Her Hero (4 page)

             
“Do you like art?” Stacy practically jumped out of her skin at his deep voice.

             
With an unconscious hand to her hair she turned and watched as her hero blocked her only exit.

             
“I’m a fan of Tim Sale.” Stacy doubted he would be familiar with the comic book artist and his dismissive nod justified her thinking. “Why?”

             
“I have a black tie gala to go to. Plus one and I would like it if you would accompany me.”

             
The question sounded so formal Stacy instantly went into a confused, excited tizzy. Her palms started to sweat and her over analytical brain kicked in.

             
What did he mean by the invitation? Was he asking her out or was it a work request? Did she care, she asked herself as he waited calmly for a response.

             
“I’d love to.” Seeing no sign of relief or excitement on his face she amended, “That is... no problem. I can represent Harper and Son.” She studied his face seeing the corners of his mouth twitched up in an amused response.

             
She wondered, when he turned to go, why he hadn’t asked the stunning receptionist as he parted, the door closing on the date and time he would pick her up. It was only as she sat at her desk racking her mind for something to wear that she realised he knew where she lived.

             
Stacy left the stacks and passed her desk on a mission to fathom her superhero’s alter ego. Hovering back and forth before the front desk she worded her question in her head unaware of the leggy receptionist’s quizzical stair.

             
The lift that had started it all stood behind her, a reminder that life was short, urging her forward.

             
“Hey.. Did Hor... I mean Mr Harper ask you... by any chance, to ah em, a charity thing?” Although Stacy had mulled over the question in her mind she couldn’t seem to articulate it, afraid of what the answer would be.

             
The stunning face opposite her looked on with speculation as she answered, “No. Why? Did he ask you?” This she asked almost concerned.

             
“Yeah. I just wondered if he asked you first. You, working up here longer than myself and everything.” Stacy attempted to sound casual, she doubted she had.

             
“God no!” The receptionist burst out, eyes wide. “Oh my god I can’t believe you have to go with him.”

             
“Why?” Stacy was stunned by her repulsed reaction.

             
“Well he’s so, you know,” She gestured with her hands as if that helped. When Stacy remained clueless she continued, “Doesn’t he scare you just a bit. He’s so intimidating.”

             
“No.”

             
The receptionist went on as if Stacy hadn’t said anything in full revelation of her thoughts on Mr Harper, “Not to mention all the stuff about him. God he was such a delinquent. People say if his father hadn’t died and left him in charge, he would be in prison by now.” Stacy’s hackles rose as the receptionist leaned over the desk and whispered, not so quietly, “Not that he still couldn’t. Some of his take-overs are so ruthless and questionable,” She exaggerated the word with a click of her tongue and a raised eyebrow, “that I wouldn’t be surprised.”

             
Stacy stood tall, instant defenses coming to the tip of her tongue but looking at the receptionist and the way she had already started to study her nails, she found the effort to be pointless.

             
With a last look at the suddenly vulgar woman Stacy said, “I’m sorry I asked.” and turned away.

             
No wonder Horatius had asked her. If general opinion was that of his employees, he must be a very lonely person, she thought staring at her screen trying to get back to work. Stacy once again thought of all the things she had heard said about him in the past and suddenly she felt an overwhelming sadness. She knew he was good. Every encounter told her a different story of generosity and feeling and every time she studied the man behind the business decisions she understood his “ruthlessness”.

             
How short sighted people were she thought closing her computer and taking the stairs to exit for the evening. When businesses were going under and industries were being bailed out he had saved jobs, Stacy thought, her admiration growing as she strode determined to buy a dress worthy of his arm.

             
Stacy had to wait two days for Friday night to come and by that time she was a bundle of nerves. She sat on the edge of her bed reapplying then dabbing off her lipstick repeatedly until finally she sat still. Horatius was right on time she reflected watching as he approached in a chauffeur driven Mercedes Benz. Half expecting a limo Stacy was only momentarily disappointed when she stepped into the spacious back seat.

             
“You look, stunning.” Horatius sat, arm stretched across the back seat, his tuxedo form making him look deliciously constricted.

             
“So do you.” She had scoured for days for the perfect dress finally settling on a navy blue ensemble that, if a little safe, flattered her.

             
Horatius laughed before saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever been called stunning before.” and with that the formality of the evening disappeared.

             
Stacy was so relieved she sank back more at ease, uncaring of wrinkles. They began a teasing tete a tete that lasted until the car door opened on their venue.

             
“Well,” He said holding out his hand, “are you ready?” He suggested lambs to the slaughter and for the first time she realised, he was not as confident as he appeared.

             
Stacy smiled with as much reassurance as she could and walked in to the large art museum.

             
The echoing foyer was a teaming mass of black. Beyond the guests the ornate fixtures gleamed gold and she found the art over shadowed by the marbled architecture.               Horatius escorted her through the masses speaking briefly with most but he never lingered long. She started to become aware of voices quieting as they approached each crowd and as the evening turned long, she started to instinctively feel when Horatius would move on. Each group would receive the polite introductions a small conversation on any given subject and then inevitably someone would mention the press, or his latest cut backs, or worse.

