Three and a Half Weeks(126)
“Okay.” I pat his hand. “I’ll wait… if you promise to keep me occupied in the interim.” I flash him a leer.
He doesn’t take the bait, though. Instead, he rises off his chair and walks to mine, and without further preamble, drops to one knee and kisses my hand. Inwardly, I gasp loudly, nerves jangling like silver bangles on a hyperactive wrist. Outwardly I’m as serene as a mountain lake. He’s really going to do it and so traditionally too.
“I asked you to marry me earlier today but you resented my timing and told me to do it again when I was fully dressed and on bended knee. So here I am, Ariel. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife and partner forever? I’ll settle for nothing less.”
I brush that recalcitrant lock of hair off his adored face and then run my fingers down, lightly tracing his perfectly symmetrical features. “Yes, Ian. I will. Forever. I love you.”
From behind his back he produces a small cardboard box in the distinctive turquoise color of Tiffany’s, adorned with a white ribbon. We open it together, and inside is a small, black velvet case. He removes it, tosses the blue box onto the table, and flips open the hinge on the velvet case. Nestled inside in a bed of satin and velvet is the most magnificent diamond ring I’ve ever seen. The stone is large but tasteful and the setting so unique: it’s fringed by sapphires that form an inverted vee, showcasing the large diamond in the center. The ring itself is platinum. When he slips it on my finger, it somehow fits perfectly. I lean over and kiss him softly. “It is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen and I’m thrilled to wear it, Ian. Thrilled.”
In response, he offers me a smile that can light the night sky, and we kiss, a beautiful chaste kiss full of the promises to come. After we toast our engagement with hastily sipped champagne, Ian signals for the bill so we can go home and seal the deal in the way we like best. We take the bottle of bubbly and the rest of the strawberries with us at my insistence. I have plans of my own.
So, as of tonight, we are engaged to be married and life is just fine. It’s time I start moving my things back from Los Angeles.
The next morning I make three phone calls upon waking: the first to the lab to get my results. The results are unsurprising: yes, there was residual trace evidence of a drug, similar to Rohypnol, called ketamine present in my blood sample.
“Does that drug cause hallucinations, do you know?” I ask the lab tech.
“It can. Ketamine is a dissociative anesthetic and it’s called that because it tends to distort sights and sounds, and causes one to feel a detachment from reality. Hallucinations are one side effect of this drug.”
“I appreciate the information. I understand the full lab report was already mailed to me?”
“Yes, that’s correct. You should receive it in the next day or so. If you have any questions, please feel free to call again.”
“Thank you very much. Good day.”
I disconnect the call and spend the next five minutes staring into space. Lucien’s tale is starting to gain more traction with me. What I really want to know now is whether he’s really as innocent about BDSM as he made himself out to be—that would also bolster his story. I need to add Mo Jackson to my call list to find out how she knows LP but I’ll leave that enticing task to another day and time. Baby steps.
The second call is to Mariah and we make plans to have lunch the following day. I refrain from sharing my massively life-changing news because I want to tell her in person: from Archipelago salesgirl to Mrs. Ian Blackmon in five easy steps. Not too shabby.
The third and final call I place is to Maya St. Sauveur. I know I should just let it go but I cannot. I want to know if Lucien’s kidnapping saga is true. Why it matters anyway, I just don’t know.
She answers on the first ring. “Yes?”
“Ms. St. Sauveur?”
“Yes, speaking. Who’s calling please?”
“It’s Ariel Strong, Ms. Sauveur. Do you remember me?”
“Yes, Ella. Please call me Maya. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, Maya. I’m calling you on something of a personal matter… I hope you don’t find it too intrusive but circumstances have necessitated me verifying information Lucien provided to me by way of an explanation.” Okay, I sound like a blithering idiot. Just ask the woman, Ella, in plain English.
“Lucien told me a story and I wondered if you could… would… offer any clarification regarding it?”
“What story?”
“About his being kidnapped at age five?”
A long pause ensues and I wait patiently. “Yes, it’s true. Did you doubt him? Because if you did, I completely understand. He is a pathological liar, you know.”