Beauty and the Beast (2 page)

Victoria gently kicked Rachel under the table. “Have you applied to the universities?” she asked with a tight smile on her face.

Rachel knew red of embarrassment must show through the light complexion of her cheeks. “Oh yes, ma’am. I umm…” she fiddled with her micro braids, “… applied to start the spring semester at Chicago State, the University of Illinois and Roosevelt. I figured one of them would accept me.”

“Nef, you’ve been here, what, three weeks?” Anna asked. “In that time I’ve never seen you cook.”

Victoria tried to kick Anna, but Anna anticipated her friend’s reaction and moved her legs to where Victoria couldn’t reach.

Nefertiti peeled the latex gloves off her hands and tossed them into the trash. “I cook. You just aren’t around when I do.” She set the plates on a tray.

“Why the two plates?”

“Because it’s as easy to prepare for two as it is one.” On her way out, she winked at Anna. “Good night, Rachel.”

“Good night.”

Moments after Nefertiti left, Victoria folded her arms over her chest. “Rachel, if you cannot control yourself—”

“I know, I know… If she had seen me gawking…” The young woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just… She actually put latex gloves over the cotton ones. I was in shock. I’m sorry.”

“I just thank God her back was turned. And you, Anna.”

“Humph, don’t start with me.” She returned to her magazine. “Beast.”

“She’s not a beast!” Rachel defended.

“I wasn’t talking about Nef.”

Cheeks heated with embarrassment again, Rachel relaxed in her seat. “I’m sorry. I’m still in shock. You don’t think he’ll hurt her, do you, Miss Victoria?”

“No, Rachel. Bruce would never hurt Nefertiti.”

Darkness. At times Bruce feared the darkness would swallow him whole. Yet, he felt most comfortable sitting in darkness with the oldies station playing softly in the background. How he wished he could turn back time, step out of the darkness. But no, this was his prison, and he wouldn’t wish this sentence on anyone. Especially Nefertiti.

To pinpoint the exact time he fell in love with her was virtually impossible. From the time she was three and he was eight until she graduated from college, she’d spent every summer with his Auntie Vic. When he slipped into his dark mood, or “blue mood” as Victoria called it, Nefertiti was one of the few people who would refuse to allow his sour, foul disposition to push her away. A scene replayed in his mind.

“Get out of my room, Nefertiti,” he said. “I’m a man. There’s no telling what I’m doin’.”

Her sixteen-year-old laugh showered the room with a cheerful, yellow light, giving him a short reprieve from the blues.

“Dream on. Now what do you think of this sketch?” She displayed the pad to him.

“Leave me alone!”

“I will as soon as you give your honest opinion about these sketches.”

“I’m in college now. I don’t have time to look at your stick figures.” The real problem wasn’t stick figures, but her actual figure. Something awful had happened to Nefertiti over the school year. She’d filled out in places only women should. Places he wanted to caress into submission.

“I like the third one the best.” She flipped through the pages. “And you’re in one summer school class. Get over yourself.”

After a close examination, he decided. “The second one, the man being eaten by the lion.”

“There’s no man.”

“That was a suggestion. Now get out of my room.” He snatched the sketchpad from her and tossed it out the door. “You’re next.”

Hands on her hips, she dared, “I’m not afraid of you. Come on with it.”

Oh yeah, sixteen, feisty, beautiful, smart, and not afraid of his mood swings… What wasn’t there to love? By the time she graduated from college, he could barely keep his hands off her. Actually, he hadn’t.

Memories of how he had almost slipped were fresh in his mind: the way the dorm room had smelled of macaroni and cheese, the way he’d drawn her into his arms, the way he’d kissed the smirk off her face, the way she’d opened freely to him, the way he’d pushed her away, the way the tears had trickled down her face.

To make sure she understood there would never be anything between them, he’d refused to return her calls, and he would leave town or stay away whenever she visited Victoria. Time flew by, and the next thing he knew, ten years had passed and Victoria was saying Nefertiti was moving in.

