Fated to be Mine Page 9
”This is too much, Michael.”
He shakes his head and holds his arm out, gesturing me to move closer to the vehicle. “It’s nothing. Besides, what are friends for?”
The driver holds the door open for us and Michael slides in next to me on the bench seat. My leg bounces up and down nervously, but he places a hand on my knee, halting the movement.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
I turn my head and chew on my bottom lip. “I hope so.”
I remind myself that taking Michael is a good thing. He can meet new people in his field, talk with others and relate to their stories better than I ever could. It’s Sharon that scares me. Will she try to pull her same usual crap or make a bigger deal than necessary of the fact that I’m arriving with a date instead of Kara? My stomach twists again as we head towards downtown and the ticking clock of the evening ahead.
Hitting the button to the fourteenth floor, Michael and I stand at the back of the elevator, surrounded by several other couples dressed similarly to us. Obviously guests of my father. I highly doubt many people walk around downtown Minneapolis dressed like this or wander into hotels in the hopes of crashing a high-class event. But then again, what do I know. I sit on my couch like a lump most nights of the week.
The ballroom of the Millennium is by far one of the best venues downtown Minneapolis has to offer for an event such as this. It’s a beautifully decorated hall with floor to ceiling windows in a dome shape. The twinkling lights of the surrounding buildings shine in through the windows as a beautiful backdrop. There’s a dance area set up on one side of the room, where a small stringed quintet is playing. Behind them, there appears to be a set up for a larger band to play later in the evening.
Multiple small banquet tables occupy the back of the ballroom, each holding several stands of hors d’oeuvres. Tall standing tables and a few shorter ones, all draped in white linens and bright pink flowers in crystal vases decorate the remaining space. Small decorative trees laced with white lights are set up around the perimeter, giving the whole room an incredibly romantic feel.
I sneak a glance at Michael, who gives me a wink as we look over our surroundings.
“Your dad sure knows how to throw a party.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs. “Yes, nothing but the best for step mommy dearest,” I reply dryly.
We make our way through the room and decide to find a spot close to the windows. Michael holds a chair out for me and I graciously sit down. It’s only been a half hour since we left my apartment and my feet are already starting to hurt. And we haven’t even started dancing yet. This is the reason why I don’t wear heels very often.
When Michael takes a seat next to me, I glance down at his cuff links and notice the ivy-like pattern swirling around the white gold. It’s so similar to the embellishments on my gown that it’s almost uncanny. There’s no way Michael would have known what I was wearing.
“Hey, your cuff links match my dress.”
He glances down and smiles. “So they do. I guess I made a good choice then. Wouldn’t want to clash against such a beautiful gown.”
We both laugh until the sound of someone quietly clearing their throat behind us draws our attention.
“Tessa. I’m glad to see you made it,” my dad says, eyeing up Michael. I move to stand and Michael follows my lead. We may as well get this part of the night over with.
“Dad, this is a friend of mine, Michael Fontaine. Michael, this is my dad, Robert Martin.” The two men shake hands and Michael flashes him a smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
My dad looks him up and down again and I swear I see the makings of a smile appear on his face. My eyes bounce between the two of them, confused as to what’s not being said.
“Fontaine you say? Do you happen to work for Lyman Burns & Goldman?”
And just like that, the smile fully appears on his face, obviously thrilled that I brought a lawyer instead of Kara. He must know who Michael is, which doesn’t surprise me. My dad knows almost every single attorney in the state.
Michael’s smile never falters as he nods his head. “Why yes, I do. I’m actually a little embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve followed your career for quite some time. You’ve handled some major cases across the state and I use them often as reference points for some of my own trials.”
Again, my dad smiles, a very strange thing to see, at least for me it is. He claps Michael on the shoulder. “Thank you. It just so happens that I’m friends with Adam Burns. He’s told me about a few of your cases. In fact, he and I were just talking about you yesterday during lunch. Congratulations on settling the Stockman case early. It must have been a relief to have that one finished, and in your favor no less.”
