A Constant Attraction (Attraction #2) Read online

  Massaging what remnants of lotion are left, into my arms and tense shoulders, I close my eyes so that all I can concentrate on are the idea's, some of which are wild and totally out there and are being firmly branded into my mind. My thin, twig like fingers, work their magic and it is after a couple of minutes that I furtively smile. Well, well Emelie Acerbi...I do surprise myself sometimes.

  Beginning to search through my finest silk stockings and underwear, I find a hedonistic set of black silk panties and fine lace bra. They are the exact same set, that Stefano bought for me last birthday. Dropping the towel I have around me to the floor, I dress while setting my plan in motion.

  *****

  “Emelie, my darling, you look simply divine.” I observe Stefano's eyes taking in every single inch of me, which is exactly what I had hoped for.

  The long, black figure hugging dress, with a low plunging neckline and open back, leaves little to the imagination. The material feels like a second skin as it clings deliciously to the top curve of my toned backside. Stefano scans his eyes over each slim, delicate curve and then with the back of his rough hand, he skims down my upper body. Starting at the protruding bone at my shoulders and he glides it suggestively down towards my exposed cleavage. The backs of his stubby, little fingers, skim across the sensitive area.

  A wave of spine tingling shivers is transported down my back bone and I inwardly cringe, as it is not only his touch that is cold and calculated, but the way he pronounces every syllable in every sentence, slow and precise. I hope that the disgust I feel at him laying even one finger on me, doesn't shine through. I feel confident enough in myself, to think that it won't, as over time, I have developed a new skill of not displaying my true feelings and thoughts. So I should be safe enough and hopefully will get away with it.

  I notice he is wearing one of his most expensive, grey tailored suits with a deep crimson tie.

  He despises wearing the damn things and I am fully aware of this, but nonetheless I insisted we dine at a restaurant that I know has a strict dress code policy for both ladies and gents. Seeing how uncomfortable he looks in what he is clothed in, only pleases me more, but I need to stay focussed and controlled.

  “You have had your hair cut.” His already receding hair has a shaven look about it. However, you can still see the flecks of silver that have worked their way in over the last few months. I am almost positive, his recent accelerated advancement in ageing, is all down to the stress of work and Marc.

  In a reflex action, he strokes the thin carpet of hair upon his head.

  “Yes, do you like?” His question is asked in such a way that he is only expecting to hear the one answer. The answer that suits him.

  “Yes, my darling I do. It very much suits you.” I see that I have pleased him with my response, as his thin dry lips stretch to what is a narrow upturned line of a smile. It is a feature that I very rarely get to see. When I do, it is usually has a negative motive or reasoning behind it.

  Wrapping one of his semi-muscular arms around my waist, he pulls me to him so that he can place a kiss upon the side of my neck, in the sensitive area, where I am aware of my pulse beating irregularly. Just below my ear, his lips remain there for a second or two longer than I desire or can handle and so squirm at the touch.

  “You smell exquisite Emelie. Is this the perfume I bought for you from Paris a few months back?” I hear him sniff in the aroma of the scent.

  “It is. I thought this evening would be the perfect opportunity to wear it. I wanted to please you my darling, in every way.” Searching his dead grey eyes, I hope that I haven't gone too far too soon for what I have planned. I am reassured and see I have nothing to worry about as yet, when he apathetically chuckles in his usual manner.

  “And pleased me you have. Come, we have time for a drink here before we need to make our reservation. This evening should be one of celebration, don't you think?” His rhetorical question only requires a knowing smile from me as a reply.

  Taking a hold of my arm, he protectively links it through his, never taking his hand from upon mine. Yet again, we morph into the ball and chain. As we ascend to the roof terrace, we put on yet another display of a happy, loving married couple and tonight I guarantee, it will be my best ever performance to date.

  “Good evening Dr Acerbi. Do you require a table this evening?” The head barman cannot do enough for us. He knows exactly which room we are residing in and therefore knows we can afford the best service possible. Stefano is generous when it comes to tipping people, but there always seems to be an ulterior motive behind it. It all comes down to greed once again. A person only has to be handsomely rewarded for their services the one time and then they see money signs flashing before their eyes. Afterwards they tend not to stop and why would they? Once Stefano has them firmly hooked on, like a fish to bait, they can then very often be asked to go above and beyond their regular duties.

  “That would be very much appreciated Christian. My wife and I shall only be staying an hour or so for drinks, so one of the sofas will be sufficient.”

  “Certainly Sir. Please come this way.”

  Christian dressed in his freshly washed, starched and perfectly ironed uniform leads us the way to the far side, where we have a magnificent three hundred and sixty degree view of the city. As we sit on the dark wicker outdoor furniture we have the pleasure of seeing the most spectacular sunset. The sky with its burnt orange and fiery red haze, glows as the sun descends behind the grey stoned, Victorian buildings.

  Stefano proudly sits opposite me and from behind him, the tall tower of what is St. John's College Chapel, looks over its people and greenery. With its Gothic and ornate stonework, it stands out from everything else around it.

  “You do look truly beautiful this evening Emelie. The evening sun does wonders for your complexion.”

