Trust Me (54 page)

“So
you never said, do you want a big wedding or a small one?” Creighton asked a few hours later as they sat against the sofa on the living room floor of their hotel suite, a plate of cheese and fruit on the coffee table nearby, a bottle of white wine beside it.

“Small,”
Sandra said sipping her wine. “I hate people staring at me and I hate long ceremonies. My cousin married when I was a teenager and I had to be a brides’ maid; it was horrible. It was hot and long and I had to wear this ugly pink taffeta dress with layers of white lace that made me look like a cupcake. I swore I would never have a wedding like that. Maybe we could elope?”

“Always
the romantic?” he teased reaching out and caressing her leg through her jeans. “I have to admit I rather like the idea; it makes you mine that much quicker, but it takes time to get a license in Europe. It’s not like Las Vegas where you just show up and Elvis marries you.”

“So
I guess we can’t get married?” she teased watching the shocked look cross the man’s face.

“Don’t
be so hasty,” he said quickly. “If you really want to elope, I will make it happen.”

“I
was teasing,” she said with a sigh. “If we have to wait for a license, then I’d rather have a small wedding; something simple with no real fuss, maybe a private ceremony with family only.”

“That
sounds good. Do you want to get married here or in the States?”

“I
hadn’t thought about it much. I don’t even know if my grandparents have passports, I’ve never asked. I know Cathy has one, if she’s still talking to me that is.”

“I
can help your family with the paperwork to come over if you’d like. I know my family has their passports if you want a State side wedding. We go abroad for holiday every year.”

“I
just want my wedding to be something romantic and unexpected. I love the idea of spontaneity, like an elopement. After all, it will be the only time I ever get married and I want it to be memorable; but in a good way.” Creighton nodded softly and she could tell he was thinking the subject though.

“Trust
me?” he asked, and she nodded. “I’ll make it something you’ll remember forever and I like the idea that you’re going into this without the safety net of a divorce option.”

“I
think if you take the divorce exit out of the picture, then you have no choice but to work out your problems and move forward.”

“I
couldn’t agree more. My grandfather told me once there are two things that break up marriages; money and sex. I don’t think we have to worry about either one.”

“Well
at least not the sex part. As for the money; I think that will always be an issue, just not like it is with most couples.” Creighton reached for the bottle of wine as they spoke, refilling their glasses.

“It
won’t be an issue for us either; you just have to believe me when I say you’ll get used to it and it won’t be the foremost thought on your mind anymore.”

“Creighton,
I really want to do something besides giving birth the rest of my life.”

“Alright; what
is the one thing you’ve always wanted to do? The one dream you’ve had that you just never thought you could accomplish?” Sandra frowned, thinking about it for a moment.

“When
I was in college, I thought I would like to write children’s books. I’ve written several stories; I’ve just never pursued it. I haven’t had the time or the finances to try and publish them.”

“Well
you have the time and the money now.” Sandra looked at him, green eyes staring at dark blue; contemplating what he had just said. Maybe she could work on her dream.

“I’ll
have to think about it,” she said softly as he leaned into her, kissing her full lips.

“We
should probably think about the house and how you want to decorate it.”

“But
you withdrew your offer,” she argued. “We don’t have a house to shop for.” Creighton wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to his side.

“Trust
me; I just played my trump card and it was a strong one.” Sandra looked up as he smiled; there was a lot she still had to learn about this man she was going to marry.

They
had spent the afternoon talking about the future, about their hopes and plans and dreams and for the first time in her life, Sandra felt as though she had a future. She never considered her life outside of working, her grandparents or her sister and now she was getting married, moving to England and talking about perusing her dream of writing. Her life had just become a whirlwind; far more forceful than any tornado ever hoped to be.

Creighton
insisted that they take in an opera while they were in Paris; wanting Sandra to experience all the elegance and ambience the city had to offer. With a simple phone call, he secured dinner reservations at a restaurant she was certain would cost more than her monthly salary and box seats for
The Bastille
where they would see
The Marriage of Figaro
. She had seen and done many things since meeting this man, but nothing was as exciting as the events that lay ahead of her.

Sandra
searched through the chest of drawers, blushing at the black leather bustier that lay inside before moving on to find a pair of pale cream-colored panties and matching bra. She pulled them on and sat on the bed, slipping her slender legs into a pair of thigh-high tan hose before going to the closet and retrieving the long
Naeem Khan
gown Creighton had bought her in Hyères. She stepped into the gold and cream-colored tulle gown with the elegant rose motif, cut in shoulders, round neck, fitted bodice and flared pleated skirt. She left the back unzipped as she walked to the dresser and retrieved the necklace, bracelet and earrings he gave her, then stepped into the off white
Christian Louboutin
crystal beaded pumps.

She looked up into the mirror above the dresser and smiled
; she looked like a million dollars and considering how much the clothes and jewelry had cost; she was certain she really was wearing a million dollars. It made her feel a little nervous to go someplace out of her normal social class and yet very excited; somehow just knowing how much everything cost made her feel much more elegant than she looked. She had styled her hair the way Rochelle taught her and applied the new color of makeup with perfection. She was anxious and excited and ready to take on anything this evening handed her.