At this point, I’ve already tuned them out as they talk shop. I look around the room at all the people donning fancy party attire, mingling with society’s finest, drinking from fluted champagne glasses and feeling generally superior to the ordinary man. Not that I can verify the last part. Just a hunch.
My dad’s laugh pulls me back to their conversation. “Yes, it’s very fortunate that you and my daughter work in the same building.” He turns his attention to me and smiles. “You look lovely tonight Tessa.”
And now a compliment from him? Did I step into the Twilight Zone when we exited the elevator? But I’m not one to squander a compliment from him.
“Thank you, Dad.”
He makes a move as if he may come over to hug me, but I see the blond bitch in red slinking up behind him. Sharon slithers her way around his body and loudly kisses him in front of us. Michael leans down to whisper in my ear.
“Who’s that?”
I turn my head to face him, our lips just inches apart. “That’s my stepmother, Sharon.”
He gives me a sympathetic look and takes hold of my hand. He must have seen my body stiffen at her arrival, feeling a sense of unease crawl into my chest. Sharon is hanging all over my dad in a possessive way, trying to exert her power over me I’m sure. It’s when she takes a good look at Michael that she starts putting on her best show.
“Tessa, you almost appear to fit in with high society tonight. But we all know it’s just for show.”
I step back and hang my head slightly. I know how out of place I feel being here and I certainly don’t need to be reminded of it by her. In a surprising move, my dad extricates himself from her hold, throwing down her arms in a non-gentle manner before stepping to the side.
“Tessa, Michael. If you’ll excuse me, please.” He glares at Sharon and turns to walk over to a group of men talking around one of the taller tables across the room. Sharon sneers at my dad’s back and then turns her attention back to us. After looking Michael up and down in apparent appreciation, she molds her collagen filled red lips into a seductive smile.
“Sharon Martin.” She holds out her hand, which is covered with diamonds and rubies. “And you are?”
Michael takes her hand, shaking it with as little contact as possible. “Michael Fontaine, a friend of Tessa’s, and her date tonight.”
He pulls me closer to his side, attempting to shield me from Sharon’s blows. The loud cackle of her laugh startles me as the fake smile she had on before falls from her face.
“Date? Please. No one ever dates Tessa. She’s more of a charity case. Always playing up the sympathy card to everyone she meets. Surely that must be why you’re here. Either that or you lost a bet.”
The anger and tension in Michael’s body are palpable as he stands there stoically, listening to the venom being spit by this snake. But he doesn’t falter, doesn’t show that she’s getting to him, which is her ultimate goal. Instead, he surprises me by sweetly smiling at her.
“If anything, I have won the lottery by being her date as she is hands down, without a doubt, the most gorgeous, electrifying woman in this room. Not one other woman holds a candle to her sheer beauty.”
Sharon steps back slightly as if he’s slappe
d her. To really solidify his words, Michael kisses me softly, eliciting a quiet moan from the back of my throat. When he pulls back, I’m dumbstruck. The kiss took me by surprise, stealing my breath slightly. I know it was all for show, but a small part of me is smiling when it sees the disgust on Sharon’s face.
Michael turns his attention back to Sharon, who looks like she’s about to have snakes sprouting from her head. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to go monopolize my time with this ravishing beauty.”
Michael guides us to the back of the room, getting as far away from Sharon as we can. The cool windows feel good against my heated skin as I lean briefly against them. A wave of nausea and dizziness hits me, and I pray I don’t pass out in front of everyone present. Sharon must be drunk already. She has never acted like that in front of people before. That’s usually a persona she saves for behind closed doors at her house, where she can control the situation and leave me a shrunken pile of nothing. Michael stands before me and holds his hand out to me. I take it and squeeze it with whatever strength is left in my body. He gives a slight tug and I fall into his arms, letting him comfort me.
