Oh just take it out, she thought in exasperation. She was sure he had it on him.
"That's true, Henry, and I am always interested in anything that benefits Wyatt."
"Yes, yes, I knew you would be. Now please understand this doesn't have anything to do with you personally. It's just standard nowadays, it's for both your protection. I took the liberty..."
Of course you did, just get to it already.
"...of having a prenuptial agreement, well technically an antenuptual agreement seeing as how you're already married-- drawn up for you and Wyatt. I would really like it if you would at least look at it, read it, consider it."
"Do you have it on you?" she asked clandestinely swinging his body to the side to hide him from Wyatt who was seated at the table frequently glancing up, his eyes searching for her.
"Yes, I do, right here," the buttery relief in his voice was palpable that she hadn't gotten all temperamental and thrown a hissy fit at him. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a white envelope. Angelique sucked in her breath and whirled him behind another couple.
"Do you have a pen?" she asked quickly.
"What? You have to read it first, Angelique, negotiate the terms--"
"Henry, it doesn't matter what it says. If Wyatt and I ever broke up I would not accept a penny from him. I'm having a devil of a time not accepting his money as it is, he's very insistent. Just give me the pen and the prenup and for heaven's sake do it now." She again looked at Wyatt.
Henry could not believe his good luck. He pulled a pen from inside his jacket and handed it to her. She signed the document against his chest and gave it back to him.
"Put it away," she shushed him urgently, spying Wyatt standing up and starting toward them with an I'm-gonna-claim-my-bride determination to his face.
"I think you've had enough dance time with her, Dad," Wyatt interjected putting his arm around Angelique.
"She's all yours," Henry smiled, about to release her.
"Yes she is. Which is why you can give me that piece of paper you had her sign right now."
Wyatt's ferocity was so intense neither he nor his father noticed what happened to Angelique, the animated gasp, the electrified flush, the hungry awe that swept across her face.
"Wyatt, I was only trying to--"
"I know what you were trying to do. It's not your business. The paper. Now."
Reluctantly Wyatt's father reached into his jacket and pulled out the envelope giving it to him. In front of Henry's face Wyatt tore it into pieces dumping them on the tray of a passing waiter. Leading her by the hand Wyatt sternly marched Angelique back to the table.
"Angelique is tired," Wyatt declared which caused his entire family to turn to a rosy galvanized-looking Angelique and think, as one, she sure doesn't look it. "So we're heading out now. Mom... and Dad, thank you for a lovely party."
Good-byes were exchanged and Wyatt, still fuming, led Angelique to the car. It wasn't until they were seated inside, Johnson at the wheel, that he finally noticed the vitalized semblance on Angelique's face.
"What?" he demanded, but she heard the concern.
"N... nothing," she said.
"My father had no right to do that."
"Fine."
"Angelique what is it?"
Her eyes darted to the back of Johnson's head and Wyatt knew he had no hope of getting to whatever was bothering her until they were alone. He sighed. He did not want to have a fight with her then, he quite wanted to do something else, something he'd been thinking about since she'd stepped onstage in that no-underwear dress of hers.
Johnson pulled up to the house and she got out, not waiting for her door to be opened.
Angelique was enthralled with Wyatt's house. It was large of course, surrounded by lawn and forest, but it was the inside that intrigued her the most. Wyatt, it turned out, was a bit of an antique collector and the things that were "antique" to Wyatt were the things that were childhood memories to Angelique. The displays of long vanished but achingly familiar objects gave the house a warm feel to her, despite it's marble floors, high arched windows, grand fireplaces, and overall indicators of wealth. Angelique and Wyatt lived on the first floor, a vast labyrinth of rooms of all types, purposes, and decor, while Johnson lived on the second floor which Angelique had never visited. Wyatt had no other live-in staff, but a housekeeper and groundsman visited daily.
"I'm going to change," Angelique stated radiating restless energy as she reached the bedroom disappearing into her large closet before Wyatt could question her. He undressed in his own, slipping on only pajama bottoms. When he reappeared in the bedroom Angelique was already there, wearing a full length bathrobe... and spiked heals. And she'd changed her hair, it was now in one tight braid down her back. But it was the expression on her face that stopped him, the only way to describe it was that she looked in heat.
Her face was flushed. She was almost panting as she moistened her lips with her tongue. Her eyes were blazing at him aflame with compelling need.
"Baby, what is it?" he asked brushing the back of his fingers along the side of her face.
"I felt something," she answered almost quivering at his touch, "something new. I... liked it."
"What? When?"
"When both you and your father had your arms around me."
"What did you feel?"
She edged closer to him her body moving like a cat.
"Your... power."
"My power?"
"I never felt anyone else's before. Just my own. But you were... angry. You wanted to protect me from him. It came from you, surged right through me against him. It felt good."
"Baby I don't know what you're talking about."
"I want to feel it again. Please, Wyatt. I'll give you anything you want."
"Angelique I don't know how I gave you any 'power' in the first place, how can I possibly do it again?"
She was close to him now, gradually pushing him backward to the bed. She dropped her bathrobe, he inhaled in shock.
