Tainted Love (Book 1) (28 page)

We arrive at the gala to a bevy of photographers. Stepping out of the car, they approach us and start snapping pictures. This is what I’d feared most. The publicity.

I try as best as possible to keep my head down as we pass through them, but Ben stops when we get to the doors of the ballroom.
Damn it
!

He tugs me to his side and stares at me lovingly, riveting my movements. I am momentarily lost in his eyes.

“Beautiful, guys! Now can I get one of the two of you smiling for the camera,” one of the photographers says, pulling me out of my trance.

Ben faces the camera and so do I and we smile as though we are the “it” couple of the night. The idea is fleeting as fear rises inside me that someone (Rick) might recognize me from New York and come and find me.
I breathe, slow and steady. I can’t afford to have a panic attack right now. I can’t embarrass Ben that way.

A bright light flashes in my eyes and I hold my hand up to block the blinding glare of it. I look out into the crowd and I see a lone figure among the photographers, no camera in hand. The trench coat looks awfully familiar and my mind races back to the night I’d ran from the house.
No!

Like fucking clockwork,
I start shaking.

“Are you alright?” he asks, whispering in my ear.

I start shaking my head and I turn into Ben’s chest before chancing another look into the crowd. The man is gone. My eyes dart frantically around, looking for him, looking for my tormentor…or who I think is my tormentor. I feel Ben’s fingers sink into my side and his lips brush my earlobe. Tears prick my lids and I fight to keep them at bay. I hear Ben cooing in my ear and he brushes my lower back reassuringly, effectively bringing me down from my panic attack.

“Hey,” he whispers, searching my face. “Are you okay?”

“The flashing lights make me nervous. I hate pictures,” I lie, turning away from the cameramen shouting at us to turn this way and that.

“Sorry guys, we have to get inside,” Ben dismisses, clutching my hand tight so I know he is saying that just for me
, and I return his squeeze in appreciation.

He did that for me. More and more, he makes me feel things; things I have no business feeling. Where is the asshole of a few days ago? Him I can handle, but sweet, thoughtful, loveable Ben? I didn’t bargain for that. I didn’t bargain for feelings.
Shit.

Inside the ballroom, we are greeted by waiters who hand us glasses of champagne. Ben eyes me with a warning stare.
I know, I know
.
No heavy drinking
. I roll my eyes at him.

“Perrier,” the young waiter says, saving my hide. “Enjoy your evening Mr. Hayes and…”

“Miss Beal,” Ben answers him.

“You can call me Sullivan, Christopher,” I say, reading his nametag.

I feel Ben’s glower at me, which in turn makes the poor waiter nervous.

“That’s okay, Miss Beal,” the waiter resigns. “Have a lovely evening.”

Walking away, Ben tugs my hand and admonished me in a soft but commanding voice, “No fraternizing with the help, Sullivan.”

I frown at him.
Here’s the asshole! How dare he call the man help? That’s so…demeaning. We’re going to have to have a little chat about how he treats people who serve him.

“Hayes!” a tall, white haired man with a gruff, but cultured voice calls. “You’re late. But I see why. Hayes, introduce us,” the man commands in that authoritative tone that all men of power have.

“Mr. Fields, Sullivan Beal. Miss Beal, Mr. Arthur Fields,” Ben introduces us.

Mr. Fields takes my hand and places a wet,
and oddly inappropriate, kiss on it. But, always the lady, I smile politely at him.

“What a beauty. You will be the envy of every woman here,” Fields admires shooting me a coy glance.

Eww, gross
! All I’m envisioning are old balls and I have to steel myself from breaking into laughter. This man has got to be about 100, though he is pretty fit for his age. I don’t do almost dead. I like them young and virile. I can’t see older men in any erotic or romantic way; I actually hate the thought of it. He can’t know how utterly repulsed I am. I can’t even express why right now without going into another panic attack.