“I can’t believe your dad puts up with someone like her. Is she always that mean to you?”
I nod my head, unwilling to pick it up off his shoulder to look him in the eye. “Yes. She hates my existence, especially when my dad buys me things or pays any kind of attention to me. Even though it’s not as often as I would like, he’s been better about reaching out to me lately. She never wanted kids and would be more than thrilled to have me disappear entirely from my dad’s life.”
Sharon’s latest stunt has my nerves fried, but I refuse to give her power over me. Not tonight. I really don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I let her words get to me, even though she knows they did. Michael pulls back and gently tips my chin toward him.
“Nothing she said is true. You are not a charity case, and I certainly did not lose a bet to be here with you. What I said was the absolute truth. You are the most beautiful, most stunning, most amazing woman in this room. Hell, in this city for that matter. I am lucky enough that you let me come here as your date.”
I nod my head and force a smile. “Thank you, Michael. I’m really glad you’re here with me.”
“Sorry about the kiss. I just needed to shut her up and the best way I thought of was having her see how beautiful you really are. And nothing makes a woman look more beautiful than when she’s being kissed. You’re not mad, are you?”
I shake my head and smile. “No, I’m not mad. The look on her face was pretty priceless. I didn’t think it was possible to stupefy her, but I guess you did.”
He chuckles and flashes me a dimpled smile and I know everything will be okay from here on out. I know that Michael will watch out for me and keep Sharon at bay as much as possible. He makes me feel safe, and it’s a new feeling for me. Well, slightly new. There’s only been one other man to make me feel safe, but he isn’t here. And, as always, my thoughts drift to him, making me miss him even more.
We decide to grab a plate of food and retake our seats at the table. A passing waiter offers us flutes of champagne, and I eagerly take one of the bubbling glasses from the tray. Alcohol is most definitely needed for the night. Anything to take the edge off that still lingers after the run-in with Sharon. Throughout our meal, Michael makes me laugh, telling me silly jokes or stories about his clients. It aids in taking my mind off of everything and I relax just a little bit more.
Soon we hear the hum of a microphone and see my dad occupying the stage at the front. We turn together and listen to my dad make a toast to Sharon, who slightly stumbles onto the stage and blows over-exaggerated kisses to the crowd. Everyone raises their glasses in unison, wishing the drunken tramp a happy birthday. Not wanting to draw any more negative attention, my dad offers Sharon his hand, leading her to the dance floor for the first dance of the night. The band begins playing a soft melody as the crowd watches them glide across the dance floor. Well, my dad is gliding and Sharon is limply hanging there. I wonder if she knows how ridiculous she looks or how embarrassing it must be for my dad.
A few couples join them on the dance floor at the next song selection and Michael stands, offering his hand to me.
“May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
I smile and nod, biting my bottom lip as he helps me stand from my chair. As soon as our feet hit the floor, he twirls me slightly before pulling me close to his body. We entwine our hands and hold them to our sides with our elbows bent close to our bodies. My free arm lays on his shoulder, allowing my fingers to rest across the muscular planes of his upper back. A Billie Holiday song floats through the hall, one I actually know, and we sway in rhythm with the music. Michael guides us around the floor with grace and ease.
“You’re an excellent dancer,” I remark.
His cheeks pink up and a nervous laugh escapes. “That’s ten years of dance lessons with Madame Tousignant. My mom made me do it when I was growing up because my sister refused to go by herself.”
I press my lips together and try my best not to laugh. “Ten years? Why didn’t you quit as you got older?”
He shakes his head and lets out a quiet laugh. “Because, at that point, I started to enjoy it. She was teaching me all these advanced dances, you know, the kind you see on Dancing With the Stars? I can do almost all of them. Well, maybe not anymore. I am older and a little rusty.”
“Damn. And I was hoping you could show me a few things.”
He wags his eyebrows and twirls me out in front of him before pulling me back into the safety of his body.
“I’ve still got a few moves left in me.”
