He grabbed her hand, holding it against his heart and looking into her eyes in the dim moonlight. “Tessa. I’m exactly the man you met. Money isn’t who I am. It wasn’t an act. I’m the man who would rather cool down his own horse. I’m that man who thinks paying others to do your hard work is a waste of money. I’m that man that would rather spend the afternoon watching his niece ride a horse in a rinky-dink show ring than play the ponies at Del Mar. I never claimed to be anyone else and having money doesn’t change that.”
Tessa sighed. He had her there.
“Tessa, talk to me. Say something. Anything.”
“I didn’t tell you that I had money because I didn’t want you to judge me for being rich.” She laughed, swiping away the tears that had escaped. “I wanted you to see who I was before you knew the truth.”
Mike chuckled, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb.
“See. We’re not that different, you and I. Let’s say we give us a shot. No secrets this time.”
She nodded and smiled. He bent down and kissed her cheek softly. Mike took her into his arms and pulled her close.
“Is there anything else I need to know about you?”
“Not really,” Mike said. “Well, maybe one thing.”
He turned her towards him and tilted her chin up and penetrated her gaze with his piercing stare. He rubbed his thumb gently over her cheek. “I don’t know when it happened, but Tessa, I love you. Will you be my date for tonight?”
He didn’t wait for her answer, kissing her long and hard before pulling away. She gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically. She slid her arm in his and walked back into the ballroom through the side door.
This time, when she walked into the ballroom, she was beaming. She was wrong before, when she had thought the ballroom had been every woman’s dream come true.
Wrapped in Mike’s strong arms she realized, this was a dream come true. Her dream come true.
THE END
Bonus Story 8 of 40
Starlet
Breakup or Makeup
It was all over the news, popular TV, on the cover of every gossip magazine, and being covered by the major radio stations. It was the same story with varying titles and slightly varying details. ‘Superstar Singer Damian gets Physical with Girlfriend, Simone; R&B Singer of the Hit Single Love Over Lust,’ is what they were all talking about, more or less. Here were a few more: ‘Damian and Simone Pre-Breakup Blow-Up,’ and ‘Simone Dumps Long Time Boyfriend, Damian, After Catching the Love and Lust Singer in a Hotel Room with a Miami Stripper,’ and ‘Damian Refuses to Be Dumped: Gets Physical With Simone.’ It went on and on, but you get the gist of what’s going on. Everyone had questions. Everyone wanted interviews. I had to get a new phone and change my number. There were paparazzi posted across the street from my house. I couldn’t go anywhere without being bombarded by inappropriate questions and pictures taken. I had been hiding out in my house all weekend, occasionally sending my assistant out to pick up necessities for me. I had recently sent her out for sushi and smoothies.
There was a knock at my front door. I padded barefoot across the cool hardwood floors and peered through the peephole of one of the thick double doors. I opened the door and stepped back to let my mother in. She entered in a flurry of expensive perfume and designer shades and clothes.
“You’re all over the tabloids!” she exclaimed, as she plopped down on the cream sofa, in exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had to find out on the cover of US Weekly while I was getting my hair done!” I sat down cross-legged on the sofa beside her and sighed deeply. In front of my mother, I could let down my guard and let out the tears that I had been holding in for far too long. They filled my eyes and ran away down my cheeks. My mom wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close tsking and ‘there there’ing. She shook her head. “This is a nightmare, but you will get through this. You’re stronger than this,” she said soothingly, and then angrily added, “That monster needs to be thrown into jail! He doesn’t have any damn sense!” Just as she finished talking, there was another knock at the door. We both looked at the door. “Who could that be?” my mom asked me. I wiped the tears off of my face.
“It’s probably Cassie. I sent her for sushi and smoothies. She should be back by now,” I explained, standing up. My mom clapped her hands together excitedly.
