Angelique Rising (16 page)

             
The Center attracted what he liked, young women in their twenties teeming with optimism: lithe dancers, actresses, singers, athletes (he'd had a particularly good time with a gymnast), most of the women focused on their craft, not yet tied to husbands or babies. They were out of their parents' homes, living alone or with roommates in apartments in the city and when his offer appeared they jumped at it. They were perfect (for him) and in his own demonic way he worshipped them all. It had simply been damned rotten luck that Angelique had been a teenager so he hadn't even flagged her application as a possibility.

             
As head of the Center he perused all applications from those who wanted to join, applications created by him, asking the information he wanted to know. Any girl he was interested in he noted --kept up with and kept an eye on, whittling down the possibilities, and then when he'd narrowed it to two or three potentials the cameras went in, it was through them he made his final selection. Once he'd done this he groomed her, saw to it she received the best of everything, usually through a sudden Center scholarship she was informed her phenomenal talent had earned her. He saw to it she came to believe she was special, unique, and... in a way, he grinned, she
was
.

             
And then the Center's manager approached her. The story was always tweaked to the particular girl. In this girl's case the story was that a theatre in Paris the Center did business with wanted her to perform there. Would she be interested in a contract? It would be remunerative for her, the Center would pay all costs and make all travel arrangements. She would have to have a full physical first for insurance purposes --but the Center would pay for that. It really was the opportunity of a lifetime, the manager, who actually believed it, assured her.

             
Not one woman so offered had ever said no.

             
Malcolm picked up his phone and made the necessary calls to begin the capture.

             
A short while later, at the table, Angelique's phone rang. She excused herself to answer it.

             
"GUESS WHAT! I'm going to
Paris
,
"
Lexa's voice rang out breathlessly.

*****

              Wyatt's father, Henry, had finally managed to snatch Angelique out onto the dance floor.

             
"It's a delight to dance with you, Angelique. Frankly, between George's wild ways and Wyatt's experience with Maureen I doubted I would ever have a daughter-in-law again."

             
"Thank you Henry, you're being very gracious. I know I was quite a surprise to you." She deliberately gave him an opening, she was pretty sure what was coming. He'd been angling all night to be alone with her, it didn't take a genius to figure out where he was probably headed.

             
"But you know you and Wyatt dove in pretty fast. Now I'm not criticizing, just observing. And sometimes when two people do that they can not take appropriate steps, steps that are for the benefit of both of them."

             
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.