Angelique was wearing a tight red bustier laced up her front, her breasts swelling over its top. She had on black lace panties edged in red ribbon. Her nylons were a sheer black but her stilettos were red silk sparkling with rhinestones. Wyatt hadn't known she possessed such an outfit but then realized it had Anthony written all over it. Of course he would have given her such a gift when she married, it was exactly what he would have given her.
"Angelique," he said, troubled, "tell me what you want."
"You. Your power."
"How?"
"I... think I know a way."
"Tell me."
"Don't be mad."
"Tell me."
"I want you to take me."
"What are you saying? You want me to make love to you?"
"Yes. Eventually. When you fail. I'll let you."
"When I fail at what?"
"Taking me. Your force against mine."
Comprehension finally dawned on Wyatt.
"You want me to rape you?"
"No. I won't let you. But I want you to try. Try with all the might you have. I want to feel it again. And I want a wager, one that will make you try with all your strength, all your power coming at me."
"What wager?"
"If I win, if I stop you... I get to drive your GT9 out to the country on an errand."
His WHAT?
"Angelique that car cost eight hundred grand. It goes two hundred fifty miles per hour. You got your driver's license a few weeks ago."
"Then defeat me. It's motivation. Use all your power." She was breathing on him now. He was throbbing.
He was vastly stronger than her he knew. He could "take" her as she called it, pretty easily.
"You really want this?" he asked in apprehensive indulgence.
"Yesss."
Something in her brushed against him and she felt an unlock, a release, flood her. It was almost like she was a spirit again but a spirit with a body.
Her power. It need
ed Wyatt's power to join hers, to be complete, to be one. That was what she'd felt when she'd stared through the vent slots at him when he'd been singing his song, that was what she'd felt when he'd told her he'd taken her costume off and again when he'd demanded she submit to his authority before consummating their marriage, she needed to join with this man, bond herself to him yield to his protection. Her feelings made no sense to her, it was almost like they weren't really her own, she just knew she had to do this, knew it was life and death to her, he needed to claim her, pronounce her his. She needed his power all over her, through her, in her, marking her and shining from her for all the world to see. It felt crazy.
"Oh baby," he breathed.
She had backed him up so he was standing against the foot of the bed facing her.
She stepped away several feet.
"Now," she said, closing the deal.
He hesitated for only a moment wondering if the night's champagne had done something to his better judgment. He would make this very quick (please God, let those laces not be knotted) and easy for her. He lunged.
Angelique grabbed him by his forearm and threw him sideways in the air over her shoulder alighting him gently to the ground and releasing him. He dashed to his feet and stared at her. It wasn't possible. She had handled him like he was a weightless feather.
"No," she said. "Use your power. Match me."
This has to be shotgunned through his brain but he didn't know what it meant, it didn't even feel like it was his thought.
Take her.
This time he approached her carefully, warily, her eyes willing a vastness of power at him, her stance so feminine, so deceptive. He reached out to grab her but as soon as he felt it from her, he matched it, something from deep within him arose as he touched her flesh and he was rendered speechless.
"Ahhh..." she groaned throwing her head back, a look of ecstasy on her face. And then she looked into his eyes and was terrified. It felt like they were grinding her to dust, ferocious, relentless. She was looking right at his power, she knew. She had never seen anything like it, not in this world or the other, it was almost a godlike splendor. And it was all intent on one thing. Claiming her. Having her. Owning her. Possessing her. Protecting her. Taking her as per request.
"Wyatt," she trembled staring into his eyes, they were chilling and her nerve broke. She knew she did not want this. Whatever had come over her was not her. And it had never occurred to her that the otherworldly energy she had sensed in him might be greater than hers, that she might lose. She didn't want to be owned, or possessed, or... the other. "Let's call this off, okay?"
But she had thrown down the gauntlet, he merely shook his head no, unblinking and inflexible and coming closer.
She yanked her arm from his grasp and turned fleeing the room down the hallway outside to the huge living room with all the speed she had. He was right behind her eating up the distance.
The battle was fierce. Together they fought, clutched, grappled, soared.
"Please," she squealed to him in an unreal voice knowing she'd landed herself in it regally this time but he paid her no mind.
They were back in the bedroom, wheezing, breathless, gasping. Angelique's bustier, panties and shoes were gone, she had only her stockings. Her braid was undone, her hair hanging loosely in a wild pony tail. She was gulping for air, standing precisely where she had been standing before when she had run. Wyatt was completely naked, a large scratch bleeding across his shoulder, his teeth gnashing, his chest heaving. He sprang at her and this time connected, solidly, her arm, and he hurled her in a high graceful arc over his head behind him directly onto the bed, she landed with a loud whump.
And he was on her, he was going to do this. But suddenly no, he was being lifted up, no pushed up, away, off of her. And he knew it was her doing it, her talents, oh yes. He was suspended slightly above her and he saw the smile creep across her face, the triumph.
I don't know what she is. Something profound maybe. I will find out. But whatever she is I've caught her, she's mine, I will keep her!
Wyatt summoned everything he had and reached down, his hands pressed together as if in prayer. With a new intensity his fingertips inexorably pierced the air above Angelique's naked body penetrating downward and when he touched her he began to open his hands and pull them apart with grim fearful efficiency and with it the force that was keeping him from her.
