Fragile Crystal: Rubies and Rivalries (The Crystal Fragments Trilogy) (24 page)

She smiled at this, but it was still a little forced.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, raising one hand to her chin and stroking it softly.

“Oh, you know. Christmas is always a little difficult. I think of Dad a lot at this time of year,” she lied.

His face became sombre at this. “Yeah,” he muttered softly. “It’s why I usually avoid Christmas. Well, we’ll both be the life and soul of seasonal cheer, won’t we.”

Her smile was tender this time and she took hold of his hand, squeezing it. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “We’ll both manage fine. How was the rest of your time in New York?”

“Dull. Frustrating.” He pulled away from her gently. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear that I could do with a drink. Don’t worry,” he added, looking up at her quickly. “I don’t need it.”

Her smile was a little wan and he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said very quietly. “It won’t happen again. Do you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Has Anna been looking after you?”

“Yes, but I told her she should take tomorrow off, to be with her family. I want to look after you for a change.”

“How domestic!” he smirked. “You don’t need to, you know. You
never
have to do anything like that ever again.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I want to.”

“As you wish.” Without warning, he took a sudden step towards her and, bending slightly, slid one strong arm beneath her legs, the other behind her shoulders. With one powerful motion he lifted her up, her legs flailing slightly in mild panic.

“Anyway,” he said, kissing her on her brow as he began to move towards the stairs, her arms instinctively sliding around his neck to hold him as he carried her, “I think it’s time to see about that
other
present.”

They did not emerge from the bedroom until early on Christmas day. Kris ached but felt more relaxed than she had expected. The foreboding that had haunted her, that Daniel would return with his own terrible knowledge, was fading slightly, and she had even managed to forget all about Maria for a time while they were making love.

Her relief was only temporary, however.
When he takes you, when he fucks you, it will be my lips you feel on you, my fingers. When you cum, your orgasm will be for me
. She shook her head as she went into the bathroom to relieve herself. Get out of my mind, you bitch! she screamed silently. Going downstairs, she saw his mobile phone on the table in the hallway where he had left it on his return. Picking it up, she felt guilty as she flicked it on, but she did not know his password and stared at the locked screen in despair. Taking it into one of the reception rooms, she switched it off completely and placed it in a drawer.

Her nerves had not completely calmed when Daniel came downstairs half an hour later. He wore a loose bathrobe, open at the front so that his muscular chest and abdomen were partially visible, his large cock swaying slightly from side to side as he entered the kitchen.

“I tend not to come in here very often,” he observed, moving behind Kris and kissing her softly on the back of her head. “I’m not usually allowed.”

He had placed his hands on her shoulders and she could feel his erection stirring slightly against the small of her back through the thin cotton of her pyjamas. Normally this would have caused a flowering in her, but she was still trembling slightly as she concentrated on slicing mushrooms and onions. “Are you okay?” he asked, feeling the tension in her arms.

“I’m fine,” she told him, smiling briefly. I guess I’m nervous about invading Anna’s domain as well.”

This made him laugh and he moved to the high bar, pulling the front of his gown across his thighs and abdomen lazily. He looked relaxed and was evidently enjoying watching her, then a thought crossed his mind.

“Have you seen my phone?” he asked casually, looking around him as he spoke. “I thought I left it in the hallway.

“No,” she lied. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, just one day without work would be good for you. Surely even your associates don’t work on Christmas Day.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. “No, you’re right, A break from those shits will do me good.”

Her hands were shaking slightly as she made a bacalhau and she burnt the eggs and vegetables slightly. Her grin was lopsided and apologetic as she placed it before him, pouring an orange juice to accompany it. “Sorry, it’s slightly burnt. You’ll be glad to get Anna back.”

He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her between his legs, the gown parting as he did so and his erection stirring against his thigh. “I shall, but not because you burnt my breakfast.” His eyes were looking up at her lustily while he spoke. “There’s much more I can do with you when Anna is around to take care of my other physical needs.”

