Deceived 4 - The Wedding (5 page)

Patrick smiled at me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee, there’s a shop right here.”

He took my elbow and guided me to a small, cozy coffee shop where we sat at a wooden table for two, tucked into the corner. Blowing across the top of my steaming mug, I leaned on my elbows and mused out loud. “Can I ask you something about Stephanie?”

“Of course.
You can ask me anything.”

“Ryan told me that you two were together all through high school. How come you guys split up? Did you break it off or did she?”

Patrick’s face turned somber. He set his coffee on the table and stared into the black liquid. “Well,” he looked up and squinted to the ceiling as if he would find the words he needed up there. “There is a story to that. It goes way back. Fourteen years.” He took a deep breath. “Back in high school, my senior year. I had been dating Stephanie for three years when it happened. It was Super Bowl weekend. Steph’s parents were out of town so she had the house to herself. It was a huge mansion and she invited everybody to a pre Super Bowl party. I think there must have been a hundred kids, at least. I don’t remember much else from the party. I got pretty drunk and passed out in Stephanie’s bed. She was so pissed at me, but what she did next defies sanity.” He shook his head and cupped his hands around his coffee mug, lacing his fingers together. He spoke as if he were talking to the dark brew. “I slept through the whole thing, being all drunk and shit. I didn’t know anything about it, until a buddy told me the day after, at school.” His embarrassment forced him to look away for a moment.

“What did she do?” I asked
, curious.

Running his hand through his hair, he continued. “
Like I said, Steph was pretty mad at me for passing out at the party so she drank way more than usual and started flirting with one of the football players. After a while they snuck into one of the bedrooms and started making out. She hadn’t noticed that there were two…
guys
in there already, with their own little party going, if you know what I mean. I don’t know if it was to distract from the fact that she was making out with someone else behind my back or what, but once she saw the two guys, she started screaming and shouting that they were fags and should be taught a lesson or something. A couple of the other football players heard the commotion, went in, grabbed the guys and stripped them buck naked. They tied them up in the adjoining bathroom with a couple of Steph’s mom’s old pantyhose from the laundry. Once they were all tied up on the cold tile floor, Steph took off her panties and shoved them in their faces, saying that maybe that could teach them to like pussy. All for a big laugh. It didn’t end there. For the big finale…the guys from the team pissed on them, right there on the fucking bathroom floor.” The words fell out of his mouth like daggers that pierced my heart. Poor kids.

Patrick’s voice was barely a whisper. “
I didn’t know any of this was happening at the time. I was down the hall, unconscious in Stephanie’s bed.”

“Oh God, Patrick
, that makes me sick. That’s just cruel and disgusting and no one deserves to be treated like that.”

Patrick
shook his head and then continued. “That next Monday at school, I heard the whole story. It was going around like wild fire. You know how ruthless teenagers can be. I confronted Stephanie and she admitted it, told me exactly what happened. She had been pissed at me for passing out and that’s why she made out with the other guy.” Patrick snorted and shook his head. “Made out with another guy? Like that was the issue. I told her I didn’t give a shit about that. What I couldn’t comprehend was why she would do something so detestable to those two kids. When I asked her that she just shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘It was fun,’ like the cold hearted bitch that she is. That was the day I broke up with her.”

“Wow, that’s insane. Did you report it?”

Patrick sighed and looked away. “No, I…I didn’t. Some of the guys from the football team were my friends, or used to be, and I knew they’d be expelled if I told the principal. I couldn’t do it. We only had four months left until graduation, but believe me, Chloe, there hasn’t been a day since then that I haven’t regretted that I got so drunk that day. In some way, it was my fault what happened to those kids.”

I gaze
d into Patrick’s dark eyes. I reached for his hand across the table and squeezed it tightly. He blamed himself, even though he hadn’t taken part. He was a good man and he was still the same amazing man I had fallen so deeply in love with. One way or another, we would eventually get married. This was just one of the many roadblocks that life threw in our way. I desperately hoped that it would all be resolved, sooner rather than later.

S
omething fluttered and fell to the wooden floor in our penthouse apartment. The movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. There goes another one. It had been three days since the first blossom fell. Months ago, I had bought a purple and white orchid to decorate the spacious white apartment; it fit perfectly with the clean lines and design of the place. It had also been three long days since Ryan had gotten hold of the private detective that he hired to spy on Stephanie. Every day that passed felt like an eternity, another million miles that widened the vast chasm between me and my wedding day.

