While I was normally a six, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had dropped a size as result of the weight I’d lost from my stressful week.
Dawn escorted me to Room 4. It was an elegant peach-walled dressing room that was bigger than my living room. There was a rack of other dresses that might interest me along with zebra-patterned ottomans, a three-way lighted mirror, and a wall phone. I imagined that the room had been used by many royals, heads of state, and women of means. I wondered—had Ari’s ex-wife ever set foot in it? The thought chilled me. Stop it, Sarah Warrior Princess!
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” offered Dawn, stopping me in my unsettling thoughts.
“No, thank you,” I replied though truthfully I craved one.
Dawn helped me into the voluminous pink ball gown. When it was zipped up, I stood before the mirror. I gasped. The dress fit me to a tee. I looked like a real princess in the making.
“I love it!” I exclaimed.
“Wonderful,” beamed Dawn. “It’s quite a departure from Mr. Golden’s taste, but I believe he enjoys being challenged.”
That was a fact.
“Now, let’s get you shoes and accessories.”
My fairy godmother escorted me down to the second floor designer shoe department where I chose a pair of Manolo Blahnik stilettos that looked like they could be Cinderella’s glass slippers and then to the first floor, which housed accessories and jewelry. She showed me a pair of pink satin opera gloves that went up to my elbows. I agreed to them thinking they would, at least, mask my bandaged hand. I also picked out a lovely pink beaded clutch bag to carry my bare necessities—some form of ID, lip-gloss, and house keys. Sadly, I no longer had Ari’s special “emergency” one-hundred dollar bill. It was now in the hands of some crazy stranger who had probably already spent it.
Dawn led me over to the jewelry department. I was practically blinded by the bling, all of it breathtaking.
“Mr. Golden would like you to pick out anything you want,” said Dawn.
Anything? The word sent shockwaves through me. I mean, these pieces must cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, and that was just for starters.
My fluttering eyes searched the lit up display cases. What wasn’t there to love? But there was one piece that stood out. An elegant diamond tiara. It looked like an antique.
“Can I please see the tiara?” I said meekly as I hovered over it.
“Of course,” replied Dawn. “It’s a vintage piece that dates back to the nineteenth century. We believe it belonged to Princess Sophia of Bavaria.”
Wow! A real princess once wore this, I thought as Dawn gently placed it on top of my head. I gawked at my reflection in a mirror. I was no longer Sarah Plain and Tall. I was officially Princess Sarah!
“Perfection!” exclaimed Dawn.
“I’ll bring it back tomorrow,” I said, knowing there was no way I could keep such an extravagant gift.
“Please don’t,” smiled Dawn. “Mr. Golden will be insulted.”
My breath hitched. This man was divinely out of his mind. I was still going to bring it back.
The next stop was the hair salon on the ninth floor. Dawn brought along the tiara. My flamboyant hairdresser, Miguel, immediately knew how he wanted to style my long hair. With his magic hands, he whipped it into a regal, simple chignon. He placed the tiara on my head. I gazed at myself in the mirror and gaped. I was channeling Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. I truly looked like a princess.
Finally, makeup. Dawn brought me ironically to the Chanel counter, where a makeup artist, an attractive young woman named June, about my age, did my face while I sat on a high stool. “You have fabulous skin and don’t even need foundation” she remarked as she applied mascara to my eyelashes. Closing my eyes, I once again thought about my mother whose fabulous skin I had inherited. A mixture of guilt and sadness seeped through me as I thought about her fate.
“Sarah, I thought you were visiting your sick mother. But obviously, beauty comes first.”
The voice startled me. I blinked open my eyes and cranked my neck around. Catherine!
She had a long Bergdorf’s garment bag folded over her arm and lowered herself to the stool behind me. She asked for her “regular.” Her voice was curt.
Shunning her did not stop her from interrogating me. “So, Sarah, why exactly are you here at Bergdorf’s on a Friday afternoon having a makeover?” Her tone was menacing.