My mind then goes to the business news I had seen the night Ben and I broke up. Remembering the analysts’ comments about Ben being next in line for when Fields would retire, I decide to talk him up a bit.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Fields. I’ve been waiting to meet the brains behind the operation. I’ve met and am acquainted with the face of the company,” I comment, gesturing to Ben. “But I just had to meet the brains. Nothing appeals to me more than a man’s mind,” I flatter.

“And she has a sweet mouth on her. She’s a keeper, Hayes,” Fields says.

“But we have to give credence where it is due, don’t we? Mr. Hayes has done wonders for your company in the last few years, hasn’t he?”

“Oh, that he has,” Fields agrees. “Do you know he’s been working with us since he was sixteen?”

I widen my eyes and shake my head. “No, I didn’t know that.” I look up at Ben whose face is calm, modest as ever.

“Yes. Back then, Hayes here was just a mailroom clerk, working with us every summer. Even then he had bright business ideas. I knew he would be just what this company needed.” Fields shakes Ben’s hand and pats him on the back.

“Thank you, Artie. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you didn’t give me a chance to prove myself,” Ben thanks him, giving Fields a warm look. That he reveres this man is obvious.

“Your mother is looking rather suspiciously at you, Hayes,” Fields points out, waving to a beautiful woman in a silver empire waist, pleated dress and a chunky necklace. Her fair hair is in a neat chignon and she looks too young to be the mother of two grown men.

“I think she wants to know who this lovely woman on my arm is.” Ben takes my hand and in a deep, business-like tone, says, “Artie, we’ll discuss the Langley Liqueurs acquisition later.”

“Come on, Hayes. We’ll discuss that tomorrow. Show this beautiful woman a good time, or I may have to,” Fields promises.

I wouldn’t want to be part of any good time of his, but I don’t have to worry. I know Ben won’t let that happen, even if his promotion hinged on it. He is much too possessive to let me go to another man.

Ben leads me by the elbow over to his mother, where his father and brother also stand. Matt’s eyes immediately light up when he sees me and I flush, looking away as I remember him seeing me raw and satisfied while his brother pounded me from behind.

Ben introduces me to his mother and father who greet me warmly.

“You are so beautiful,” Mrs. Hayes comments.

“Yes, she is,” Matt adds, eyeing me seductively. Ben glares at him and Matt chuckles, looking away and taking a sip of his wine.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. No more beautiful than you,” I compliment.

“Oh, thank you, darling. But call me Diana,” she insists.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served,” announces the hostess, a tall silver-haired woman, in a sparkling black dress.

We make our way to the dining area and are seated next to Ben’s family and his boss: Fields on Ben’s right and Matt to my left. I am not too thrilled to be seated next to Matt, but he doesn’t make me regret it. He keeps me entertained throughout dinner while Ben ignores me to talk with his boss.

The evening’s dinner starts with an arrangement of Louisiana tiger prawns served with American cocktail sauce. It is delicious – well, maybe because I love shrimp. For the main course, there is a choice between the sliced, grilled, aged beef tenderloin – chateaubriand with sauce béarnaise – and the grilled black tiger jumbo shrimp served with watercress salad and green asparagus. I choose the former, seeing as I have already had shrimp.

As I eat and listen to Matt’s stories of his overseas travels, I am painfully aware of Ben’s complete disregard of me. Frankly, it annoys me. I reign in my petulance when I remember how important he is in the business world and as much as I yearn for his attention at the moment, it isn’t important for him to be all over me right now.

The plates are cleared from our table and Matt continues talking me up, while Ben surges deeper into his conversation about mergers and acquisitions with Fields.

I must say, Matt’s a charmer. He has my head aching with laughter. He has me hooting, and more than once Ben has grabbed my thigh for me to quell my outbursts. Small gestures like those, assures me that he is aware of my presence and it eases the displeasure of my spirit a fraction.

The hostess stands to her feet and then announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, the dance floor is now open.” She claps twice and two men open large European style white doors.