She rapped him on his arm with the spatula she carried. “Concentrate on eating, Mister Stone. I need you to keep your strength up if we’re going to enjoy this day properly.”

He cried out with mock pain and rubbed his elbow. “Look!” he told her ruefully. “You hurt me!” There was the very faintest of red marks on his skin.

“You big baby,” she told him, her own eyes flashing for a moment. “You can take much more than that—I know you can.”

“Promises, promises,” he laughed, and then forked the eggs hungrily into his mouth. “Not bad,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “Not bad at all, Miss Avelar.”

“Not to your usual standards, I’m sure. Don’t worry, you’ll get your precious Anna back the day after tomorrow.”

“What!” Daniel howled, dropping the fork and raising his hands in a parody of despair. “You mean I have to endure this cooking for
two
days? What kind of Christmas is this going to be?”

She slapped him, a little harder than she intended, and he burst out laughing, leaping up and fighting off her hands with easygoing gestures. She could not help but laugh herself, and when he bent her over the high surface and pulled down her pyjama bottoms, slapping her pert buttocks as she squealed and cried out, she was already so wet that by the time he slipped into her an orgasm began to build almost immediately.

It was an hour later when they finally managed to evacuate the kitchen, Daniel leading her by the hand into the room beside the pool. Outside there were a few clouds in the sky, but it was still clear and bright. As he walked alongside her, Kris would steal glances sideways, looking down at his thickness that was sticky with her own juices, her own sex quivering slightly at the thought of how they would spend the rest of their day.

He pulled out the bags he had brought and placed them in front of her. “Okay,” he said as he passed them to her. “I have a confession to make, in that I got the assistants in the store to wrap them for me.”

“And no doubt you had an assistant to choose them for me,” replied Kris somewhat archly. When she saw the hurt expression on his face, she immediately regretted the comment and shook her head. “They’ll be lovely, I’m sure.”

The first she drew out was a Dior dress, simple and light, perfectly suited to the warmer climes of Portugal even at this time of year, and her mouth opened in a surprised gasp as she felt the soft texture of the fabric. Her eyes were glistening gratefully as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and kissing him again and again. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“I see that I’ll need a neck brace if we continue with this level of gratitude,” he told her, smirking as he spoke.

She tapped him lightly on the arm, then pulled out the second gift, unwrapping the large, flat package to reveal a frame and light flashing on glass. When she moved it, a black inked crow sitting among a room of prostrate animals appeared. Kris held it with a look of adulation and mild horror on her face.

“Is it...?” she began to ask.

“Yes,” he said. “There was a limited series of prints. Took me quite a long time to get hold of this one, I can tell you. I’m afraid Edward Avelar’s work is even harder to find, or I would have helped you build up your own collection, but in the meantime I hope that a Rego will do.”

Kris’s eyes were becoming more and more blurred as she looked down at the harsh, ragged lines of the crow, glaring beadily at the intruders in his domain. She hated to think what the cost was of the artwork in her hands, and felt guilty that such a thought had even crossed her mind. More than this, however, she understood just how deeply personal the gift was—and how it put her own for him to shame.

“There’s one more,” he said, gently prising free one of her hands from the frame and placing a small, dark blue box into her open palm.

She had to wipe away a tear before she could open the box. Inside, the silver band glittered, and the bright blue stone shone in the light.

“I know the others were too much, but sapphires match your eyes and I wanted you to have at least one.” He kissed her very gently on the cheek.

She wanted to burst into tears but held them back. “Thank you,” she smiled, her eyes watering as she looked at him. Lifting one hand to his cheek, she stroked him very softly. “Thank you.”

“Do you recognise what it is?”

“A... a ring.”

“An
engagement
ring.”

“Oh!” Words failed her, and she threw her arms around his neck, falling onto him and kissing him again and again. His own hands moved beneath her top, warm skin against her waist and up her rib cage, his strong fingers so soft and gentle on her as he held her close to him.