I faltered for an excuse. “Well, when I came here to pick up your lipstick, I won a bonus—a free makeover. I really needed it today after visiting my mother.” That sounded believable—and was actually close to the truth.
Catherine leaped off from her stool and headed around to face me. There was fire in her eyes. “If you continue to steal anything that belongs to me, you’ll be sorry. Very sorry.”
Was the psycho bitch threatening me? Was she also referring to Ari? I quivered as she returned to her makeup application. Remember, Sarah. Warrior Princess.
Silence between us prevailed for the remainder of our makeup apps. Mine, which was beautifully subtle, was over before hers. As I rose to my feet, she hissed, “Be sure to have a flushed out description of those Wombat Combats—or whatever those despicable creatures are called—on my desk first thing Monday morning.”
I felt like firing back her words… “if you continue to steal anything that belongs to me…” However, I refrained and limped toward the entrance to the store.
Andre, as promised, was waiting for me as I exited Bergdorf’s. A store employee followed me out, carrying my garment-bagged gown over one arm, and a Bergdorf’s shopping bag with my shoes, gloves, purse, and tiara in the other. Andre instantly jumped out of the limo to help me inside and load my booty.
The ride to my nearby apartment took no time. After retrieving my Bergdorf items, Andre opened my passenger door. As I scooted out, he scooped me into his powerful arms. “Mr. Golden is insistent that I carry you up to your apartment and see you safely to your door.”
I sighed. My over-protective Trainman! Actually, I was relieved not to have to climb up three flights of stairs with my aching, torn-up knee. I carefully draped the dress over my arms so that it wouldn’t drag along the steps and let Andre hold the bag with all the accessories. Leaning against Andre’s broad uniformed chest, I felt something hard press into my side. A concealed weapon? I bet he was ex-CIA or a navy seal. I was dying to ask him but held my tongue. Along the way, we passed Mrs. Blumberg, on her way to Friday night services. Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I could only begin to imagine what she was thinking when she saw me in the arms of this handsome black hunk. The third man she had seen me with this week! I had to bite down on my lip to stifle my laughter.
Once we were safely inside my apartment and after Andre had done some reconnaissance (which further corroborated by ex-CIA theory), he ambled toward the door. He paused at the doorway and turned to me.
“Ms. Greene, you mean a lot to Mr. Golden. He is a very good man, and you are very good for him.”
My skin prickled, and I broke into a smile. “Thanks, Andre. He means a lot to me.”
His normally stoic face cracked a smile back at me. “I will be back here with Mr. Golden at six. Please meet us outside.” He exited my apartment, and my heart fluttered at the thought of my evening ahead.
The phone rang and I hobbled over to it, managing to pick up the call before it rolled over to my answering machine.
“No panties.” CLICK.
“Tonight, tonight. Won’t be just any night…” The words and melody floated through my head as wetness gathered between my legs. I could hardly wait.
4
AT A LITTLE BEFORE SIX o’clock, I was downstairs on the landing, waiting for the limo. Passersby stared at me in my gorgeous pink ball gown, long gloves, and tiara. I even heard a little girl tell her mom, “Look, Mommy, a real-life princess!” I couldn’t help smiling.
The warm air was humid, and storm clouds threatened. But I wasn’t going
to let anything rain on my parade.
At precisely six, Ari’s limo rolled up. Andre got out of the car and held open the passenger door for me. He gave me an uncharacteristic thumbs-up. I returned the sweet gesture with an equally uncharacteristic wink.
As carefully and gracefully as I could, I slid into the car, holding up my voluminous gown. I had never seen such a wide-eyed expression on Ari, who was more dashing than ever in a black tux and blue bow tie that matched the color of his twinkling eyes. His jaw dropped. Only one word formed on his lips. “Wow.”
I was tingling all over. From his reaction and from his gorgeousness.
In the blink of an eye, the expression on his face grew lustful. His brows furrowed. “Get over here, Saarah.” He pointed to his lap, where a tent between his legs had newly formed.
