Chapter 4: Diamonds

The realisation of what has happened, suddenly dawns of Sarah - There's something more to Darius than meets the eye.

Chapter 4: Diamonds

Death; the air is filled with it. Decaying bodies and burnt skeletons pile high around me, tossed aside like discarded rubbish. In the distance, the soft crimson and orange glow of fire paints the horizon. I walk forward; each step, crushing another skull underfoot, the brittle tissue compressing to ash. I breathe in deep, the dense, coarse odour of burning corpses and wood. Ash and dust kick up around me, as I move towards the only resemblance of life.

The man's face is covered in dry blood, sweat and dirt. His eye bulges from the socket, resting upon his hollow cheek, his clothes are discoloured and torn.     

"Please", he cries, dropping to his knees and placing his hands together, pleading for his life.

"Please -" he begins sobbing profusely, begging for some miracle; a saviour to rescue him from his impending fate.

"Silly old fool. Do you not understand?" My voice is dark and wicked. "Only darkness exists here."

Taking his bony face in between my hands, I smile crookedly, feeling nothing but pure contempt at the elation of the imminent kill.

"PLEASE NO -" His screams ring in my ears like a pleasant chorus of birds singing merrily; followed by the loud cracking of his head being crushed between my hands. Warm, vivid red liquid pours over my hands, and I drop his lifeless body, carelessly to the floor.

***

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Urgh, the alarm clock feels like it's drilling an aneurism directly into my brain. I reach out to press the off switch, but in the process accidently send it crashing to the ground.

‘I will never drink again’ I promise myself in false pretence, knowing full well that I'm not entirely telling the whole truth. I stumble out of bed and into the bathroom, where I open the sleek chrome medicine cabinet, searching like a rabid racoon for the aspirin. My head is pounding after that nightmare. I continue with the desperate search one handed, the other I place securely on the top of my head - like that is somehow going to lessen the pain. I soon realise after the minute search that it's futile. There is no aspirin anywhere. I hope if I call down to the front desk, that they have better news for me.

Upon closing the mirrored front of the cabinet, I get a good hard look at the face staring back at me. My eyes resemble that of a panda bear, with large dark circles forming where my mascara's smudged, and my hair looks like it's gone a round in the dryer. The last time I remember looking this bad was after my first and only boyfriend decided to dump me.

I was 23, and he was an idiot.

He used the excuse ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, only to later find out that he'd been shagging someone else for the entire 6 months of our relationship. I heard a couple of years ago that they married and had kids together, so it's probably for the best that things between us didn’t get too serious? That’s what I keep telling myself anyway, in the hope that one day I might believe the lie which allows me to stop loving him. After the split I made a promise to myself; that I would never let another man get that close to my heart again.

And so far I've been faithful to that promise!

My mouth tastes nauseatingly like arse sweat. I grab my toothbrush and start brushing eagerly. The minty fresh taste is wonderful against my grimy tongue. Part way through the clean I look down and notice that I'm dressed in my black satin and lace nightie. Huh? I don't remember getting myself undressed. Come to think of it, I don't recall how I got home either?

I definitely remember being humiliated by Darius and then being fired by Steve. I vaguely recall the old, toothless drunk from the bar who said his wife had left him for another man 20 years earlier. But everything else after that is a bit hazy. I stop brushing immediately and place my hand to my stomach, hoping that I don't hurl at the thought of how much alcohol I consumed last night. Suddenly the foamy mint causes my gag reflex to act up, so I quickly spit out into the sink, and take a deep breath. Ahh, much better. I rinse my mouth out and as I do so, images from last night begin to resurface. I recall shouting the entire bar, of about three or so patrons, to a bottle of tequila shots, to which they refused and I think I may have finished the bottle instead -

I call down to reception, in the hope that they might have some aspirin on hand; all this thinking is making my self-induced migraine worse. I'm in luck. They agree to send some up to my room. Isn't room service great!    

I barely put the receiver down when;

‘Oh Crap!’ �" It's still a little hazy, but hadn't Darius found me at the bar last night to apologise for his rude behaviour?

