Bella's Choice (16 page)

Picking it up, he said a few words. “Father, I don’t know what this all means, but I will pray for Anabella; for her protection in whatever situation she’s found herself in. Please, bring back the bright smile to her face. Let me make her happy. Let her come to me unharmed.” He fell silent and waited.

“Let. Me. Go!” She finally managed to break free as Charles’ seething eyes looked down at her.

“You are a bitch.” He touched his cheek where two long, red marks ran down it.

Her hand shot forward, scraping the other side, and she felt satisfied with her handiwork.

“Look what you’ve done!” he growled, ripping at her clothes as she fought against him.

Thomas grabbed and held her tightly to his body, but she stomped on his foot with her heel and ran.

Thundering knocks echoed in the room, the door giving in under the onslaught. She could hear Mr. Clark calling out her name. She ran to the door and unlocked it, not realizing the disheveled appearance she presented. Behind him, stood Marjorie, her eyes red and puffy, attempting but failing to avert Anabella’s
gaze.

“What is going on here?” Mr. Clark demanded, looking past her to the two men standing directly behind her, both smirking in defiance.

They didn’t answer, so he looked at her.

“Anabella?” He pulled her closer to him the moment the tears ran freely down her face.

“What have you done?” he hurled at the younger men.

“I am so sorry, Anabella,” Marjorie said between sobs. “They forced me to leave you alone. I had no choice.” She fell to her knees and sobbed, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

“What is going on here?” The same question was parroted in the hallway. This time, it was Mr. Townsend, whose voice boomed throughout the house. He stepped into the room.

Thomas and Charles were pale, the smirks gone, all but fear remained in the depths of their eyes.

“Get dressed!” he barked at them.

They scurried to retrieve their shirts. Charles tried to speak in their defense, but Mr. Townsend was having none of it and held up his hand, stopping him mid-sentence.

“Whatever’s gone on in here, I can guarantee will not happen again,” he seethed, turning his attention back to Anabella who was being cradled by Mr. Clark.

It took them a while to calm her down enough to get the truth out of her.

Marjorie confirmed her story by what she knew in a very ragged voice.

Mr. Townsend immediately took control of the situation. He phoned Thomas’ parents, and their coach. He sent the two girls to their rooms, and the party was called off.

Both Mrs. Clark, and Mrs. Townsend, tended to the young women, and after a doctor examined Anabella, she received a mild sedative, which thankfully sent her to sleep. Marjorie had been given something milder in the form of a relaxant, and although she’d tried to explain the situation again, she wasn’t able to get one coherent word out.

She, too, eventually fell into a deep sleep, one nevertheless filled with shuddering sobs.

Chapter E
ight

E
ventually, at around 3am, Aldrich fell asleep, exhausted after the vigil watch. Finally at peace, he dreamed of his beloved running through the sun-filled field, carefree and happy. Her ability to bounce back always left him in awe. He wished he had the same gift.

Although the Etsibeth case had been finalized, the woman continued to pester him non-stop. Once again, Mr. Dorflinger called him in after yet another brush off he’d had with
her, demanding that Aldrich be kind; his reason being that they had brought their entire portfolio over to the partnership. They―the partners―couldn’t allow petty things to spoil their newfound business.

Begrudgingly, he agreed to be more attentive to her
needs, knowing full well what she had in mind as far as they were concerned. When she had introduced him to her friends, she’d told them he was her ‘special friend’ while fluttering her eyelashes and putting on an innocent face, something that aggravated Aldrich beyond belief. When he’d reprimanded her, she’d simply implied that he had it all wrong. Shortly thereafter, he had been placed on the ‘red carpet’, so to speak. She couldn’t fool him, but was resolute in her conquest to claim him as hers. Since then, she’d hung on to him like cling wrap every time they went out.

The night before, she had attempted to kiss him. Allowing the temporary contact, she had come alive in his arms, and because he was hungry for touch himself, he’d enjoyed the warmth of her mouth and the feelings it evoked within his own body. When her hands touched his bare skin, sanity had stopped him. As if he’d been stung, he remembered where he was and with whom, letting go immediately. Back in his car, he’d been furious with his raging hormones, buttoning his shirt with shaky hands. He could not believe he had been so stupid. But, having been restrained from physical contact for such a long time,
his body had demanded attention. It argued with him that Bella wouldn’t know. That it wouldn’t be a betrayal if he enjoyed the plate that was offered, but his heart had disagreed with that reasoning. The meaningless encounters with Ms. Etsibeth had left him cold.

She was not Bella.

He didn’t experience the sweetness of strawberries with Etsibeth. His body reacted differently when Bella touched him. She gave him the vitality and ecstasy he had craved since Pauline passed away, to be one with her and only her. He had known Anabella’s intention from the moment they met. Her sweetness and love was tangible with each innocent touch, and he could only imagine what their bond would be like when they finally consummated their union. That was what he craved.

He missed Bella tremendously; his thoughts never far from her. Diligently, he would check her schedule, making sure he had access to a TV to get a glimpse of her adorable face. His hungry eyes would rake over her slender body moving gracefully on the screen; her smile ever present.

“Not too long now, my love,” he whispered, “then you’ll be back in my arms.”

He had lain in bed for a while, his thoughts scrambling around after he had woken.

Just after Christmas, the swimming committee held a hearing. Anabella hadn’t pressed charges against them, but Charles’ father had been adamant that his son wouldn’t walk away without punishment. Charles and Thomas had been heavily fined; both fathers refused to pay it for them. Both had to dig deep in order to pay the committee in a timely manner, and both received stern warnings. They couldn’t approach either Anabella or Marjorie, who had testified against them.