Teetering between fear and desire, I curled up onto his lap, letting my ball gown sprawl over him and across the back seat. His hardness penetrated the layers of the dress and pressed against my pantyless sex. As much as every ounce of my body craved his man, I was not keen on him ravishing me in the limo and messing up the princess I had become.
To my surprise, he gently pressed my head against his broad shoulder and just held me in his arms. His soft lips fluttered across my forehead. Sinking further into him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. It felt so good, so safe to be like this with him. There was something we were both feeling beyond lust and desire.
We stayed locked in this position for the rest of the ride. As we pulled up to The Waldorf, he kissed my neck lightly and whispered in my ear, “Saarah, my princess, you are so, so beautiful.”
As much as his words moved me, I wished he had said, “I love you.”
The Waldorf Ballroom was straight out of a fairy tale. It was a glittering spectacle of gorgeously dressed men and women, candlelit tables with soaring floral arrangements, and sparkling chandeliers. Hooking his arm in mine, Ari escorted me to our table. All eyes were on us, and many people stopped Ari to shake his hand or to say kind words. My Trainman was as respected as he was riveting.
Truthfully, I hadn’t given much thought to who would be seated at our table, so when I got there I was in for a little shock. In addition to a few executives whom I recognized from my tour of Ari’s company, Ari’s mother was there along with his son Ben and his sister Gwen. The latter made my stomach churn.
Ben, adorably dressed in pint-size version of Ari’s tux, jumped out of his seat to give me a hug. “Sarah, are you a Disney princess?” His words warmed my heart, and from the corner of my eye, I could see a bemused smile on Ari’s breathtaking face.
Ari’s mother, dressed in a stunning black beaded gown, also rose and graciously gave me a kiss on each cheek. “My dear, you look absolutely lovely.”
“Thank you.”
Gwen, wearing a simple but elegant emerald green silk sheath, eyed me coldly as I lowered myself into the chair that Ari had pulled out for me. I ended up sitting between him and his son. Thank goodness, I didn’t have to sit next to his fiendish sister.
A white-gloved waiter came by and filled our goblets with wine. Ben was drinking lemonade. In the background, the orchestra played the overture from West Side Story. My heart fluttered as I wondered: did Ari purposely select this music because of me? Had I ever even told him how much I loved this musical? Maybe it was just a coincidence.
“Daddy, when are you gonna get your award?” asked Ben.
“Patience, my young man.”
Across from me, Gwen sipped her wine while never losing sight of me. Suddenly, the glass slipped out of her hand and went crashing to the floor. All color drained from her face as well as Ari’s mother’s.
“Well, hello, Ari. Hello, Sarah.”
Oh. My. God.
Ari lowered his glass to the table and stiffened. I thought the floor was opening beneath me and that I would cave in.
It was Catherine!
Dressed in a black and white gown that screamed Chanel, she slithered over to Ben and cupped her long manicured fingers over his shoulders. “You must be Ben. It’s so nice to see you again.”
While Ari and his family sat shell-shocked, Ben’s eyes widened. “Daddy, who is this lady?”
Nausea was rising in my chest.
“She’s no one,” Ari growled.
Catherine rolled her eyes; they were identical in shape to Ben’s. “Ben, that is so not true.” Gwen clapped her hand to her mouth, knowing what was coming next. “I’m your—”
“Madame, I’m going to have to ask you to return to your seat. The award ceremony is about to begin.” Thank goodness for the waiter who ushered her away.
Her eyes clashed with mine. “I’ll be back,” she hissed.
I was going to be sick. Very sick. Grabbing my beaded bag, I bolted out of my chair. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Saarah—”
Ari’s concerned voice could not hold me back. Though my knee was throbbing beneath my gown, I dashed through the packed ballroom to find the restroom. Please don’t let me throw up here.
As I neared the exit, an announcer roared: “Ladies and gentleman, please give a warm welcome to our guest of honor, Chairman and CEO of Golden Industries and the Founder of Meds Without Borders… Mr. Ari Golden.”