'F**K!' - Had I not said that he made me cum in my panties?

'S**T!' - Did he bring me back here? He must have done. I was way too intoxicated to bring myself home. I don’t remember having sex with him though, not unless he took advantage of me whilst I was in and out of consciousness? He doesn't seem the type of person who would do that kind of thing? I think? So, what exactly did happen last night?

I'm interrupted in my train of thought by the phone ringing. The caller ID reads:

USER F*****G ARSEHOLE OF AN EX BOSS CALLING �" DON’T ANSWER.

Obviously the ID was changed in my drunken state, somewhere between the tequila, whisky and bourbon. So naturally, I pick up.

“Sarah, baby cakes, how’s my favourite girl?” his voice is too light and cheery for my current condition.

“Steve?” I answer, confused by his jolly temperament. My voice is hoarse and groggy.

He had fired me last night after all, and to boot he is never this happy to talk to me. Intolerable and cantankerous are two words that pop into my head which best describe Steve. Chirpy is definitely not one of them. Even when I was giving him a blowjob, he would usually whinge about something. Most of the time he'd moan about his secretary, Mrs Linley, who he swore had it in for him by always managing to make him look ridiculous in front of the board of directors, without actually compromising her position with the company. But I don't agree with his evaluation of her, as an incompetent old witch. I just call her 'very smart'! 

“Of course it’s Steve. Who else do you think would be calling you? You have no friends!”

I want to argue with him, demanding answers for the real reason he sent me here, but he's caught me at a vulnerable time. My head feels like it's splitting in two and besides, I can't argue with him when he's right. I don't have any friends, only acquaintances. But I only have myself to blame, I was far too busy trying to succeed, that I never made the time for friends. 

“Didn’t you fire me last night” suddenly remembering why I ended up with this headache in the first place.

“Oh that. You’re not going to let a little joke get to you, are you?” He laughs, awkwardly - some joke! 

“What? Hang on, I’m confused -”

“Don't pretend you don't know." He chuckles again, now I know something's up. My silence must warrant further explanation.

"You sealed the deal with Darius.”

“No I -”

“He called this morning, asking me to fax the contract to his lawyer’s office. He’s going to take a look over it before signing later this afternoon. He said he was very impressed by your presentation and professionalism and that Flash Enterprise has a huge asset in a woman like you.”

“I see” My eyes turn to thin slits, and my lips press firmly together. I am unamused. I think he might have taken advantage of my drunken state last night, after all. “What else did he say?” I listen irritably to his rambling.

“He said that he would only work with you. So, CONGRATULATIONS, you’ve been promoted to management - again. Yay, how do you feel?”

My stomach starts to slowly churn, over and over, but it's not from excitement.

“Can you just hold that thought for just a moment? I'll be right back.” I literally throw the phone down without waiting for a response. Thankfully, it lands safely on the bed, and not on the floor. I don't care if Steve is forced to listen to what happens next. Serves him right!  I make a dash for the toilet, hugging it for dear life. This isn’t going to be a good morning.

 

After several doses of aspirin and some sleep recovery, I am ready to grab a fresh coffee to help revive my energy levels. Walking through the deserted lobby, I'm stopped short by the receptionist calling my name.

“Ms Montgomery. Ms Montgomery” I pause, briefly wondering if I should pretend I didn't hear her. No, that's just rude manners. I huff, and sulkily make my way over to the front desk. The big haired beauty with huge sparkling brown eyes and a button nose dotted with freckles greets me.

“Yes?” I'm not in the mood for socialising right now. I just need my coffee fix before I turn into some horrible grouch with three heads!

“There's a message for you. A Mr Darius De’Valie called." I eye her suspiciously, but she doesn't notice.

"He said for you to meet him tonight at 10pm at the Destiny. It’s a bar just off the Boulevard. I can arrange for transportation to take you there, if you wish?”

I'm way too hung over to digest her bubbly personality right now. I need to get out of here ASAP. “Thanks, here’s a tip” I hand her a 20 dollar bill to appease her, mostly to shut her up. She looks a little embarrassed by my gesture, fiddling with her hair between her fingers and sighing heavily.

