Three Stages of Love: Attraction (16 page)

“What is it, Evangeline? You must be tired from all the unpacking. Why don’t you go lay down and rest a while?” Alexander came over and massaged my shoulders lightly, feeling the tension in my muscles as he stroked my back.

I turned to look up at him seated on the armrest of the couch and said without sounding too distraught, “I’m not tired. I just…” Sighing, I ordered my thoughts before I spoke. “I don’t feel comfortable in these surroundings. It’s not the house itself but all of these things. They are beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I remember when I furnished my house; it took me weeks to find the perfect furniture and decorations that reflected me and my home.” Alexander peered down at me, unsure of how to rectify my feelings. “It’s silly and new. Don’t worry, I’ll get accustomed to it.”

Alexander slid down onto the couch and with both arms raised me onto his lap. “I don’t want you to get accustomed to anything. I want every fork, spoon, and towel in this house to reflect you—and me. Tomorrow we will go do some mass shopping to fix this shamble of a house.”

I giggled at Alexander’s attempt to put down the decorator’s dream home we resided in at the moment. And then I wrapped my arms around his neck and left soft kisses from the top of his earlobe, down to his collarbone.

Alexander breathed deep as he implored me to stop before we ended up spending the day naked and between the sheets. “You know, I am not one to stop you from kissing or touching me or from going further, but I came down to tell you that the Nests have invited us to dinner. They would like to welcome you.”

“Of course, Alexander; just let me wash up and get ready and then we can go. Would you like me to set something out for you?” I asked obligingly.

“Um—you don’t have to do that,” he answered in an awkward way.

“I don’t mind. I mean, you are not a child that needs to be dressed. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything pressed or prepared for the evening. It’s OK. I’ll go shower,” I said, a bit saddened at his awkwardness toward my offer.

“Evangeline, I would appreciate your gesture immensely, as dressing—though I do it well—has always been a nuisance to me, but I don’t want you to feel like you
need
to do any of these things. The unpacking and cleaning, the pressing of my clothes: we pay for people to do that,” Alexander added.

I sat up on Alexander’s lap and placed my hand over his heart. “The people you pay to do all those things will never make this place
a home
. I want to take care of you. I want to feed you and fill this mansion with scents of fresh flowers and home-cooked meals. It’s what I’ve known; it’s the only way I know how to
live
in a house. I don’t want to feel like I’m in a hotel, that’s all.”

Alexander looked baffled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to feel like a maid or a—housewife. I’m not familiar with this side of you, but from what I am familiar with, well…this is the role you didn’t want to fill.”

“You didn’t ask me or expect me to
fill a role
. I am not working, I don’t know anyone yet, and I have nothing else to do. If I am going to be here, you have to let me
be here
the only way I know how,” I demanded, pleading for his agreement.

Alexander nodded and then added, “I’ll explain to Ms. Gina that her services are no longer needed then.”

I jumped up and waved my hands at him. “No. I may want to take care of you, but hell, I hate laundry and grocery shopping, and I don’t have a green thumb. Don’t fire the help! I’ll talk to Ms. Gina and just explain that she needs to be OK with me doing things around the house and to not feel slighted.”

Smirking and utterly confused, Alexander simply nodded and clasped his hands in his lap.

“Now, you go shower, and I’ll get your things ready for you, and then I’ll go shower. You said our reservations are in an hour, right? Well, then we must get moving.” I leaned in and, cupping his chin in my hand, licked the part of his lips and then, after a kiss, went on my way upstairs.

Raising his voice so that I could hear him down the hall, Alexander shouted after me, “That’s just wrong, Miss Chase—lick ‘em and leave ‘em!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“How do I look, Alexander?” I asked, feeling self-conscious in this ocean of perfection that I was suddenly drowning in. I adjusted the straps of the black royal blue stain dress. The zipper that went from the shoulder strap through the flap of my breast and down to my knees was gold and stunning. I pulled the zipper to open half way to my cleavage and my breasts sat perky and plush.

