TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (44 page)

He squints and shakes his head. “Guys?”

“Yes. They seemed to be waiting for us when we came into the hotel. I thought they were following

us. They even made a point of getting in the lift with us.” I can’t believe he didn’t notice them. “I

thought you would have picked up on them straight away.”

He puts his empty glass on the breakfast bar. “I did.”

I knew it. “Who are they? Hotel security?”

“No. They were waiting for me.”

He has my full attention now. “Why?”

“They’re making sure I’m protected.”

What?

“Protected?” I stand and make my way over to him. “From whom?”

“I’m not sure.”

“But you need protecting …?”

“Maybe.”

“Why are you being so evasive?” I rest my hand on his arm. “You’d tell me if you were in danger,

wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not in danger,” he huffs, pulling me to him and nuzzling into my hair. “Don’t worry. It’s just a

precaution. Finish your water. I’ve someone I want you to meet.”

I lean back onto the upright freezer. “Really? Not your bodyguards, by any chance?”

He’s shaking his head and taking my hand. “Stop being a drama queen and come with me.” He

situates me by the sofa facing into the second bedroom. “You can come out now,” he calls out.

What the hell?

Like the rabbit out of a magician’s hat, Celine steps into the lounge. “Bonjour Beth.” She comes

over to me. We kiss left and right and she shakes Ayden’s hand. “Hello Mr. Stone.”

“Celine?” I am flabbergasted. “How long have you been hiding in there?

She chuckles. “Only for a short time. Mr. Stone said you would be arriving back at 4pm.”

“Did he?”

“I believe congratulations are in order? We have a wedding to prepare for, ne c’est pas?”

“Bien sur.”

Sensing my surprise, Ayden reaches for my waist. “Please give us a minute Celine.”

She beats a hasty retreat.

“Tick tock, tick tock. I know what you’re thinking.” He’s tilting down his chin and fixing me with a

reproachful stare. “That I assumed you would say yes and had her waiting here?”

I say nothing but nod, wide eyed and ingenuous.

“I didn’t. I called her while you went to powder your nose to tell her you’d said yes. If you’d said

no, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be on the next flight home.” Softly he raises my chin with his

forefinger and thumb, caressing that small space beneath my mouth sensually.

“You’re right. I was thinking that. I didn’t like the idea of being a forgone conclusion.” I lean into

his open palm.

“Oh, baby, you’ll never be that.” He wraps his arms about me until we slot together like the two

missing pieces in a jigsaw. “I’m going to leave you to prepare. Tonight we’ll go out on the town.”

I smile into his chest. “Sounds like fun.”

“I’ll collect you at 7pm. We’ll go out for the last time as single people and ….” He inhales my

fragrant hair and whispers into my ear. “Tomorrow we’ll be husband and wife.”

That singular thought makes me smile. “We will.”

Forgetting all about burly men in suits and bodyguards, I make my way into the guest bedroom and

gasp the moment I set foot inside.

Across the bed are three of the most outrageously beautiful wedding dresses I have ever seen: all

elegant, all unique, all white.

“Celine. They’re beautiful. Wherever did you get them?”

“I have been looking for the perfect dress for you for weeks and these are my best choices.” She

takes me by the hand and leads me over to them, urging me to feel the delicate lace, the diamante

studs and the pearls, hand stitched onto each one.

“I hope they are to your liking?” she says optimistically.

I’m dumbstruck. “Of course they are. They’re just what I would have chosen.”

She slaps her hands together in gesture of thanks. “I am so relieved to hear that. But, I know you

would look so beautiful in anything.”

“I shrug my shoulders disbelievingly. “Let’s not get carried away. You’ll have to weave your magic

to get me ready for tomorrow.”

Full of fighting spirit she throws up her arm. “We will cast a spell together and it will be perfect.

Mr. Stone will be the proudest man alive when he sees you.”

I hug her to me. “Thank you for being here.” I’m close to tears, and so is she.