“Oh, that’s okay. We aren't really allowed to accept tips at the front desk. It's hotel policy." She is hesitant, and I can tell she is holding back on saying something.

"Well, just think of it as a gift then." I push the twenty back towards her and she smiles gratefully, placing the crumpled note in her blazer pocket. Finally, I'm free to get that coffee.

"Wait, there's more”- She stops me in my tracks. Doesn't this girl understand that I'm in dire need of caffeine after last night's escapades and that bizarre dream that has left me spooked! I'm beginning to regret giving her the twenty now. Perhaps I should ask for it back on the grounds that she's incredibly annoying?

I huff begrudgingly and do the right thing, turning to face her with a forced smile etched on my unfriendly face.

“Yes?” I try to listen attentively to what she has to say but I'm losing my mind and my patience. She leans below the counter to retrieve a large rectangular box that has been gift wrapped in lavish lavender paper, with a thick satin gold ribbon tied around it and matching bow on top.

“He left this for you!” Her eyes widen with excitement and her arm disappears below the desk once more to pull out a second blue box tied with a white satin bow “and this little one too” Her brown glistening eyes beam with childish enthusiasm.

“This one is from Tiffany's” she squeals elatedly, whilst bouncing up and down on the spot and clapping her hands together. Her eyes are locked on the smaller of the two boxes.

“Right.” I'm in no mood to celebrate with her, not when I so desperately need a coffee, and I know he's given me these purely out of guilt. “Thanks” I reply begrudgingly and turn to make a hasty dash for the exit.

“Wait. Aren’t you going to open it?”

Once again, my attempt to get the hell out of here has been thwarted. She obviously isn’t going to let me off lightly. I huff heavily, both my shoulders and head dropping from coffee-less despair. I turn resentfully on heal, very, very slowly. The vivid sharp glare of revulsion is shooting daggers at her from my eyes, and her bubbly smile is replaced with an awkward one. 

“Sure,” I spit through gritted teeth and snatch the small box from her hands. I carelessly open it, dropping both the ribbon and lid on the floor. She can pick it up later since she's forced me into this.

I am blinded by the gleam from the diamond necklace with matching earrings, which are set in white gold. The necklace is an array of smaller diamonds and a large teardrop set in the centre.

“Oh my God!” She gasps, taking the words right out of my mouth. I look at her awestruck face, her mouth gapes widely open to make a perfect O.

“He must really like you. That looks like it would cost an absolute fortune! Men don’t just buy any girl a gift from Tiffany's unless they really like her!” She moves her eyebrows up and down hastily, trying to convey the hidden message that Darius De'Valie has the hots for me. But I know the truth. He is only trying to soften me up after what he did to me last night in my volatile state.

“Really?” I reply sarcastically, but she is far too distracted by the jewellery to notice the edge of irony in my voice. She nods wildly to agree with me and it suddenly dawns on me, looking at the sparkling princess cut stones, that Darius has money to burn.

“Open this one” She shoves a little harder, forcing me to take hold of the larger box.  Her red glossy lips present a huge smile and I can tell that she's purposely ignoring my bad-temper. Annoyingly, her excitement starts to rub off on me and I can't help but be drawn in by her bubbliness. I rip off the lid and pull back the tissue paper, gazing mindlessly in awe of its contents.

“Oh wow!” This time I'm the one getting giddy over a gift. “It's gorgeous.”

The dress itself; a body hugging floor length gown with thousands of sparkly silver sequins sewn in intricate floral patterns over the entire garment. The front hangs low and has been designed to flaunt cleavage in an elegant way, which is good because I have plenty to spare, and the rear is backless with spaghetti straps which cross over. I panic, wondering how on earth I'm going to squeeze my arse into it. Relief washes over me when I spot the hidden zip amongst more dazzling sequins.

"S**t" It suddenly dawns on me.

“How does he know my dress size?” My excitement instantly evaporates with gut-wrenching realisation - reality's a b***h! I refuse to buy into this. I'm not going to be bought with fancy designer couture and expensive bling!