“Sushi! Yum!” My mom loved sushi. She was the one who had introduced it to me. I smiled as I walked to the front door. In the back of my mind, I wondered why Cassie hadn’t just used her key. Then I wondered why my mom hadn’t used hers either. Then I remembered that I had gotten the locks changed. I was planning on giving my mom her key today. As far as Cassie, her hands were probably full. I opened the door without checking the peep hole and my mouth was instantly dry when I saw who was standing on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my hand still on the door, ready to close it at any given moment. I could hear cameras flashing from way too close.
“Can you please let me in so that we can talk?’ Damian pleaded. Like my mom, he too was wearing a pair of large designer shades. I stood firmly in the doorway.
“I don’t think that that’s a good idea,” I said, but Damian slid past me into the house.
“What the hell is he doing here?” My mom demanded, jumping up off of the couch and storming over. Damian smiled wide as my mom got right in his face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming over here after all of this bullshit!”
“It’s good to see you too Mrs. Leshay, I hope all is well,” Damian said sarcastically, as he walked past her to sit on the couch. I crossed my arms and walked over to stand beside my mom who was glaring at Damian.
“You need to leave,” I said.
“Before I call the police,” my mom finished. Damian chuckled.
“Damn! Cold blooded! You don’t even know what happened Mrs. Leshay,” Damian exclaimed.
“You’re right, I don’t. Anyone care to fill me in on what’s been going on?” My mom asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Your daughter isn’t innocent. She put her hands on me first,” Damian said. My body temperature rose as I remembered what had happened, the still fresh anger returning.
“Yea, after I caught you sleeping with another woman!” I snapped. My mom gasped and shook her head.
“So, it’s true,” she murmured.
“After Simone hit me, I reacted. It was a reflex. I never intended for it go down like that,” Damian admitted. I scoffed.
“Of course not. You didn’t intend to get caught. I should have cut you!” I spat, ready to lunge at him again, but my mom grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“No need for threats Simone. It’s still all love,” Damian said, as he stood up and took a step towards me, opening his arms for a hug. I looked at him like he was crazy, still entertaining thoughts of attacking him. Unexpectedly, Damian dropped down onto his knees before me. “Simone, I made a mistake and for that, I will forever be sorry. I was a fool, but I can’t lose you. Simone I love you. Please, don’t do this to us.” I could see my mom roll her eyes dramatically out of the corner of my eye.
“Don’t do this to us?! You did this to us!” I yelled. Hot tears filled my eyes, but this time, I refused to let them fall. Damian stared up at me with eyes nowhere near as sad as mine.
“I know I did and I’m so sorry. If you just give me another chance, I’ll prove to you that-” Damian was cut off by a key in the door. This time it had to be Cassie. No one else had a key yet. Sure enough, in breezed Cassie, laden with bags of sushi and a box containing smoothies. I leaned my head back and blinked away the tears. Cassie closed the door with her foot before looking at all of us. When she peeped the scene, her jaw dropped and she almost dropped her load. Cassie quickly closed her mouth, and one look from my mom sent her straight into the formal dining room without a second glance.
“You had your chance. Now it’s time to go,” my mom
said to Damian. Anger flashed across his face as he tried to ignore her, focusing all of his energy on me as he stared deeply into my eyes. Damian took my hands into his.
“Please, Simone. Don’t do this,” he pleaded, kissing my hand. I was beyond disgusted in him.
“You’re pathetic and I want nothing more to do with you,” I told him, pulling my hands away and taking a step back.
“Please! Simone! Just give me one more chance!” he said, beginning to cry, which only added to my disgust.
“No! You had your chance! Now get the fuck out!” I snapped. The anger that had been hiding behind the bullshit came to the surface as he leapt up, his hands balled into fists.
“Are you fucking someone else?” he demanded. My mom sucked her teeth and dramatically rolled her eyes once more. I joined her and rolled mine as well. I wasn’t going to even dignify that with a response. I calmly walked over to my front door and held it open. I could hear cameras flashing. Damian knocked a vase of fresh roses off the kitchen table in passing, sending it to the floor and shattering; roses and water everywhere. As he stormed out, he ripped the door out of my hand and slammed it behind him. My mom gasped and covered her mouth. Cassie entered the room, checking to see if I was alright. Before anyone could say anything, we all heard shouting outside.