“May I have the honor of the first dance?” Roman asks, looking eagerly to Ben for an answer.

I look at Ben who shrugs his shoulders and eases from his chair. He helps me up and hands me over to his father without so much of a word, not even a kiss to my cheek. Nothing. He just passe
s me on like I am keys being handed to a valet.

As I saunter away with his father, he doesn’t even notice. He just continues his stupid conversation. And, once again, I’m pissed. I came with him and I feel like I’m a loose string on his jacket he is eager to get rid of, when ignoring it isn’t enough.

“How did you meet Benjamin?” Roman asks as we slow dance.

“We met at the Fielding House Christmas party,” I answer.

“Oh, you two work together?”

“No, I was invited by a friend of mine. I’m actually in my final year at UPenn,” I inform him, feeling the need to justify myself. I don’t want him to think that I’m just another ditzy piece of arm candy for his son; though that’s how it seems with the way Ben has been treating me all night.

“Ahh, wonderful. What is your major?” Roman inquires.

“
I’m a Psychology honor’s candidate.”

“
Honor’s,” he muses. “And psychology. That’s wonderful.”

We talk, or he does, about his lack of understanding of Freud’s psychological opinion. I wouldn’t expect him to, given the successful real estate tycoon that he is.

Suddenly he stills then clears his throat. “Um, Sullivan, darling. I see an associate that I really need to have some dialogue with.”

Couldn’t he have said he had to go talk to someone? Sheesh. “No problem, Mr. Hayes.”

Roman leaves and I see him saunter off to a beautiful blonde. I shrug my shoulders, not doubting for a minute that she is an associate and scour the room for Ben. I see Brandon instead, who lights up when our eyes meet. I hadn’t wanted to see him again, but he is a sight for sore eyes, especially with Ben ignoring me.

“Hello, Delilah.” He sweeps me into a hug and then rests his hand at the small of my back to usher me into a dance.

“Hey, Brandon.” I beam at him. He looks so much like Jared, it’s scary. The same square jaw, the same sparkle in his blue eyes, the same thick inky hair.

“So, you’re here with Ben Hayes,” he observes.

I scoff, “I’m starting to think I crashed the party or came by myself or something.”

“Well, he’s a fool for leaving you alone.”

“I’m starting to think he’s a fool either way,” I mutter, knowing that I’m no prize.

“Does he know?” he asks
, and I know exactly what he is asking about, but he clarifies anyway, “about your name, your past?”

I scoff yet again, “Hell no. It’s not like that with us. We…” I pause, not wanting to get into the gory details of what Ben and I are
or aren’t.

“No need to explain.” Brandon understood who I was –
a gold digging whore
? – but doesn’t hold it against me; the same way his brother didn’t hold it against me when I told him my real name and why I had to change it.

“I miss him,” I whisper after a moment, reminiscing on times when Jared and I would glide through his penthouse dancing.

“I can imagine that you do. I didn’t help things by sleeping with you the other night, did I?” Brandon notes. “I can’t say that I regretted it though, Delilah,” he admits, sighing heavily.

I blush at his admission, knowing that I hadn’t completely regretted our time together either.

“I’m going to have to stay away from you, Delilah,” he expresses, squeezing my waist. “If I don’t, I won’t be able to help myself. Right now, I’m hard as a fucking rock and it’s taking every bit of resolve I have not to drag you out of here,” he breathes and I feel the tell-tale signs of his arousal on my belly when he presses closer to me.

“Brandon…”

“Shh…I won’t,” he quiets. “I promise. I just wanted to hold you in my arms one last time.” He plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips, frying my brain cells momentarily and electrifying my need of some kind of affection, especially since Ben has been ignoring me.

Does he even notice Brandon and me dancing? And if he does, isn’t that kiss enough to have him charging over here and pulling us apart? Am I so insignificant to him that my being with another man doesn’t daunt him? Why, then, did he throw such a fit the other night when I was with Brandon? He’s so fucking confusing!