“S'il vous plaît ne pleure Beth ou je vais pleurer avec toi ma chère.” (Please don’t cry Beth or I will

cry with you, my dear girl)

“I’m sorry. It’s just been one of those days I suppose. Emotional overload.” She passes me a tissue

from the dressing table and I dry my eyes. And then, with the force of a tornado it hits me: “I’m

getting married tomorrow Celine.”

She’s nodding her head. “This I know …”

Thankfully, Celine has left nothing to chance. Every single accessory, piece of jewellery and item

of clothing has been taken care of. Like a woman on a mission she has seen to the smallest detail. I am

so grateful to her.

It’s 6.55 p.m. I have a black clutch in one hand and a glass of chilled Chardonnay in the other. I’m

wearing my Vivienne Westwood taffeta shift dress in light metallic black; it’s above the knee, a little

shorter than I’m used to but, with the asymmetric design and ribbon around my waist it looks quite

stylish, if I say so myself. I feel young and playful in it. Celine has arranged my hair into a tidy

chignon and I’m waiting to be collected and whisked off to … who knows where.

There’s a familiar voice down the hallway; I’d recognise the sexy timbre of my future husband’s

voice anywhere. My eyes widen into a stare when he comes into view. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Fuck me!

You’re hot!’ Thankfully I have time to edit out the profanity and words leave my lips with faultless

finesse. “You look so handsome Ayden.”

He looks as if he’s just stepped out of a movie. He’s had a haircut, he’s clean shaven, pristine and

everything about him says class with a capital C. His black suit has those Armani edges sharp enough

to cause a paper cut, but it’s his eyes that cause the air to leave my body in a heavy gasp. They are

iridescent and awash with a lustrous sheen of azure blue. This is a man who has the world at his feet

and the woman he loves on his arm. I take that arm.

“Ready?” he asks, folding my fingers over his left forearm.

“Yes, I think so.”

Before taking one more step, he pauses, unwinds my fingers and pushes me gently backwards with

his splayed hands. There he stands, head cocked to one side, arms folded. nodding like an ornament

left on the back shelf of a VW. “Where the hell have you been all my life Beth?” he asks, with such

admiration I think I may fall into his arms. “I have lived for this moment. Seeing you like this, so …

so utterly beautiful. You have no idea how much I adore you.”

I reach out my hand and he takes it, pulls me to him; black on black, taffeta on cool cotton.

Inseparable. Placing my clutch under my arm I rest a soft palm on his heart. “I’ve been right here

Ayden. Right here.”

We stride out into the Vegas night; lovers soon to be husband and wife. I proudly stand beside him,

watching the numbers illuminating above the lift as it ascends, feeling beautiful, beloved and besotted

with this fiancé of mine.

“Where are we going?” I ask, preparing to step from the lift into the hotel foyer.

“To the Chandelier Bar for a drink before dinner. Where else?” He gives me a knowing smile. Now

this is a place he
has
visited before.

“Sounds wonderful,” I say, finding his roguish grin so endearing.

We head towards a sign that says Casino and find ourselves in a dimly lit expanse of noise and

frenetic activity; a cave where a cacophony of fruit machines and music intermingle. It’s not what I

expected and then …

From inside this gamesters’ paradise appear glimmering droplets of light; enormous chandeliers

that fall from the ceiling like heavenly stalactites. With my attention caught, Ayden places his hand

around my waist and guides me safely through the crowd heading towards a wall of radiant light.

We step inside a circular elevator with glass on all sides; the ascending portal takes us deeper into

the web of violet light. The hot breath from my mouth leaves a misty O on the glass as I lean in,

willing my eyes to register every shimmering piece of crystal. Ayden says nothing; leaves me to

stargaze, awe struck and muted.

When we step out of our gateway to Fairyland, I can do no more than gape; wide mouthed and wide

eyed at the awesome spectacle of crystal webbing, surrounding us on all sides.

