Darien had made up his mind. He would stay at James' party long enough to tell his father's friend that ACE, Inc. would give all the support that Discs, Ltd. needed in order to get back to its feet again. He did not even consider it an act of charity. Darien knew that it was what his grandfather, the chairman of ACE, Inc., wanted. It wasn't a test of goodwill. Grandfather Shields knew without a doubt that Darien would not let him down.
Because he wasn't planning on staying, Darien had a chauffeur with him. He told the old man to park where it's convenient and wait for his call. He reminded the chauffeur to bring his own cell with him should the latter feel the need to wander a bit.
Upon entering the Portmans' residence, Darien was surprised by the cozy feeling that greeted him. The house was almost...welcoming. He actually expected the party to be boring and cold, something short of lifeless. He was never one to enjoy such festivities.
He had just stepped onto the threshold. It was then that he saw her. Her soft, greyish-blue dress clung to her womanly curves yet it spoke of an innocence which only managed to draw him closer to her. From where he was standing, he only had a glimpse of her profile. Her hair of pale sunlight was flowing in loose tendrils down to her waist. She was smiling at the tall, fair-haired man who was clasping her wrist-a picture of romance-and suddenly, Darien felt the surge of a very unfamiliar feeling, something which he did not even want to acknowledge.
He saw her try to loosen the handsome man's hold on her hand. She must have said something sweet to him although her smile was reserved. Darien experienced a sense of self-satisfaction at the sight that made him want to analyze his feelings. Because when it came to women, he did not usually care.
And he knew that his eyes still remained dark glints of blue ice, except for that fleeting moment. Andrew's constant 'poker face' insult for him came to mind.
But right now his eyes, however unreadable, continued to follow her as she ascended the stairs.
Who is she, he asked himself.
It just never would do to ask anyone. His gait was swift as he walked in her trail. He was sure he took the steps two at a time.
Who are you? He wanted to be there, silkily appearing beside her, asking her... anything. He was still smarting that this slip of a girl made him act like a fifteen-year-old, stirring up his most basic senses in her simple evening gown and modestly displayed shoulder.
She could not be as angelic and as innocent as she looked, he thought. She could be a socialite... like most of the women who cared for these do's. He's deluding himself. After all, she looked like royalty. She might not even know how to boil water to keep herself warm. But he would not be deterred...
What was it about her? What was happening to him? More so, what was she doing to him?
He stopped walking at once. He was just a few steps behind her. They were alone in the balcony. Or at least that was how he felt--like it was just the two of them. He saw her place her champagne flute on the marble pane atop the balustrade before her.
He would ask her and leave. Or should he leave now? But the decision was taken out of his control. Fate. Because it was then that she turned around and faced him. He thought he saw a similar emotion in her sapphire blue eyes, something akin to the one he recognized earlier.
But he didn't believe in destiny, did he? Did she?
"Are you even real?" He seemed to be asking himself. He must be sounding like an idiot.
"Well, if you are, then I guess I have to be, too," she whispered almost breathlessly.
She smiled up at him and suddenly he didn't care if he appeared foolish.
"You are so beautiful." It was painful not to touch her face despite her nearness.
Her skin must be as soft as it looked from afar. Up close, she proved to be even more stunning than he remembered. He would willingly bet the shirt on his back that her cherry lips were devoid of lipstick. He was even ready to leave this party shirtless if he could taste them. Only, he loathed the prospect that somebody else kissed her too to prove the point.
"Should I say the same for you? You're even more beautiful." She lowered her gaze.
Her lashes, though not very thick, were long and curly. They fanned her high cheekbones attractively, too. She was exquisite.
He laughed when he heard her gasp. He wasn't even surprised when he saw her blush almost simultaneously. But it was still a novelty. Everything about her was a novelty to him.
"You pay the dearest compliments, Sweetheart." There was a hint of fierce antagonism in her sparkling eyes. But that wasn't the reason for the endearment. Sweetheart was for her. Solely for her. With or without her permission.
He had a feeling the reason for the resentment was her own honesty. She was attracted to him too. If the sensation bothering her was as powerful as the desire that was disturbing him, he could try the idea of 'couple' for a change.
"Don't call me that." She averted her gaze.
