Trust Me II (14 page)

After washing up and using the facilities, Sandra folded the blanket and retrieved the thick white robe hanging on the back of the door. She had to roll the sleeves up since it was made for her husband’s larger frame, her toes poking out from beneath the hem, and she nearly giggled when she thought about the last time she wore Creighton’s robe and how he had used the sash to restrain her. She glanced one last time in the mirror over the double vanity before stepping out of the room.

The plane had landed and shut down by the time she had finished, allowing the crew to gather their belongings and head to the door. Harvey and Parker had already left and Captain Davies was just leaving, followed by Cooper. Creighton stood talking to Eryn, who was busy batting her fake eyelashes and smiling so sweetly Sandra felt like gagging. She was getting used to women falling over themselves to get his attention, but most of the time she was close by; this time she was in the bathroom, tucked out of sight. What really bothered her was the pleased expression on Creighton’s face; he was more than enjoying the woman’s attention and that quickly made Sandra’s blood boil. She stood there in the doorway for a moment longer than she normally would have, narrowing her eyes when Eryn reached up and laid her long red nailed hand against her husband’s chest.

Instead of joining them, she returned to the bedroom, deliberately slamming the door as hard as she could, knowing it would draw Creighton’s attention. Without a second though, Sandra pulled the yellow and white dress she had been wearing the past several hours back across her head and smoothed it down her slender frame. She lifted the robe from the floor and tossed it across the bed with as much vigor as possible before turning and walking out the door again.

The crew had left and Creighton was securing the door when she stepped into the lavish main room of the plane. Sandra stepped to the wet bar and pulled out a bottle of wine from underneath, then tried to pop the cork without much success. Long warm fingers reached out and took the bottle from her, easily popping the cork. She turned her back to her new husband and walked away, knowing he was watching. She went into the small galley kitchen at the opposite end of the plane and began opening the cupboards. Not to her surprise, she found them completely stocked with microwavable dinners, snacks, pancake mix, bread, juices, water, soda and canned staples. The little fridge had fruit, vegetables, and a small bottle of milk, eggs and sausages. It was obvious the crew was used to cooking well for Creighton and his guests.

“Are you hungry?” he asked stepping up behind her, causing her to jump. She turned to see him standing behind her, two glasses of wine in his hands.

“No,” she said flatly, taking a glass and walking past him back into the body of the plane. She sat down at the end of one of the sofas, deliberately stretching her legs out so he was unable to sit beside her. Creighton watched her with a frown, as he reclined on the sofa on the opposite side of the plane. The room was silent as they sipped the wine; it was sweet but Sandra barely tasted it around the lump in her throat. She was angry at the way he acted with Eryn, but more than that she felt betrayed and completely out of her league. First the plane and now the women, she had to ask herself if she was up to the long haul as being the wife of a man as handsome and as desirable as he was, a man who made money speak for him and listened to the many women who answered the call.

“Are you going to keep the temperature down, or are you going to tell me what I did wrong?” he asked, setting his glass on the coffee table.

“Like you really don’t know,” she snapped, amazed at how bitter her voice sounded.

“I have no clue, but I don’t like the way you’ve suddenly turned against me.”

“Alright, since you’re Mr. Innocent I’ll tell you,” she snarled, setting her glass on the table and standing up. “You were flirting with that…that…person. You allowed her to come on to you and to touch you, while your wife was in the next room. What the hell was that all about?” Sandra found her heart pounding, her voice rising as she stood facing him, anger and frustration echoing in her voice and stance.

“I wasn’t flirting with her,” he said in a calm tone. “Eryn is a tease, she has been since I first hired her, but I don’t shag employees and I would never cheat on you. I made a promise to you yesterday in front of a church full of people and God that I would be faithful to you alone. You have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped again, her anger burning inside her veins. “You were flirting with her, I saw it and you were enjoying it!”

“Sandra, what is the matter with you? You know I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have.”

“I don’t want to listen to any more,” she shouted turning toward the bedroom door. “I’m going to bed and you can just sleep out here and consider what you’ve done.”

Sandra stomped into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her and fell onto the bed in a fit of tears. She didn’t know what was happening to her; she felt confused and angry and hurt and right now all she wanted to do was run away.

With tears staining her cheeks, Sandra pulled the blanket up across her shaking frame, wrapping herself inside the warmth of the soft fabric. Frustration and anger accompanied her through the remainder of the night, cradling her in a restless slumber, alone in the bed she should be sharing with her husband. Instead she lay in dark solitude, sobbing into the pillow, fearful of what the future would bring for her marriage.

Morning arrived much sooner than Sandra would have preferred. She rolled over and looked at the small clock on the table next to the bed, amazed that she was awake at six thirty in the morning. Her heart was heavy and she felt ashamed for her behavior and the way she had treated Creighton. She knew there was nothing to worry about, she knew he loved her and she loved him; it was just very frustrating to see women fawning all over him. It was something she really didn’t want to have to get used to.

With a reluctant sigh, Sandra pushed the covers aside and stood up. She still had on her white and yellow dress from the previous evening and it was badly wrinkled, but that was the least of her worries. On the other side of that bedroom door was either the man she loved, or an empty room awaiting her entrance. Either way, she knew she would have to confront the inevitable and the outcome was entirely her own fault.