Ayden slips his hand in mine and when I look into his eyes I see pure joy; he’s revelling in my

wonderment. “I knew you’d love it,” he whispers, kissing my hair softly. “Now. What would you like

to drink?” He awaits my reply with amusement, wondering what I have to say for myself when I do,

finally, rediscover my voice.

“There’s only one thing.” I smile. Taking his handsome face in the palm of my hand, I state, “When

in Rome … a Cosmopolitan, of course.”

He nods in agreement. “Let’s make that two.”

Our limousine winds its way Downtown through traffic and tourists. In the distance I see the

unmistakable landmark that is the Stratosphere Hotel Tower, rising into the cloudless night sky like an

Olympic torch.

Feeling a little sedated after my Cosmopolitan, I rest my head on Ayden’s arm, cushioned by

muscle and soft material. “Where are we going for dinner?” I ask casually, appearing to take

everything in my stride.

“The Top of the World Beth.” I watch his mouth twitch and follow the line of his pointing finger.

“You’ve got to be joking!”

“Now, would I joke about our dining arrangements?” he cajoles.

Another elevator and another event. My brain is bursting at the seams with incomparable

experiences. How will I find room for this?

Down a red corridor we walk until it opens out onto the view. For a split second I sway and Ayden

catches me. “Are you alright?”

I feel his hand under my left elbow. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just the view. Wow!”

Over 100 floors below is Las Vegas; a dancing, dazzling array of coloured lights and buildings.

Like a scatter cushion covered in sequins, it stretches out for miles and miles as far as the eyes can

see, reaching out into desert and a dark horizon.

Ayden beckons over a waiter. “Table for two, Stone.”

With instant recognition, the waiter outstretches his hand and leads us towards our table, clicking

his fingers as he goes to gain the attention of other waiters. Mr. Stone appears to have adopted a

celebrity status. It isn’t until we reach our table that I realise why. Tucked away from prying eyes is a

lonesome dinner table, beautifully set; free from onlookers, free from anything other than a

spectacular view. Glasses sparkle in candle light and cutlery glistens beneath my fingers. Does it get

any more romantic than this?

As so often happens at moments like this, I lose my voice. I forget to share my thoughts, happy to

keep them to myself to store them for a rainy day. Ayden’s in no rush. He arranges his hands in a neat

little pyramid on the table and waits contentedly, sharing the view.

I speak first. “Do you do this on purpose to strike me dumb Mr. Stone?

The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly and he winks. Laugher ripples from somewhere

beneath his shirt and I smile, when really, inside, I’m doing cartwheels.

“What I struggle to get my head around is how you organise everything. What do you do? Spend

your entire time thinking of ways to astound me?”

“Yes Miss Parker. That’s how I spend my day.” He smirks and takes my left hand, running his

thumb across my engagement ring, back and forth. “I have more money than is good for me and it

gives me more pleasure than you can ever imagine to share it with you.”

“But I don’t need this …”

“Shall we leave?” He leans back in his chair and tips his head to the right, and gives me ‘the look.’

The look he has honed and perfected over decades. The look that floors me at fifty paces. The look

that says, I love you.

I live for that look.

I arrange the napkin on my knee. “And miss a view like that? I think not.”

Undisturbed, we eat our delightful meal. The Caesar Salad is the perfect starter. My Mexican

Prawns, with scallops and lobster a la Plancha, is to die for and the fromage du jour is the perfect way

to end a delicious meal. Predictably, Ayden keeps the waiter on his toes, by reorganising food choices

but I don’t batter an eyelid. I’ve seen it all before and there is little left to learn about this wonderful

man that will surprise me.

With the table cleared, Ayden sits back and settles into his chair. We have reminisced about our

love affair, scanned photos of the Grand Canyon and discussed our wedding plans for tomorrow.

Nothing has been left to chance. Reassured and leaving my resplendent lover to enjoy the final

fragments of our view, I head for the powder room.

I notice how the ambience changes. There is more noise; excited diners are standing and pointing.