             
On one occasion he was unable to escape before a particularly thin lipped lady started insulting Horatius through Stacy,

             
“They really shouldn’t place a plus one on the invitations.” The embittered heiress gave her a pointed look as she continued, “Just who is this latest girl Horatius. Actually don’t bother. They come and go so often it’s hardly worth the required learning.”

             
Horatius finishing his conversation with a large burley man turned hearing the last from, what Stacy assumed was a former lover, and placed his hand on the small of her back. Leaning in he turned then to the burley gentleman and cut off the thin lipped lady.

             
“Stanley, may I introduce Stacy my future wife.” Stacy could only hear her own gasp as tingles ran through her body.

             
Stacy knew she should be furious with his false coverup but she couldn’t help her ecstatic feeling.

             
“What a sly boy.” Stanley pumped Horatius's hand vigorously and Stacy felt herself being led away moment’s later.

             
In a daze she turned to him, “You didn’t have to lie like that for me.”

             
“Who said it’s a lie.”

             
He looked so serious she forgot herself and stepped into his body tilting her head up to whisper, “Thank you for saving me again.”

             
Horatius stood back and scowled.

             
“I told you to stop looking at me as if I’m some kind of hero.”

             
“Then stop saving me,” she offered calmly.

             
Horatius smiled ruefully and took her hand leading her through an arched partition.

             
“If your smart you’ll stay away from me.” She watched as he moved closer. “I’m not a nice guy.” His chest drew her vision as she felt his heat surround her.

             
“So you keep saying, but I don’t store much in rumors.” He looked pleased despite himself just as her vision blurred and her touch sense took over.

             
Stacy felt his lips gently brush hers, once, twice, before they pressed down, demanding.  Feeling herself get lost in the kiss, the smell of his cologne, spicy yet citrus. The heat of his body as his full length came into contact with hers. The moans from her and his lips as tension gave way to urgency. She could feel her body’s impatient response. His hand’s insistent request.

             
Then he stepped away. It was so abrupt, he set out a hand to steady her when she pitched forward seeking him.

             
“I’m sorry. I had to stop before it was too late.” She realised what he was saying after looking down to find her skirt still roughed up from his seeking hand. She touched her hair trying to pin up the loose strands as he re-buttoned his shirt.

             
When had she done that she wondered watching the olive skin disappear behind the starched shirt.

             
Stacy tried for normalcy and failed finding her tongue wouldn’t function because it still tingled from his kiss.

             
“I shouldn’t have said we are getting married.” It was Horatius who was first to regain the function of his lips but his words hurt and she wished he hadn’t.

             
“It will be in the press tomorrow.” He started to pace the empty gallery space. Sweeping a frustrated hand threw his hair he spoke to no one in particular. “That damn women and her catty comment... Well it’s done now.”

             
“Why do you go to these things?” Stacy watched while he stopped pacing and turned to look at her as if he had forgotten she was there.
              “I have to, this is one of my foundations. I support the arts and this charity.” Back to business his formality sent an array of confusion coursing through Stacy. “You should stay with me until the press get bored.”

             
He started to lead her out towards the lobby nodding as he passed guests.

             
“Was this your plan all along. To get me to be your mistress.” Stacy felt like a fool but most of all disappointed that the rumors of his underhand ways could be true.

             
Horatius stopped and looked down at her, “I wondered how long it would take, before you looked at me as everyone else does.”

             
Moving out into the cold night air she was amazed his driver was ready and waiting and again the feeling of being orchestrated and manipulated waved over her.

             
They sat in silence as the car drove and she was, despite his insistence, surprised when they arrived at a large town house she didn’t recognise.

             
“Were are we?” The question was benign, as with a sinking heart she knew the answer.

             
“I’ll show you your room and have someone get your things from your flat.” He paused and she remained seated. “If you’ll give me your keys?” He held out his hand awaiting her flat keys and for some reason she handed them to him, as if on auto-pilot.

             
Horatius led her up a curving staircase that glittered with the modern chandelier reflecting off the marble floor. The house was decadent but cold and Stacy knew he had not made it his own, when passing the generic paintings framing their way.

             
True to his word she was shown to a guest bedroom and simultaneous relief and disappointment assaulted her. Although exhaustion battered her she found herself staring restlessly at the shards of light reflecting from the moon.

             
Horatius had provided her one of his t-shirts to sleep in and his scent engulfed her as much as the material. She wondered which door led to his room then instantly scolded herself for her wayward thoughts.

             
Trying desperately to put her thoughts into some semblance of rationality. Stacy planned the morning, determined to return to her flat and start searching for a new job.

Stacy crept to the front door and cursed the cold marble floor as she tiptoed with her high heals in her hand. Soundlessly she cracked open the door but slammed it shut in an instant when snapping and jeers broke through the dawn.

             
“I wouldn’t recommend leaving without an escort.” Horatius’s deep voice from behind made her jump.