Gloria's Secret (6 page)

My visit to Madame Paulette was something I looked forward to as much as I dreaded. It would probably be the last time I saw her. She was, along with Kevin, the most important person in my life. With a heavy heart and hangover from hell, I dragged myself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.

I glimpsed myself in the bathroom mirror. My reflection startled me. I looked as bad as I felt. My skin was greenish and my eyes red. Waves of nausea were still rolling through me. I brushed my teeth to freshen my stale breath and popped a couple of much needed Advils into my mouth. I desperately needed a shower. As I lifted my baby doll top over my head, the alluring scent of Gloria’s Secret men’s cologne invaded my nostrils. I instantly buried my nose in the silky fabric. The intoxicating scent of him was all over it. My stomach knotted. Oh God, had he? Panicky, I yanked off the matching bottoms. Scrunching them in my hand, I checked my body for more evidence. There were no signs of bruising, and neither my breasts nor my privates were sore or engorged. I took a whiff of the bikinis—oh no, the distinct scent of him again! Yet, there was no trace of any residue on the crotch. I impulsively rubbed my cleft and put my wet fingers to my nose. The distinct sweet smell was definitely all mine, but I still couldn’t be sure. Maybe he washed off all the evidence. Damn him! Damn me for losing control!

* * * *

The hot, pulsing shower was revitalizing. I arched my head back with eyes squeezed shut and let the jets of water spray my face while I lathered up my body with the fragrant soap. Nothing felt out of the ordinary except the lingering nauseous feeling. Turning off the faucet, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a giant bath towel around me. I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked better than I’d thought I would. The hot shower had done its magic. My porcelain skin was glowing, and there was only a trace of broken capillaries in my duo-colored eyes. I re-braided my long blond wet hair and applied a dollop of lip-gloss. I wanted to look groomed for Madame Paulette. Appearance was important to her.

Returning to the bedroom, I noticed for the first time that my little black dress and lingerie from last night were missing. And where the hell were my shoes? Again the question: Who the hell took them off me? I searched the drawers, looked under the bed, and scanned the closet.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
I glanced at the alarm clock on the night table. It was already nine forty-five. Nigel would be here soon to take me to Connecticut. Hastily, I donned a lacy gray bra and bikini set, matching garter and sheer gray silk hose. A lady-like A-line gray dress and pewter pumps followed. I always matched the color of my underwear to what I was wearing. It was something Madame Paulette had taught me to do. My life lessons from this incredible woman were many and meaningful. Sadly, she would soon be gone.

The coffee still hadn’t arrived. As much as I craved a major dose of caffeine, I couldn’t wait for it. Grabbing my coat, purse, and a canvas bag full of goodies that I knew Madame Paulette would adore, I skirted out of the room and headed to the elevators.

“Hey, wait up!”

That deep, sexy voice. Fuck! It was him! Jaime Zander. What the hell was he doing here?

Bristling, I kept marching without a single turn of my head. I could hear him jogging down the corridor. He caught up to me, and we stood side by side waiting for the lift. Staring straight ahead, I refused to look at him. Not even a little glimpse.

Unlike yesterday, the elevator took its time arriving. In fact, it felt like an eternity. Maybe it was stuck somewhere—explaining why my coffee had never arrived. My stomach tightened and I was losing patience. He started whistling—“Gloria” of all songs.
Bastard!
He was trying to distract me and get my attention.

“Stop that!”

“You don’t like my whistling?”

“I don’t like you.” And then it just came flying out. “Did you fuck me last night?”

“Gloria, I would never take advantage of you in that state. In case you don’t remember, I carried you up to your room and then you threw up all over yourself.”

Holy crap! Mortification raced through me. I kept facing the elevator, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re just not used to losing control.”

I never lost control!
Never!
What had this man done to me?

“By the way, I gave your dress and undergarments to the valet for cleaning. They should be back in your room by five. Unfortunately, someone else may be wearing your shoes. You may not recall this, but you took them off and tossed them while you were dancing with me.”

I couldn’t care less now about my eight hundred dollar designer shoes. Every muscle in my body clenched. The reality of him undressing me and seeing me naked consumed me.