  I am taken aback by Stefano's observation and remark, especially as he says it in a rich Italian accent, one that he very rarely uses, unless talking with family. I cannot remember the last time he even made an effort to notice me, never mind compliment me on it and so I am slightly puzzled by the sudden change in him. It is as though, a complete opposite has replaced him, I will not deny that it unnerves me a little. I was not expecting this at all. The memories of earlier today come flooding back. Could he really be deliberating something remotely like what I have been? It does bother me, a lot. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. I had the words and action perfectly scripted out in my mind, as I had been rehearsing it for most of the early evening. So I have to redirect my train of thought slightly and alter my original plan. Brushing my hands down, over my thighs and knees; I observe my betrothed, inspect every part of me that I touch.

  “Thank you Stefano. I am glad you approve of my choice in dress and look. As I said before, you know I always like to please you.”

  “You appear surprised at my observation darling, don't! You look simply devine. Like a fine champagne, I appreciate and like what I see in front of me. I hope that tonight I get to taste such a fine-looking delicatezza.”

  Stefano is seated with his back straight against the sofa, his legs crossed and leaning an elbow on the arm rest, he lightly strokes his bottom lip with his fingers. I don't know if he sees how discombobulated I have become with his words, actions and body language, but I find myself sitting up rigid and start to feel totally ill at ease. Damn this man. This is not how I was expecting this evening to go. I had not seen it planned out in my mind like this. Maybe the best thing to do, is to play along with what ever game he is playing, if this is a game at all. These days I cannot tell what he is thinking or what he is going to do next and so I just hope that all of the extra unwelcome stress he has been getting, isn't sending him over the edge. I have witnessed one such occasion several years back, in our lab in Italy; a nervous relatively new employee, spoilt a specimen...just one measly specimen. Stefano blew his top, throwing and smashing the other remaining few specimens, demanding that they all be done again. The poor giovane sto
od stock still through fear as he stormed past her. I looked on sympathetically, but turned on my heel as soon as Stefano called me.

  Not wanting a repeat of seeing his fury again if that is the case, I decide to play along to pacify what needs I think he has.

  Forcing myself to relax a little more into the seat I then also cross my legs, which shows off my long slender skin to great effect. I observe Stefano licking his lips. At the same time Christian returns with a bottle of Dom Perignon 2003, in a solid silver wine cooler and proceeds to pour the ice cold bubbles into each flute. Stefano never once takes his off me and I sense he is imagining what could be happening later. I on the other hand, am starting to see a very different vision in my mind as to how the night or morning will finish off. I do applaud myself on the fact that I am quick thinking and generally manage to get out of difficult or sticky situations. I have done it often enough when Stefano has had far too much to drink at social events and becomes obnoxious in his behaviour. We have a reputation to uphold and in the past he has been very close to ruining that and what we have built up.

  There is a fine line between having the respect of those around you and losing everything I have fought tooth and nail for. It is certainly the case in this situation anyway. Therefore, at this precise moment I know which one I am swaying towards. I would say that I have more or less convinced and talked myself into what is the correct decision make.

  To do this however, I am going to have to take some calculated risks, but I can also see that in the long scheme of things, they will be risks worth taking should it all pay off.

  Marc

  As much as I enjoyed meeting Isabel's friend Erin, I am sure glad that it is now just the two of us again, as I drive us back to the hotel.

  “Your friend is a bit...is wacky the word I'm looking for?” I briefly turn to see Isabel. Even though she is looking out of the passenger window, I can tell that she has a huge grin on her face. The laughter lines are a dead give away, so I guess I have hit the nail on head with my observation.

  “She always has been, but I love her all the more for it. I needed someone like her back then or else I think I would have gone into a deep depression with how my life was at the time.”

  I can't fail to register how Isabel's noticeable smile from earlier fades and wavers off from what she was saying. Her eyes move from the beautiful scenery racing past us outside, to her hands that lay in her lap. I have come accustomed to her picking at her nails or fingers when something bothers her.

  “Izzy, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to or are uncomfortable of speaking about. However I do want you to know that if you want to talk about it, well then I'm here. I'll listen and I certainly won't judge. How can I when you have heard what you have about me and have certainly not judged any part of it.”

  I see she is looking out of the passenger side window again and an air of silence has descended around us. I don't want to break it though, as I feel she needs that time to think to herself. And so for the meantime, I just place my hand on her thigh as an act of reassurance. It is a couple of minutes later, when I feel her take a hold of my fingers and squeeze, then her words cut through the air.

  “I was a weak and foolish woman back then. I guess I still can be foolish, but every ounce of strength that I once had was bled from me by the man I was once married to. When I say 'Bled from me', on one occasion I mean it quite literally. He was a very intelligent man and well read. That's what attracted me to him in the first place I suppose, but he used his intelligence as a weapon against me and towards the end he also used his fist.”

  I tense as I register the words Isabel is saying to me. Fucking hell! Did that bastard hit her? Did he beat her? Is that why she was so broken and afraid? When she told me at Ickworth, she couldn't find happiness with another man, this worthless piece of shit was the reason?

