Trust Me (43 page)

“Green
eyes suit you very well my love,” Creighton told her, watching her expression. She glanced back to him and saw the amused expression on his face and blushed yet again.

The
two artists began their cleaning of the skin and Sandra watched as they removed sterile tips from a silver box she assumed was a sterilizer, attaching them to long tubes and began filling them with ink. The man sat in a chair behind Sandra and began to sketch the design on her back before pressing a switch somewhere on the floor. She listened to the hissing sound of the hose and tried not to jump when he touched her lower back with the metal tip. It was a strange sensation, the tiny needles penetrating her flesh and inserting the ink into her skin.

Sandra
sat as still as possible, afraid to move. She felt certain her arms and legs had melded into the leather chair as the man etched her flesh with the design. She chanced a glance at Creighton who looked like he was sleeping while the woman worked on the bicep of his right arm. Without opening his eyes, he reached out and gently took Sandra by the hand, squeezing her fingers tenderly.

“Relax,
it’s almost over,” he told her in a lazy tone and she actually found herself relaxing just as he ordered. Her hand remained in his as they sat patiently awaiting for the two to finish. Forty-five minutes later, the tattooist turned off his hose and leaned back in his seat to inspect his work.

“It
looks great,” Creighton said, as the girl working on his arm soon followed suit. “Take a look,” he ordered as the middle-aged man held up a mirror for her to examine the artwork, looking at his own arm before slipping his shirt back across his torso.

Sandra
smiled when she saw it; her skin was red and slightly swollen, but the design was flawless; it looked exactly like the one her parents had when she was younger. She found herself fighting the urge to cry as she looked in the mirror.

“Hold
it back,” Creighton said in a soft tone. “You can let go when we get to the hotel.” Sandra held her breath, counted to ten and found she could easily pull herself under control.

“So,
one more thing to check off your list,” he told her as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “Ready for more?” Sandra smiled. Things weren’t really as bad as she had anticipated, and she felt a sudden rush of excitement.

“What
do you have planned now?” she asked him watching him pay for their tattoos in cash. Creighton accepted the small jar of cream the tattooist gave him and turned to Sandra, leading her out the door. They walked across the street to a jewelry shop and stopped outside to look in the window.

“I
know you don’t like me spending money on you, but I want something special for your pictures. This is probably the best place to do just that.” Sandra stared at him, as though he had two heads and back at the window filled with diamonds and gold.

“Why
do you insist on buying me expensive jewelry?” Creighton laughed and kissed her cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest.

“I
wasn’t thinking about anything crazy, maybe a necklace or a bracelet, something simple.”

“I
don’t think you know how to buy simple and I really don't wear a lot of jewelry,” she argued. “I don’t like wearing real stones; it makes me feel like I’m a target for thieves.”

“I’ll
protect you. Now what would you like?”

“A
sweater?” she said and he laughed, taking her by the hand and leading her into the store. He greeted the young man who stepped from behind the glass cases. After ensuring that he did not speak English, Creighton began to speak with him regarding his desires. The man nodded and stepped back around the case, lifting a tray of bracelets out from underneath. Sandra stared at them feeling nervous and anxious to touch the delicate stones. They were all so beautiful and she carefully touched two of the strands of diamonds, lifting one to examine it closer.

It
was a chain of white gold, nothing elaborate but neatly designed in several x formations, each encased in tiny diamonds. They reminded the nipple clamps Creighton had in his kit and she blushed slightly setting it back on the tray. She picked up a diamond and sapphire bracelet then looked back at her ring. It was in the design of a thick white gold braided rope. There were little diamonds entwined in the braiding and large sapphire stones every few millimeters. The stones matched her engagement ring perfectly and she smiled when she compared them together.

“Do
you like it?” he asked her.

“It’s
really pretty,” she told him before setting it back on the tray.

“Do
you want to keep looking?” Sandra blushed and nodded; she knew she wasn't going to get out of the store without letting him buy her something and she really did like the bracelet, but thought that perhaps it would be easier to find a simple necklace; something that wouldn’t cost a year’s salary.

Creighton
said something to the young man who nodded before the couple turned and walked to the display cases on the opposite side of the shop. The shelves held many velvet trays of necklaces, earrings, watches and hair combs. They were all so beautiful and she found herself actually admiring several items.

“What
is your favorite stone?” he asked her as the young man lifted the trays to the top of the counter so she could inspect them closer.

“I
don’t know if I have a favorite,” she said picking up a pair of earrings. There were three long strings of small diamonds dangling off a larger round diamond that fit into the ear lobe.

“You
like diamonds though, right? I mean all women like diamonds.”

“Yes,
diamonds are really nice, especially when they are on small golden clamps, but I like the sapphires and emeralds too. I just don’t know which the best is.”

“So
if you had to choose and not worry about the cost, what out of everything in this store would you like?” Sandra smiled as she sat the earrings back on the tray and looked at the man with a raised brow.

“I
know what you’re doing,” she assured him. “I don’t want you to buy me expensive jewelry.”

“I
was just asking a question,” Creighton said feigning innocence. He spoke to the salesman again for several long moments before joining Sandra near the register. She frowned when a young woman joined them from the back room. Sandra hadn’t even seen her, but apparently she was part of the conspiracy as she set several boxes on the counter, smiling at the young couple.

“Souvenirs
for your family?” she asked with narrowed eyes. Creighton turned to her and smiled.

