then I'll introduce you. No, I want to give her a chance to --hi, Mom. No... no dinners, no parties, let's postpone all that for a while. What --oh... Dad. NO SHE'S NOT!"
"I think we just got to the is-she-pregnant question," George grinned to Angelique. "Welcome to the family."
*****
"Let me pour you a drink," Malcolm said to Maureen.
"I don't want a drink."
"Yes you do. And you sure as hell need one."
"I'd like one too, Daddy," Tinka asked hopefully. "I mean, it's quite an occasion."
They were sitting in Malcolm's study discussing one topic: the news of Wyatt's marriage.
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"Did she say when he's getting back?" Maureen asked tersely.
"No, she said they were at the airport in Vegas with George, about to return. But she also said he doesn't want any family intrusions for a while so I wouldn't recommend you go tearing over there."
"A small one?" Tinka asked.
Malcolm turned his eyes to his daughter.
"You twenty-one yet?"
"In a couple of months..."
"Then that's when you shall be getting a drink."
"I can't believe he did this. To a singer. Tinka's age! And he's only known her for weeks. That fucking Gala." Maureen downed the drink Malcolm handed her and poured herself another.
"Stop your pacing and sit down. This isn't anything to get suicidal over."
Maureen pulled herself upright. She was five feet nine inches tall and she knew every one of those inches was luscious. Groomed. Coiffed. Blonded. But that girl... that girl had been special, even she had seen that. And so had Wyatt. She'd never get him back now.
"What if she doesn't want me working around him? I could lose my job, Malcolm. Then all I'd have to do would be the charity bookings at your Center."
Malcolm didn't give a rat's ass about Maureen's job at the company, let her go find a real one. He'd wanted the girl. And he really wanted to know why that half-pint eunuch Ira Silverberg had wanted her so desperately. Whatever he's paying you, I'll double. What had that been all about?
"I bet she's pregnant," Maureen sneered like a cobra spitting venom.
"Well that's how you got him," Tinka ventured cocking her head.
"I have my doubts Wyatt would be foolish enough to make that same mistake twice," Malcolm observed.
Maureen glared at them both but she didn't say anything because it was true, it was exactly how she had gotten Wyatt to marry her.
Maureen had been told she "probably" couldn't have children. She had embellished that a bit perhaps, telling Wyatt she absolutely could not get pregnant. But there she was all available for the oh so busy up and coming young businessman --one succulent accessible package, and voilà-- a miracle! Pregnant! And it wasn't like she hadn't given him an out; she'd told Wyatt if he didn't want to marry her, fine, her stepfather, Malcolm, would help her raise the child. His child. Raised by Malcolm. That had gotten a ring onto her finger fast enough. But the doctor's assessment had proven correct, she'd lost the pregnancy and then just as fast (thanks to that monstrous but still lucrative prenuptial agreement Wyatt had insisted upon) Wyatt too. But she hadn't lost the luscious, and she'd hoped... especially as the years passed and no woman took her place. Oh there were plenty of girlfriends, but they came and went, she remained. True, he kept her at the company mostly because she was (however tenuously) "family" but still, he kept her.
But now, a wife.
Malcolm truly did not care whether Maureen lost her job at the company for the simple reason that Malcolm did not care what happened to the company itself. Not anymore. He was the eldest, his father was supposed to have brought him in, left it all to him to manage for the family. But baby Tinka had been suddenly presented to the old man and investigations had been made. His father had found out all about his eldest son's indiscretions, his private sexual tastes, and his father had been so revolted he'd totally written Malcolm out of anything further to do with his world. To ease his conscience though, he'd given Malcolm a great deal of money to start his own company --far away from him-- and for pure vengeance Malcolm had done precisely that. He'd started an investment company that, owing to Malcolm's sharpness and unconcern for ethics of any kind had done quite well. Now he managed only his own money, very successfully, freeing his time for what he actually enjoyed, his Malcolm Cochran Performance Center (previously named the Malcolm Cochran Center for the Performing Arts, but he'd changed it when he'd put the athletic departments in).
As far as Tinka's mother's action --he'd seen to it that woman had paid mightily for what she'd cost him which was the reason Tinka had ended up motherless and he'd married Maureen's mother to raise her, a wife discarded as soon as she was no longer needed. But Maureen had known which side her bread was buttered on and she'd maneuvered superbly to stay with him, which he'd allowed solely because she'd proven herself useful in the discard-her-mother task. So Malcolm had no interest in Maureen's possible employment difficulty, nor the company Wyatt had stolen from him, no, Malcolm had interest in one thing.
Malcolm's plan for the ultimate acquirement of the girl, Angelique, would have to be carefully redrafted now, his pent up antagonism and rage of years past restrained. He would not be able to leave a loose end like Wyatt in the whole endeavor.