I reclined on the couch
flicking my finger across the screen of my tablet, scrolling through the internet but not even seeing what was on the page. Patrick had just received a call from Ryan and I was too impatient to concentrate. Ryan said that he was on his way to pick up the surveillance report from the detective; apparently there was some good news. The detective had told Ryan that the report included pictures showing Stephanie with a man, hugging and kissing in intimate poses. Ryan promised he would drop by our apartment as soon as he had the file in hand.

My mind meticulously weighed
up each possibility. If Stephanie was in a relationship with someone, it would be great news. There would be no way she could claim that Patrick and she were in a legitimate marriage. With that kind of photo evidence to incriminate her, she would likely sign the annulment and agree to a lesser amount of money in order to avoid fraud charges.

T
ime was crawling at a snail’s pace. No matter how many times I checked, the hands of the kitchen wall clock barely seemed to move. A flicker of apprehension coursed through me when I heard a knock on the door. Finally; it had been almost an hour. I called to Patrick as I bounded off the couch, “Patrick, he’s here.” I opened the door to Ryan, who greeted me with a big smile and a thick manila envelope in his hand.

“Hey
, buddy,” Patrick said, coming up behind me. “Let’s check it out. Come on into the dining room.”

I followed
them into the dining room, my heart tattooing a frantic beat against my ribs. I was too nervous to sit down and none of us took a seat. I couldn’t wait another second to see what the photographs would reveal. Finally, some solid ammo against Stephanie. Any moment now I would have the solution to my wedding problem. I stared with wide eyes, holding my breath, as Ryan flopped the envelope onto the table and began pulling the photos out, spreading them out like he was showing off a prize pumpkin at the fair.
Yes
! It was Stephanie with a man, alright. There were plenty of photos with clear shots of her embracing and hugging the guy in what looked like an intimate manner. There was no question about it. I was sure this would be enough to do the trick. Inside, I smiled a sinister smile. Stephanie had not been very careful about hiding her lover or boyfriend.

Patrick picked up a photo that show
ed the man in clear view. After a couple of seconds examining the photo, he tossed it back into the pile of glossy paper on the table. “Fuck! We can’t use this.”

I picked up the photo
with the most intimate pose and stammered in bewilderment. “What are you talking about, babe? It’s perfectly obvious that she’s being intimate with this guy. Look.” I held it up for Patrick to examine further.

“Yeah, I know it looks that way
, honey.” His voice was low and soft now. “That’s how they’ve always been. The guy in the photos isn’t her lover. It’s her brother.”

“You
’re fucking kidding me?” Ryan blurted out.

“
I wish I was. But that’s her brother. They have a very close relationship, as you can see.” He waved his hand over the photos like a magician who just made all my hopes disappear. “No judge will ever accept that they are in an intimate relationship, though. We would need much harder evidence than just a few pictures of Stephanie hugging her brother.”

A suffocating tension tightened my throat and I was rendered speechless.
We were right back to square one.

Patrick
shoved his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “This is getting us nowhere. Stephanie obviously knows that she can’t be seen with a lover. Even if she has a boyfriend, he’s securely stashed away until this is over.”

Ryan picked up the photos and stacked them
into a neat pile. With a confident tap against the table, he put them back in the envelope. “Well, I’m definitely not giving up on this. There has to be something we can use, somewhere.”

Patrick nodded. “We might ha
ve better luck finding it in the marriage papers. I would love to take a look at those.”

After a few seconds in deep thought
, a smile curled the corners of Ryan’s lips. “That would mean…a trip to Las Vegas.”

Patrick’s
eyes brightened with the idea. “Yep, Vegas it is. I haven’t been there in years - eight to be exact.” He turned to me, looking like a kid about to go to the fair. “Chloe, have you ever been to Vegas?

I shook my head and smiled.

“Well then, let’s go gambling?”

“Sure,” I replied.
I held my hand to my head as he dashed around the apartment looking for his schedule. “But you’ll have to teach me. I’ve never gambled before.”

Patrick chuckled. “
I’ll teach you everything I know about it. We’ll have a whirlwind trip. It’ll be fun.” He found his cell phone and opened it to the calendar to check the dates. “As long as my schedule is clear we can leave Friday, spend the weekend and check out the marriage office on Monday, when they open.” He was beaming. The possibility of new hope invigorated him.