“No.”
He didn’t elaborate any further as he signed the receipt the woman handed him.

“Don’t
you need the credit card?” She frowned as he handed the slip of paper back and picked up the cases.

“He’ll
send a bill to my office and my assistant will pay for it.”

“Aren’t
you worried about The Don’s boys finding us?” Creighton shook his head as they left the shop and walked down the opposite side of the street.

“They
can’t get into my business account, so they’ll never know we were here. Only my assistant knows and she’s been ordered not to say anything.”

“So
what was the point in putting money in my account if you weren’t planning on using it?”

“I
have used it. I paid for the hotels with it and for the car, just as I said I would. However, I am well-known in Paris and since I have an office a few blocks from here, I can get away with just signing for my purchases.”

Sandra
shook her head in amusement. This man was such an enigma, relaxed and comfortable with who and what he was; different than anyone she had ever known. She only hoped that he would find it as simple to accept her and all her faults, as it was for her to accept his.

They
walked together toward a large storefront about half-way down the block. Creighton opened the door and like before, stepped aside to allow her to enter first. Sandra looked around and smiled; there were large portraits of children, families and individual men and women decorating the walls. A small wooden desk sat near a thick black drape.

“Very
nice work,” she said as she inspected the pictures.

“You
like them?” he asked and she nodded. “These are my brother’s kids,” he said pointing at the portrait of three children, two young girls and a boy. The youngest girl looked to be about two and had short dark blonde hair, as did her brother who looked to be the eldest; around five or six perhaps. The older girl, she guessed to be around four, had dark-brown hair that curled in ringlets around her neck. Each had the same dark-blue eyes as Creighton and smiled cheerfully from a bench in front of a garden setting.

“This
is my brother Derek and his wife Kristine,” Creighton said, pointing to a portrait of a handsome young couple. The woman had brownish-blonde hair; like her two children and hazel eyes. Derek looked very much like Creighton; dark hair, sapphire blue eyes and the same enticing smile.

“These
are my parents,” he told her leading her to a portrait that hung on the wall near the entrance. The couple was middle aged, but the similarities to their sons were remarkable. Creighton looked like a younger version of his father; but his eyes were definitely his mother's. His father’s hair rested on the collar of his suit coat and was nearly completely grey. He had a matching beard and mustache, trimmed neatly as he smiled cheerfully from beside his wife. His mother was stunning; very beautiful with her shoulder length gray streaked hair and warm smile. She was thin with a long slender neck and narrow shoulders. She didn’t look at all the type of woman who had given birth to five children.

“And
these are my sisters,” Creighton continued, showing her a portrait of two young women in their teen years. The oldest had dark hair that hung down to her waist as she stood next to her sister, her hands folded on the back of a chair, her eyes the same dark blue as the others. The younger girl sat sideways in the wooden chair; her slender legs crossed at the ankle beneath an attractive dark-green skirt; her hands folded in her lap and her hair, much like her sister’s, was long and dark, draped across her shoulder. They both smiled, resembling their brothers and parents and Sandra couldn’t help but smile in return. She looked at the other assorted portraits and frowned.

“Isn’t
there a picture of your other brother, Andrew?” she asked him and watched as his jaw clenched tightly for a brief moment.

“He
couldn’t join the family for holiday,” he said, his tone filled with bitterness. “He was too busy.”

“When
were these pictures taken?” she asked, hoping to distract his irritation off the unpleasant memory.

“About
two years ago; I had just purchased the flat in Versailles and we were there for a week during July.”

“You
have a lovely family,” Sandra said, watching the pride shine in his eyes as he turned his attention back to his parents’ picture. His love for them was more than apparent.

“Thank
you,” he said. “I like them.”

A
short thin oriental woman walked out from behind the drape, smiling at them. She was quite attractive and dressed in a typical Chinese kimono of blues and greens, and a pair of black pants.

“Mr.
Creighton,” the woman said as she approached them, bowing slightly. “Good to see you.”

“This
is Miing,” Creighton said with a warm smile. “Miing and her husband, Chang, do all of our company’s publicity photos, as well as my personal ones. They do excellent work.”

“You
too nice,” Miing said, turning to Sandra. “This is you pretty lady you want picture of?” Sandra blushed as the woman consulted with Creighton in very broken English.

“Yes,
this is my fiancée Sandra. We want some special, private portraits. I had Mystic Moments send over some packages, have they arrived?”

“Oh,
yes, they here. Come, I show you.” Creighton and Sandra followed her through the black curtain and down a narrow hall with several doors, to a closed room at the end. Miing opened the door and stepped through, flipping on a dim light. Creighton edged Sandra through with a warm hand on her back, just below her tattoo.

“This
is good?” Miing asked Creighton as she waved around the room. It was decorated in rich mahogany wooden walls; a very elegant cream-colored chaise lounge with gold leaf edging sat in the middle of the room, beside it was a small marble table with a vase of silk flowers. Several pillows were strung around the floor, a curtain of deep burgundy hung behind the lounge and a photographer’s umbrella stood nearby. In the corner of the room was a king-sized bed, very elegantly carved with a midnight blue duvet covering the thick mattress; the other corner had a Greek marble column, entwined with green silk leaves. Behind it was a wall mural of a garden setting and a white marble bench in front. A fan sat near the entry door and a camera was set up and ready for use. In the last corner stood a full-length, gold-leaf mirror surrounded by dark black drapes.