A REASON FOR MARRIAGE

19



“Oh, no…! Simon, turn the car around!”

“What-?” Simon turned his head to give Sara a startled glance from where he sat behind the wheel of his car on Saturday evening, driving them both to the party.

She clutched at the arm of his black evening jacket. “Turn the car around -now-and get us out of here!” she repeated fiercely as she released his arm to stare up in horror at the brightly lit house at the end of the short gravel driveway.

There was already a car in front of them, and one had just turned into the driveway behind them too, effectively blocking any move on Simon’s part to do as Sara asked and turn the car around.

“What’s wrong, Sara?” He reached out with his free hand to clasp one of hers, instantly aware of how cold that hand was, considering the warmth of the summer evening.

What was wrong? Sara had just realized that the party Simon was taking her to was at the home of her ex-father-in-law to be…Bruce’s father… That was what was wrong! Why hadn’t she realized sooner? More to the point, why hadn’t she asked Simon whose party it was and saved herself-and Simon-all this embarrassment? As it was, Simon’s black Ferrari was now effectively trapped between two other cars, making immediate escape impossible.

Maybe she should just get out of the car and walk back to the city? Oh, yes, very practical-considering she was once again wearing three-inch-heeled sandals, black this time, to match with the black tube of a dress she wore, in which the length of her legs was very visible beneath the short hemline. Not only was it impractical, but if she tried to hitchhike a ride back into the city she was more likely to be taken for a hooker than a hitchhiker; she doubted too many drivers would recognise the black dress for the expensive designer label silk that it was.

So she couldn’t walk back to the city, and she couldn’t accompany Simon into the party either. She moistened the dryness of her lips before speaking, still staring at the crowded mansion house in front of them. “I can’t go in there, Simon,”

“Dissatisfied customer?” Simon teased.

Sara smiled faintly at his attempt at humor. “Not exactly.”

“Then why can’t we go to the party?” Simon had parked the car now and turned to look at her in the bright lights of the busy driveway, frowning as he saw how pale her cheeks had become.

The evening had been going so well up until this point. Sara had arrived promptly at Simon’s apartment at eight o’clock and, remembering how skeptical she was about compliments, he had deliberately kept his comments as to how stunningly beautiful she looked to a minimum. That figure-hugging black dress, her hair once again loose in blue-black waves about the bareness of her creamy shoulders… Instead he had decided to pretend an interest in the designs she had brought with her. One look at Sara’s designs and he’d no longer had to pretend that interest. They were so vibrant with color-not a hint of pink in sight, thank goodness!- that Simon had had no qualms whatsoever about allowing Sara free rein with all the rooms in his apartment.

Those initial designs proved that she knew exactly what he needed to feel comfortable in his own home. Perhaps, without realizing it, she was coming to know him? Simon certainly hoped that was the case. And he’d been hoping to get to know her better later on tonight.

Consequently they had both been relaxed on the drive over here-only for this to happen. Although at the moment Simon still had no idea exactly what ‘this’ was!

“Sara, talk to me,” he urged gruffly.

She blinked, those brown eyes having darkened to a deep, deep amber. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go to the party-”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Simon assured her firmly.

“There’s no reason why we both have to miss the party-” She broke off as the door beside her was suddenly opened.

“May I help you, ma’am?” One of the young car valets, no doubt hired for the evening, stood outside on the gravel.

Sara’s look of panic deepened. “Simon…!”

He leant over to look out at the smiling teenager. “Just give us a minute or two, okay?”

The youngster’s smile faltered slightly. “Of course, sir. Except I really need to move your car to the back of the house, with so many other guests still arriving…” he added awkwardly.

Simon sighed his frustration with this situation. Sara was his only concern at the moment. “You will wait-”

“It isn’t his fault, Simon,” Sara reached out and put a placating hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” she assured him shakily. “I’m okay now.” Which wasn’t exactly true. But her initial feelings of wild panic seemed to have settled down to less troubled ones, and now that the initial shock was over Sara knew that most of her residual feelings of unease were only because she had arrived at Bruce’s father’s home with the powerful and handsome Simon Hamilton.

She had been chanced to meet Bruce’s father several times socially in the past two years-it was impossible not to do so when they both remained part of New York society. The difference tonight was that this party was actually in Lincoln’s home-the home where Sara had once been welcomed as his daughter-in-law to be-and also that Sara had never been in the company of another man when the two of them had met in the past.

Not that she thought Lincoln would be in the least unwelcoming. Simon was his guest after all. Sara was the one who felt distinctly uncomfortable about attending a party at Lincoln’s in the company of a man as powerful and charismatic as Simon Hamilton. In the company of any man who wasn’t Lincoln’s own son!

“Sara…?”

She turned to give Simon a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine now, Simon. Really.” She picked up her black clutch bag before turning to get out of the car.

Sara looked far from fine to him. Her face was still pale, and her eyes still that deep amber and wide with apprehension. But other than making a scene- something Simon was pretty sure Sara would not appreciate-he had no choice but to join her outside on the driveway before handing his car keys over to the obviously relieved young man waiting to park his car.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.


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