"I think it's all very romantic," Tinka sighed. "They looked so perfect together when they sang at the Gala and when he kissed her? I'd never seen anything like that, half the audience combusted! I wonder if she knows how lucky she is, how good he's going to be to her."
That got Malcolm thinking. Yes, how would he treat her? Some of Malcolm's lessons to Wyatt had stuck. Did she know about them? Had he told her? If she only found out after she'd committed a punishable transgression there was a good chance she'd be absconding from that marriage straightaway.
It was all such a disappointment.
And all of it based on a sexual fantasy Malcolm had had since forever. He wanted to find out what would happen with one girl and two men. Simultaneously. He wanted to hear the scream. But that of course required another man's participation and he couldn't risk just any man. No, he'd decided it would be Wyatt. Perfect. He'd begun Wyatt's careful grooming vis-à-vis his confidential preferences on the day Wyatt had turned eighteen. A very high quality prostitute young Wyatt had enthusiastically accepted. And more. Then, with his expensive ladies of the evening Malcolm had instructed Wyatt regarding the proper disciplining of a female into obedience. And Wyatt had gone along. But then Malcolm had attempted to segue Wyatt to the next step, the enjoyment of the female after obedience had been achieved and at this Wyatt had blanched. No, at this Wyatt had been horrified. His student had fled. And forever after there had been that judgmental disapproval from Wyatt, the little snit. And George? George hadn't even accepted the proffered prostitute on his eighteenth.
Malcolm smiled. Maybe he should resume his search for another man to assist him with his fantasy. Maybe he could find one in time so that Angelique could be the other participant in his little reverie. That would be nice, he thought. That would be very nice.
*****
"I have to, Wyatt, I'm under contract," Angelique reproached him.
"You are my wife now, you do not have to perform. I'll buy out your contract."
"That would still make me a welcher. I don't want that reputation. And besides, it's at the most elite private club in the city --even you are a member!-- it's not like I'll be lounge lizard singing someplace."
Wyatt stiffened truculently. They had been living in his home for a short while and this was their first disagreement. Angelique was committed to perform at Malcolm's very exclusive atop-the-Performance-Center-club on Friday night but Wyatt didn't want his new wife singing and shaking her booty for his friends, business associates, competitors, enemies, all of them, to gawk at.
"The answer is NO."
"I have to Wyatt. It's... all arranged." Wyatt peered at her quizzically knowing she was hiding something and that she was practicing a look on him.
"What," he said, his features set in hawklike intensity, "is going on?"
"I couldn't... stand the idea of me not saying anything to your parents when we got back from Vegas. What if that made them hate me? So... I got your Mom's email address off your phone and I sent her the video of us singing that duet at your Gala. And she emailed me back."
"And what," he sensed trouble, "did she say?"
"She invited me to your birthday party Friday night which you told me nothing about! I told her I couldn't, I was working at the club. But we... worked it out."
"And how," he fought to control his temper, "did the two of you
do that?"
"She's changed her plans. She's going to serve an hors d' oeuvres buffet, not a sit down dinner, at six o'clock, not eight, and then, after--" Angelique took a deep breath and plunged in, "we're all going to the club and you all are gonna watch me perform and after we're having a birthday cake there for you." She said this on one very fast exhaled breath. "Your Mom," she repeated in a final broadside. "Your Mom."
He had forgotten all about the damn birthday party. And now his mother and his wife had "worked it out" with no consultation with him whatsoever let alone any input.
"My whole family," he recapped, letting it sink in, "meeting you for the first time."
"Well it's not like they haven't seen me perform before, Wyatt. And I'll tone it down, I'll take out the French prostitute song."
"That would be appreciated. Especially if my grandmother comes."
She smiled. It really was like the married girls at the Center had been advising her all week. Getting what she wanted was all about handling him. Laying stuff on him at the right time.
"Angelique, you realize who will be there, don't you? Uncle Mal. I didn't get the impression you particularly liked him. And he will undoubtedly bring his stepdaughter, Maureen, who I've told you is my former wife. Are you sure you want to face that? My parents, Malcolm, Maureen, all at the same time? And if Ira Silverberg finds out you're performing at the club, which he will, where do you think he's going to be?"
"Okay don't take this as too smaltzy, Wyatt, but sometimes I think I can face anything if you're with me."
Now he really sighed. No way he could say no to her after she said something like that and he figured she darn well knew it. He looked at her. She was still smiling.
Yup, she knew it. Pushover.
*****
Angelique spent several minutes in front of the mirror in Wyatt's bathroom "thinking" her appearance. Valuable, she thought, worthwhile, beautiful, worth it. These were the things she wanted her appearance to communicate to her new in-laws. As she stared at her face, her body, yes she could see it. It was there. She was slinky glowing drop dead gorgeous. They would understand why she was okay for Wyatt, why she was worthy of him. They would approve of her. She was ready.
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