Pieces of Lies (17 page)

I held my hands to my heart as I stared at him. He pulled out a small black box from the pocket of his pants and presented it to me. “You know I love you, you know I’ll take care of you, you know that I will always let you be what you want to be. I have never lied to you and I will never hold you back. I want to be by your side for the journey of life, our journey. Marry me. Marry me not just because you love me, but because you know in your heart that everything I’ve done since I’ve known you, I’ve done for you.”

My heart swelled. I believed every word he said because I had seen with my own two eyes his love, respect and appreciation for who I was. There was no doubt in my head, “YES! Yes of course I’ll marry you!”

Samuel clicked the little box open to reveal a breathtaking, simple round cut, five carat diamond, set in a stunning platinum band with intricate vintage-style engravings on the sides. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on.

I pulled him up off his knees and started to kiss him frantically. So much in fact, that my body had simply taken over my mind and I began ripping off his clothes.

“Stop, we can’t, let’s wait until our wedding night, alright?”

But I continued to remove his clothing. “I refuse to wait a minute longer, and we are practically married now. No one is watching us. I want this to happen. Please make this the most perfect night of my life.” 

I didn’t have to ask him twice. When I expressed my feelings out loud, he knew the importance of my words. I needed him. I wanted him. Now.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know.” He pushed the ring onto my finger.

“Make me happier Samuel. I want you more than the air in my lungs. Do this for me, please.”

And then he went to work. Our clothes flew off each other until we stood naked, our hands moving up and down our limbs, caressing each other’s body in slow sensual strokes. We had been naked together before, but always with the knowledge that we were not crossing that line, and now, we were going to follow though. Samuel swooped me up in his arms, “Let’s go the bedroom wifey!”

I giggled as he threw me over his shoulder. “I just love how you say that. I can’t wait till it’s real.”

Suddenly, the front door of Samuel’s apartment flung open. Samuel dropped me to my feet and I jumped behind him, using his body to shield my nakedness from the intruder.

I glanced from behind Samuel and my heart crumbled. “Dad?” My father walked into the apartment with two men. He looked at a naked Samuel, who was using his hands to cover himself, and then to my eyes that hid behind him.

“Put on your clothes, NOW!” I knelt down, still hiding my bare body as I fumbled around grabbing my jeans and top. I stayed behind Samuel until I managed to get my clothes on. When I was clothed, I grabbed Samuel’s pants and shirt and handed them to him so he could do the same. My father’s eyes did not leave mine.

“How did you know I was here?”

His eyes wandered over to my cell phone sitting on Samuel’s coffee table. 

Fuck cell phones! Never again!

“This ends tonight.” His voice was deep and commanding.

“No dad, Samuel asked me to marry him and we are getting married. You can’t stop me.” I tried not to yell but I was getting emotional and my voice lifted defiantly.

“Over his dead body.” He looked at Samuel so he was certain to convey his words accurately. I grabbed Samuel’s hand, which was sweaty.

“But I love him dad,” I was pleading desperately but my father’s men moved towards me.

“This isn’t about love girly. This is about loyalty.”

I watched as the men moved even closer to me. “Do something Samuel. Say something!”

He turned his head to me so I could see his face; the face I had spent the last year staring adoringly at. His eyes screamed, ‘Don’t fight this’ but it was all I wanted to do. As the men moved in to grab my arms, Samuel leaned towards me and kissed my cheek, taking a moment to inhale my scent. His final words to me were, “Wait for me,” which he whispered into my ear as my father’s men led me away and out of his life, sobbing uncontrollably as I went.

But I didn’t wait for him. I accepted the idea that I would never see him again and that by staying away from him, I was protecting his life. That was the agreement made. I was under house arrest except for my classes at NYU, before my father arranged my transfer to McLaren.

I looked at the room, suddenly feeling confused. I was having a moment of doubt about being with Clint. It was probably because Samuel and I had unfinished business. Our closure was our separation. We never got a chance to say goodbye. Those feeling were forced shut, and not by us, but I had grown since then, my anger towards my father at taking me away from Samuel had changed me. I became a little more closed off and more protective of my own feelings in fear of that kind of loss again. I wasn’t so open with my emotions anymore.

