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  Darla grinned. "Seeing Uncle Kingsley in a white fishtail-style wedding dress would be hilarious. But seriously, have you talked to Jason about it?" Darla asked.

  "No," Farrah said, exasperated. "Maybe I should talk to him now. He is never around to hear my concerns. I hardly speak to him!"

  "I saw him down the hallway." Darla shrugged. "I actually thought he was coming to see you."

  Farrah inhaled. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

  "Sure," Darla said sleepily. "By the time you get back I should have a quick shower and change into my party clothes."

  Farrah headed out the door and into the gold-carpeted hallway. She lived on the west wing of the house, where she practically had the entire place to herself. If Darla saw Jason in the hallway, he could only be heading to her suite of rooms or the formal living room, which was right next to hers. She headed there, her feet silently pounding the carpet.

  When she approached the door she heard Jason's voice.

  "Listen to me," he was saying roughly to somebody. Farrah drew nearer. Was he on the phone? She had never heard Jason sounding so passionate.

  And then she heard Kate's voice. "I am tired of listening to you, Jason. I feel bad about going behind Farrah's back like this. You listen to me—If you marry her, that's it. I have given you ample time to break things off with her, but still here you are. I can't do this sneaking around anymore and I definitely won't be anybody's mistress. I am better than that and I couldn't do it to Farrah."

  Farrah moved closer to the door and peeped inside, Jason was raking his hand through his hair. He looked rumpled and less than his usual impeccably turned-out self.

  "I have to marry her. If I don't the business deal will fall through and my father will have to list the company as a public entity to raise much-needed capital. The business has been in my family for decades; we can't allow complete strangers into our operations. We need the Knights’ money and they are offering us a good deal."

  Kate was shaking her head. "This is crazy and so feudal. Does Farrah know that this is going to be a business marriage?"

  "I don't know," Jason said. "She doesn't seem to care much for me. It's definitely not a love match."

  Kate made a choking sound like she was crying, and Farrah swung away from the door.

  She didn't know what to feel. Strangely, she was feeling angrier with her father than she did at Jason, or even Kate. As bad as their duplicity was, her father's was even worse. He was the one who had practically forced her on Jason.

  She headed to his office. The door was ajar and he was sitting in his chair smoking a cigar. He was already in his tux and talking on the phone.

  "Why aren't you ready?" He frowned at her when he hung up the phone. "Your engagement party is about to start."

  "Dad," Farrah said her voice coming out quivery though she had headed to his office swiftly and with fire. When she was actually in his presence she felt her resolve weakened by her childlike yearning to meet his approval. "I overheard Jason saying that this marriage is because of a business deal. He loves somebody else. I can't marry him."

  Her father chuckled. He actually chuckled and blew smoke toward her. Farrah tightened her fist defensively. Did he have to display such blatant disregard to her?

  "So what, Farrah? Whoever he professes to love now, that will fizzle out in no time. He's young; you are young; he will learn to love you over time."

  "No Dad." Farrah shook her head. "I won't do it."

  Her father's expression grew stone cold. There was a look in his eye that actually made Farrah feel afraid.

  "Listen to me, girl," he growled. "I spent almost nine months hammering out a suitable deal with Cavendish. We want their company. They manufacture important products that would save us a boatload of money. Because of some crazy by-law that old man Cavendish set up, only family can own a certain number of shares in the business. If you marry Jason, then you will be family and that is part of the deal. Be a good girl and don't back out now. Don't show up yourself to be a weak-willed female who is all soft and sentimental. Do this for the company—the company that feeds you and clothes you and allows you to live in the manner to which you are accustomed. Besides, you do nothing around here. Do this for us…the business."

  Tears stung Farrah's eyes and she swallowed. "And if I don't get married to Jason?"

  "Then," her father said threateningly, "I'll cut you off, make no mistake about it! And I will personally ruin anyone who tries to help you, and that includes your mother." He said the last bit with a certain relish.

  "But Dad..." Farrah looked at his stern expression, a stubborn, unyielding determination in his eyes.

  Did he even love her like a father should love a child, or did he just see her as a pawn in one of his precious deals? Knightsbridge, Inc. had always been more important to him than anyone else and here she was like an idiot waiting around for years just to please him. Obviously, that was never going to happen. He was threatening to ruin his own wife if she helped her child to escape him and his draconian dictates.

  She backed away from the office, almost weak from the aftermath of her father's order to marry Jason Cavendish or else...

  She walked toward her wing of the house and then stopped. She could hear the music starting up outside and the buzz of voices indicating that persons had already arrived and were at the pool area.

  She headed for the courtyard instead of her rooms. No doubt Darla would be looking for her by now, and maybe even Kate. She sighed. It would have been good to hear from her friend Kate that she was in love with Jason and that they were secretly seeing each other, rather than having to find out from eavesdropping.

  If she hadn't gone looking for Jason when she did, she wouldn't have heard his conversation with Kate and would be in the dark about her feelings for him.

  Marrying Jason and having him sneak around with her childhood pal, Kate, would devastate her—or would it?