He saw her clench her hands. Her fingers were trembling. Could she possibly be a virgin? Oh, Darien, wash your brains with soap and water! What was wrong with him? He never particularly cared before if he was the first. But what a prize if that was the case!
Damn! Damn! Damn! He wasn't even frustrated... but five minutes in her company and he was fast losing it.
She moved a step back when James Portman suddenly appeared and saw them.
"There you are. So you two have met already," the older man said.
"Not really, Father," the girl replied.
"I see. She's your daughter," Darien remarked. He knew his eyes had gone cold. So much for his illusions.
He was right after all. She was a pampered, poor little rich girl. They were all the same. It was all an act. She performed a seemingly pure yet intricate and intimate dance to have him chase her up the stairs.
He wanted to scoff. It was a wasted effort. Surely the Portmans knew that Grandfather Shields would never say no to helping them?
"Nice to meet you," she said stiffly.
To Darien's ears, she sounded almost angry. He wanted to laugh in the girl's face. But she refused to look at him. What's her drama now?
"Surely, you could do better than that, Serena," her father admonished.
Darien didn't know why he felt like excusing himself and the girl from James' presence. He didn't know why he felt protective towards her. He didn't know why he felt like it was his duty. And he had no intention of knowing.
He felt her squirm under the old man's chastising tone and narrowed eyes. He wanted to take her hand and take her away from there. Away from it all.
"I don't know," she persisted.
Darien gave her full marks for putting on such a great show.
"Darien..." James began. "Your grandfather informed me that you'll be here instead of him. Thank you. Dinner will be served in a moment. Do us a great favor and stay, hmm."
The younger man saw how the girl's face paled. Her eyes were enormous in her lovely face.
"I apologize for my rudeness, Mr. Shields," she interrupted.
So she knows who I am, Darien thought grimly. Trust her to redeem herself well, he mused in the same line of thought.
"Please, let me show you around the house," he heard her say.
Her voice was husky, calm. He was reminded of blue waters in a peaceful lake where he'd been to as a child.
"Excuse us, Father," she continued. She stepped outside the balcony without looking back as if expecting him to follow.
With a slow glance to the girl's father, Darien turned upon his heel. "I'll have dinner with you," he told James. He'd inform the chauffeur to take a cab home and drive himself later.
She was petite yet easy to find. It was because her beauty stood out, and so did the way her body gave justice to the silver-blue gown she was wearing.
"Serena."
She stopped in her track but dared not look at him.
"How did you know my name?"
"Your father mentioned it, I believe," he replied suavely.
"Ah, yes. My father." There was a bitterness to her tone.
"Why the sudden coldness?" He tried to be close as close would allow. He did not care if he was invading her personal space. Because she certainly was disrupting his from the moment he set eyes on her.
It wasn't fair to blame her. If he was blinded, it was his own fault. If this was the way the Portmans played to push their agenda, how could he blame them? Everything's fair in love and in business.
"Nothing. I just didn't want you to think that..."
He waited for her explanation. He felt like forgiving her anything.
Even if you might not be the first? a voice niggled in his mind.
He didn't even care. She would be his and that's what mattered. He had an idea about what she's going to say. He gave her time. He waited for the morsel of honesty that she served him earlier.
Was she going to say-I- just didn't want you to think that I'm like that with every male... when I'm supposed to be like that only for you... only for Darien Shields, because you see, my father's company needs your money, if not your business acumen. Now you turn out to be one and the same person and I have no idea how to continue. If I remain sweet, you'll think I'm a slut. If I play it cool, you'll say I'm biding my time to entrap you, raising the stakes. So I'll just give you a fine tour of our mansion like the proper, sophisticated and aloof hostess that I am because... well, because it's expected of me.
Should he be flattered that Serena Portman appeared to be attracted to him without realizing that he was Darien Shields? How could he be so sure that she didn't know it was him? From James' tone of voice when he appeared, he must have instructed his daughter to research all she could about their potential 'savior'.
Her next words disappointed him. She didn't lie. But she was not completely honest in her request either.
"Could... could you forget our first meeting?"
"No." Definitely not.
He would never forget those angelic lips that lifted up to him when she first searched his face. It was next to impossible not to remember the sweetness of her honeyed voice. He would always be reminded of how she stood there in the balcony, witnessed by the moonlight and the stars. She would always be his sweetheart. Most importantly— his.