The song on the radio switched to “Play Another Slow Jam.” Nefertiti loved that song. She’d stop whatever she was doing and break into soulful song and a slow, sexy dance. As usual, the memories of the times they’d shared left him in a hardened state.
How the hell will I stay away?

No, he wouldn’t drag her into the darkness. Nefertiti represented light to him, the light he’d always wanted, and he’d do nothing to dim it. The light was beauty, was Nefertiti.

The grumbling of his stomach broke into his musings. He’d known Victoria would give him a hard time for his treatment of the new maid, but he wanted to scare the young woman. Maybe this way she’d leave him alone. The last thing he needed was another gold digger envisioning the life of luxury he could provide.
 

The first gold digger to enter his life had been Alexis Maxwell, his mother. When he was three, she left him with her sister, Victoria, and didn’t return until he’d made his first million twenty-two years later. All of a sudden, she wanted to be “mommy” to her “little boy.” The only thing that kept him from cutting her off completely was the respect Victoria had engrained in him.

A tapping at the door caught his attention. Hoping the person would leave, he remained quiet. Horny and hungry, he was in no mood for either Anna’s ribbing or Victoria’s prying. What he did want was to feast on Nefertiti, but that wasn’t an option.

The door opened slowly. “Bruce?”

That soft, hoarse, sexy as hell voice couldn’t be his Nefertiti. At least he prayed it wasn’t. From his seat in the darkness, she couldn’t see him as she entered the room and felt along the wall.

“Okay, where the heck is the light switch.”

The moonlight provided just enough light to showcase her curvy silhouette.

“Only Bruce would have a room that doesn’t have light switches.
Sheesh
.” She timidly headed toward the window but stopped in the middle of the room. “That’s my jam!” She set the tray on the bed. “ ‘Play another slow jam… ’ ” she sang as she hugged herself and swayed to the beat.

Arms raised in the air, she snapped her fingers to the beat and continued her solo.

One second Bruce was in the corner brooding, the next his body took over his brain and he slowly approached her from behind, singing, “ ‘On a slow-o-o-o-o jam,’ ” as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“So you finally decided to come out of hiding.” She turned in his arms, rested her head on his chest and embraced him. “I’ve missed you, old friend.”

“This is my room. I’m not hiding.” After all these years, she still fit perfectly in his arms. The urge to hold her close beat out his need to push her away. It had been so long since anyone held him in a genuine loving embrace. He’d even distanced himself from Victoria over the last few years.

She stepped away. “Your stomach is growling. Where’s the light?”

“Something smells delicious.” He switched on the lamp beside the bed to the lowest setting, and the room filled with soft light. To his surprise, she didn’t seem shocked by the black walls, ceiling, drawn blinds, or carpet. “What the hell is that on your head?”

“A veil.” She moved the tray from the bed to the small, round reading table near the window, then took his plate and drink off the tray and set them on the table. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Sit and eat with me.” He patted the armchair beside the table for her to sit in, then carried the matching burgundy leather armchair from his bedside to the opposite side of the table.

“Still bossy, I see.”

“Still a smart aleck, I see.” After they were seated comfortably, he dug into his sandwich. The rye bread was toasted to perfection. Corned beef had never been his favorite, but blended with the warm sauerkraut and melted Swiss cheese, it moved up in his ranking. “This is either the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life, or I’m starving and anything would taste good about now.” Halfway through the Reuben, he noticed she hadn’t touched her food. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Enjoy yourself.”

He wanted to see the mouth such a soft, sensual voice could come from. “If nothing’s wrong, why are you dressed like a ninja?” He reached to take off her veil, but she moved away from his touch. “You can’t eat with that thing on.”

“I’ll eat when I return to my room where I can take off this
thing
in peace.”

“You mean the cellar.” He bit into his pickle. Why she’d wear that cockamamie hood around him and expect him to remain silent was unfathomable. Why she chose to stay in the dark dungeon of a cellar instead of one of the guest suites was beyond consideration. “Why don’t you take over the east wing if you don’t want to be bothered?”