Bella's Choice (20 page)

Chapter Nine

“W
hat do you think, André?” Sandra asked attentively. Her daughter had left the living room ten minutes ago, silencing the room affectively. Jason had followed suit, taking the couple to the pool for a late night swim. The January night was humid and warm, and they all felt sweaty after the long, hot day.

Sandra told them she would join them later, after noticing that André was deep in his own thoughts. She couldn’t leave him like that, so stuck around to pour a drink for them both, hoping he would snap out of whatever was bugging him and soon.

He looked at her quizzically, his smile rueful. Not something you would associate with the normally arrogant man. André, three years older than Jason, had a killer smile that destroyed her resolve, melting her insides, always. He was a strenuous lover, but she always walked away sated, even if she swore she wouldn’t allow him to get close for a time. Which never lasted long; he was potent in bed, and almost like a drug, caused her to go back quicker, hypnotizing her affectively with his charms.

Watching him, she couldn’t help but see the similarities between him and her first lover, Robert. With just a smile or a touch, Robert would take her places in seconds, allowing her to fly in his embrace, taking her to nirvana and back. Not even Jason had that affect on her, and he was an excellent lover.

“I’m enamored with her,” he finally said, his declaration bringing her back to the present. “She is everything I want in a woman.”

Sandra smiled. He seemed to blush at his own statement, which she found adorable on him. The man had been a self-proclaimed bachelor for years, one who never committed to any sort of relationship. Besides that, no woman could keep up with his demands in bed, never willing to partake of it on a long-term basis. For him to say those words, could only mean that he was serious. She had thought he just lusted after Anabella, but the declaration sai
d so much more.

“What do you mean, André?” She had to be sure she’d understood him correctly.

“I want her as my mistress,” he quickly replied, confirming her suspicions.

She gasped for air, stunned at the statement. Anabella was still―for all intended purposes―child, an innocent young woman. Maybe too innocent, but still, the idea of him and her being together had her shaking her head in disbelief. “Anabella will never go for it, besides, she is too young for you.”

“Nonsense. She’s at the right age to learn, she is ready for plucking, and I will be her teacher,” he said, matter-of-factly, his tone changing ominously, which seemed to unnerve Sandra for the first time in a long time.

“This isn’t what we agreed upon.”

She attempted to discourage him, but his brooding look stopped her.

“I’ve just changed my mind. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, of course not,” she assured him, taking a long sip from her drink, hoping it would calm her nerves.

“Make it happen, and I will make sure you get that account you pestered me about.” He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. When he glanced up at her, he stated, “On second thought, leave it to me. I want to do this.” He rose to his full height, making an impressive figure in his formal slacks and dress shirt. He had put in some effort to look after himself, and it had paid off, Sandra noted.

“I want to court her.” He blushed again.

Dumbstruck, she looked at him, her eyes huge; she couldn’t understand the man. He was acting like an infatuated teenager. Court her? He couldn’t be serious. Fool! But she kept it to herself.

“What flowers does she like?”

Sandra was taken aback with that question. She didn’t know. She had to admit that she hardly knew her daughter, and couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to think so much about her. What flowers Anabella would like, she really had no idea. She diverted her eyes to sweep through the living area looking for any clue, but none came.

“Very well,” he said, after a moment of waiting. “I will start with something simple, two dozen red roses. That should do it.”

“Yes, I guess it will,” she agreed.

He grinned sheepishly, running his thick fingers through his gray hair. “I need to go.”

Sandra couldn’t believe it. The man was actually planning on leaving. Impossible. “Excuse me, André, but could you repeat what you’ve just said?” She had to make sure that her hearing was not playing games with her.

“I said it is time to leave. I will see you Sunday afternoon for her party.”

“Yes, of course, André,” she conceded, stunned once again as he walked out the door. She followed him, flabbergasted at the act. This was the first time André had left without as much as touching the couple they had invited tonight. She shook her head as she watched him pull out of the driveway.

Closing the door, her well-manicured hand flicked a wisp of sandy blond hair from her shoulder on her way to join the other three, still deep in thought.

It was 5:30am when Anabella woke from a deep sleep and stretched herself to her full length. Her body was stiff from long hours of sitting in an unnatural position with no exercise during the twenty hour flight.

She looked around her room, still shaded in dawn, familiar with all her posters and photos covering the walls. Displayed on nooks, her medals shone in the early morning sun; a testimony of all the competitions she had taken part in for the last four years. Her rosewood dresser was home to bottles of perfume and creams, and a carved jewelry box her grandmother had given her when she was ten. Since then, she had filled it to the brim with all her favorite jewelry. Her CD player, along with her stack of CDs, stood untouched on the TV unit, just as she had left it three months ago.