“Don’t be ashamed. You have a beautiful body. While taking off your vomit-coated dress was not exactly something I enjoyed, peeling off your silky stockings from those long smooth legs and tearing off that sexy bra and garter were quite a treat.”

I felt my cheeks flare. In fact, my whole body was heating up.
Come on, elevator. Get here already.
His words got in the way.

“Your breasts should be among the wonders of the world, and your perfectly preened pussy was a sight to behold. I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of it some time. When was the last time you got laid?”

“None of your damn business!”

“That’s what I thought.”

He was infuriating me. What’s more, he was setting every fiber of my being on fire, especially the area between my thighs. Where the hell was the elevator? I had to get away from him. Finally, a car arrived. As soon as the doors slid opened, I stomped into it. I slammed my palm against the “L” button, but the doors wouldn’t close. That’s because the asshole was leaning against one, his arms and legs seductively crossed.

For the first time this morning, he was in full view. All six foot three of his manly gorgeousness. Today, he was wearing a fringed tan suede jacket with tight faded blue jeans that hung low on his narrow hips, a plaid flannel shirt that exposed his chiseled pecs…and cowboy boots! Mr. Urban Cowboy! God, he looked sexy! Right out of
GQ!
And on top of all that, his hair had that perfectly tousled, just-fucked look going on.

An unnerving thought shot into my head. Did he fuck someone else after he left me? A beautiful supermodel? Vivien? Maybe he kept a room at this hotel as a fuck pad. Lots of successful men did that kind of thing.

My eyes narrowed. “Can you please either leave or get in?”

That cocky half-smile curled on his lips. “I just want to get a good look at you.” His sexy denim blues gave me the once-over. “You look lovely, Gloria.”

I grimaced. “It’s Ms. Long.”

“You’re not very polite,
Ms.
Long.”

“Thank you,” I grumbled.
Screw you!

“That’s better.” With a thrust of his hips, he strode into the elevator and stood right next to me. The doors closed instantly, and we began our high-speed descent. I inhaled his intoxicating scent but kept my eyes focused straight ahead.

He broke the silence. “Oh, by the way, did you like the negligee I picked out for you?”

My face flushed crimson and my stomach muscles scrunched. In my mind’s eye, I could just see the wicked grin on his face.

“It sufficed,” I murmured through gritted teeth. Actually, the lacy lavender peek-a-boo set from our “Sweet Temptations” baby doll collection was one of my favorites.

“I hope you’ll be a little more enthusiastic about my pitch.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I pressed my lips together and said nothing. To my relief, he remained silent for the rest of the ride. We reached the lobby in no time, and the elevator doors re-opened. As I moved to dash out, he fisted my braid, holding me back. The nerve of him! Fuming, I turned on my heels to face him. My eyes met his equally intense gaze.

“Are you visiting another ad agency today?” he asked. “There’s really no need to.”

His presumptuousness got under my skin. Should I tell him that I was visiting a dozen more, just to make him think that he had a lot of competition?

“No,” I finally said.

“Good.” With a satisfied smile, he let go of my hair and accompanied me to the hotel entrance, keeping up with my slower than normal pace. There was no physical contact between us. Whatsoever.

It was another beautiful New York City winter day. Sunny and not too cold. The usual array of cabs and limos crowded the driveway.

“Do you want to grab breakfast with me?” he asked.

God, a coffee would be so good. Even if I had to put up with the pompous asshole. I glanced down at my watch. Ten a.m. “I can’t. My driver will be here momentarily.”

“What about lunch?”

“I’m visiting someone out of town.”

“Oh, a boyfriend?”

“Yes!” I shouted the word and didn’t know why I lied.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He winked.

My jaw clenched. “Same to you.”

Thankfully, before Mr. Nosy and Infuriating could probe further, Nigel pulled up to the curb.

Wearing a warm smile, he jumped out of the town car and opened the back passenger door. As I slid into the car, Jaime Zander never took his contemplative eyes off me. His lips twisted again into that maddening grin as the car rolled away. Fuck! I bet saw right though my white lie…the tinted windows…and my coat.