The girl giggles angelically. “He must have checked out your wardrobe while he stayed with you last night."

I'm not really in the best of moods to stand here and have a one-to-one with my new bestie - the sarcasm plays on my mind - but she clearly knows more than I do about what happened last night. So I go along with it, faking intrigue to gain the confirmation that I'm really seeking.

“You saw us return last night?” I already know the answer and lucky for me, she is the type that loves a good gossip.

“Oh yes. If you don’t mind me saying; he is a total hunk. There is something about him…”

Her attention dwindles and starts to veer off into a self-induced reverie. Her eyes begin to glass over and I know she is thinking about his perfect body, perfect skin, perfect eyes, lips, hair - I can't blame her. I know exactly what she experienced the first time she laid eyes on him. He is extremely handsome, and has a natural ability to win over any woman he desires.  

“I know, I know. He makes you weak at the knees,” I abruptly interrupt her train of thought, reeling her back in, by slapping a harsh dose of reality in her face. 

“Oh he’s such a bad boy. Oh my God, you don’t mind me talking about him like this do you? How rude of me, he’s your boyfriend and here I am perving on him”-

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I interject, although the word does sound quite lovely on my tongue. Darius and Sarah - 

Stop it. For all I know he could have raped me last night, and here I am thinking of him like this.

“Well then", she continues, unaware of my internal predicament. "You need to snatch him up as soon as possible because he is eye-candy, and a lovely accessory to have on your arm, if I do say so myself.” She gleefully intermits my thoughts.

“Right." I'm not amused by her vivacious attitude. Darius is not the man she thinks he is and I'm not going to fall for it, that is, for a second time, anyway. The first time I was just caught off guard and that’s the story I'm sticking to!  

"Sorry, what time did we get back here and when did he leave?” I get directly to the point. I need a rough timeline from our arrival to his departure, to determine exactly how long he had possibly been doing unimaginable things to me, without my consent.

“About two, and he left just before sunrise.” She shoots me a favourable glance, improving of the highly inappropriate hour.

“Really?” I shriek, mortified. Things are much worse than I originally thought. God, what on earth did he do to me in three hours?

“Mmm-hmm.” The smile widens across her face. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that he has fucked me stupid. I've had enough of this idle gossiping, I've found out what I needed to know and all it's done is left me fuming.

“Look, I’m off out for a coffee - late night. Do you think you can get somebody to take these up to my room?”

“Oh. You don’t have time. It’s only 4 hours until your date. How about we get the coffee for you and bring it up to your room? I will send up a masseuse and a hair and make-up artist, compliments of the hotel.” She winks, clearly smitten with herself.

This girl is relentless! She's like a disgustingly cute Chihuahua, gnawing at my ankles. However, after hasty consideration, the idea of a long soak in a spa bath does sound nice and so does a massage and coffee delivered to my room. 

“Okay, sure!” I accept her offer enthusiastically. Then purposely look down at her name badge so that I know who to thank “Thanks, Desree”.

She puts a small, thin hand out for me to shake.

“Desree Simpson at your service and you’re very welcome. Good luck tonight with Mr. Handsome, and remember not to let that fish get away, men like that don’t come along often!”

I smile and hand her another twenty dollar bill, not for the horrible mistake she has made regarding Darius, but for saving me the walk to the coffee shop since my headache is on the verge of returning. 

Walking hazily back to my room, I am far too tired to fight the idea that she's implanted in my mind. The notion that Darius is pure eye-candy and I should snatch him up quickly before another woman does. He is very sexy, meeting every woman's specific requirements, mine being his incredibly bulky package, sexy good looks and he has the swagger of a bygone era with his impressive chivalry and charm.

I languidly swipe the key card and enter the room. Desree must have already called ahead because a warm scented bubble bath with floating rose petals and candles lit around the baths edge is already waiting for me.  

I undress rather lethargically, and slip casually into the tub. The warm soapy water is instantly relaxing. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, the soft scent of perfumed woody and floral aromas that fill my senses with serenity.

