Positive/Negativity (32 page)

Marisol openly smirked at the accolades I was receiving from both men. Blake noticed her change of demeanor and turned to her.

“Don’t you agree, Marisol?” he challenged her.

With all eyes turned on her, she turned on the false charm that she kept as handy as an accessory in her make-up kit.

She pasted her most sincere smile and softest look on her face as she fraudulently addressed me, “Yes, Aria. You’re quite the talent. You certainly can work a room,” she said as she swept her arm dramatically around the refurbished space. She then dripped her sarcasm disguised as a compliment as she slanted her eyes toward me and finished her statement, “It appears you can work the gentlemen as well.” She brought her drink to her synthetic lips in snide comment.

I was the amateur at this game as her subtle attack rendered me momentarily speechless. Declan, however, was quite skilled at this game.

His verbal sparring was immediate and sharp, “You’re correct in that, Marisol”—he turned lustful eyes toward me; Declan wanted to play—“and I love the way she works me…” he said in his most obscene and devilish tone.

His immoral glance made me blush to my toes, but he quickly turned a malevolent look on Marisol with which he challenged her. I’d never seen that look before, and it would have slayed her if it were a weapon.

Blake attempted to diffuse the situation.

“I do believe you’ve made this beautiful woman blush as deep as the color of her gown,” he laughed.

Marisol shot both men a contemptuous look and stomped away from the group in a huff.

Declan shrugged his shoulders at Blake.

“Do you think it was something I said?” he said with mock concern.

They laughed again, and I tried to hide a smile.

To say the evening’s celebration was overwhelming would have been an understatement. I was introduced to more people than I had known in my entire life, and I saw Declan the way that his peers saw him.

He was perfection in his Dolce & Gabbana Midnight Blue Tuxedo. He had graciously waited to see which gown I’d choose for the evening, being the perfect gentleman. The result was that I felt beautiful in my dress, and Declan looked the epitome of the perfect man. I caught myself gazing at him several times, finding it hard to believe that he was mine. In those moments I looked at him as ‘Declan Sinclair—male model’, and not Declan—Aria’s love.

Earlier in the day, as we were talking about this evening, I confessed my insecurity to him. I knew that there would be so many beautiful women there, and in that large of a group, I felt somewhat inadequate compared to them. He was so sensitive to my inner thoughts, quickly reminding me that most of the people that I’d be meeting tonight weren’t real. He pointed out that many of them were fabrications of a perception of beauty. Some even adopted alter egos when they attended public functions. He went on to explain that some, not all, had very little depth of emotion, especially in those people whose beauty was manufactured. As our conversation was ending, he reminded me that
my
Declan was the real one, and that
I
could be assured that I held his heart.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed and anxious, I was thankful to slip into the ladies room for a bit to reminisce on the memory of his words. Just a moment would suffice to think and touch up my make-up. I tried to remember the tips and tricks that Aimee shared with me while I got a second wind.

Gazing in the mirror to put the final touches on my hair, I felt an eerie chill on the back of my neck. I knew it was her before I heard her voice.

“You don’t honestly think that will help, do you?” came Marisol’s voice as she moved into an attack position.

I didn’t respond in the slightest, and I refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her presence. She moved slightly thinking I would turn.

Again, she tried to bait me.

“Seriously, Aria, you should take a good look at what you see”—Marisol made a circling motion with her finger up and down my frame—“then go out and look at Declan. Even
you
can see that he’s much too fine to be with the likes of
you
. You may have been his worker for this project, but that’s where your relationship should end—as his
employee
.”

I could feel anger rising within me, but I was still holding my ground and hadn’t addressed her.

She obviously didn’t like being ignored as it motivated her to move to the mirror next to mine and enticed her to address me more closely and maliciously.

I lost my own battle, gazing toward her. She knew she was victorious and gave me the most contemptuous of smiles.

“Of course,” she continued her merciless venting, “Since you were sleeping with Declan the entire time, you performed this renovation while under his employ…” She paused for effect as she sneered, “One could assume you were a paid whore as well.”
TT

Now I felt the need to address her!

Feeling the unexpected heat and anger rise up inside of me, everything felt as if it were moving in slow motion. I turned very slowly as to be certain to make complete eye contact with her. I lifted my clutch and tucked it under my arm in a deliberate and ladylike manner. Making a conscious decision that I wanted this bitch to know exactly how I felt, I turned to address her.

Moving ever so closely so that I could look her in the eye, Marisol held her stance. For those few moments, she stood confident, thinking she had fed my insecurity and rocked my confidence.

She…was…wrong!

Within inches of her, I addressed her comment by speaking slowly and succinctly. I enunciated each word as I mentally spat them in her face, “I’d expect that
you
, above
all
people, would be an expert in
that
area, Marisol, and that you make that statement from
your own
experience. The room is
filled
tonight with
your
clients.”

Her face twisted and contorted into a vicious rage as her body sprang into action.

“You
bitch
!” she shouted at me and raised her hand to slap me.

Instantly, I was grateful for the advantages of being a girl that had done some manual labor. I also wasn’t afraid to break a manicured fingernail by protecting myself. I caught Marisol’s arm, making her lose her balance and pushed her back against the sink. Using that leverage, I kept her pinned, and she had no choice but to look at me. I was so efficient that not one of my own styled curls came undone.