All three of us hurried to the kitchen window to peer out at what was happening on the front lawn. I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was stepping and accidentally got cut on the bottom of my foot by a piece of glass. I stopped and lifted up my foot and then proceeded to pull out a shard of glass. Blood spilled out of the cut.
“Shit!” I snapped, as I tried to maintain my balance and hop back into the living room to sit on the couch.
“Oh my God,” my mom muttered, as she and Cassie stared out of the window. Cassie didn’t say anything. “Damian attacked a reporter. Smashed the man’s camera and everything,” my mom said, as she shook her head. She looked over her shoulder expecting to see me. “Simone,” she said, when she didn’t see me, she turned all the way around, eyes searching until she saw me sitting on the couch, trying to stop the blood from running out of my foot. “Oh my goodness!” She exclaimed, when she saw the blood, hurrying over to me. “Cassie, get a first aid kit and have Margaret come clean this mess up so that no one else gets cut,” my mom instructed.
“Yes Mrs. Leshay,” Cassie answered with a nod, as she hurried out of the room. My mom grabbed a napkin, wet it at the sink and headed into the living room to sit beside me. She shook her head as she wiped my foot clean.
“That boy is out of control,” she muttered. She looked me in the eyes. “You need to stay away from him. He’s headed for destruction, don’t let him drag you down with him.”
“I know mom, I won’t,” I assured her. Margaret, my housekeeper and chef, entered the kitchen and began silently cleaning up the mess of glass, water, and roses. Cassie came into the living room and handed my mom the first aid kit. My mom took it, opened it, and began cleaning my foot. We could see the flashing lights of police sirens outside.
“Probably because of that reporter Damian attacked,” my mom muttered, shaking her head and sucking her teeth. There was a loud knock at the door. My mom handed me the band-aid that she was about to put over the cut on my foot, before rising. “I’ll handle this,” she said, as she headed toward the front door. Margaret had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and disappeared as quietly as she had come. While my mom talked to the police, I bandaged my foot. Cassie came into the living room and placed the bags of sushi on the coffee table, and handed me a mango smoothie.
“Thank you Cassie,” I told her, as I took a sip of the delicious drink. While my mom talked to the police, I opened some of the sushi. I realized that I was extremely hungry and stuffed a California roll into my mouth. My mom finished talking to the police, closed the front door and returned to the living to sit beside me. She dug into the bag and removed two sets of chop sticks, handing one to me. Using the chop sticks, my mom picked up a sushi roll and popped it into her mouth. Cassie handed my mom a smoothie and sat beside her, sipping her own. My mom thanked her and took a sip of the thick smoothie.
“I told the police what happened,” my mom informed me, after eating another roll. “Now, given today’s events, I have a few recommendations for how you should proceed,” she said, going into momager mode. She began counting off on her fingers. “For one, you should discontinue any and all contact with Damian. Secondly, you should file a restraining order. Thirdly, you should hire a private bodyguard, who will be here with you at the house and with you when you go out.” I nodded in agreement with the first recommendation, but groaned at the other two. My mom gave me a look. “As your momager, I will file the restraining order for you, but you definitely need a bodyguard. I’ll make some calls and we can start interviewing bodyguards as soon as tomorrow.” I sighed. I was sad that it had come to this. Police. Restraining orders? Bodyguards?! I shook my head, wanting nothing more than this nightmare to be over. Finally, I nodded.
“Fine. Let’s interview some bodyguards,” I agreed.
*****
Protect and Serve
We interviewed bodyguards all morning. Met so many of them that their faces all blurred together. Ex-marines, ex-navy seals, ex-military men. Guards who had worked for politicians, ambassadors, princes, actors, and musicians. It took hours, and I still had not found one. And then he walked in. His name was Hunter. He was thirty-five, six foot two, two hundred pounds of pure muscle and he was gorgeous. He wore his long blonde hair in dreadlocks that were pulled back in an elastic band at the nape of his neck. He had these magnificent blue-green eyes, that shined when he smiled and freckles. I for one, love freckles. I couldn’t stop staring at him. None of us could. When he sat down, my mom, Cassie, and I were all speechless. Hunter seemed unfazed by the silence, maintaining his composure as he waited patiently for one of us to speak.
