Final Destination III (7 page)

“Wait!” I panicked.

“You don’t need panties.” A wicked smile crossed his face.

The goddamned mind reader. I loved him so.

Golden Industries spanned three vast floors, each a different department. His floor was the executive floor and included a state-of-the art conference room with sweeping views of the city. The floor below was marketing and sales. I was surprised how much everyone loved to see him pop into their office. He knew every one of his employees by name and seemed to know what they were each up to. I was impressed by how he knew important personal things about them—like birthdays, the birth of a child, an upcoming graduation or even a death in the family.

“How many people work for you?” I asked as we headed toward the elevators for a second time.

“Three hundred in this building; another two thousand around the world.”

“Wow!”

“We’re the largest privately-held pharmaceutical company in the world,” he said proudly as a pair of elevator doors slid open.

The elevator descended to the thirty-fourth floor and opened to a vast, open-floor plan laboratory where dozens of men and women in white jackets were huddled over state-of-the-art computers, peering through microscopes, and interfacing with other high-tech equipment that looked like it was straight out of a futuristic movie.

“This is my favorite floor. It’s where the dream of ending world disease can come true.”

I was in awe. “I thought your company only made skin care products. Like Dermadoo.”

He flashed a smile. “Actually, Dermadoo started out as a drug to treat skin cancer, and then we discovered its anti-wrinkle benefits. The wild, unexpected success of that product has enabled us to expand our business and research and develop many other life-saving drugs.”

Wow! I was impressed.

“I want to show you something.” Still holding my hand, he led me to an area where two scientists were observing a pair of caged white laboratory mice.

“Meet Major and Minor.” He was obviously introducing the cute, little rodents.

One of the scientists, an attractive, middle-aged brunette opened the cage door and gently pulled out one of the mice. She held him tightly in her hands while her partner, a young Asian man, injected him.

I cringed, having recently seen enough needles to last me a lifetime.

Ari pat the little critter’s furry head. “Good boy, Major.” The critter’s pink eyes blinked.

“Major and Minor both had cancer; except a trial run of a new drug we are experimenting with has put Major into major remission—hence his name. We are very hopeful about it.”

Thoughts of my mother flashed into my head again. If only there was hope for her. I fought back the tears that were forming in my eyes.

As if Ari were reading my mind again, he gently squeezed my hand. “Come, I’ll have Miss Thornton page Andre to bring the car around to take you back to the city. I’d go back with you, but I have an important board meeting this afternoon that I can’t miss.”

We returned to his office, and with a heavy heart, I stared out the window. With the clouds so close, I could be in heaven. And soon, perhaps this is where my mother would be. I didn’t want to leave Philly. I wanted to be with my mother. And I wanted to be with him.

Lost in my thoughts, I did not hear Ari come up behind me. His arms circled around my waist, and his warm breath blew on my neck. I could feel the rigid rod between his legs brush against my backside. I closed my eyes, and the longing I felt for him surged inside me.

A voice called out from the intercom. Miss Thatcher, obviously too scared to come in, even with a knock at the door. “Andre is here.”

Ari spun me around and covered my mouth with his. The kiss was hot and passionate, like Tony kissing Maria. I ran my fingers through his silky hair, still a little damp from our memorable bath.

Finally, he pulled away, but kept his manly hands firm on my shoulders. “Saarah, there’s a black tie ball tonight at the Waldorf; it’s an annual fundraiser honoring the work I do for Meds Without Borders. There’s still one empty seat at my table. My shrink thought it would be a good idea for me to ask you to come.” He paused. “I was going to ask you to invite you on Tuesday night but…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t want to think about his ex and neither did I. Collecting himself, he looked deep into my eyes. “I still want you to be my date—that is, if don’t have plans with your other ‘boyfriend.’”

Smart aleck! The glow on my face gave him the answer he wanted to hear. He kissed me once more, lightly on the side of my neck.

And then I froze. What was I going to wear? I didn’t exactly have a closet full of ball gowns to choose from.

Ari read my face. “Don’t worry, Princess. Andre will take you to Bergdorf’s. Go to the fourth floor Personal Shopping Department. Dawn will be expecting you. She’ll pick out something beautiful for you to wear.”

Miss Thornton’s voice filtered into the room once more. “Will Ms. Greene still be needing the car?”

Ari rolled his eyes, then gave me an affectionate slap on my ass. “Go. I’ll pick you up at six.”

How this man could make everything so much better. He was a healer, emotionally and physically. If it weren’t for my torn up knee, I would have skipped out the door like a giddy child.

Curling the fingers of my good hand around the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder. He was leaning against his massive desk, his legs crossed, looking as sexy as ever. Damn him. He was just waiting for me to turn my head. “Saarah, don’t be running into any muggers or serial killers. I want you whole tonight.”

“Right.” Smiling, I pulled the door open and let it close behind me.

During the long, uneventful ride back to New York, only one thought filled my head. Ari Golden, the complicated head of Golden Industries, was no longer a stranger on a train. He was the man I unconditionally loved.

Obviously, I was important to him. He had admired me from afar for months and kept a photo of me on his desk. He had also mentioned me to his therapist. I wondered—had he discussed his feelings about me with his shrink? And had the L-word ever entered the conversation?

There were only three words I longed to hear from him: “I love you.” Until I heard him say them, I wasn’t sure what the future would bring.

Andre let me off at the main entrance of Bergdorf’s on Fifth Avenue; he was going to wait for me until I was done and then take me home.

