C13 Chapter 13
The man's hand gently caresses her face, slowly going down to her neck, her shoulder, her breast. His lips press against hers, his tongue invading. His other hand raises her skirt from her knees to her thighs, then over her hips.
As his hands explore her body, her hands climb slowly from his fit waist to his broad back. She touches his throat, pulls away from the kiss, her tongue licking from his neck to his ear.
He pulls away to look at her, her pupils dilated, her chest heaving, her breath coming harshly. She looks back at him, his deep blue eyes and his honey-brown hair, and whispers, “Luc.”
He smiles lightly and moves in to kiss her, kissing her deeply.
She pulls away to look at him, his slightly swollen lips, his deep eyes, and that birthmark on his right shoulder blade.
…Birthmark? She looks at his face again, this time, the deep blue eyes are gone, the eyes are now light blue, like the sky, and the honey brown hair is now sandy, sandy brown hair. She pushes him away a little bit, leans back, and blinks.
“Oh my god!” Marcia yells as she jerks awake.
“Ah, a dream! It was a dream.” Marcia exhales, placing her forehead in her palm.
Damn it!
Why am I dreaming of him?
Damn it!
Marcia screams in her mind. Why him? Why did I have to dream of him?
She throws the covers off and gets out of bed, goes to her bathroom, and starts her morning ritual.
Not too long after, she's dressed and ready to head to the office.
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“Good morning, ma'am,” Kyle says jovially. “How was your night?”
“Please don't mention it.” Marcia snaps.
“I'm sorry?” Kyle responds, his voice rising at the end of his sentence, turning it into a question; like he wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to apologize for his greeting.
“No, I mean, I'm sorry, Kyle. The night was just... Let's just not talk about it. Where are the files?”
“Ah, they're on your desk. I left them there. And you have a meeting at two?”
“Yes, sure. The Venetian supplier, correct?”
“Yes, ma'am. Everything is on your desk.”
“Okay. I'll be upstairs in the tasting hall.”
“Sure. I’ve got the cellar. I'll be stacking the wines. The label guy is coming later this morning.” Kyle says, heading towards the cellar entryway.
Marcia pauses.
“The label guy?” She asks, her voice mischievous.
“Yes, uh, Brandon.” For the first time since walking in, Marcia looks at Kyle. She can see his flushed face, freshly pressed floral shirt, and fitted tan slacks. She smiles at him saying coyly, “Oh, the label guy.”
Kyle turns away, hurrying towards the cellar and calling out behind him, “The supplier is waiting for you!”
Marcia chuckles and heads upstairs.
She spends the day arranging the barrels, adjusting the décor, and reading through the wine lists, things she has done many times.
She's distracted by the dream that she’d had, irritated that she could be so easily shaken just by seeing one person for a brief moment. It’s already been over a month, so why is she having such a dream now?
It's 2 p.m. and her visitor arrives. Finally allowing her to push the morning's experience out of her mind.
She discusses business for the next two hours and leaves for her tennis lesson at the club.
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Two days later, Marcia is walking towards her client’s office, poised for a close-out meeting that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
It’s a regular meeting, on an ordinary day, something par for the course. All they, she and her assistant Kyle, are here to do is finalize a few items – dotting some i's and crossing some t's – then it’s just for all parties to sign on the dotted line.
She glances at her watch, thinking of the next item on her agenda after this.
This is one of their biggest clients, worth nothing less than forty percent of the planned revenue for the year, but she is not worried or on edge, she has done this before, many times, and today, today is to sign the contract. All negotiations have been completed.
The client meets her at the door. A well-dressed man in his late fifties with silver hair, a large frame, and a small beer belly.
“Oh! Welcome! Welcome, Miss Clarson. It's great to have you here.” He says jovially, a big smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling; reaching out a large hand for a formal handshake.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Conway. I'm not late, am I?” She says, shaking his hand and looking around, wondering why the CEO, Alister Conway, has come to the door himself to greet her.
“Oh, of course not. Of course not.” He laughs, somewhat nervously in Marcia’s opinion.
“Please, this way. We won't be using the regular boardroom today. We’ll use this one down here on the side.” He says, guiding Marcia and Kyle inside the spacious office.
“Oh, no problem at all,” she says, not concerned by the change of venue, but a bit apprehensive at the fawning nature displayed by Alister Conway this morning.
She looks at Kyle, who looks back at her and gives a small shrug as they walk with the CEO to the room on the ground floor.
It's a regular meeting room, but this one, unlike the boardroom upstairs, has no glass surrounding it. Just a solid oak door.
He opens the door and ushers her and her and her secretary, Kyle, into the room. As they step inside the room, both thanking him, they look into the room and see two unfamiliar faces – one facing them and the other backing them.
Well, one unknown face and another unknown back.
“Please come in, come in,” Mr. Conway says pleasantly. “Have a seat, right here. Coffee, tea, anything at all?” The CEO asks, gesturing them to their seats and then gesturing toward the table where the beverages are laid out.
Kyle looks across at the table and responds respectfully, “I could do with some orange juice, thank you.”
“Okay, yes, yes, yes.” The CEO says, as he moves over to the table and pours out a glass of juice for Kyle.
Marcia, ever sensitive to her surroundings and the people in it, glances at the CEO, then shifts her gaze to the man standing at the head of the table, and finally studies the back and shoulders of the man who is backing the room.
She turns to Mr. Conway, “Alister, is everything okay?” She says slowly, hesitantly, unsure of whether it is time to call the police or simply find the closest window and jump through that.
“Oh, of course, everything is fine. Please, please have a seat.” Alister says. Glancing at the man who is backing the room, he continues “Let me introduce you.” Alister clears his throat, excitedly “This is Mr. Lucas Bay. He is the…” Alister glances at Lucas, looking for the word to use to fill in the blank in his introduction.
“Secretary.” Lucas says, his tone even, formal, “Yes, the secretary of our new board member and, in fact, number one shareholder, Mr. Jullian Grayson.”
Jullian turns around in the chair.