As I surrender myself to heavenly bliss, thoughts of Darius begin to invade my mind. I consider the aspect of his gallantry and polite behaviour with more consideration, and the idea of him doing anything untoward seems absurd.

So what did happen then?

I remember the way he stared deeply into my eyes, causing me to loose myself far beyond his charcoal stare and into a world of phenomenal enchantment. I wonder if his unashamed glowering means that Darius De'Valie has a crush on me, or he might just not know how to be courteous? 

I giggle to myself. The idea is positively silly, I know, and a little juvenile to say the least. And yet, Roger was quick to pick up on the chemistry between us. Plus he came to find me to apologise when he thought he had offended me. He obviously felt badly about my sudden departure. Why else would he come looking for me if he didn't care? How did he find me anyway?

‘NO!’ I quickly extinguish that fire. How can a man-god possibly fall in love with a mere mortal like me? Besides, I'm his manager now and anything else, other than a professional business relationship, will be improper.

I try again to relax, breathing in the pleasant aroma once more.

Slowly I close my eyes, weakened by the warm water soothing my muscles and the rose petal pampering of my senses, I allow myself a moment to dream the impossible -

'Well, what could it hurt to think about him for a while?' I reason with myself. 

'Just a little while, can't hurt! But this doesn't change a thing, its straight back to business after I'm done. Darius will never know!' 

I am content with my justification regarding my feelings towards him. With that in mind, my hand deliberately slides down into the warm, soapy water and from here on in I let my fingers do all the talking…

 

After my bath, I find myself in a very good mood.

I can barely concentrate on the one-sided conversation that my hair stylist is attempting to have with me. I'm far too busy dreaming, hot and steamy thoughts about me and Darius, locked together in each other’s tight embrace.

“Oh, this boy must be special” I almost forgot that he's still in the room with me. Mario is the hotels in-house hairdresser. He too, like so many others in this town, has the perfectly straight white teeth and tanned skin. He wears his hair short and spiked, which rather suits the bleach blond highlights on the tips of the mousy brown underlay, and his eyes are a shimmering blue.

It's not his feminine accent, which rises in pitch at certain times of the conversation that alerts me to his sexual preference, nor the fact that he is a really good hairdresser - the reason, and this is the big giveaway that suggests to me he is gay, is the fact that he wears a white t-shirt under his tightly fitted grey tailored suit jacket that reads: "boys, boy's boys" and glittery sapphire blue designer loafers on his feet.  

“No, it’s not like that. I’m his manager.” I'm not entirely sure if I'm trying to convince Mario or myself.

“Oh girl, you are in so much trouble.” He laughs crookedly, like he knows something I don't.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, hoping desperately that he is wrong.

“Uh-huh.” He clicks his fingers in conjunction with the words he speaks next. “Girl-you-have-got-it-bad!”

Crap. If my stylist can figure it out, then it won’t be long before Darius does either. Although, come to think of it, he is the one that bought me the very expensive dress and Tiffany bling, so maybe it won’t come as such a surprise to him after all? Nevertheless, we will have to keep things strictly professional between us, now that I'm his manager.

An older gentleman, cleanly shaved with thick silvery hair, pops his head around the door.

“Sorry to disturb you Ms Montgomery, but your limousine is here.”

“Oh, thank you Jeeves.” I start to laugh, but neither the man at the door nor my stylist gets the joke. It must be an Aussie thing?

“My name is Harold,” his voice is lifeless and monotone.

“Of course it is." That was awkward. I will have to reconsider re-writing my entire sense of humour if I'm ever going to survive here in America.

"Are we done yet?” I turn to my stylist for confirmation.

“Just putting the finishing touches to it now.” He douses me in a cloud of hairspray. Luckily I don’t suffer an asthma attack and prematurely hyperventilate on the floor from all the choking vapours.

“One more bobby pin and we are done girlfriend," He confirms, pulling a strand of hair tightly at the base of my hairline, making me wince at the pain. But I dare not complain, after all, he has done such a fabulous job at making my hair look amazing.  I don't think Mario would have any sympathy for me even if I did protest, anyway. 