We laugh and dance to a few more songs before my dad approaches, sporting a broad grin. I’ve never seen him smile this much in my life. Maybe he’s drunk too.
“Michael, there are a few people out on the veranda that I’d like you to meet. Tessa, would you mind if I borrow him for a while?”
“Sure, that’s okay with me.”
Michael smiles and walks away with my dad while I head back to our table, thankful to get off my feet for a moment. Whoever said shoes were meant for fashion and not for comfort should be shot. I grab another flute of champagne from a passing waiter and partake in my favorite pastime. I don’t know one single person here, outside of my dad, Sharon and Michael. These are all of my dad’s friends and associates and I’m sure several people from their country club. I’m pretty sure I recognized the mayor and his wife, but I can’t be positive. I’ve only seen them in pictures and never actually met them in real life. There are at least two hundred people in attendance, making it easy for me to be the wallflower that I like to be.
My phone beeps in my clutch as the champagne bubbles tickle my nose. I roll my eyes, guessing that it’s Kara wanting the gossip on what’s going on or how my date is going so far. But nothing prepared me for seeing Andrew’s name on my screen, making my eyes go wide as saucers.
My darling, beautiful Tessa. I love the way you look with your hair swept back behind your shoulders in soft, delicate curls. I can see you in a blue strapless gown with intricate silver designs, and diamond earrings gracing your delicate lobes. Nothing compares to your smile which outshines the soft glow of the candles that surround you. ~A~
I freeze and nervously start looking around me. Either he has a very active imagination or … or. I don’t even get the chance to finish that thought as I feel him come up behind me, running his hands down my arms, leaning so close to me it sends a chill across my skin. My body erupts in goose bumps and desire takes the place of surprise.
Oh. My. God. He’s here. He’s really here.
“I also imagine your soft pink lips, slightly parted as a small gasp escapes them. The same sound you make when you’re sleeping next to me or making love with me,” he whispers in that soft, sexy British accent of his. My breathing accelerates and I shift in my chair. My head turns slightly, needing to see those bright blue eyes that I’ve longe
d for. The air has been completely drained from my lungs as I stare into Andrew’s gorgeous face. A face that has haunted my waking dreams, causing my heart so much pain and yet so much longing. Those full lips that I want to kiss caress my cheek as his fingertip ignites a trail of fire down my neck.
“It’s so good to see you, Tessa. I’ve been counting the days until we would be reunited again. I’ve done nothing but dream of you every second of every day since we departed last.” Andrew’s warm breath tickles the area behind my ear, allowing his lips to explore the area. I feel dizzy with pleasure, my eyes closing as my breath comes in short bursts. I feel as if we’re making a scene, or at least we could be. However, when I look around, I realize that no one is looking at us. Not one person is aware of the reunion taking place, of the man who melts my soul and completes my very existence.
I turn in my chair, needing to fully see him as he takes the seat that Michael occupied not less than an hour ago.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper hoarsely. Andrew knows exactly how he affects me, how to turn me into a raging pile of hormones without actually having to touch me or do anything. His blue eyes shine in the soft glow of the candlelight, making my heart leap inside my chest.
“I came here for you. It couldn’t wait one more week. I needed to see you right away.”
He came for me. He wanted to see me, no, needed to see me. How do I respond to that? Do I say how big of a fool I was for leaving like I did? Or that I needed to see him too? My hungry eyes take him in, admiring his freshly shaven face, his beautiful masculine features, and that sexy dark hair I love running my fingers through. And he’s wearing a tux. Holy shit. If I thought he was hot in tailored suits, he’s to die for in a tux.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, needing to regain some control of my body.
“Why?”
Need and desire mix together as I nervously canvas the room again, hoping that Sharon isn’t watching. My hand rubs the area above my heart, trying to ward off the pain. Andrew ignores my question and grabs the hand at my chest, bringing it up to his lips before pressing it against his own beating heart.