Everything was still the same, but it felt different, as if it was a stranger’s room. Nothing had been moved, the light, green drapes smelled clean as they played in the breeze; they had to have been washed recently, but she still got the impression that someone had been there and used her room. A strange, uncomfortable feeling enveloped her. She hadn’t noticed it the previous night as a result of her tiredness, but now that she felt refreshed she could sense it.

Someone had lived there. For a moment she lay in her bed, bewildered at the thought, but her senses went into overdrive and she shot up. She was uncomfortable in her own bed. She quickly removed the light, green cotton sheet from her body in one smooth motion, getting out as if something was chasing her. Stepping on paper the moment her bare feet hit the carpeted floor, she looked down and noticed the envelope once again. She frowned, puzzled, and bent down to pick it up. Again, she turned it around searching for any clues, but there were none.

She opened the flap, pulling out a sheet of white paper. Her eyes were wide with shock as she read the message. Letters, cut from a children’s book, had been pasted on to it. The kind that had shapes of various animals in different colors. It formed an uneven line, but the sentence was clear, and to the point.

L
eave Aldrich alone. He is mine!

Who is this from,
she wondered, outraged at the audacity of the person. She peeked into the envelope to look for any more clues, but none were forthcoming. There was no name, where it had come from, or anything else to indicate the source. Just that one line.

The absurdity of the s
tatement was too ridiculous to comprehend. Aldrich―the man she loved with all her heart―why would she give him up? There was just no way that that would happen. Not now that she knew he loved her, that he was committed to her. She smiled, her eyes brimming with delight as she remembered the previous night. She was now engaged to her love. Her heart skipped a few beats, accelerating with the thought of them being together, always.

Crunching the paper into a ball, she rejected the notion that someone else would want him enough to scare her. It wouldn’t work.
Who could this crazy person be?
The crunched up paper fell to the ground, and she rubbed her eyes in disbelief, willing it to go away.

“I will deal with this later,” she murmured to herself, and with one final sweep of her room, she hastily put on her swimming suit. She couldn’t stand to be in her room any longer. She had to leave. Besides, she had enough to keep her busy, and having a lunatic disrupt her plans was not on.

With a full itinerary, her day was already packed. First, to the swimming pool to get some much needed exercise. Then, she and the team had to go to the Olympic Board’s office to meet with the board. Right after that was a meeting with the press, a photo shoot for You magazine, and one for Sports Illustrated. That would be followed by a late lunch with them. Finally, she could relax with Aldrich on the beach, and have that late night picnic he said he would pack.

“Hi, Dad,” Aldrich greeted his father at their favorite restaurant. This had been a tradition with them since he started working, getting together on a Saturday morning, have breakfast and talk about their week.

“Hello, Son.” They gave each other a hug before sitting down. The place was jammed-packed this morning, Aldrich noticed. The bustling waiters ran around attending to the customers, which created a fast tempo. Customers’ soft mummers joined the fast-paced trend, becoming a symphony of diverse sounds all around them. A child’s displeasure filtered through the air, followed by a father’s stern voice. Children’s voices floated from outside as they played on the jungle gym, while their parents followed them around. Everyone was relaxed, just out to enjoy the early morning coolness before the heat would descend with its fiercene
ss, making everyone scamper back indoors. It was only the very brave who would venture out to the beach during this time. It was unusually hot, the temperature gage in his car read 36˚ Celsius at 8am; the weather report said it would increase to 43˚ Celsius by mid-afternoon, but everyone seemed to discard it. However, the humid air was a tell-tale sign; they were covered in a sheen of perspiration.

“How are you, Son?” Thomas asked when they placed their orders for drinks, the waiter walking away in a mad rush.

“I’m well, busy as always.” He grinned. “I am finally done with Ms. Etsibeth’s case,” he informed his father cheerfully.

His father gave him a lopsided grin. “That is good; do you think she will leave you alone now?”

Aldrich had told him all about the clinging woman. One night, during a gala event for business people, Thomas met the young woman hanging on to Aldrich’s arm. The woman was relentless in her pursuit. Draped on his arm, she had held on to him steadfastly, almost like a lifeline, and Thomas had had to admit that although she was lovely to look at, she was just not Aldrich’s type of woman.

“How is our little swimmer?” he asked, effectively changing the conversation. He knew his son didn’t like to talk about Ms. Etsibeth.

“She is doing great, Dad. Had a bad episode in the States, but otherwise she’s doing fine.” He smiled crookedly, looking at his dad with sparkling eyes.

Thomas returned his smile. His son was smitten with her, all right. He never thought he would see him. Not even with Pauline had he been this much in love, and they had been close in the years they were together. It had taken him years to get over the shock, the loneliness, and ultimately the loss.

“I asked her to be my wife last night.” Aldrich’s whole body was shaking with excitement.

“That serious, hey?” Thomas studied his son’s features, pleased with what he saw.