Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set

  Both couples, while awaiting the blessed event of Aurora’s birth, had planned together that they would encourage a union between their children when they were of age, thus joining two great families, and two great commercial empires.

  Even now, when the couples got together, as they often did, the babies shared a playpen as their parents had high hopes of garnering a close relationship between the two from the start. Little Phillip was enthralled with the new baby, and treated her with gentle adoration. And little Aurora seemed just as fascinated with him.

  Everything was just perfect.

  Rustling sounds heralded the closeness of the stranger who had made the comment. With the long sleeves of her deep blue choir robe swinging, she pushed others, including the Princeton's, out of her way until she stood before the DeLaCourts. With her face pocked with sores and her eyes red with rage, she pointed a snarled finger at Jorge and began screaming, startling everyone clear to be back of the cavernous room. “I will ruin her! Just like your father ruined my son, Jorge DeLaCourt! I will end her reasons for living before she lives to see her twenty-first birthday! Then you will lose all, as have I!”

  She reached into the loosely hanging folds of her robe and chaos broke out in the sanctuary. Words like, “Gun! Watch out!” and “Everybody get down!” were yelled as men dressed in black suits with stark white shirts appeared, forcibly removing the writhing, screaming woman from the sanctuary. Her last words, before the large wooden doors closed her out, echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the thirty-foot, ceiling, painted with Biblical scenes.

  “She will cease to exist, just like my son!”

  Chapter One

  Twenty years and six months later…

  “Aurora, sweetie, you must stay home where it’s safe.”

  Aurora Rose held the curses inside, though she was furious to have gotten caught trying to sneak out the kitchen door. She was mostly furious that she’d had to sneak in the first place. She turned to her aunts, ready to repeat words she’d said time after time. But she was more determined than ever to have her way this time. Her few friends had promised a good time and she’d told them she would be there.

  “I am an adult and I’m not going to get into any trouble. You all know this. You have to stop trying to run my life.”

  What she hadn’t said was that they were not only determined to run her life, they were ruining it as well. She was the only college junior she knew of who’d had no social life at all while going to high school, nor while attending college and before long, her opportunities at being a kid would truly be over.

  The little social life she’d had to this point had very little to do with fun, and everything to do with schmoozing those who could help her launch her career as a clothing designer. She was tired of all work and no play. Mostly she just wanted to hang out with people her own age, not the aunts, nor the professors who thought of her as their star pupil.

  It was great that she was considered a gifted designer. It was after all her dream to have a show at Fashion Week in the City within the next couple of years, but she was really tired. And stressed. And getting old before her time.

  And it was all because of three old women.

  Aurora knew she was just going to have to put her foot down. She looked from one aunt to the next, and then to the last, and felt her heart soften. There was no way she could fuss at the women who’d stood guard over her, as much as raised her, since infancy. Their care had always been as consistent as it finally became curious. At times, even quite odd.

  Her parents had gotten involved in something the aunts would never talk about. But whatever the deed had been, it had kept her from ever getting to know them. Of course she’d envisioned everything from murders to drug abusers, but the aunts never confirmed nor denied her guesses. They could, and had, clammed up completely anytime her parents were mentioned, until finally, somewhere around the seventh grade, she’d just stopped asking.

  But as stubborn as they could be, not a one of the aunts had a mean bone in their frail, bent bodies, which prevented Aurora from pushing at them too hard. It was just that she wasn’t as old as them and she needed a life! Desperately.

  “Please,” she pleaded softly. “It’s only a dance. I’ll look around me at all times. I have my mace. And I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  The three elderly women looked at each other and Aurora’s heart sank at the fear in their eyes. She knew what that meant, and the anger resurfaced. “I am tired of being a prisoner. Nothing will happen to me! I am an adult now and you cannot stop me!”

  The oldest of the three moved towards her, and took her right hand in a soft grip that felt like satin-cloaked steel. She stared deeply into Aurora’s eyes. “My dear, evil is out there. Just waiting for an innocent, unsuspecting girl like you. You know what I’m talking about. If you leave our protection, that evil could find you, and fall upon you.”

  Aunt Riona’s violet eyes mesmerized, hypnotized, until Aurora shook her head and broke the strange connection. She didn’t know how the old woman did it, but those eyes had stopped her time and again from doing the things she’d wanted to do, all her life. Well, not tonight! She pressed her lips together and counted to ten. She couldn’t go along with their foolishness any longer.

  “Aunt Riona, I love you, and you, Aunt Millie, and you, too, Aunt Juniper,” she said to each in turn. She turned back to the leader of the little group, careful not to look her directly in her eyes, focusing instead on the kitchen’s door over her head. “You have to stop this. I’m not a little girl anymore and I don’t believe in your stories of some old witch cursing me when I was an infant, just because I was a beautiful baby. It’s completely ridiculous!”

  Aunt Millie moved forward, taking her other hand. When they played Good Cop, Bad Cop, Aunt Millie was always the good cop to Aunt Riona’s bad. Aurora sighed, knowing she would have to listen in spite of her desire to flee.