What do I do about Samuel? If given another chance, would I go there again? Could I summon up that love I spent so much time getting over, even after suppressing it into the dark quiet corners of my heart? Samuel was my first real love. No one forgets that in their lifetime, but was he ‘the one’?

My heart spoke softly to my head, “No, he is not.”

I knew that answer already, but I just had to remind myself in this moment. Old feelings could easily cloud my current emotions and that was exactly what Samuel was trying to do.

My heart flew back to Clint. 

Oh shit, the flowers!
 

He was arriving any minute and I knew I had to get rid of them before he saw all this. I could hide them in my paint room and get dispose of them tomorrow.
Yes, a solid plan.

As I was about to reach for one of the arrangements, there was a knock on my door. I slumped; Clint was early. I shook my head, unsure how this was going to play out.

I opened to door to Clint beaming, he looked gorgeous in khakis and a cream sweater. He was holding 12 long-stemmed white roses, his arms outstretched as he presented them to me. When he saw the look of uncertainty on my face, his eyes dashed behind me to the blinding profusion of blue and purple that shone from within. 

“I just got home. They were here when I arrived. I don’t know how they got into my apartment.” I mumbled, hanging my head, feeling guilty.

He was still cradling the white roses as he walked in and took in the floral vision. He noticed the card on the bench. I tried to get to it first, but he reached it before I could take it out of his fingers. He read it and tensed. His eyes looked around again and then to me. “Are these flowers your favorite Norah?”

I didn’t want to lie. “Yes, Singapore orchids, but your roses, they are,” and he shot me a look as if I was taking pity on him.

“Don’t Norah. He clearly knows you better than me.” And then he looked at the card again, “And he still loves you and wants you again.” He walked over to me, “Do you love him?”

I continued not to lie. “I did, six months ago, but things have changed, I’m with you now.”

Clint wasn’t satisfied. “Last night I told you I love you, and you haven’t yet told me how you feel.” He needed reassurance. The room was too much.

“Clint, I’m more an ‘actions speak louder than words’ type of person. I’m sure you know that about me by now,” which was all truth. I was not good verbalizing my emotions and acted what I felt rather than voicing it.

“I want to hear you say it to me Norah, I need to hear it. I don’t want to lose you.” He was almost begging.

“Clint, I need more time before I can say those types of things. I mean, we are still establishing our relationship, getting to know each other.”

Clint’s head spun around. “Clearly. I don’t even know your favorite flower. But I want to know you; all of you. And I want you to know me, inside and out.”

I knew that was a high expectation. “Don’t you think that’s going to be hard, given you are in a secret society and can’t talk about anything that you do with them?” I was trying to divert the talk away from me.

“I would tell you. I would break that rule for you.”

My hands shot up. “Let’s not do anything that might get you in trouble or worse, OK, but I appreciate your willingness to trust me so intently.” 

The guilt inside me began to rear its ugly head. Clint wanted to be open and honest, and I had yet to tell him the most important thing he needed to know about me. It was the reason I still not had uttered those words he wanted to hear. I couldn’t anticipate his reaction, knowing there was a possibility he might run away again, so until I was sure, I couldn’t bring myself to open up completely.

He laid the white roses onto my dining table and again looked around the room. “I was, err, going to try and cook for you tonight, but if you don’t mind, I would prefer to take you out if that’s OK.” I was pleased he said that, being in the apartment felt suffocating and would just continue to remind me of Samuel.

“That sounds great, and thank you for the flowers, they are beautiful.” I went up to kiss him on the cheek but his head turned, catching my lips with his mouth. He kissed me deeply, fueled by jealousy and love.

“C’mon let’s go,” and I started pulling him out of the room.

Clint paused before we closed the door, “You haven’t forgotten about the literary ball this weekend have you?” and I put both my arms around his waist, swaying him side to side, helping to maneuver him out of the apartment. 