“What about you
, Ryan, can you get away?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have
to skip the partying, but I can be there Monday, around noon,” Ryan said.

“Oh
? You have plans?” A glint in his eye compelled me to ask.

With
a sheepish look Ryan replied, “Yeah, I’m going on a little road trip with this guy I met.”

“
Ah, a new guy. What’s his name? How long have you known him? Tell me everything, girlfriend.”

Ryan laughed.
“Easy now, Chloe. His name is Liam and we’ve been seeing each other for thirty four days and…” he glanced at his wrist watch, “thirteen hours.”

“What? You have been dating someone for over a month and
you didn’t tell me? How could you?” I feigned anger.

“Sorry, but this time I
didn’t want to say anything right away. Didn’t want to jinx it. You know, the last few times didn’t exactly turn out great. So this time I wanted to be sure before I made any announcements. Plus, I didn’t want to steal your thunder, with the wedding and all.”

I smiled and gave him a hug.
“Ryan, that’s great, congratulations. I’m so happy for you. So what does he do? Is he another artist?”

“No
, no, I’ve learned my lesson. No more artists or models.” Ryan chuckled. “Liam is a theater director, and he’s not twenty five. Actually, he’s a year older than me. What do you know? Peter Pan is finally growing up.”

“
Liam? That name sounds very…European.”

“Yeah, he’s Irish
.”

“
That is so cool. A theater director? Has he directed anything I might have seen?”

“I doubt it. He
’s only been doing off-Broadway plays so far, but he might be moving up in the ranks soon. His upcoming play is creating quite a buzz. Who knows, it might even be picked up for Broadway.”

Patrick put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “That’s great news
, Ryan. I hope it goes well for him.”

“
We’ll see, but I’ll tell you one thing, I watched the rehearsal the other day and the cast is amazing. Some of the best actors and singers I’ve ever seen.”

Ryan was beaming and I was so happy for him. It fi
nally sounded like he had found a good guy. I was also excited about my first trip to Las Vegas. The future was bright and this could be the most amazing year for all of us, if only we could get that bitch Stephanie off our backs. I peeled myself out from under Patrick’s arm and excused myself, leaving my two most favorite guys in the world to hash out the details of our trip. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

T
he hum of sophisticated elevator music droned on in my ears. Patrick and I stepped into the gold trimmed mirror that made for the elevator at our posh hotel in Vegas. We were alone; two people on fire for each other enclosed in a prism of glass and subdued lighting. Patrick pressed his body against mine and I felt the cool glass against my back. The glowing yellow buttons illuminated the darkly lit car with the number of each floor. Twenty-six buttons. Patrick ran his hand up my outer thighs, over the curve of my hips. Two, the buttons came to life with the assent of each floor. Before it could hit three, I smashed my hand on the stop button and the elevator came to a stop. My tote bag fell to the floor with a thud as Patrick flattened me against the wall. I could feel his chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing as it pressed against mine.

“Here
. Now,” I panted. “I want you.” I felt heady with power as I saw the look in his eyes.

He ran both hands up into my hair and pinned my head against the wall with a
lust filled kiss. His tongue probed my mouth hungrily as he pulled tighter on my hair. Holding me pinned to the wall with his kiss, his hands shot down my body to my tingling breasts, frantically squeezing. I ran my hands up into his hair and pushed into his kisses deeper and harder. I could barely breathe, my heart was pounding so fast. I gasped for air between the fiery kisses, barely able to stand, letting his tongue out of my mouth only for a second. Greedily, I sucked it in with my lips, tasting the sweetness of his mouth.

He thrust his hips
hard against my pelvis and I could feel his cock was rock hard. The steel of it forced my blood to race through my body even though the touch of it was through our clothes.

“My skirt,” I gasped. “Pull up my skirt.”

His hands quickly unfastened his belt and he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.

“Take me
fast, Patrick. I can’t wait.” My orgasm was rising like flash flood waters. It wasn’t going to take long for me to come and I wanted him in me first. I spread my legs and pulled up the front of my skirt while he yanked my thong panties aside. My pussy was dripping wet, and my clit ached to be touched. I wanted to feel the bulk of his thick cock rub against it as he stroked me.