Downtown Beverly Hills was without a doubt a nightmare for the poor and middle class. The extent of extravagance, luxury, and celebrity that roamed the streets was unlike anything else. Celebrities who live in New York walk about through SoHo and Greenwich Village in jeans and sweatshirts and sneakers. In LA, your everyday neighbor was dressed to the nines, doused in diamonds and the best of couture.

“You always look amazing. Where is this self-consciousness coming from? You put these people to shame!” Alexander assured me, as the valet came to the car door to open it for me.

We women are silly, really. We ask our men to tell us how we look. But standing outside of a restaurant while the valet waited to let me out, if he had responded by telling me I looked horrible, what would I have done? What is the point of asking when we only look to hear one of two answers!

I slid out of the Mercedes Alexander rented for the evening and waited for him to come around to my side. Sliding his arm around my waist, we walked into the elite Italian restaurant.

Now anyone who has been to an Italian restaurant—upscale or pizzeria level—knows that Italians
are loud
and vibrant. The Beverly Hills Italians were supposedly of a different cloth. The sounds and voices in the restaurant never rose above a dull whisper, and the movements of the elegantly dressed, statuesque diners were slow, graceful, and poised.

“They are just people,” Alexander whispered in my ear as I stared, a bit uneasy.

“I see that, Alexander. I didn’t just come out of a jungle, you know. It’s just a little strange that everyone kind of looks like gorgeous robots,” I returned.

“Come. Let’s get our table and then a drink.” Alexander escorted me to the hostess, who quickly seated us in a royal fashion in the center of the room at a table for eight.

Pulling out my chair, Alexander helped seat me. “I thought we were just meeting the Nests this evening. Are more people joining us?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. Tom said Leila was making the reservations, but he didn’t mention that anyone else would be here. I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Alexander said, shrugging his shoulders and sitting beside me.

Just in time for the rest of our party to walk in. And sure enough, the Nests entered with two other couples trailing shortly behind them.

“Eva, darling, you look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you,” Leila said, embracing me tightly.

“As do you, Leila. How are you?” I replied.

“I’m great and very happy to see you. Let me introduce you to Steve and Catherine Helm and John and Marissa Worthington. Steve and John are colleagues of Tom’s. And Cat and Missy are two of my closest friends.” Leila completed her introductions as we all shook hands and acquainted ourselves.

Alexander was warmly familiar with all at the table, and he positioned himself closely to me, seeing as I just barely knew two people there and had become the focal point for the rest of the women to stare at. I got it—I was the newbie who needed to be stripped down and understood.

Cat and Missy, as Leila had called them, were tall blonde bombshells. The three women practically looked like sisters. Their hair was straightened and curled at the ends. They all had French manicures with the trendy ballet slipper polish coating their perfectly filed nails, and the ice that sat on their fingers could have been put together to form the Hope diamond. They all ordered the same Cabernet wine and salad and made an effort to smile at me when I caught their glances as I cut my fresh mozzarella and prosciutto.

“So, Eva, how do you like Beverly Hills so far? It’s much prettier than New York, isn’t it?” asked Missy.

Now, it is one thing to ask me how I like Beverly Hills, and it’s another thing to bash my home while doing so. “Well, I wouldn’t say prettier. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I personally wouldn’t trade New York in for anything in the world; but Beverly Hills is lovely, and since it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, I can’t really say whether I like it or not. So far—” turning to Alexander, I leaned my head onto his shoulder—“I have nothing to complain about.”

Missy let out a dry snicker as she pretended to like my response. “Well, then here’s to you.”

What a bitch! She makes me seem sweet as pie!
I couldn’t help think as I focused on Alexander but thought of this skank in front of me who spent most of her time ogling Alexander and giving me dirty looks.

“Ladies,” Leila said as the rest of the women nodded in an understood cue to go to the restroom. “Eva, will you take a walk with us?”

I nodded. I was smart enough to know that I would surely be the topic of conversation had I not been in the bathroom with them. Alexander helped me out of my chair and kissed me on the cheek before I walked toward the restroom behind Leila.

Leila, it seemed to me, was the leader of the pack. She barked, and the pack knew exactly what to do. It was uncomfortable to watch the power she held, but I had yet to understand why she had this power over them.