Slowly she pulled the door open and peered out, afraid of what she might find. The room was quiet; there were no real sound from the world beyond the aluminum cocoon she was currently encased in; only muffled echoes of a world coming to life. Asleep on the sofa lay her husband; his long legs stretched out beneath the brown throw, his torso bare and his head buried beneath the small pillow. He lay on his stomach, a nearly empty bottle of wine on the table next to him. The sound of his muffled snore reverberated through the stillness making Sandra’s heart ache. She should have been at his side, she should have been in his arms all night, but instead she had screeched and screamed at him and ran away like a spoiled child.

She sat on the sofa across from him and sighed, forcing the tears back from her swollen eyes. She had to do something to apologize, something to make him understand how horrible she felt. If she were home she would bake a cake or some cookies, maybe even attempt to make his spotted dicke dessert; if she was in the privacy of his flat she would put on the leather outfit and boots that drove him crazy, but instead she was locked inside a luxury plane with nowhere to go and very little to do. She didn’t even know where her luggage was. Weary and heavy hearted
, she began to pace the room, looking at the expensive, elegant furnishings.

The tables between the loveseats had a small television screen built into the wooden tops, whether they were for watching the news or a movie she couldn’t tell. On the wall beside the table were a number of ports for USB cables and outlets for chargers. The kitchen held very small, almost childlike stainless steel appliances that she was certain were energy saving. She again opened the cupboards and refrigerator,
eying the many items that filled the shelves. She found the eggs and sausage and after a little additional investigation she located a small frying pan and a waffle maker. It may not be a quiche, but at least she could make breakfast.

Cooking sausage always made for a delicious aroma and it didn’t fail to awaken the sleeping man on the sofa. Creighton slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes; his head seemed thicker than normal, thanks to the amount of wine he had consumed. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and his movements were sluggish as his stomach flipped with the smells drifting around him.

Sandra was too busy whipping the pancake mix to notice him approach the tables, leaning his hip against one as he watched her. Eggs were cooking on the stovetop and sausages sizzled in the microwave. He couldn’t help but smile; the thought of her playing house was intriguing and erotic in a weird sort of way, though he wasn’t sure if she was still angry with him or not.

He knew last night was his fault; he instigated the encounter with Eryn and his face still stung from where she slapped him when he laughed as Sandra slammed her way into the bedroom. He had never used people before and he wasn’t sure what provoked him into doing it this time; he felt ashamed for putting the girl in the middle of his perverted schemes. He not only had his wife to apologize to, but he had an employee to make amends with as well. He was not used to having his workers angry with him; the last one who was, tried to kill him.

Creighton stepped up behind Sandra and wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her head, causing her heart to skip a beat.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning,” she answered in a timid voice.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“I should be asking you that. I’m so sorry, Creighton.” She turned around suddenly taking him by surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” he answered, hugging her close to his bare chest. “You had a crazy couple of days; a weaker person would never have lasted as long as you did.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said kissing her deeply, his tongue battling with hers, teasing and tasting until she moaned in his mouth. He felt guilty for letting her take the blame for his actions, but he didn’t want to do anything right now to make matters worse.

The beeping of the microwave brought them back to reality before things began to get out of control making Sandra sigh reluctantly as he pulled away.

“I thought you didn’t like cooking?” he asked with an amused smile.

“I don’t, but I wanted to do something special for you.”

“Can I help?”

“You can check the waffles,” she suggested and watched as he turned and opened the lid, thankful the little squares were light brown instead of burnt black. A few seconds later and the microwave beeped again to remind them there was food in it. He opened the small door to the shiny silver box and pulling out the plate of sizzling sausages.

“The bangers look done,” he said setting the plate on the counter and reaching for a knife to cut them open.

“Why do you call them that?” The familiar feeling was back, the relaxed sense of one echoed between them.

“Because that’s what they are.”

“No, they are sausages. Bangers sound like something pornographic.”

“How would you know?” he laughed with a wide eye expression.

“I am not completely naive.” Creighton smiled, returning his attention back to the waffles.

“For you information, a sausage is another name for a penis. If you’re going to live in England, you better learn the language.”

“You don’t speak the way your mother does,” Sandra said as she began dishing up the eggs on two separate plates. “I mean, she and your family use a lot of slang words, but you don’t. Why is that?”

“I have dealings with people from many areas of the world; Germans, Italians, Japanese, American. If I didn’t understand a generic sense of language I would never be able to communicate with any of them. What makes sense to me in England may not have the same meaning in Japan, so I’ve spent a long time trying to curb the slang.”

“From someone who doesn’t quite understand the whole British style of language, I thank you immensely, kind sir.”

“Anything for my queen,” he winked, piling the waffles on a third plate. “Remember, I am obliged to please.”

Sandra took the plates to one of the tables between the brown benches and sat them down, glancing to Creighton who followed with the plate of waffles and the
bangers
. She gathered together silverware, napkins and glasses while he took the bottle of milk from the fridge and sat at the table across from her.

“What would you like to do today?” he asked, cutting a waffle on his plate before pouring on the syrup she found in the cupboard.

“Truthfully, I’d like to not do anything,” she said taking a bite of her eggs. “Like you said, it’s been a crazy couple of days. It would be nice to just lounge around and watch a little television, or read a book, maybe sunbathe or play some cards; something that doesn’t involve people, noise or money.”

“That actually sounds quite nice. I can’t remember the last time I spent a day doing nothing. I do need to stop by my office first though. My R and D department has been working on a new project and I’d like to see how things are going.”