Collecting
her
Judith Leiber
crystal handbag, she quickly moved her passport, license, wallet and phone to the champagne colored interior and sprayed the cologne she bought Cathy across her chest and neck, before glancing once more at herself in the mirror. With a deep breath, Sandra opened the door and walked out of the bedroom.

Creighton stood at the bar pouring
Dom Perignon
into two crystal goblets, looking very handsome in his black
Armani
tuxedo, crisp white shirt and black bow tie; his feet hidden inside a pair of
John Lobb
black calfskin loafers. He didn’t seem to notice her as she approached, allowing her to freely inspect him; the suit hanging snuggly across his muscled arms and chest, his hair combed back but still falling across his forehead, his chin covered in the usual light dusting of beard. He glanced up as she approached, smiling seductively as he inspected her from head to toe.

“
Vous
regardez
magnifique
,” he said in French.

“Is
that good?” she asked accepting the glass of champagne he handed her.

“Magnificent,”
he said. “I have never seen anyone more stunning or breathtaking, except perhaps when you wore Sabrina’s gown.”

“Then
I thank you, sir.” She smiled as he touched the rim of his glass to hers and watched while he took a sip; their eyes holding onto the others passionately. Sandra set her glass on the bar and turned around, exposing her open dress to him

 
“I’d much rather be taking this off,” he told her, zipping the back closed.

“I
thought we had reservations?” she teased. “I know how much you hate breaking your itinerary.” She turned around again and picked up her glass, smiling sweetly at the man who narrowed his gaze to her.

“I
am beginning to think you’re going to break me of that habit; aren’t you Miss Dennis?” Sandra raised her eyebrows innocently, swallowing a mouthful of liquor before setting it back on the bar.

“Some
habits are worth breaking, Mr. Ashford.”

“So
long as we can build a few new habits together; I won’t mind breaking some old ones.” Sandra closed her eyes when he leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers in the tenderest of caresses while his hands circled her waist.

“If we don’t leave now, we may never get out of here,” he groaned against her mouth.

“You promised me an opera,” she told him in a feigned pout. “And I intend to collect.”

“Then
let’s go,” he smiled and held his arm out for her to take. They walked together out the door and pressed the button for the lift as Creighton’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed deeply and removed it, listening to the message as the lift doors opened and they stepped inside. The descent down to the lobby seemed longer than normal as Creighton listened silently to the messages.

“Everything
alright?” she asked, frowning at the serious expression on the man’s face as he returned the phone to his breast pocket. He nodded silently, but didn’t verbally answer, taking her hand in his and walking through the lobby to the front entrance. Sandra noticed the way people stopped and stared at them as they passed, but was amazed at how unaffected Creighton seemed to be. The doorman opened the large glass doors as they approached, while an oriental man in a black suit stepped out of the waiting limousine. Creighton let go of Sandra’s hand and allowed her to enter the car ahead of him, before climbing in behind her. He sat silently next to her in the leather seat, completely oblivious of her presence.

The
car was very similar to the one he had picked her up in for their first date; though the interior was black with beige walls and carpeted floor. It pulled out into the evening’s traffic, while Sandra sat in the awkward silence trying to gauge Creighton’s mood. Several moments passed as he held her hand, gently caressing the back of her knuckles; looking intently at the air around them.

“So
I was thinking about eating potato chips blindfolded, while bathing in hot fudge,” she said, watching him nod then turned a frown toward her causing her laugh. “I wasn’t sure if you were still with me or not.”

“I’m
sorry,” he said with a warm smile, leaning into her and kissing her cheek. “I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

“So
what was the call about? It wasn’t Cathy again, was it?” He drew a deep breath and removed the remote control from the drawer of the small table between them and switched on the television. He turned the channel to a news station and adjusted the volume.

Sandra
frowned as she listened to the BBC reporter talk about a political debate in America, a riot in Afghanistan and then a short report about the upcoming film festival next month in Cote d’Azur before moving on to local gossip; causing Sandra to gasp when she saw a photo of herself and Creighton coming out of the bookstore where they had seen Miriam.

“And
on a lighter side,” the young woman was saying, her accent revealing her British heritage: pictures of Sandra and Creighton began flashing on the small screen. Pictures of them in Nice, shopping in Paris, holding hands on the streets in front of Rochelle’s and one of them kissing outside Chang’s photography studio; all accompanied the news story as the woman continued.

“There
are reports that one of England’s most eligible bachelors may soon be heading down the aisle, according to some curious spectators. Millionaire heartthrob, Creighton Ashford, has been spotted with an unnamed woman over the past few weeks, water skiing in the South of France and visiting a jewelry store in Paris. An insider has confirmed that Mr. Ashford is in the market for a house in London and has been spotted picking out bedroom furniture with this very attractive woman. There is no official word from
New Hope Technologies
to confirm this rumor, but insiders say Mr. Ashford has been secretly seeing this woman for the past two years. We’ll keep you informed as to any new developments that arise. Up next we’ll see what the weekend’s weather holds in store for us.”

Creighton
flipped the television off and tossed the control back in the drawer, glancing at the woman beside him who stared wide-eyed at the blank screen. The car was suddenly filled with a tense silence that seemed to be stifling, threatening the evening’s events.

“Say
something,” he said softly.