  She didn't feel devastated; she didn't even feel angry or betrayed. All she felt was confusion. Her father had meant it when he threatened to cut her off. As far as she saw it, she had no option but to marry Jason and make her father happy. If she didn't marry Jason she would be put out on the street. She had no career or skill and never had the need to think of either as a necessity. She had naively thought that she would always have money.

  She sighed so loudly that she almost missed the clearing of a throat behind her.

  "What's wrong?"

  She looked behind and saw Xavier. He was in a tuxedo. He was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He looked cool, urbane, and sophisticated. For the moment she was gasping at him, she totally forgot what was wrong.

  "I... er," she swallowed. "I have a problem."

  Xavier shrugged. "I know that. You usually come here when you do, and that was a huge sigh."

  "How'd you get in the house? No guests are allowed in the private areas," Farrah said petulantly, turning around again to avoid staring at him.

  "I saw your mom," Xavier said. "She was just coming in and we started talking, so I came inside with her."

  "And ended up in the courtyard?" Farrah asked incredulously.

  "No." Xavier walked slowly toward her and then he sat down. "I actually thought I would come and take a look around this place. It holds a lot of memories."

  Farrah glanced at him. "I am sorry about that night a couple of years ago."

  "I know." Xavier touched her arm. "I was talking about the times when you were younger and you came in here to vent and we used to play tea with your teddy bear, Mr. Flounders, and your dolls."

  Farrah looked down at his hand on her arm; it felt warm and was making her nerve endings tingle.

  She looked around, trying to distract herself from the fact that his hand was on hers.

  "This is a nice place to think. You know, I must be the only one in this family that comes in here at all."

  Xavier chuckled. "Your family is high octane. They don't have time to stop an
d smell the roses." He picked a red flower and tucked it behind her ear. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for your party?"

  "No. Yes. I don't know." Farrah sighed. Tears came to her eyes and she tried to will them away, but they were threatening to fall and she was not going to be vulnerable and cry in front of Xavier.

  Farrah had her hair in a high ponytail. Her face was makeup-free, which made her appear younger and somehow like the Farrah of old. Xavier heart cracked and he resisted the urge to protect her as he used to. He struggled to harden his heart against her but despite his resolve old habits died hard and he was curious about what was going on with her.

  "Why are you so sad?" he asked softly.

  "Because I am a pawn in my father's business deal," Farrah sniffed. "I have to marry Jason or else."

  "So this isn't a love match?" he asked, a feeling of relief encasing him, and he tried not to analyze why. He didn't love her anymore; he had moved on a million years ago.

  "No," Farrah said, glancing at him and then looking away. "I am marrying for business. Well, really I am marrying for my father. I am making the ultimate sacrifice to prove that I am a good daughter."

  "Sounds like a recipe for unhappiness," Xavier said quietly. He hated the thought of her being miserable. She had never gone up against her father and won—the one man that she had always sought approval from.

  "I know, right." Farrah got up. "I have to get ready for this sham of a party and grin and bear it and pretend to be happy with a guy who loves my friend," her lips trembled, "Kate. Remember her?"

  "Yes." Xavier nodded. "How could I forget? You have an option, you know. You don't have to do this; you can walk away."

  Farrah shook her head. "I would have nowhere else to go. My dad threatened to ruin anyone who helped me if I didn't go through with this marriage."

  Xavier chuckled. "Surely that can't be true. If you marry a poor guy, someone who has nothing to lose, your father can't ruin him. You can't ruin an already ruined person."

  Then he snapped his fingers and said sarcastically, "Sorry, I forgot; you can't marry outside of your social class."

  "Xavier, don't do this," Farrah said sadly, "please don't."

  "Why not?" Xavier asked bitterly. "That's exactly what you said to me. Remember? In this very room with your friends looking on and sneering?"

  "I know, and I am sorry." Farrah hung her head. "You said what's past is past."

  "I guess I am remembering that night so vividly because we are in the same place where it happened," Xavier said, "and in a perverse way I am torn about this situation you are now in. I think you deserve it, always pandering to your father and waiting around for his approval. You live to please this father of yours, but he will never be pleased with anything you do. So after you marry this guy what will be the next royal Daddy summons: to procreate? You are going to dutifully supply him with the requisite grandchildren to cinch the business deal."

  "If I defy him," Farrah closed her eyes, "he will disown me."

  Xavier stood up, and stood in front of her. "Then let him do it. Call his bluff."

  Farrah sighed. "I can't."

  Xavier touched her arm. Her skin was velvety smooth and he dropped his hand as if it were seared. "You can. You should."

  "Goodbye Xavier." Farrah looked at him longingly. "I wish things could be different."

  Xavier clenched his jaw. "They can. I would help you if your dad kicked you out. I have nothing to lose by your father's threat. He can't ruin me."

  "You would help me after what I did to you?" Farrah asked, tears at the corners of her eyes.

  Xavier nodded.

  Farrah walked away and left him standing in the middle of the courtyard. He shook his head at the irony of the situation: she walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the courtyard, just as she did almost a decade ago. Back then she had given him a cutting speech that had left him feeling broken and empty.