"Wyatt!" she shrieked as her disbelieving mind realized what was happening.
She was pinioned under him, confounded by him, his muscles on her hard as rock, her skin tingling at his touch, her heartbeat pummeling his.
"You are mine, Angelique," he roared exultantly, his need raging, "I will love you for eternity."
And with one stroke he drove into her.
The world disappeared. They were floating, somewhere else. It was dark, vast, formless. Gradually stars appeared, they were far away yet all seemed to be watching. And somehow that seemed good to both Angelique and Wyatt, like they were supposed to be there. Wyatt accelerated and Angelique started to keep pace with him in union, unabashed, this was right, this was her salvation, her only hope, him. The onslaught consumed them with gloriously excruciating pleasure and they detonated together, joined, clinging to each other in pure euphoric elation.
And then, peace.
Slowly the stars dissipated, the world re-formed, whatever was supposed to have happened had happened, Angelique had a chance now, a protector committed to her wholly, by shared love, power, acceptance and choice. Wyatt dropped off of her onto the bed, his breath shallow, the silence choking him. Well fuck me, what the hell was THAT? There was so much he wanted to ask but his strength was ebbing fast and he knew her answer would just be I-read-a-lot anyway.
"Try not to scratch it," he said drained into exhaustion.
"What?" she asked trying to slow her heartbeat.
"The GT9. When you drive it. Bring it back in one piece."
Out for the count, she rolled over on top of him and fell asleep.
*****
"Wyatt, good to see you again," the Arab gentleman said in a voice of studied informality, "and on a Monday morning with such short notice."
"Surprising," Wyatt answered, a coolness to his voice. "I thought you'd be heading home before now, Rashid."
"Change of plan. May I sit?"
"Certainly," Wyatt gestured to a chair in front of his desk, not the comfortable one next to the sofa.
Rashid was in this thirties with bland lashless eyes and already bald. He was tall and thin but nevertheless had a pot belly owing to his taste in alcoholic beverages which owing to his wealth and position he had unlimited access to even in his Moslem world. He had a reputation for being sincere and forthright, both totally false. He was deviously shrewd and despicably callous; in the best of times aloof, uncaring and cold hearted --and this wasn't the best of times.
"I would like to revisit our port discussions my friend," Rashid said sitting down, glancing at Wyatt's office door making sure it was shut. It would not do for Wyatt's secretaries to overhear this conversation.
"My understanding was that the Chinese have made you a definitive offer," Wyatt said enjoying making Rashid squirm.
Rashid blanched but recovered immediately and resumed his posture of pretended geniality.
"Your information is impressive, Wyatt, and yes, I admit I was tempted. But I would like to re-open negotiations with you."
Wyatt wondered what had changed and changed dramatically.
"Would you be interested?"
"The city needs to modernize its port, you know that. Your government [Wyatt almost said "family" which in Rashid's case was the same thing] has the investment capital to do that so of course I'm interested. But I will not offer you what the Chinese did, no."
They both knew what he was referring to. Rashid was in charge of finding appropriate investment opportunities for his country/family/government's oil wealth, and Wyatt's proposal for a billion dollars worth of it w
as to modernize the city's port. It had been a good plan which would have been advantageous for Wyatt, the city, and for Rashid's people. Rashid should have agreed to it but the Chinese had presented an inferior proposal for a port off their mainland that Rashid had secretly (he thought) agreed to --due to a hefty promised bribe.
"I am no longer interested in what the Chinese suggested. And my offer to you is a good one. You will get your modern port. A billion dollars worth of investment here, think of the jobs it will create. And when the new port is up and running it will turn hundreds of millions of dollars worth of profit per year."
"I know this, Rashid, I'm the one who wrote the proposal to you."
"Yes, yes, and we were --and are-- quite impressed with it. We would like to do business with you."
"In exchange for what, Rashid?" Wyatt was impatient for him to get to the point.
"Sometimes a man must make sacrifices for his business, for his community, no? For the greater good I mean. The deal I am offering you is quite lucrative, a sacrifice on your part is not unreasonable."
"Sacrifice? What are you talking about? I've already told you I will pay you no bribe." He was getting irritated at Rashid's self-justificatory bullshit.
Rashid took a deep breath and affixed the proper look of feigned humility to his face.
"In my country we have intermediaries to handle these transactions. I would send my representative to you, he would meet with yours, discuss many things over the course of a few days. Then, a beautiful lunch perhaps, where the subject is finally --delicately-- introduced. Both parties speaking to each other with respect and level heads. Alas, there is no such tradition in this country. I must speak for myself and speak bluntly. I do not wish for you to take offense in any way. I ask in advance for your pardon if I affront you, that is most certainly not my intent. I will give you the entire port deal. All of it. Everything you want and more. But I want something too. Not forever --just a loan. A visit. For a little while, that's all. And I will be generous and very, very kind. You need have no fear whatsoever. And hundreds, perhaps thousands of people over the coming years will have jobs and livelihoods because of you, your sacrifice. A noble sacrifice."
Angelique Rising Page 10