Possessed by a Stranger (29 page)

Her modeling of the dress was sensual and
extremely disturbing. Without his hand on her bare back, she
shouldn’t have worn that dress in public. Urgency in his gut told
him he had to make her understand the circumstances before his hand
was barred from ever touching her. The scarf-like piece of satin
that some designer considered the top of a gown barely covered her
breast. The crowd’s low murmurs of appreciation pounded in his
head. Some mother-fuckers in the crowd actually clapped and
hooted.

“I found this gown I’m wearing in a chest I
purchased at a swap meet. It proves things discarded as trash can
be cherished by someone with the heart to see the beauty in truly
loving something for what it is. Being the owner of a business has
its rewards. Luckily, it was a perfect fit, after a few
alterations. It is from the nineteen twenties, the age of the
flappers. A time when satin and silk with long flowing lines and
wide skirts were all the rage. It represents a time when women,
released from the bonds of corsets, could dress with a freedom to
express their sexuality. Flappers dressed boyishly and bobbed their
hair to compete with men on equal terms. Their flamboyant
transformation allowed for the creation of clothing like this gown.
Women that remained true to their femininity rejected the boyish
aspect but accepted the flamboyance. Backless gowns, plunging
necklines, and hip hugging wide skirts opened a new era in women’s
fashion. This era marks the time in history when women openly
joined the party men had enjoyed for years. Wives, sisters,
mothers, proved, they too, could dance the night away and as you
can see by this gown, they did it with style.”

Lorraine leaned forward to speak to his
mother. “She has the grace of a ballerina. You may not have to
introduce her to anyone. Look at all these men plotting how to win
her over.”

Garret tore his eyes from Hannah and scanned
the room for the predators in the group. He knew them all. Lorraine
had pegged the room’s reaction. Garret looked at Lorraine, the
woman he blamed for damaging his heart. He looked at Hannah on the
stage. For the first time he saw them both in a completely new
light. His heart wasn’t damaged, it never was. Now, it was crammed
packed with love to the point of spilling over and had been for
some time. He loved Hannah. Every breath he inhaled filled with
her. Every beat of his heart pumped her through his blood stream.
She malignantly infected his soul. Without her, his life would be
meaningless. The epiphany struck him with an electrifying jolt. His
muscles tensed. His heart slammed against his chest. His breath
filled his lungs refusing to leave. His eyes pointed his gaze on
the woman he loved.

“My Turquoise jewelry was crafted in New
Mexico by the Pueblo Indian tribe and dates back to the seventeen
hundreds. Everything I am wearing has a history. Someone’s memory
embedded in its creation. Well, except for my shoes. They are
Giuseppe Zanotti from Saks Fifth Avenue, which I can afford due to
the success of my business.”

Hannah finished her speech receiving a round
of applause and numerous cat whistles. She returned to her seat
with a partition blocking her from his watchful eye. He had to tell
her, make her understand how much she meant to him.

The last speaker finished. The room buzzed
with the voices of guests finally able to meet and greet friends
and business contacts. Garret stood to stretch his aching muscles
scanning the room for Hannah.

“Garret, would you please tell Hannah I would
like to see her? I wouldn’t want her to slip passed me and I’m not
sure she knows I’m here.”

Garret located Hannah on the edge of the
stage, partially concealed by a partition. Garret made his way
through the crowd with Hannah as his main objective. After being
stopped several times for the casual politeness of “nice to see
you” and “how have you been” he was near Hannah. She was locked in
a conversation with one of the other speakers. After she handed him
a business card they turned to leave the stage. She raised her gown
to walk down the stairs. The prick held her elbow to assist her
decent.

Garret watched Hannah from the corner of his
eye with the center of his attention on the wolf ready to pounce on
his newest prey. Robert Lindale lurked nearby with his eyes on
Hannah. The other speaker walked away. Robert rushed in before
Garret could disengage from a business acquaintance that rambled on
about trivial bullshit. Robert held out his hands. Hannah took his
hands in hers before their elbows bent and he kissed her on the
cheek.

