Love Like Chess

6

The moon casted its silvery glow upon the lavish honeymoon suite, illuminating the tender scene unfolding within. The air smelt of blooming Jasmine, lavender and cherry blossoms. The soft lighting and detailed decorations whispered sweet nothings, electrified the air with sensuality, passion, lust and love. Her lust, her passion, her love. Soft candlelight danced across plush linens while rose petals and fresh flowers weaved a romantic spell, a captivating ambience. The velvet drapes framed a large king-sized bed that promised comfort, pleasure, the perfect destination to express their cravings; a luxurious haven of intimacy.

Kimberly had outdone herself again. She was perfect at everything. She had been his friend, his adviser, even his most prized staff and now she had turned out to be the elusive woman from that fantastic night whom he could not get a breather from thinking about, even on his wedding night. It couldn't be.

She couldn't be! Yet she was.

He stood resplendent in his tailored attire, his jacket off, leaving only his white shirt, unclenched to the third button, his tie hanging loosely around his collar.

Tall, broad-shouldered with masculine beauty. He was captivating.

But this prince charming stood by the window, his gaze lost in the endlessness of the night's sky.

His mind ought to be here, wanted to be here but something drifted him off to forbidden territory, to the room right below his, to her.

Sweet scents of caramel, honey and roses invaded his thoughts.

His bride, Bianca Xavier, the woman he must now call wife was a vision in ivory lace. Her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night; she was gorgeous.

A satisfied, happy smile quickly crept on her pretty face as she watched him, her prince charming, her knight in shining armor. Her heart had found rest in his large safe hands, in his broad shoulders. She fiddled with her lingerie, a red lacy one, exciting and tempting.

And when he turned to face her, their eyes locked, the world seemed to stay still for their sake.

Her heart swelled with love and adoration, eyes shinning like glimmering pools in the sparsely lit room. She reached for his face with a delicate hand and he held it, kissed her soft, feminine knuckles so lovingly. She blushed. His warm and gentle touch was enough to woo her, shrills of lust and anticipation ran down her feeble spine.

"Tio amo, mio marito" (I love you, my husband) she said, confessing her repressed love for him.

If only he could love her back, if only he didn't have to fool her. She wanted him to tell her he loved her too, as madly as she loved him, he saw her say it in her eyes.

But he couldn't.

"Sei mio" (you are mine) he said instead. She smiled, it was good enough for her, the acknowledgement that she was his.

But his courteous smile and tender words belied a turmoil brewing inside him, his gaze betrayed a distant longing, a forbidden craving, a want, maybe a need.

'I want you...I can barely breathe'

She knew he was hiding something but she chose not to know. She didn't care who it was, what it was. It would stay in the past!

He was hers!

So she kissed him, the abruptness of it blanked his mind. She wasn't the cosseted, prim and proper Italian princess her elegance and beauty made her seem. She was a violent and tenacious lover. She wouldn't let go.

Under the silky sheets their bodies were close but their hearts were apart. Their love was like a delicate flower, fragile and beautiful, yet vulnerable to the whim of fate.

But she swore to make it perfect.

******

Flashback:

She alighted his Bentley continental GT, sleek and powerful, decorated with ribbons and garlands and their personalized signage emboldened on the luxurious car 'B&C'.

Kimberly ushered servants to welcome her in, running in all directions at the service of their new mistress.

She was jaw-dropping. How could she beat that? She had lost, she thought, she could never compete with such effortless grace, that beauty and composure.

She had to resign to cruel destiny, she was never meant for this.

She told Mrs. Marcus, an elderly maid how to settle her new mistress in and ran to the gardens so she wouldn't have to face her failure, so she could freely cry in defeat.

There she had bumped into him in tears, right into his arms where she belonged, where she wanted to be.

His cologne filled her senses and her crooked glasses fell off her face.

She stared at him and for that brief moment when their orbs locked in a trance, time stayed still.

They were both mesmerized. Amazed.

But he was stupefied.

Her eyes: pools of shimmering sapphires, deep and mysterious, with a sparkle that seemed to dance in the light, framed by luscious lashes, gleaming with a soft ethereal radiance, drawing all who gazed upon them into their depths promising untold wonders. Eyes of a bewitching woman. Shrills of wonderment ran through his nerves.

That was when he realized.

"Impossible!" He whispered.

The most amazing night of his life had been spent with his most valued staff, Kimberly Erics.