“Great. Can I ask you one last favour before you go?”

“Sure, as long as it doesn’t involve my c**k, because you know I’m not that way inclined don’t you?” He smirks, playfully.

“Ha-ha very funny. No, I need help getting into my dress. Can you help zip me up?” I decided to wait until both my make-up and hair was finished before slipping into the sexy gown Darius bought me.

“Well, I am familiar with zips, usually I undo them with my teeth, but sure I’ll give it a go using my hands.” I rush into the closet and slip into the sparkly garment and hastily make my way back to Mario whose jaw drops open. His eyes lock onto the dazzling masterpiece for the first time.

“Girlfriend" He gasps, "this dress is smokin. I know a queen or two who would kill for this!” He pauses for a moment to appreciate the beautiful dress, before he zips me in. I gather that he isn't referring to actual royalty when he says 'queens', but his other camp friends who enjoy dressing like women - some even looking better!  “Literally, they would rip your hair out and stomp on you with their stilettos!” He adds, his eyes widen with honesty. I begin to laugh uneasily. He's probably just joking �" I think?

“I also have these.” Sliding in my earrings, I prompt him to help me fasten the necklace around my neck.

“Wow hooker you are ready to get your sex on tonight. Who is this man you are trying to impress so badly anyway?”

“Actually, he is the one who bought me the dress and jewellery.”

His mouth falls open again, “Really? Can I have his phone number when you’re finished with him?”

We laugh together and then I stop immediately. The reality that I'm actually going on a date for the first time in years triggers my anxiety, and my stomach starts doing summersaults.

“Do I really look okay?” I ask nervously, concentrating hard on not vomiting everywhere.

“Sugar, I don’t know what you are worried about. If a man bought me Tiffany’s and a Gaultier outfit, I would be all over him like a rash.”

I gulp, swallowing down the lump that's built in the back of my throat. I know it looks impressive but I didn't realise that the dress was that expensive, being a Gaultier design -

I breathe deep, trying to force back the queasiness that turns my skin cold and clammy.

“You’re probably right.” I try and justify the reasons in my mind as to why I feel this way, anxious and panicked. I don't know what it is about Darius, but there is something that I can't quite put my finger on. Underneath all the beauty and charm, there is something very dark and mysterious about him, which has me second guessing. 

“Of course I am. Now get your s****y self into that limo, you don’t want to keep the man waiting.”

I'm being stupid! Darius is just like any other red blooded man. There is no reason to be feeling - scared. The idea sends a cold shiver down my spine.

"Perhaps you should take a jacket, you look cold. Actually, on second thoughts, don't. You'll ruin the dress." Mario smiles, his wide gleaming grin helps to put my nerves at ease.

I'm being ridiculous, trying to convince myself that there is something wrong with Darius, when the actual problem lay with me and my stupid insecurities at being in a relationship again. I obviously still harbour feelings of hurt and mistrust from my past relationship that I haven't dealt with yet. It's hardly fair to stereotype everyman as being dishonest and untrustworthy.

It's not like it should matter anyway. Yes, I like Darius, but at the end of the day, I am his manager, and the only bond we can ever share is one of a professional nature. So there really is no reason to get worked up about something that will never happen!

“Thank you.” I retort, and he smiles spiritedly, tapping me playfully on the arse as if to sweep me out the door.

“Girl, just try and enjoy yourself. You are one fit momma. If I wasn’t so repulsed by the sight of seeing you naked, I would definitely take you home tonight or, at least the dress, anyway?”

My hotel room door clicks shut behind us. Riding the elevator down, I feel one hundred per cent confident that I am in control of this situation. Any advances that Darius makes towards me, I shall politely decline. I know I can keep things between us strictly professional.

The advice from my hair stylist has helped to control my nerves. I'm very grateful for the talk. Maybe I will give him the dress as a thank you, once I'm done wearing it tonight?

Finally I'm ready for Darius and he is waiting for me, purely in a professional manor, of course.