“We are going to have an enchanting night,” and I lifted my face up to give him a sweet peck on the lips, as he finally allowed me to usher him out the door.

Chapter 11

The Literary Ball

The literary ball was an annual Lappell tradition. It started as an over the top costume ball back in the twenties, which in time, slowly changed into a modern day party where the ‘dress up requirement’ was replaced by wearing embellished necklaces and name badges. Guests would write down a famous person from literature on pieces of jewelry and wear it for the evening for discussion. The necklaces for the ladies looked like a tiny script, made out of chalkboard, and were about five inches long and a few inches wide. The chalkboard was outlined with very beautiful gold filigree and attached to a small gold necklace. The men wore the same miniature gold chalkboards but as a badge pinned to their tuxedo pocket. 

For the night, I selected a long Alexander McQueen embroidered silk-faille and organza gown, that cascaded down my legs. It was strapless and fitted in the bodice. I also held a statement black and gun metal colored, Alexander McQueen clutch to go with it. The little gold filigree necklace was quite complementary to the dress and against the light olive tone of my skin. I also wore my hair in long flowing spirals down my back.

The Weston’s gardens had been given extra lighting for the ball, which created a total illuminated feeling of twilight as we walked amongst the trees and the garden beds. The luminous foliage was complemented by the stunning array of dresses and tuxedos of the guests who strolled, chatted, ate and drank along the stone walkways. Countless waiters and waitresses, wearing white pants and button-up long-sleeved shirts, carried trays of exquisite hors d’ouvres and wine flutes with deliciously expensive champagne. I felt like I was in a wonderland, and I wore a giddy grin from the whole sense of euphoria I couldn't hide on my face.

As we wandered through the groups of people, Clint introduced me to more of his friends, which appeared to be more faces I had not seen or met from the other parties. They were all pleasant and polite and smiled warmly at me as I held Clint's arm. As we circulated, I noticed Wickburn talking to a gentleman with a very familiar black hair cut, whose back was facing us. As I tried to place the back of the person’s head, Clint took my hand, walking towards them saying, “Let’s go say hello to Arthur.” 

I internally frowned. Talking to Arthur would only remind me of the Lapell's offer and how it almost ruined my relationship with Clint, which is exactly what I did not want to think about right now. I braced myself by ensuring I had on my best artificial smile. When we neared Wickburn, my heart sank even further and did a double flip into the sea of awkward, as the realization of whose head I was trying to identify became very clear. 

For fuck's sake
, n
ot again!

“What on earth are you doing here?” I was completely shocked to see Samuel conversing with Wickburn. He looked slick in his fitted tuxedo and combed back hair that was as dark as his almost black eyes. I started to remember the way I use to run my hands through that hair.
No, Norah, don't
.

Clint was squeezing my hand tighter than he probably realized. “Arthur is a friend of the family, and he convinced me to come tonight before I took off.”

Arthur eyed Samuel as he provided the explanation, “You know Miss Ross here Samuel?” Wickburn questioned, watching the tension ignite.

Samuel smirked towards Wickburn. “I know, Miss Ross, very well.” And then turned back to me, “I also figured you’d come with him, and I came so I could see you tonight.” Samuel used his head to point to Clint.

“‘Him’ has a name and his name is Clint.”

Clint smiled at me. 

“Of course, Clint Weston, I’m told this is your family’s estate.”

Clint released the tightness of his grip on my hand. “It is,” he said flatly, and Samuel’s gaze returned to me.

“How, nice.” I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. Samuel despised the rich as much as I used to. He walked forward to me, his hands going straight for my chest.

“What are you doing?” Clint asked immediately, as Samuel’s hand touched my skin.

“Relax, I just want to see what name she has written down.” Samuel’s eyes watched mine and then returned to the necklace. His fingers lingered on my skin as he read the name I had written on the tiny board, his eyes squinting a bit, and then a huge grin spread across his face – “
Juliet Capulet,
” – and his eyes shifted back up to mine, “were you thinking of me when you picked that name?” He seemed very pleased.