I felt him start to swell against me. I remembered, too. The nights we passed in sultry conversation when while pretending publicly we weren't together burned in my mind. Laying in the dark, miles away from him, sparked my imagination and freed me from inhibition. The phone sex had been almost as good as the real deal.
When I started to explore the bathroom I saw that, as usual, Tristan had every detail covered. Watching him develop his character for the play we'd just closed I'd witnessed his attention to detail in action. There wasn't a nuance he missed for the run of seven performances. In live theater the audience always has the entire scene in view. Unlike a movie, there aren't close-ups that cut the other actors out of the picture. If an actor steps out of character, the audience can see it immediately. Tristan never faltered.
The bathroom was stocked with every imaginable soap, shampoo, body wash, lotion, potion and device. All came from the same English company I'd never heard of but knew instantly had to be the very best of the best. He hadn't missed a single thing a woman might want down to a very good razor and hair dryer.
I ran the tub and luxuriated in the swirling scented water. I had always rationalized that my three dollar shampoo was just the same as the salon brands, only in a different package. Was I ever wrong. Even before I dried it, I could feel how silky smooth the pearly products had left it. After I finished drying my hair I looked at the selection of perfumes he had chosen for me. Needless to say, I didn't recognize the name of any of them. What I did note was that each was packaged in extravagant crystal bottles embellished with gems and gold--all undoubtedly very real. I picked one in a pyramid shaped flask and dabbed a drop at my temples, wrists, throat and the backs of my knees. The fragrance was subtle yet completely unique. I could get used to this.
Waiting for me on the bed was a robe made of crimson velvet with satin cuffs and lapels that matched the lining. I slipped into it and felt myself slowly but surely adjusting to another world; another life. The satin felt cool against my skin. I felt new.
Tristan was waiting for me in the salon. He had showered and was also wearing a robe, his a silk paisley with a black velvet lapel. It made him look very "English country gentleman". He wore the look well, as he did anything. I was certain that the man could wear overalls and a battered straw hat and pull it off.
I snuggled beside him on the couch and he handed me a snifter of brandy.
"Armanac," he told me. "It's a lesser known brandy produced in France. I like it because I find it smoother. It's unique."
"Well, you certainly have a fondness for the unique."
"Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to you."
"I'd hardly call myself unique. I'm about as typical a girl as you'll ever meet."
"That's where you're so wrong, Raina. There's nothing typical about you. Not in today's world."
"Are you saying I'm old fashioned?" I admit I was fishing. One of the things I really wanted to know, and from Tristan's own mouth, was 'why me?' I've never considered myself anything but average in the looks department and maybe a B+ intellectually. Nothing in my background suggested anything but ordinary. And yet here I was, on a private jet, flying to who-knows-where with one of the most secretive and successful investment gurus in the world. I think that gave me a perfect right to want to know why.
"I wouldn't use the world 'old-fashioned'. You're just very different from ninety-nine percent of the women I've ever known. You're innocent, without being naïve. Your passion for your family and your friends is genuine and admirable. In a world of whores, you aren't for sale."
I arched my eyebrow at him. I very much felt that I was, at least in part, being bought at that very moment. The trip, the clothes, even his help for my parents all seemed to obligate me to him.
"I know what you're thinking and that's just not the way I see it at all. When I say whores, I don't just mean the women--they're just the more obvious. Men whore all the time. In my business, someone offers to sell me his soul for a few pieces of silver every day." He took my hand and held my gaze. "You have accepted my gifts as what they are. Gifts. I told you in the beginning that there were things I'm simply not going to be able to fulfill for you."
"Expectations." It had become a sad word.
"Exactly. Can I be blamed if I try to compensate for what I lack with that which I have in abundance?"
"I don't blame you . . . I just wish . . ."
"I know what you wish. And perhaps a part of me wishes it too. But what I'm asking you to give me is time. I can see that you wear your heart on your sleeve."
I turned my face from him and he turned it back. "And that's one of the most wonderful parts of you. There isn't an ounce of deception in you. And that," he kissed me softly, "is what makes you a lover beyond compare."
He held me close and possessed me with his mouth, melting me into him. "When your body is mine, it is mine so completely it astounds me. You hold nothing back. You give yourself over to pleasure and passion in a way that makes me feel powerful."
"But, Tristan, you are powerful. Why would you need me to affirm that?"
"There are different kinds of power. Money is only one kind. Emotion is another entirely different kind."
"So what you're saying is that you're long on money and I'm long on emotion?" I said it with a smile, but I was only partially joking.
He chuckled in return. "That's a rather harsh way of putting it. Did I mention bluntness as part of your charm?" He pulled me across his lap and held my head against his chest. I think he didn't want me to see his eyes. "Take what I have to give you. Give me your truth."
Risk and return. That was his life, after all. He hadn't asked me to love him. We'd never used the word. But that's what he wanted from me all the same. He wanted my love and he wanted to buy his way out of reciprocating. And yet there were so many ways I could read his . . . care for me. He had protected my parents. He had spent a great deal of thought putting this trip of ours together. Quite simply put: here I was.
He smelled pure and the comfort of his chest moving up and down against my head was a lullaby. I didn't want to continue to analyze. I was willing to put aside expectations for the here and now. If the moment was all I had, I was going to seize it.
Pulling him to his feet, I led him back to the bedroom. We had this time and I would cherish it. I turned back the covers on the bed and stood in front of him inviting him to possess me in any way he desired. Tristan stepped toward me and put his hands at the collar of my robe and pushed it away from my shoulders. A pool of red velvet slid down my legs in a soft wave to my feet.