“I was shocked to see you here. I thought you
didn’t make personal appearances?” Robert released one of her hands
and twirled her around with the other. “I love the dress and your
performance. Damn girl, you had the whole room panting. Then, you
are gorgeous in anything. ”

Garret had instinctively followed the scent
of the hunt, leaving the business acquaintance in mid-sentence. He
placed his hand on Hannah’s bare back just as she finished her
twirl. He felt her stiffen as he slapped his hand on top of
Robert’s extended handshake. Eye to eye, the two males asserted
their prowess.

Robert made the first move, confident with
his familiarity with Hannah. “Stay away from Garret Presley. He
loves them and leaves them with no love involved.”

Hannah forced a smile, ignoring the heart
crushing pain in the truth of his words. “You mean he’s just like
you. I‘ve known that for quite some time.”

“My mother would like a word with you.”
Garret excluded Robert from the conversation, directly addressing
Hannah. She nodded in response, avoiding eye contact.

Hannah’s spine straightened as she mustered
her dignity. Messenger boy wouldn’t be standing here now if not for
his mother’s request. He would be with her replacement laughing as
he pointed out his whore. Hannah was the woman in the hand-me-down
dress that he had lowered himself to fuck. Hannah knew she allowed
this to happen and it was time to live with the consequences. The
fire of her mistake burned hot. She had business that needed
addressing. She trudged forward holding her tears in check.

“It’s a good thing I ran into you. You are
one week away from missing a Louis the sixteenth secretaire in
fairly good condition. It is the perfect dimensions for the wall by
your staircase. So why did you change your email and phone number
this time?”

Robert smiled widely, after hearing about the
piece of furniture. “We’ll catch up when I see the secretaire. Does
it have the mirror?”

Garret fumed even after he realized their
relationship was business related. The fiery knot in his gut
smoldered after hearing she had been in his townhouse. Quiet
patience would provide knowledge; she might not be willing to share
under the current circumstances. After three months of indifference
toward her business, the oversight on his part was starkly evident.
He had to get her alone to explain.

The audacity of his hand on her back fueled
her anger. He’d lost that right. She pushed his arm away and
stepped sideways.

“Of course it does. The mirror needs work. I
didn’t want my restorers to look at it until you had seen it. I
have another buyer anxious to buy it. I promised him an answer next
week.”

Robert removed his phone from his pocket.
“Monday at ten AM at the storage buildings. Everyone raved about my
townhouse. I refused to divulge your identity out of spite since
you stood me up. You should have attended my party to take a bow. I
had a double chocolate cupcake made special for your birthday. By
the way, belated birthday and I ate your cupcake. Garret was there.
Tell the next Mrs. Lindale how everyone loved her work.”

He was still reeling from her removal of his
arm. Her dismissal pained him more than if she had cut his arm off
and tossed it away. He felt his world imploding, crushing him. That
fucker had seen Hannah in those tight jeans and pink braless tank
top. His oversight of Hannah’s birthday, a birthday Robert
remembered, fueled the anger boiling his blood. All his
unforgivable mistakes, oversights, selfish inconsideration in
regards to Hannah flashed through his mind. How could she love a
bastard like him? He had to make her understand he would change. He
would be a man worthy of her love.

Oh, that topped the cake; the night she cried
her eyes out, he was at a party thrown to celebrate her hard work.
She had to distance herself before she clawed his eyes out.

“I’m sure Mr. Presley didn’t give a rat’s ass
about all the effort I put in to create something worth keeping.
I’ll see you Monday. I am warning you now. I won’t sit there
waiting on you for two hours, like I did last time.” Hannah turned,
in the opposite direction of Garret, to leave.

“Damn, she’s in rare form. I would hate to be
the person that pissed her off. How do you know Hannah, Garret?”
Robert’s eyes were on Hannah and most likely her ass. Garret
stepped to block his view. She belonged to him not this blubbering
asshole.

She was in rare form with all her anger
deservingly aimed at him. “She’s a friend of my mothers.” It wasn’t
any of Robert’s fucking business how he knew Hannah.