  Aunt Millie lightly grasped Aurora’s chin and turned her head in her direction. “But it’s true, dear. She had power, that one. Dark powers that folks scoff at now, but not believing in them doesn’t make them untrue.” A sad smile touched lined lips. “We wouldn’t lie to you.”

  Aurora searched their faces, her heart nearly breaking at the tears brimming in eyes faded by extremely advanced age. But she couldn’t allow them to rule her life with silly superstition, nor hold her emotionally hostage with crocodile tears any longer. “I’m going to this party and I’m going to have fun.”

  Aunt Juniper waddled with her cane to stand directly in front of Aurora. “You cannot! And that is final.”

  Aurora had to press her lips together to keep from screaming. When Good Cop, Bad Cop failed, Dictator Aunt was sure to follow. And she had, with her blue-silver bun of hair, black drawn-on eyebrows, and walking stick that looked like it had been carved in fairy-filled woods. The dragonfly carved hickory was beautiful, but was slammed against the hardwood floors to make a point as often as it was used to assist the old woman in walking.

  Aurora had grown up with these three telling her stories of gloom and doom rather than the fairy tales her few friends grew up hearing. The aunts had kept her completely in line with their wishes because she’d always been too afraid to rebel. Year after year, she done exactly as she’d been instructed because of that fear. But she was nearly twenty-one now and they weren’t going to do this to her any more.

  “I’ll be with my friends. In a large group of people. I know these people and there is no danger. I’m going. And that is the end of it!” Aurora moved forward to kiss each one of them on their pink cheeks. “I promise, I’ll be careful,” she added softly.

  Before they could say more, Aurora slipped out the door, passing her car as she crossed their small yard. Tonight she was taking a cab just in case she actually decided to act like a normal college student and have a drink that actually had alcohol in it.

  The taxi was already there, probably running up a ridiculously large fare as the aunts had h
eld her up for so long, but she didn’t care. Tonight was about fun, fun, and more fun and no matter the cost, she was going to enjoy herself.

  “Hotel Arlington, on Twenty-fifth Street.”

  She settled back against the vinyl seat to enjoy the view as they entered the City, where the New York nightlife was stirring. They crossed from Brooklyn to Chelsea where she was to meet her friends at the hotel. Like her, they all attended the same college and shared a passion in one of the many art studies offered there. Her friend Janice had secured the penthouse suite for her birthday celebration on the top floor and promised Aurora she would have the best time with their friends if she could come.

  And finally, after all this time, she was getting to join them.

  ****

  As politely as possible, Phillip peeled the arms of the inebriated girl from his shoulders, forced to use a little extra effort to push her away so she wouldn’t continue to gyrate her pubic bone against his groin. She sent him an exaggerated pout making her displeasure clear, before turning away to lasso the neck of the guy next to them.

  Sharp female words lashed out at her immediately as the man’s date objected to the intrusion on what she clearly considered her own property. Phillip shivered in distaste as he made a hasty escape to the balcony, wishing he’d picked up the habit of smoking when he was younger. He hated parties and knew he looked stupid hiding out on a terrace when he had no reason to be there. Mostly he hated that the girls he knew fawned all over him because of who he was, or rather, who his father was. But he’d needed to get away from his parent’s mansion and the girl they had “forgotten” to tell him they had invited for dinner.

  At the moment he was pretty sure he was still under the radar with the loud crowd inside the penthouse. These weren’t the people he normally hung with which was why he was here. The nameless girl he’d just escaped had stopped him on the street below half an hour before and asked if he’d like to join her at a friend’s party. Though he usually would never consider taking up a strange woman on such a request it seemed like the perfect opportunity to try something new. He was tired of brooding over the fact that his parents were determined to find him a mate that they could approve of, and that his muse had deserted him at a time when he desperately needed her.

  The distant cousin of European royalty he could easily dismiss, but this inability to paint was another matter. After years of hard work draining him of blood, sweat, and yes, even at times tears, he’d finally scored an exhibit of his own on merit alone. This one that had nothing to do with his name, his celebrity such as it was, or the fact that his mother was a patron of the arts and therefore someone felt obligated to hold a “benefit” so he could exhibit his work.

  And now, after achieving this long-held goal, he couldn’t even come up with a theme!

  He’d never felt so lost.

  It didn’t matter that tonight was about escape. He felt completely justified in indulging himself since he rarely ever did. There was no harm in taking just one stinking night without anyone knowing who he was. He wanted to blend in with these more-often-than-not broke college students and just hang out and have a conversation that didn’t involve his pedigree or his bank account. There was certainly no danger of that here. Most of those attending this soiree were only looking for a cheap good time and hoping for a quick, unencumbered lay. He almost felt guilty for disappointing the girl who’d invited him but he never dipped his stick into the unknown. All he needed was a freak accident with faulty protection and then he was someone’s father, destined to deal with the child’s mother for the rest of his life.

  No, thank you!

  He sighed, took a brisk cleansing breath, then chuckled. For once he really had gotten away with anonymity. It was getting harder and harder to hide these days. Between the tabloids his father called gossip rags, and the fortune magazines which reported more legitimate information on his family, the Princetons had little to no privacy.