Cheers and applause echoed in the ballroom. I stole a glance backward and saw my beloved Trainman striding toward the podium. Oh God! I was going to miss his award! Tears flooded my eyes.
Just in time, I made it to the ladies’ room. I ran into an empty stall, crouched down, and spilled my guts out into the toilet. Tears were pouring down my face. Everything felt wrong. So, so wrong. Finally, when there was nothing left inside me, I stood up.
Over one of the elegant porcelain sinks, I pulled off my gloves and rinsed my foul-tasting mouth, using my good hand. I stared at my tear-stained reflection in the mirror above the sink. Princess Sarah looked wan, almost ghastly. I wiped off the mascara that had dripped down my cheeks from my tears and took out my lip-gloss from my beaded purse. As I applied it to my chalky lips, another face appeared in the mirror. I gasped. Catherine! I spun around to meet her face to face.
“Well, well, well, we meet again.” Her voice was sinister.
I said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed into sharp glass slithers. “Remember, what I said, Sarah. You’ve stolen what belongs to me, and now you will pay the price.” She dug her hand into her Chanel clutch and pulled out an envelope. “And so will he.”
I took a deep breath. I heard my mother’s voice inside my head. Sarah, warrior princess. “Ari doesn’t belong to you anymore. Neither does Ben,” I barked at her.
She handed me the envelope. “Think again. Every child needs their mother.”
With a shaking hand, I opened the unsealed envelope and unfolded the letter that was inside. The letter was from the law firm, Allen & Allyn.
Dear Ms. St. Clair:
After reviewing your case, I would be delighted to represent you on a contingency basis. My partners and I agree that you have been wrongly denied custody of your son and strongly believe that we can reverse the emotional damage you have had to endure in a court of law. No child should be denied his or her mother and vice versa.
We look forward to a mutually rewarding association and to awarding you full custody of your child.
Sincerely,
Frederick Allyn
Partner
With a wicked smile on her face, Catherine snatched the letter away from me. I stood there, motionless in shock. Oh, God what have I done? A thousand crossbows shot through me. Sarah, Warrior Princess, had been defeated. On the verge of collapsing, I stormed out of the restroom, but not in time to spare hearing my evil boss cackle, “And, Sarah, you can also say good-bye to your job. You’ll be fired at the end of next week.”
I had to get of here. I had to! Tears rushed down my face as I flew by the ballroom. Ari’s voice sounded in my ears. He was giving his acceptance speech. He was an impeccable orator, the words so hear
tfelt and passionate. But what meaning would this award have when he was about to face the biggest loss in his life? The one thing, the one person who meant more to him than life itself. His beloved son Ben.
Holding up the edges of my gown, I galloped down the five flights of steps that led to the Waldorf’s elegantly appointed lobby and pushed my way through the revolving doors at the hotel’s entrance, straight past a wide-eyed doorman who offered to get me a cab.
Without stopping, I hurried cross-town on Forty-Ninth Street toward my apartment. If people were staring at me in my ball gown and tiara, I was oblivious, blinded by my tears. The wind kicked up and flashes of lightning flickered in the night sky. A loud clap of thunder startled me, and soon after, the sky began to weep with me. By the time I reached my apartment, my beautiful gown was soaked through and through; my hair hung loose like a wet mop, and my face was coated with teardrops and raindrops. My knee throbbing, I hobbled up the steps of the brownstone landing. Chilled to the bone, I couldn’t wait to take off my dress and get under a hot shower… and erase the memory of this horrific night. Only then did I realize I had left the beaded purse with my keys, along with my gloves, behind in the restroom of The Waldorf.
Frantically, I buzzed Mrs. Blumberg’s apartment. Thank goodness, I had given her a spare set of keys in case of an emergency. No answer. The rain kept coming down in buckets. I buzzed again and again and again. I was beginning to fear that Mrs. Blumberg slept with earplugs. Finally, a voice filtered through the intercom.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Sarah. I lost my keys.” I was practically sobbing.
“Hold on.” I let out a loud sigh of relief when she buzzed me in.
Final Destination III Page 6