He grunted as his
fingers entered me and the slightest touch sent rivers of pleasure rushing through my body. He pulled his fingers out quickly and gave them a lick before he spun me around to face the wall. He pushed my torso slightly forward and before I knew it, he thrust his cock into me. It slid in easily and I gasped with pleasure. He pumped it hard, sliding in and out of me with such intensity I thought I might fall over. I closed my eyes and gripped the wall as he took me in the elevator, all of me, body, mind and soul. I panted and groaned. I scratched at the wall. I gritted my teeth against his harsh pounding and only wanted more. I thought I felt the elevator jolt and began to move, or was it just the motion of Patrick behind me? No, it was moving. I must have hit the button in an effort to steady myself against his power. My thoughts were fuzzy, swimming in a bath of pleasure endorphins. It was too late to be concerned about it. I had to finish; I had to come. His cock entered me again and again as the last few seconds ticked by before the doors would open. He increased his rhythm and I screamed. My nerve endings were so hot I thought I would explode. My body started to tremble as my orgasm took off into orbit.

“Oh
Patrick!” I groaned out. “Don’t stop, I’m almost there.”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

“Oh shit. The elevator doors are opening and I’m almost ready to come!”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A sudden jerk in my seat woke me out of my dream.
Wow, what a dream.
I sat up straight in the comfortable first class seat at our Delta flight to Las Vegas.

“We
’re headed into some high winds and we may experience some light turbulence. If you are up and about, please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt,” the pilot’s voice announced through the loudspeaker. The “fasten seatbelt” sign illuminated orange above my head. I looked up at it, feeling slightly embarrassed. Had I drooled while I slept? Or worse, had I moaned? I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

Patrick noticed I was awake and reached over to take my hand.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

I ducked my head and
gave a nervous laugh. “I hope I didn’t snore.” He patted my hand and smiled.

Up to
that point, the flight had been quite relaxing as we cruised at an altitude of 36,000 feet across the United States, heading west towards Las Vegas. The trip had started out stressfully, though. We had been late getting to the airport because of unusually heavy traffic to JFK, only to find out that fortunately, our flight had been delayed two hours. But, come to think of it, that wasn’t so unusual. There was always heavy traffic to the airport, especially on a Friday afternoon. Even after living in New York for over two years, sometimes I forgot how life is so much busier in a large metropolis. I felt a breath of relief escape me when the wheels of the plane had finally left the ground from New York, destination: Las Vegas, Nevada.

I was excited that
Patrick had suggested we should leave for Vegas a couple of days early, to have a real Vegas experience with casinos, gambling and all. He hadn’t been there for years and for me, it was my first time going to “Sin City.”

There were a
couple more bumps and I reached for my armrest, but the turbulence was over as quickly as it had started and the flight stabilized back into a smooth ride. I had always been nervous about flying, but I must admit, flying first class was a whole different experience. No huffing and puffing getting in and out of your seat, and being there with Patrick made me feel safe. I didn’t care about turbulence. As long as I was with him, I wasn’t afraid. I glanced over and smiled. He laid a warm hand on top of mine on the armrest, returning a reassuring smile.

“Champagne, Miss
?”

I looked up at a
crisply dressed stewardess and nodded. She handed Patrick and me glasses filled to the brim with champagne, my favorite drink.

“What kind is it?”
I asked.

The stewardess
reached for the bottle and turned it to show me the label. “It’s a Moet and Chandon,” she replied.

I took a sip of the champagne. The bubbles tickled my nose as the delicate liquid filled my mouth.
“Very nice,” I said. She nodded and smiled as she moved down the aisle to serve the passenger in the next seat.

Patrick took a sip and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
I studied the bubbling liquid in the glass. It was a good champagne, but not the best I had ever had. As we sat there enjoying the perks of first class, my thoughts were taken back to another flight, a time where I had indulged in the best champagne I had ever tasted. I smiled to myself as I remembered my first time flying to Paris. Dom Perignon had been served on that flight and, by chance, I was seated next to a handsome young man. That was one crazy flight to Paris. I supposed I would look back on it someday when I’m old and refer to it as my “young and wild” days. The thought of being so promiscuous made me flush. Now, it seemed so long ago. So much had happened in my life since then.

Patrick
had opened his eyes and was studying my face. “You seem deep in thought. What are you thinking?”

I quickly shoved the champagne glass in my mouth to hide the smirk on my face.

He leaned in to me and said, “If it has anything to do with the mile high club, I’m game.” He ran his hand up and down my thigh under the table tray and I almost choked on the champagne. Oh my God, I swear he sometimes can read my mind.