  Chapter Seven

  Summer 2001

  "Xavier, you just have to come to my birthday party," Farrah said excitedly over the phone. "It's my eighteenth birthday, my coming of age."

  Xavier was sitting in his poky apartment in midtown. He had a dozen computer parts parked on his floor. For years he had been fascinated with motion controller technology and finally he had figured out how to get it done efficiently. His head was buzzing with ideas. He couldn't believe that he had finally worked out how to get it done. He needed to tell somebody.

  He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. His right eye became blurry. He really needed to correct his cross-eyed problem. It was getting worse; if he didn't move swiftly he would eventually lose sight in that eye altogether. He needed his sight, especially now. He had stumbled onto something that would make waves in the computer industry for years to come.

  "Xavier," Farrah's voice wheedled through the phone line. "I hardly see you anymore. Please say you'll come."

  Xavier wanted to say no. He just had to take a look in the mirror to know that he didn't fit in with the beautiful people. Last year he broke out in the most abhorrent acne problem. His face was rough and was covered with odious red welts. He barely had a clear spot of skin left on his face.

  Besides, he had developed the unhealthiest fascination with Farrah. To her he was the same old clumsy Xavier who she treated like one of her girlfriends, but he had feelings for her—serious, obsessive feelings that he didn't even want to burden her with. He was never going to be good enough for her and she had just turned eighteen and was beautiful and so self-assured. He had nothing to offer her.

  "Say you'll come, Xavier," Farrah insisted. "It's a small party. Only my closest friends will be there."

  "I am babysitting my niece," Xavier said, a flush of warmth engulfing his neck. He sounded like a wuss but he had promised Carson that he would take care of Mia this evening. He could always back out, knowing that his mother would be quite happy to take Mia, but he was scared of facing Farrah. He had been so close to confessing his love for her many times since she turned sixteen. It was his guilty secret that she had him tied up in knots.

  "If you don't come I won't have the party," Farrah threatened. "I can't believe you would not show up. What is going on? You are suddenly acting weird."

  Not suddenly, Xavier thought. I have been acting weird for months and you haven't noticed. I am a man and I have inconvenient feelings for you. He wanted to say, "I am not your little Xavier buddy anymore."

  Instead, he sighed and said out loud, "You have other friends. You won't miss me."

  "Oh yes I will," Farrah insisted. "Please come. Please. Please. Please."

  "Okay," Xavier capitulated; he always did when Farrah started to beg. "What time is the party?"

  Farrah squealed. "At eight. I am using the courtyard, so you can come right in. I have a surprise for you."

  "Okay," Xavier said. After he hung up he wondered what he would get Farrah as a present. What do you give someone who has everything? He had no money to speak of and he was living from paycheck to paycheck at his purchasing clerk job; besides, he spent so much money trying to develop computer hardware and testing his theories that he barely had rent for the month.

  He looked around his sparse apartment and saw the brown bear. He had sappily asked the storeowner to engrave Farrah's name on the pillow heart in the middle of the bear as part of a Valentine’s special for him. Farrah was written in white.

  He bought it for her Valentine’s earlier in the year but of course he did not give it to her because it would have been too revealing. Neither did he give her the long, passionate letter that he had written. The letter contained bad poetry mixed with expressions of his hidden feelings for her.

  The bear had been sitting on top of his dresser since February; the letter he had hidden in his sock drawer, along with his scrapbook of Farrah memorabilia. He had it bad for her.

  His brother and mother had glanced at the bear whenever they came over to his place but neither of them commented. He figure
d that they felt sorry for him and didn't want to add salt to his wounds.

  Maybe he should give it to Farrah as an eighteenth birthday present. He grabbed the bear and put it back into the gift bag that he had purchased for it. It was time he aired his feelings.

  He looked at the plane ticket that the Californian computer company, Softcorp, had sent him. They were monitoring his work on motion controller technology. They wanted him to demonstrate his ideas in person and to show how serious they were, they had sent him a ticket.

  They would be amazed that his crazy ideas had actually borne fruit. He looked at the bear and then at the ticket.

  Maybe he should ask Farrah to go to California with him. She was always bellyaching about her father and his lack of attention. He could reveal his feelings to her and ask her to marry him. Now that she was of age she didn't need her parents' approval.

  *****

  He fretted about his plans to ask Farrah to marry him when he got to her house, especially since he had no idea how she felt about him, even though they spoke to each other most days and she shared most things with him. Just last week she confessed that she couldn't do without him. Of course she usually said that when she had a particularly difficult time with her father. But maybe it meant that she loved him? Xavier's heart raced at the thought. It would be his dream come true if Farrah returned his feelings.

  He stepped into the courtyard, which was transformed into a pure white fantasy scene, complete with white pepper lights wound around the columns, trees, and atop the skylight. He should have known that Farrah's small party would be large. There were about fifty persons at the party.

  She was standing in a group of her girlfriends. He spotted her instantly; she was wearing a short blue dress. Her friends Darla, Kate, and Alka were in varying shades of blue as well. He looked around; all of her friends were teenagers.