  He felt like there was always someone nibbling at him to the point that he was afraid the day would finally come when he was no longer himself, but the product of another’s making. His parents took the public’s hunger for information in stride most of the time, but he hated it to the core of his soul. At twenty-three, he couldn’t so much as take a walk down Fifth Avenue and not have someone accost him for an autograph, or to ask for money, or to have some girl who’d seen him in a teen magazine squeal and giggle until he’d cringe in embarrassment.

  It sucked! And he was tired of it. He just wanted to meet someone who didn’t know anything about him. Some girl who would look at him and think, Hey, he’s hot. And then when she got to know him, think he was a cool dude. It wasn’t so much to ask.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

  His solitude invaded, Phillip took a deep breath, not believing for a moment that she hadn’t seen him and followed him to the balcony. He turned, ready to make a hasty escape back into the party, and felt the wind knocked from his lungs. She was, without question, the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  Philip couldn’t help but stare into her large blue eyes, eyes that studied him right back. Slowly her plump pink lips slid into a shy grin, and she took a step forward. “Hi.”

  Her voice was so soft, so pure, he knew he was a little mesmerized. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said again, clearly amused.

  “I’m Phillip Pr...eston.” He knew it was probably futile, but there was always that slim chance he’d be able to pull the lie off. Hopefully.

  She tilted her head. “They have an exercise to fix that.”

  Phillip frowned. “What?”

  “Your stutter. I think it has to do with breathing right or something.”

  Phillip couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t stutter.”

  “Oh.” She looked him over from head to toes as if assessing him. “Sorry,” she added as her gaze returned to his. She grinned again before trapping her bottom lip between very straight, very white teeth.

  “And your name is?”

  She glanced back to the French doors she’d just passed through. “A secret.”

  Phillip laughed. “Is it a game to guess it?”

  She shook her head, though he could see the idea amused her.

  “Are you hiding from someone?”

  She shook her head again. “No. It’s just that I don’t know you.”

  Phillip nearly jumped with the joy of it. “I’m a nice enough guy. What would you like to know?”

  That she didn’t answer immediately intrigued him. He liked that she was giving the question real consideration. And he loved that she didn’t feel the need to fill those seconds with useless, silly chatter. Finally she smiled, and he was certain his knees gave when two deep dimples appeared.

  “Cats or Dogs?”

  Phillip took a cleansing breath to stabilize his equilibrium and walked over to the patio table and chairs and motioned for her to sit before seating himself. “Easy. Cats.”

  Surprise lit her eyes. “Why?”

  Phillip shrugged. “They’re on the…” He coughed into his fist to cover his blunder. He’d nearly said they were on his family’s crest. “Sorry about that.” He cleared his throat. “Cats are low maintenance.”

  “Awww. So you’re lazy.”

  Phillip sat up straighter. “No. I just don’t want some dog needing me all the time. You know, let me in, let me out, pet me, feed me, I’m thirsty, and on and on. I’m busy.”

  She tilted her head again, obviously considering his statement. “Are you in school?”

  Phillip shook his head.

  “What do you do?”

  “Paint.”

  She sat up a little straighter, real interest in her eyes. “What do you paint?”

  Phillip felt excitement stirring as it always did when he thought about his passion. “Portraits, still-life, animals. Anything and everything. It’s like I put a brush in my hand and that’s it. This world falls away and I’m somew
here else. I’m someone else.”

  She flashed him that pearly white smile. “I know how you feel. The same thing happens to me when my fingertips touch a certain material. Suddenly an outfit comes to mind and I run for my sketchpad. Nothing and nobody matters until I nail the design. When I actually put theory to test, and it works out as I envisioned it…” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as her lips took on the satisfied tilt of a woman post-orgasm.

  A fellow artist. And one whose passion for the art ran as deep as his own. Nothing could have intrigued him more. “You design clothes? Wow. I’d love to see your work.” A speculative gleam entered her eyes making them sparkle, and his body, which had already stirred, sprang to full-fledged life. Desire wasn’t a strange bedfellow, but this went deeper than interest in having sex with a beautiful woman. She was almost too perfect to be true.

  “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” she asked jokingly.

  Phillip laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Would you paint me?”

  Phillip thought his heart would stop. She was exquisite. And would be in any light, in any setting. “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “Yes. But it will have to be a secret.”

  “What would you want? A portrait? Something elegant? Hmmm, yes, I could see you in something long and gauzy, the wind lifting your hair and the gown’s hem. Maybe a gown of your own creation?”

  She bit her bottom lip, slid a glance behind her as if to make sure no one else had come through the French doors, then turned back to him and whispered, “A nude.”

  Phillip crossed his legs to cover what her softly spoken words were doing to him, unsure if his reaction was sexual or if it went deeper, to that place that made him who and what he was. He rarely considered painting nudes any more. Well, he considered it, but had decided it would be something he wouldn’t be able to do for years to come, if ever, at least until he wasn’t considered such a major catch—yuck!

  It wasn’t that he hadn’t given it a shot, since he loved to study and record the angles and shadows the human body created. Sure, he enjoyed beauty in all its forms, but there was nothing on earth that compared to the complicated curve, angles, and motion than that of the human form.