“I love you!” she almost howled between kisses. “I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you,” he told her as his lips were freed from her tender bondage. “And I want no one else. Forgive me, forgive me everything.”

“And forgive me as well.”

This made him pause and he looked at her a little strangely. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, his tone of voice querying, his eyes watching her. Looking into their depths, she could not face what she saw and closed her own, pressing her mouth to his, reaching inside him for the forgiveness she so desperately craved, her hand searching down his abdomen, grasping him as with her other she pushed down her pyjamas, desperately seeking the absolution she craved.

“Wow!” he said when they had finished, lying beside each other on the floor next to the sofa. She had ridden him furiously, high upon his body, her breasts hanging down, pleading for his fingers to dig into her flesh. “I must say, if this is how Christmas is going to be, I suggest we start celebrating every day.”

She laughed at this and pinched his nose. “Wait there,” she told him. “I have your other present. I just need to get it from upstairs.”

Getting the painting to Cascais had been a feat in itself. The canvas measured four feet long by three and she had placed it in the largest portfolio case she could find. That alone had almost made her call Jorge, but after what had happened with the Gosselin woman she could no longer trust him. Her desire to paint something new for him had fallen flat when Maria had surprised her in the apartment, but in any case she knew the perfect gift for him. The Rego print had thrown her, she had to admit, but she was sure that he would be more than pleased with something by her own hand. She stared at the abstract colours for a moment, tracing one finger across the mottled surface and remembering fondly another day, another orgasm. She smiled and picked up the canvas, carefully making her way downstairs.

Like her, he was still naked, but now he was standing beside the drawer where she had placed his phone. This was now in his hand and he was staring at it, frowning. When she saw him there, his body clearly tense, like a rock sculpture of muscle, her heart froze inside her.

“Is... anything wrong?” she asked tentatively.

When he looked up, his eyes were so hurt, so pained that she could not breathe for an instant. She wanted to throw the painting in her hands to one side, to rush across the room and take the phone out of his grip, to open the window and fling it into the pool. It’s all lies! she screamed silently. Lies! None of it’s true.

“Nothing,” he said at last. “It’s nothing.” He placed the phone down on the side and gestured with his head, a curt nod in her direction. “Is this my present, then? Let’s take a look.” His words were so cold, so brutally casual that she almost failed at that moment. Instead, she took faltering step after faltering step and eventually handed him the canvas.

He took it in his hands, staring down at it like a connoisseur being shown the work of a mediocre artist for which he was being asked to pay a great price. “Interesting,” he said, his voice even and cool. “Almost Kandinsky like, though not as playful.”

His words cut through her and she felt so small there. His shoulders were set resolutely across from her, and his thighs were parted slightly so that his posture was more erect and firm. His cock had shrunk down, she noticed strangely, but all the muscles of his body were standing out, the sinews of his neck bulging slightly. Next to him she felt small and pathetic, and her arms went across her chest protectively.

“Do you like it?” she asked at last.

“Of course,” he said, smiling at her. But when she looked into his eyes they were dead, unsmiling. Like a shark’s, she thought. “It’s Christmas time,” he suddenly announced with mock cheeriness. “We should celebrate with a drink.”

He placed the painting down on the table, coolly and efficiently, and walked out of the room. His phone still remained where he had left it, and for a few minutes Kris stood there looking at it, waiting for him to return. But he didn’t, and at last she picked it up. Now it was unlocked.

The message was an email, long and extensive. She did not need to look at the address to know who it came from, and as she read the first few lines she began to cry. She wanted to throw it down, to smash it beneath her feet, but instead she read, in excruciating, crystal clear detail, an account of her night with Maria, every act they had performed, everything that had been done to her. Her eyes were filling with tears and by the end she could hardly read. Instead, her body was wracked by sobs, her chest and shoulders heaving as she saw what was in front of her.