Robert leaned sideways, passed Garret’s
possessive wall to get in a final word. “Save me a dance
Hannah.”

“I’m not staying for the dance. I have a
previous commitment.” She answered over her shoulder not stopping
or turning around. She left the narcissistic arrogance of the two
men, wanting her for the pleasure of preventing the other from
having her. One of them had filled her bank account. The other one
had filled her heart. Neither of them held an ounce of respect for
her or her feelings.

She drifted through the crowd, on a mission
to say “hi” and “bye” to Mrs. Presley. She stayed focused on the
privacy of her cottage as her main objective. She was never going
to make it through the crowd if clients and total strangers didn’t
stop detaining her. She regretted her over the top performance of
vindication. When she reached Mrs. Presley, she clutched the back
of a chair to keep herself upright. Garret’s tall blonde commitment
stood side by side with his mother. Her heart thumped furiously
against her chest. She held her breath, fighting her tears. A
resentful anger, of mega proportions, stewed in her stomach. She
fought to stay in control and postpone a complete emotional
breakdown.

“Oh Hannah, your speech was wonderful. I want
to introduce you to some prospective clients. Here is Jeremy
Ashton. Jeremy this is Hannah Greer. He’s opening an antique shop
in Old Town.”

Jeremy’s arm swiped over her bare back as he
moved in front of her. Damn, doesn’t personal space hold any
meaning to any of these people? She wasn’t a piece of merchandise
to be tested or touched before purchasing. Was Garret’s mother
enlisted to dispose of his leftovers? Was Jeremy her
settlement?

“Hello, I’ve heard we’ve met online. I don’t
mind losing nearly so bad now that I’ve seen you. I must say, you
are as hot in person as you are in competition.”

Jeremy Ashton, best guess sexmasheen online,
needed to back off. He blocked her escape path and right now that
was a dangerous place for anyone to stand. Her skin burned with
indignation. She noticed the pink glow on her arms, felt the heat
in her cheeks. That was always a bad sign as far as her temper was
concerned. She was determined not to give Garret the satisfaction
of witnessing her make an ass out of herself.

“I think untouchable would be a better
description. I don’t always advertise my inventory. If you
interested in something specific, send me a list through my web
page.” She stepped to the side hoping he would move to let her
pass.

“If I let you know what I want, you could
raise the bid. More likely, it’s a ploy to see me again. Why don’t
we set up a meeting now?”

She pointed a determined finger straight at
the cocky man standing in her way. Her blood boiled wondering if
Garret shared his sexual encounters in locker rooms or over lunch.
The lustful glare in Jeremy’s eyes raised her suspicions.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure. I
suggest we meet online. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an
appointment to keep.” Hannah scooted a chair out of her way to pass
him without actually touching him. He wasn’t about to budge and
lose face in front of his friends.

Her shaky composure was a ticking time bomb.
Every glance or stare she received screamed whore after she openly
flaunted herself on stage. With the exit in view, she picked up her
pace trying to beat the explosion of tears. She was almost there,
her path to freedom, when Garret stepped in front of her blocking
her path.

Her escape plan was evident with her eyes
focused on the exit doors. He circled around a group of people to
stop her in her tracks.

“We need to talk.”

She halted abruptly then stepped backwards as
if his words knocked her there. Her cheeks bright with the blush of
anger were damp with tears. He wanted her in his arms to soothe her
anguish.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just move and
let me leave here with some dignity.” She lowered her voice not
wanting any of the crowd to overhear. She prayed he just stepped
aside before she lost it completely. He wanted to talk but about
what, her heart bleeding pain through her arteries because of him
or maybe about his date.

“What in the hell do you mean by that?” He
grabbed her arm. He forcefully led her to the nearest corner for
some privacy. She jerked her arm until he released his hold. He
trapped her against the wall with his arms as blockades. She wasn’t
escaping him, ever, and she had to be made to understand that
fact.

Her eyes pierced his. “I mean my whoring days
are over. Go back to your presentable date before we cause a scene.
I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.” She
forced the words passed her clenched teeth.