Marjorie told the court of their manipulation in getting women into bed and using them for their own pleasures. The parents had been shocked with the news. She also told them about her involvement; how she befriended the women she took to them. Greatly disturbed, she’d sobbed during her testimony. It also came out that when she’d tried to stop they threatened to expose her drug use when, or if, she didn’t comply with their wishes. Although they regretted her part in it all, the committee felt it pertinent that she be expelled from the competition, which led to her suspension from the English team.

Adding fuel to the fire, this caused an avalanche of trouble for both Thomas and Charles; thinking they had been cleared once their fines were paid. One member of the board, a Ms. Anne Steward, spoke up and said that their fines weren’t acceptable punishment and that they, too, deserved to be suspended. This caused much debate amongst the remaining board members, which consisted largely of men. However, she kept at it for two days, managing to sway the board that a clear message must be given that men cannot and must not be excused in something as grave as rape. Finally, the board relented and they were suspended.

When a reporter caught a whiff of the story and managed to acquire further information, the committee diverted his attention by giving him related news to the well-being of the group. They decided it would in no way benefit the swimmers if any other details were to be released.

The ordeal left Anabella unsteady and disorientated, her dreams returning tenfold. She’d always end up in bed, butt-naked, with bodies she couldn’t identify groping her private parts. Some hurt her so that she would scream herself awake. Other times, she actually enjoyed it, but it left her numb, loathing herself the next day. For some reason, the smell of garlic was always present.

She had spoken to Mrs. Smit about her body’s reactions, and the counselor had explained the normalcy of it. Anabella was a vibrant young woman, whose body had responded to the natural cravings of sexual intercourse, and that the act of lovemaking in itself had not been wrong or despicable, but was meant to be enjoyed between two consenting adults. She needed to distinguish between the two, and not allow apprehension to cloud her judgment. Because in the process, she could miss the most beautiful act between a man and a woman.

That had given her the peace she desperately needed, the assurance that she was a normal young woman with normal desires to be with a man, and not just any man, but Aldrich. She missed him dearly, now more than ever. In keeping up with appearances, she continued with her participation, but inside she ached for her beloved.

Shortly after the hearing, Marjorie flew back to England. Although she tried to contact her friend, Anabella hadn’t attempted to return the many messages her friend had left.

André stood in his customary fashion, towering over Sandra with brooding, glazed eyes. The night had been tiring and no one had slept. On top of that, Sandra was moody herself; something that had never happened after one of their marathon nights. She would never admit to herself or anyone else that she was getting older, that she had to calm down. It never even occurred to her.

The group was larger than on most nights, and it took her a while to attend to everyone. During any of her parties, she never left a person untouched, or unexplored. She’d had too much to drink, she realized that; her head felt heavy and her eyes burned from the smoke.

The hot, sea breeze filtered through the spacious living room when someone had opened the windows earlier that morning. It was New Year’s Day.

André’s constant whining about her daughter had been grating on her nerves. He was the source of her tiredness from the time he arrived, which ended up being just after midnight. Her patience brooked on empty.

“I’ve told you, André, that she will be back on the fifth,” she said brusquely, rubbing her eyes.

A growl was the only response she received.

She introduced him to younger women and men, trying in vain to keep him entertained, but still he had whined about Miss Uptight the whole damm night. How pitiful.

Whenever he stayed over, he insisted staying in her room. Why? Only he knew. Derek had told her that he’d stared at Bella’s photos continuously whilst they’d been in her room.

Sandra had only smirked. Really! Anabella was pretty, no one could argue with that. However, did he have to behave like a lovesick puppy?

“The fifth,” he growled once again.

“Yes, Thursday,” she replied.

“Then she will be mine?” A grin appeared for the first time.

Sandra appeased him by saying, “Yes, all yours. For as long as you want.”

And his grin had grown, showing off a white, toothy smile. “I would like that… she is pretty.”

Sheepishly, the grin continued to spread over his face; it had been quite comical to watch. She would have laughed if she hadn’t been tired. He’d lost weight, too, she realized, not for the first time. He had also started working out, making an effort to look respectable for Anabella, and Sandra had to admit she liked the new look.

Forgetting her tiredness, she smiled, wrapping her arms around him. Her heart softened toward him and tapping him on his shoulder, she said softly, “Yes, she is. I will make sure she is waiting for you in her room.”

To that, he laughed boisterously. “She will love me, yes?” All the while rubbing his body sensually.

Sandra couldn’t believe that this man, with all his accomplishments and stand in society, would wonder if her daughter cared for him. It was quite pathetic, to say the least. She stopped herself just in time from rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Yes, of course. What is not to love?” She brushed against his bare torso, which was covered in gray hair. His once protruding belly was now less significant, and his chest more defined; clearly he had put a lot of effort into exercising.

He groaned when her hand brushed over his erect member, making him shiver in anticipation. Capturing her hand, he whispered seductively, “How about another round, only me and you?”

She chuckled as her tiredness quickly evaporated, leaving her feeling energized and open for a bit of gentle sex after the night they had. André could be a tender lover when he wanted to be. She looked around. Her husband had fallen asleep with his favorite blond on the couch, a pleased grin displayed on his face. She grinned with satisfaction. He had enjoyed his birthday party thoroughly.

“Why not?” Leading him upstairs, Sandra bumped into him as he stopped at the landing and motioned, almost pleading her with puppy eyes.

“In there.”

She agreed, sighing. She followed him to Anabella’s room, closing the door behind them.

Finally, the day the young couple had been waiting for arrived. The plane had landed a few minutes ago.

Aldrich stood at the glass doors, waiting impatiently for his Anabella. The last three months felt extremely long, never-ending almost, and he had been lonely. Now the wait was over, and he looked forward to being reunited with her again.