Chapter 6

The drive along the scenic Merritt Parkway to Connecticut was relaxing. I alternated between catching up on e-mails and gazing out the window. A fine layer of snow dusted the lawns of residences we passed by. Snow was something I rarely saw living in Los Angeles.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about Jaime Zander. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was having an affect on me like no other man had before. I’d never met a man who could reduce me to a nervous wreck with the just wink of an eye. Make me feel so totally out of control. It scared me. Big-decision-maker-me didn’t know how to handle it. Why the hell didn’t I just tell him to fuck off? And forget about the pitch for my business? Walk away from him while I had the chance? The truth: He had gotten under my skin. I was undeniably drawn to him—both to his sexy good looks and his challenging personality. He was as tempting as he was toxic. Even now, just thinking about him, I was quivering. I sat back against the soft leather seat, glad to be away from him.

To get my mind off him, I went back to checking my e-mails. I opened Kevin’s first; there were several. The first one brought a big smile to my face.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Glorious
!
Xoxo~Kev

I e-mailed him right back.

MWAH! Same to you!

Kevin had been my one and only Valentine forever. Neither of us had ever had much luck in the love department. But we had each other. Hopefully, tonight we could celebrate together although we hadn’t made any firm plans. Our traditional pity party for two could be on the agenda.

Waiting for his reply, I read the rest of his e-mails. All great news. The televised broadcast of the Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show had rocked in the ratings, and sales were at record levels at our stores worldwide. Yes, women were flocking to Gloria’s Secret last minute to buy seductive lingerie and sleepwear for the romantic Valentine’s night ahead. And they were standing in line with men, who were clutching replacement pieces for those that might get torn off after a candlelit dinner. I found it bitterly ironic that I sold love and sex but was never on the receiving end. Always on this day, my elation over sales was met with a pang of sadness. My mind jumped again to Jaime Zander. I bet he had a hot date tonight; women were all over him; I saw it with my own eyes. With a heavy heart, I eagerly awaited an e-mail from Kevin to cheer me up.

* * * *

An hour and a half into the drive, we exited the parkway and followed a rural, wooded road to the retirement home where Madame Paulette was residing. A magnificent gated estate soon came into view. Once the Normandy-styled mansion of one of America’s great oil barons, it was now the Cadbury House for Assisted Living. What I’d read about it had put my mind at ease. The pedigreed staff was attentive, the surroundings luxurious, and the cuisine delicious—prepared by a French chef. I was thrilled that I was able to afford to place my beloved Paulette here for her final years. Even though I had made her a wealthy woman with Gloria’s Secret stock, there was no way I could let her pay for her care. I owed her everything.

The call I had received from the head caretaker just before I’d left for New York had been unsettling. In fact, it had brought tears to my eyes. Madame Paulette’s health was failing rapidly, and it was unlikely she’d make it to the summer. Even if I didn’t have business in New York, I would have hopped the corporate jet and come East to visit her. She meant the world to me. She was my mentor, my role model, and the mother I never had. Upon learning about her numbered days, I vowed I would confess the secret I had harbored my entire adult life. She needed to know. I needed to tell.

Standing in the elegantly appointed entrance with her bag of goodies in hand, I anxiously awaited for someone to show me to her room. Nurse Perez, a jovial, curly-haired buxom woman, appeared in no time and escorted me up a magnificent winding marble staircase to the second floor. “We all love Paulette,” she said as I trailed close behind her. What was there not to love? She was a magnificent human being who would be sorely missed.

Madame’s suite was located at the end of the corridor. Her door was wide open. She gasped when she saw me. I hadn’t told her I was coming. It was a surprise.

“
Ma chérie
!” she exclaimed. Her voice was deeper and raspier than ever. Over the course of her long life, she had smoked way too many French cigarettes and drunk way too many glasses of wine.

Clad in an elegant lace-trimmed white nightgown, she was propped up in a luxurious down-covered bed against a half a dozen plump pillows. Despite her age—she must have been close to ninety though she’d never admit to it—she was as beautiful to me as ever. Her strong-featured face seemed to be wrinkle-resistant, and her hair, now a shimmering silver, was tied back as usual in a regal chignon. Even in her old age, she epitomized grace and style.