I had been here only once before—to pick up Chanel lipstick for Catherine. Ari’s ex-wife. The thought of her made me shudder, but I remembered my mother’s words of wisdom. “Sarah,” I told myself, “you are a warrior princess. Don’t let her stand in the way of your career or the man you love.” I took a deep breath and pretended I was Xena as I entered the store.

I took the elevator up to the fourth floor, surrounded by a bevy of chicly dressed, perfectly coiffed women who reminded me of the main women in Ari’s life—his mother, sister, and ex. I held my own although my Sarah Plain and Tall persona was already knocking at the door. Several shoppers shot me surprised looks when I alone got off on the exclusive fourth floor.

When I stepped out of the elevator, my jaw dropped. I felt like I was in fairy-tale land. The softly lit floor was filled with dazzling gowns. Every one of them looked like it belonged on a princess and was ready for its first dance.

An attractive, smartly dressed woman, who reminded me of a younger version of Ari’s elegant mother, immediately greeted me. Dawn. She gave me a once over and smiled. The glimmer in her eye told me she approved of Ari’s choice in women.

“Let’s start with the dress and move our way to shoes and accessories and then to hair and makeup.”

Hair and makeup?
I had no idea that Ari was giving me a total makeover.

“I’ll show you a few dresses that Mr. Golden might like; we have more in the dressing room.”

The first dress Dawn showed me was a silver-blue Armani sheath, with a thigh-high slit. The second was a red strapless crepe de chine number by Valentino. While they were both gorgeous and “so Ari,” neither of them really spoke to me. My eyes darted around the salon and landed on a mannequin that was wearing a dress that transported me to another world, another time. It was a pale pink ball gown with a pouf of tulle that cascaded over a very full silk-satin skirt. Two spaghetti straps held it up. “I’d like to try that one on,” I said, pointing to it.

“Oh, the Dior,” said Dawn approvingly. “It just came in. It’s special order. The one on the mannequin is Size 4.” She looked me up and down and smiled. “I think it will fit you. I’ll get someone to bring it into the dressing room.”

While I was normally a six, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had dropped a size as result of the weight I’d lost from my stressful week.

Dawn escorted me to Room 4. It was an elegant peach-walled dressing room that was bigger than my living room. There was a rack of other dresses that might interest me along with zebra-patterned ottomans, a three-way lighted mirror, and a wall phone. I imagined that the room had been used by many royals, heads of state, and women of means. I wondered—had Ari’s ex-wife ever set foot in it? The thought chilled me.
Stop it, Sarah Warrior Princess!

“Would you like a glass of champagne?” offered Dawn, stopping me in my unsettling thoughts.

“No, thank you,” I replied though truthfully I craved one.

Dawn helped me into the voluminous pink ball gown. When it was zipped up, I stood before the mirror. I gasped. The dress fit me to a tee. I looked like a real princess in the making.

“I love it!” I exclaimed.

“Wonderful,” beamed Dawn. “It’s quite a departure from Mr. Golden’s taste, but I believe he enjoys being challenged.”

That was a fact.

“Now, let’s get you shoes and accessories.”

My fairy godmother escorted me down to the second floor designer shoe department where I chose a pair of Manolo Blahnik stilettos that looked like they could be Cinderella’s glass slippers and then to the first floor, which housed accessories and jewelry. She showed me a pair of pink satin opera gloves that went up to my elbows. I agreed to them thinking they would, at least, mask my bandaged hand. I also picked out a lovely pink beaded clutch bag to carry my bare necessities—some form of ID, lip-gloss, and house keys. Sadly, I no longer had Ari’s special “emergency” one-hundred dollar bill. It was now in the hands of some crazy stranger who had probably already spent it.

Dawn led me over to the jewelry department. I was practically blinded by the bling, all of it breathtaking.

“Mr. Golden would like you to pick out anything you want,” said Dawn.

Anything?
The word sent shockwaves through me. I mean, these pieces must cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, and that was just for starters.

My fluttering eyes searched the lit up display cases. What wasn’t there to love? But there was one piece that stood out. An elegant diamond tiara. It looked like an antique.

“Can I please see the tiara?” I said meekly as I hovered over it.

“Of course,” replied Dawn. “It’s a vintage piece that dates back to the nineteenth century. We believe it belonged to Princess Sophia of Bavaria.”

Wow! A real princess once wore this, I thought as Dawn gently placed it on top of my head. I gawked at my reflection in a mirror. I was no longer Sarah Plain and Tall. I was officially Princess Sarah!

“Perfection!” exclaimed Dawn.

“I’ll bring it back tomorrow,” I said, knowing there was no way I could keep such an extravagant gift.

“Please don’t,” smiled Dawn. “Mr. Golden will be insulted.”

My breath hitched. This man was divinely out of his mind. I was still going to bring it back.

The next stop was the hair salon on the ninth floor. Dawn brought along the tiara. My flamboyant hairdresser, Miguel, immediately knew how he wanted to style my long hair. With his magic hands, he whipped it into a regal, simple chignon. He placed the tiara on my head. I gazed at myself in the mirror and gaped. I was channeling Audrey Hepburn in
Roman Holiday
. I truly looked like a princess.

Finally, makeup. Dawn brought me ironically to the Chanel counter, where a makeup artist, an attractive young woman named June, about my age, did my face while I sat on a high stool. “You have fabulous skin and don’t even need foundation” she remarked as she applied mascara to my eyelashes. Closing my eyes, I once again thought about my mother whose fabulous skin I had inherited. A mixture of guilt and sadness seeped through me as I thought about her fate.