The sisters, as I began to think of them mentally, all sat at the mirrored vanity stools, one next to the other, searching their clutches for touch-up makeup.

Because I was wearing little makeup, I added a light coating of my champagne lipstick and waited as the glamour girls added more stucco to their already plastered faces.

“So, Eva, how does a youthful woman like you achieve so much at such a young age? I hear you are a bigwig in the hostile takeovers, and you have managed to snag up possibly the hottest and most wanted man from the East and West Coasts. Please—share the secret.” Missy was just batting hard. She eyed me through the mirror as her complimenting words carried daggers.

“Oh, quit it, Missy. Alexander wouldn’t come near you even before Eva; don’t take it out on her. She’s my new friend, so watch your step. Understood?” Leila barked back.

Missy didn’t flinch until Leila spoke at her, and it was an obvious effect she had. “Oh, Eva, I hope I didn’t come off as nasty. I honestly am interested.”

“Well,” I replied, trying to dismiss her attitude and avoid any issues with the clique only one hour in. “I work hard and play harder, and though that may be cliché, it is the absolute truth. I strive for success and have worked endless hours and days to have the position I have. Alexander, well, he fell into my lap—actually, I fell into his. But he did blow me out of my safe zone and shocked me with emotions that I couldn’t handle or explain. I’m trying though. The love he continues to show me is immense compared to what very little he has asked of me in return.”

“Well, isn’t that the love story. It sounds like a lot of uncertainty to me. It is almost like you’re one of those controlling businesswomen who needs to wear the balls in a relationship,” Missy shot back at me.

“I think it’s sweet,” said Cat. “It’s nice to have someone pine for you that dearly;—enough so to make you at least try to rearrange your life for him. In my opinion, most marriages fail because no one
tries
to make it work anymore. It’s too easy to quit.” Cat stood from her stool and walked toward the back of the restroom to use the open stall.

Missy rolled her eyes and turned to Leila. “Someone’s got something crawling up her ass,” she said.

Leila continued to apply her lipstick as she replied, colder than she had earlier, “No. Had she allowed something to go up her ass, she would be in a better mood. She’s just realized that she isn’t satisfying her husband, so he’s looking elsewhere.” Leila stood unfazed and unconcerned; she lowered her shirt and adjusted her breasts so that she was barely covered.

I stared at her almost in shock. She had turned from sweet and friendly to a malicious rival. She cared little for the hurt her friend was suffering and practically condoned the fact that Cat’s husband was cheating on her.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t give it to him so well—” Missy started but was cut short by a vicious stare and bark from Leila.

“Missy, you should continue applying your makeup and mind your mouth,” Leila said as she rolled her eyes back to signal to Missy that I was still standing there and obviously listening.

It was strange to witness the conversation go silent as Cat reentered the room. And though I was privy to what was happening, I couldn’t piece together what Missy had said to Leila.
What does Leila’s sexual relationship with her husband have to do with Cat and her husband’s infidelity?

“Oh, Cat, I’m sorry we were so insensitive. We need to have a girl’s day soon—just us friends; a day to get your mind off of everything. Plus, you still have no proof that Steve is seeing anyone else or cheating, for that matter.” Leila held Cat’s hands in her own and again turned into the doting friend.

Cat shook her head. “I’d like that, Leila, but as for Steve, I don’t need proof. I gave up everything for him only to find myself here now with no love, no sex, and barely a husband. If it wasn’t for my wedding ring, I wouldn’t even know I was married to him.”

I remained silent. I was new to the group and the private conversations. I stared at my nails and checked my nail polish but kept my ears open.

We walked back to the table. The sisters walked ahead of me, striding through the restaurant as if they were on a catwalk. Heads turned and wives moved closer to their husbands. They were the women to watch and the ones to be wary of.

The men at the table stood as we approached and helped us all be seated.

“Everything all right, love? You look a bit shaky,” Alexander whispered into my ear, facing away from the table.

“I’m all right. Just tired I guess.” I wasn’t one to spill the beans on information that wasn’t mine to share, but Alexander
was
my only friend here, and I couldn’t call Samantha—since I hadn’t even said good-bye before I left.