“Hello Hunter. We have interviewed many capable candidates today. What sets you apart from the rest? Why should we hire you?” I asked.
“I’m sure that you have met many with similar backgrounds as mine, but I am confident that you have not met one with a heart like mine. I chose you. I chose this job specifically, because of you. I do not just take jobs. I choose jobs that resonate within me and yours touches close to home. When I was nine years old, I watched an unfaithful, lying ex-boyfriend beat my mom to death. At the time, I was afraid and very small, but I tried my best to kill my mother’s murderer, and I would have succeeded, but I stopped myself because I knew that my mother would not have wanted me to become a murderer. Instead, he wound up in a hospital in critical condition, with a broken jaw and two broken hands. I am not a murderer. I serve and protect the people I am hired to serve and protect, just as I had done during my time in the military,” Hunter explained. We were all in awe. No one spoke, while he spoke. We were all captivated and listened to his very touching story. I had heard all that I needed to hear.
“You’re hired,” I announced. My mom looked me like I was crazy.
“Simone, wouldn’t you like to take your time and contemplate all of your options?” My mom asked me.
“No, I have thought and contemplated and deliberated, and Hunter is the man for the job,” I said to my mom. To Hunter, I asked, “how soon can you start?”
“As soon as you need me to start,” he answered.
“Perfect! Then you’ll start today!” I clapped my hands and stood up. “Cassie will draw up the contract and go over your salary with you. Your first assignment will be to accompany me to my studio session this afternoon. It will be here, at the house, in my home studio. I don’t know if you need to be present in the actual studio or if you survey the grounds. I’m going to let you decide how to go about doing your job. Just keep the paparazzi and the crazies away and I will be happy.” At this, Hunter nodded with a very serious expression that almost made me laugh.
“Just one question. Where will I be sleeping?” Hunter asked
. My house, or mansion as it was probably considered, had seven bedrooms, a home theater, a gym, an indoor swimming pool, a studio, three offices, a library, a conference room and a four-car garage. We were actually conducting the bodyguard interviews in my conference room. My mom was planning on moving in, but had opted against it while I was dating Damian, as the two of them didn’t really get along. Now that Damian was out of the picture, I was considering having my mom move in after all, but baby steps. First, I would give her a key. Cassie didn’t live with me per se, but she did have a room here for when I did need her to stay over. Cassie and my mom also had offices here.
“You can choose from one of the unused bedrooms. Cassie will show those to you as soon as you two finish with the paperwork,” I told him. Hunter nodded and stood up to shake my hand. We shook. My mom stood up as well and also shook Hunters hand.
“It was nice to meet you,” Hunter expressed to my mother.
“Likewise,” she said.
“Cassie, please give Hunter a tour of the property after he chooses a bedroom. Also, give him copies of my schedule.” I instructed before my mom and I left Cassie and Hunter in the conference room.
As soon as the door was closed, my mom turned to me and asked, “Are you sure that you weren’t a little hasty back there?”
“Absolutely not. Hunter is the one that we have been looking for. On that, I am sure,” I assured her.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I am and before I forget,” I pulled a key out of my pocket. “I meant to give you this yesterday, but with all of the chaos, I forgot. I had the locks changed the other day; this is a copy of the new key,” I said, as I handed the key to her. She took her keys out of her purse and immediately looped the new key on with the others. Once we reached the living room, we stopped and my mom sat down on the sofa, but I remained seated. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a studio session scheduled in less than half an hour and have suddenly been inspired with a new song. I would like to write it down while it’s in my head. I’ll see you later.” I told her, as I bent down to kiss her on the cheek. I left the living room and headed back down a hall where the bedrooms were. There was a studio connected to my master bedroom so that if I ever woke up inspired, it was easily accessible. This was my private studio; the other one I would sometimes rent out.
Two Wolves For Lizette Page 29