Driving against her, I wanted her to feel fear because I knew I could use it to my advantage. Holding her wrist in my grasp and having her momentarily frozen, I held my chin high and postured myself in a dominant position. I had never been in a catfight, but she didn’t know that. I had
no
idea what was to come, but I wanted to feed her panic, and I craved for this lowlife to be wary of me in the future. Giving her fair warning was the first step.

“Stay away from me,” I said through gritted teeth. “Stay away from me, and stay away from Declan. Stay as
far
away as you can. I know our paths will cross, but don’t
ever
make the mistake of attacking me again. Tonight, you’ll walk out of here. If you
ever
try this again, I promise that you won’t be as lucky as you are tonight.”

With that, I flung her wrist away from me while she was still backed over the sink. As I straightened up, she tried to stand, still not having caught her balance. I walked away from her toward the door, letting her know that I was finished with this
and
with her; however, Marisol believed that she had to get in the last word.

“No need to worry, Aria. I will never attack
you
again.”

What was that supposed to mean?
I never turned back to face her, but this time, I refused to allow her the last word she desired.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” I countered.

Opening the door, I walked out, never waiting for an answer.

Once back in the hall, I quickly walked toward the nearest exit to get some air. Aimee noticed me and made her way toward me as I stepped outside.

“What happened? You look upset,” my friend inquired.

“I’m fine,” I assured her.

“That’s not what I asked,” she said with concern in her voice.

At that point, I was still uptight and couldn’t recant what had just transpired. To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to. Aimee came closer to me and placed my hand in hers; then she looked at my worried face and instantly read me.

“You don’t have to say anything; I can guess what it is. Marisol?” she asked. My eyes began to fill with tears as a queasy feeling fed my stomach. “No, Aria. Not tonight,” she insisted as she squeezed my hand. “Tonight’s just as much your night as it is Declan’s. Don’t let her steal one minute of it.”

“She’s disturbed, Aimee,” I managed to whisper.

“This is true, freak that she is” nodding her head in agreement. “You won’t let her win by ruining tonight for you, will you?” She smiled.

I faced my considerate friend and purposefully regained my composure.

“Besides that,” she added, “I may have to kill her if you ruin your make-up.”

With that, she made us both laugh. It was that scene that Declan walked into.

“Two beautiful, happy women. That’s what I like to see.” Upon his closer inspection, he noticed my uneasy demeanor. I read the concern in his face. “Aria, what’s wrong?” the care in his voice said it all.

“I’m good,” I said, putting my hand in his.

He frowned disapprovingly at my attempt to avoid his inquiry. He put his other hand on my hip and drew me closer.

“Should I quiz you for details now or later?” he said in a low snarl that indicated his displeasure at my avoiding the issue. Aimee correctly thought to excuse herself.

This night was so important to Declan that I couldn’t possibly trivialize it with tales of Marisol’s juvenile behavior. I also didn’t want to keep secrets from him, so we’d have time to talk later.

I felt the tears threaten to fall, not just because of my encounter with Marisol, but I knew I was spoiling his evening whether I told him or not, and it was just a matter of to what degree. I didn’t want to ruin tonight’s celebration of his dream and our hard work, but here I was, causing the moment to sour.

My gaze lowered to the floor as I couldn’t look into his eyes, for I knew if I did, then I’d come unraveled. I wasn’t a girl who was used to immature confrontation. The resulting emotional toll of the past half hour was beginning to hit me. Being in the arms of the person I felt the safest threatened my tears to fall. I needed to dismiss these feelings for the next several hours—for him.

I bit the inside of my cheek to hold my emotions in check, remembering my mother’s advice to take three deep breaths if ever I needed to calm down. I lowered my hand so that I could hold both of his and continued to look down at the floor. Declan said nothing. He waited and allowed me a few moments to compose myself, so I did just that.

As I took the fresh air into my lungs, I felt his strength and knew I had strong hands holding mine. I also knew that he’d do anything for me, and I realized that he’d confront Marisol here and now if he knew the details. My decision was to wait. We could talk later. My memory could be a bit more selective then, and I’d be more mature in the retelling.
Yes, later would be better.

After a brief time, I raised my eyes to look confidently into his and address his question.

“Later, please, if that’s okay with you?” I said as I watched him. Giving him a soft smile, I placed my hands on each side of his beautiful face so that I could let him see into my eyes and know that I was being truthful. “Right now, I want to share each moment of tonight with you so that we’ll have lots of wonderful memories to talk about tomorrow.”

As I suspected, he searched my eyes for the truth, and he found an answer that satisfied him. Still carefully looking at me, he lifted his hand and took my chin. He nodded in agreement and lowered his mouth to mine, confirming my comment with his kiss making me fill with security.

He didn’t release me after the kiss, but he held me firm, looking into my eyes with a serious stare.

“Later,” he said, and I nodded.

Escorting me back inside, Declan didn’t allow me to leave his side the remainder of the evening. He made certain that we had a fun-filled night that would become treasured reflections.