  The thoughts and questions whirl around. I cannot help but feel the anger rise and burn from within the pit of my stomach.

  The boys, holy shit, did he harm the boys as well? As much as I want to know the answers to these questions, I hold back so as not to put her off her train of thought. I hear her take a deep, slow breath and the touch of my thumb caressing her hand I hope, offers some kind of comfort for her.

  “It was his bitter words and harsh actions which outsiders didn't witness, that hurt me the most. The internal bruising became so painful, but I guess after time I learned to live with it. For a man that supposedly loved me for who I was, he made it perfectly known to me that I disgusted him. The words 'Fat bitch' and the denial of any physical attention or contact became an every day occurrence. He said that my body repulsed him. The stretch marks from having the children were scars that he never wanted to see or touch. He would remind me day after day, that no man would want or love a woman like me, so I was a very lucky to have him.”

  She pauses, but I don't know what to say or if in fact I should say anything. I relax a little as I hear her sigh heavily into the air.

  “I can't remember the last time he held me in his arms or told me that he loved me. One day blended in to another. Days such as my birthday and Mothers Day, where I hoped and dreamed I would be made to feel that extra bit special, never happened. He made no effort what so ever for me. We'd wake, go to work, come home, go to bed. The same routine, day in day out. At weekends when you'd have thought it would be family time, he'd sleep in until gone midday, after he had been up till God knows what time in the early hours, drinking and listening to booming rock music. In the beginning I would sleepily walk downstairs to ask him to turn it down, afraid he'd wake the children. Or sometimes ask him to come to bed. He wasn't bothered. Eventually, I was glad he didn't come up to me, as the stench of booze filled breath stank the bedroom out, it was oozing out of his pores and the uncontrollable snoring was a nightmare. So when I think back, I was grateful that when he did get into bed, it would only be a couple of hours before I was to get up again. We didn't sit down to eat together as a family, so it wasn't long before I didn't eat properly. I'd go without breakfast and occasionally lunch, but only when hungry, I would eat and drink the wrong type of food.”

  I hear her giggle to herself and she shakes her head before looking down at our adjoined fingers. The radio is on in the car with music playing in the background. My ears prick up at a song I know Isabel loves. Boyzone's, Love Will Save The Day is a tune I'd never heard of. Heck!

  I'd not heard of Boyzone, but because of Isabel's constant humming of it around the hotel room, I do now!

  “It was a vicious circle. In my comfort I put on more weight, his words cut deeper within and so I'd seek the comfort again. It sounds ridiculously stupid now when I think about it or tell folk, but it meant I had his attention. The words were cruel and bruised within, but it was the only attention I had off him. I tried my best to keep it away from the children, but I had no doubt that in reality, they saw and heard what was going on. I just hoped that he wasn't the same towards them. I craved for physical contact, but as time went on, I became numb to it all. He would never want to make love with a fat, ugly cow like me.”

  I can't halt the words from spilling out from me. “You are not that Isabel. Don't ever say those words. He was blind and a complete motherfucking bastard, not to see you for who and what you really are. Your body is just a part of us that conceals and protects the important parts of a person. It's a shell to house all of the beautiful contents; emotions, laughter and caring nature you offer to others, so I don't ever want to hear you say that about yourself again, understand?”

  She hesitates before slowly nodding her head. The anger I'm feeling right now, as to how anyone can be so callous and heartless is making my blood boil. It's making me nauseous to ask what I want to, but I have to know the answers to the questions that are impatiently waiting to be asked. Making sure my voice is as calm as possible I go for it.

  “Izzy, did he harm you in any other way?” My stomach rolls and churns just thinking about it. I know she says t
hat he didn't want her sexually, but what if the bastard had a power trip...

  She slowly shakes her head, “If you're asking did he rape me, no. He did that elsewhere to other people.”

  Fuck! What on God's earth did that, I know I've said it before, but that motherfucking bastard do? I've not thought so many expletives in such a short space of time, but it's the only way I can contain the slow burn of outrage I have for a man I have never met. I don't want to ask her any more questions on that. If I'm being honest with myself, I don't think I really want to hear the sickening disclosures that may come back as a response. However, it's these unanswered questions that are telling me everything I need to know. I quickly try to find somewhere to pull over in the car, so spotting a dirt track further down the road I drive into it and come to an abrupt stop. Taking my seatbelt off, I turn towards her. Wiping the tears that are rapidly running down her cheeks, I then take her into my arms. The only sides to Isabel I have seen are the fun loving and passionate sides. So seeing her like this is generating an ache inside, an ache I have never felt as a result of another woman's heartbreak. Resting my chin upon her head, I close my eyes and release a long slow breath. Even though there is no sound coming from her, I can physically feel Isabel shaking as she sobs into my chest. She puts an arm around me, as I pull her in tighter and gently run the palm of my hand down her hair that is draping over her shoulders. How strong has one person got to be, to take on the battle scars of possibly three people? I know I've had to deal with the shit I have, but I cannot even begin to imagine what it's been like for her. To take on something like this, of this magnitude and have to protect yourself and your kids! The realisation of what must have happening, shit! It must have been immense. My respect and love for this woman is strengthening by the minute.