“No
, no,” I said, coughing. “I don’t even know what the mile high club is,” I lied as redness flushed my cheeks.

“
Are you blushing, Chloe? I’m sure you know about the mile high club. Haven’t you seen that movie, with Adam Sandler?”

I laughed
, determined to continue my act of “innocent until proven guilty.” I blinked and looked at him over the top of the glass. “No, but please do tell me. It sounds exciting.”

He
peered at me with narrowed eyes, suspicious, but not sure if I was telling the truth. I fixed my gaze on him and held it steady, engaging him in a staring competition. He finally broke and slumped back in his seat in defeat.

“Alright,
you’re full of mischief, but I’ll go along with your story. I guess you haven’t heard about the mile high club.”

“You still haven
’t told me what it is?” I said with a smirk, pretending not to know.

“That smirking little mouth of
yours is going to get you in trouble, someday,” he teased and leaning in, he whispered in my ear. “The mile high club is an exclusive club for people who have had sex while flying.”

I looked at him, trying to keep a straight face. “
I see. And you are a member?”

He
pulled back from me in a huff and said defensively, “No, no, I mean…of course not. I just wondered if you’d heard about it.”

A burble of laughter erupted from my mouth.
“The look on your face is priceless,” I said, giggling. “Of course I know what the mile high club is. You really want to try it out? Now? We can do it in the restroom, if you want.”

He
hesitated for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled. “You are wicked. No, I don’t want to try it now because I’m sure the restroom is gross.”

“Yeah, you
’re probably right. I mean, seriously, doing it in a bathroom, that’s just desperate, I’d say.” I waved my hand nonchalantly. “It’s probably one of those things that sounds a lot more interesting than it really is.” I leaned back in my seat, trying to dismiss the spotted memories I had from that day when I was inducted into the mile high club by a handsome young motocross rider.

Hours
later, the plane’s loud speaker announced that we were preparing for landing. I sat up straight, checked my seatbelt and looked at my watch. We’d been in the air for over five hours.

My legs were getting stiff. I
really needed to stand up and stretch. I checked to see if there were any stewardesses watching but the coast was clear, so I clicked open the seatbelt and rose to my feet, stretching my arms.

Patrick looked up from his seat. “Hey, we
’re landing soon, hon. You should get back in your seat.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said and
slipped into the restroom with my handbag. Looking in the mirror I confirmed that I had “airplane hair,” matted and pushed up on one side from sleeping in an unnatural position. Just as I had expected after such a long flight. I combed it out, brushed a quick sweep of powder across my cheeks, finished my business and quickly went back to my seat.

“You
okay?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, fine,” I said and leaned into his warm chest. “
Actually, I’m perfect. Didn’t you know?”

He laughed. “
You’re hilarious. Don’t give up your day job. Maybe you can get a gig in Vegas. I hear they have an opening at The Laugh Factory.”

I poked him in the side and leaned in closer,
inhaling the masculine scent he wore so well.

Finally, the wheels touched the ground and minutes later we were on our way to the baggage area to pick up our luggage.

As soon as we entered the terminal I spotted a bank of brightly colored slot machines. It was like the lure of the machines rippled through the carpet and I could feel the excitement of gambling the minute I set foot in the place. Except for playing the lottery a few times, I had never tried any kind of gambling before; but that was about to change. It was not that I had anything against gambling but I had always been afraid I would mess it up and lose a bunch of money, or even worse, make a fool of myself.

The machines
sparkled and rang out in captivating sounds. They looked so inviting. It was as if I were drawn to them, and I paused in front of one as we walked past to the baggage claim area.

Patrick noticed my interest and chuckled. “Slot machines are for suckers. Black
jack is the best casino game to play.”

I looked at
him and said, “Why’s that?”

“
It’s the only game where you actually have a slight chance of winning against the house in the long run.”

“Have you played
it a lot?”

“We had a game club in college.
We would play Texas Hold’em and Blackjack. Of the two, Blackjack is the easiest to learn, but poker was where I won the most.”

I leaned into his arm
and we continued walking to collect our bags. “So, are you going to teach me to play?”

He smiled at me. “Of course
, baby. Before we go back to New York you will be a pro at Blackjack.”

Once in the baggage claim area we waited with the other passengers.
From a distance, I spotted the Porsche red Samsonite suitcase Patrick had bought me in Paris. The bright red color made it a unique and an easy target to spot. For some reason it was on one of the other belts. We had been waiting in the wrong place.