Alisha: A dark Romance Ch. 05

© Andyhm. 2018

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

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Alisha: A dark Romance Ch 5.

It's a tale as old as time, of love found, lost and found again. It's the oldest plot in literature.

This is my take on this tale. It concentrates on the 'found again' part, and looks at the difficulties people have in rebuilding a relationship, and for one, regaining trust after it has been lost. Is it a loving wife's tale or a Romance? I started out writing a lost love romance but as it progressed it became darker and darker until it seems to me to have slipped into the LW category.

This is the last part. It is not a BTB tale - if that's what you are looking for then I'd suggest you stop reading now! I've left voting and comments on. I will delete any non-constructive or abusive comments.

Review and editing was by the wonderful Blackrandl1958. All of the remaining mistakes are mine as I can't resist that final tweak.

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Alisha - Chapter 5

As we exited the garage, I got my first true taste of Ali's popularity, the few photographers from earlier had been reinforced, and the crowd over-spilled the pavement. The camera flashes were blinding even through the limousines tinted windows. I was silent during the drive to the hotel holding the reception, lost to my thoughts. For a long time, I'd managed to fly below the horizon. My alter ego was a secretive author, while I had been able to keep my true life free of intrusions. It looked like it was about to change, and the consequences were out of my control. It wasn't going to take the gutter press long to make the inevitable link between Ali, me and the book.

As we pulled away, Ali clasped my hand reassuringly. "This isn't Kansas anymore I'm afraid, love," she murmured.

"So no clicking my heels to go home then?"

She laughed and leaned across to kiss me. "No, just remember when we get there, everything you do will be under the gaze of the press. There'll be cameras and microphones everywhere. I'll tell you where it's safe to talk."

The limousine pulled up outside the hotel's ballroom entrance, the flashes, and lights from the cameras, a cacophony of brilliant light. I went to open the door, and Ali put her hand on mine to stop me.

"You need to wait for Jamal to open it," she told me. "Let Sandy go first."

The door opened, and the muted voices rose to a rolling roar of shouted questions and requests. Sandy eased out and stood next to Jamal, shielding the interior from the camera's gaze.

"You go next," Ali reminded me.

I got out and was immediately half blinded and disoriented by noise and the lights and flashes of the cameras.

"Help Ali out," hissed Sandy from the corner of her mouth.

I held my hand out to Ali, and she slipped gracefully from the vehicle, only I was able to see her long leg framed in the slit of her dress, which also answered my question as to whether the dress was the only thing she was wearing.

Ali took my arm, and we walked the red carpet, only it was royal blue. It was hemmed in on either side by a low barrier, behind which the press and members of the public stood. My antics had ensured that we were one of the last groups to arrive. There is apparently no such thing as fashionably late to one of these affairs. The upside of our late arrival was that we didn't have much time to pause by the groups of journalists. The downside was that because of Ali's popularity, every journalist and admirer was calling her name to try and gain her attention.

I followed Ali's lead, stopped when she did and moved on she did. Jamal and two more of his team hovered in the background. Sandy kept up a running commentary for me, of whom was Ali talking to. We finally managed to reach the entrance reasonably unscathed.

The doors closed behind us, and I gave a brief sigh of relief. It was a tad premature; I was quick to find out, as we were ushered to a carpeted area with a backdrop and into an interview with a TV reporter and camera crew.

Ali was asked about her dress, her hair, makeup, the list of inane questions staggered me. I was impressed with her ability to answer them intelligently. She refused to answer any questions about the reason she was retiring as a model.

I had hoped the interview finished when Ali was asked the one question I'd hoped she wouldn't be asked.

"And who is your companion?"

Ali flashed me a questioning glance, I knew what she wanted but I wasn't sure I was ready, but I decided to leave it up to her, so I gave her a brief shrug of my shoulders.

Ali gave me a considered look and then she said. "This is an old family friend of mine, Ben McMichael."

That was enough to lose the woman's interest, so with a wave goodbye, we took the opportunity to slip away.

"You enjoyed the attention," I said.

"Did you mind that I didn't tell her that we are married?"

"I've decided that it's your decision when you want to announce it. I'm taking the cowards way out and leaving it up to you. Although I will admit, I'm not sure I am ready for the disruption it will make to my life. You're used to this madhouse; I'm not."

Ali gave me a calculated glance and then she smiled as she looped her arm through mine. I pulled her close and gave her a kiss which she aggressively returned.

We were led past multiple tables, full of the high and mighty of the fashion industry to a point close to the front of the ballroom and our table, where Sandy and the rest of the Ali Mac team were sitting.

Sandy was busy with her phone, and she looked up at us in surprise. "The news girl from Chanel 5 has just tweeted that you are here with your new boyfriend."

"Christ, I said, old friend, not a boyfriend," Ali said. I gave her a long considered look.

Sandy gave both of us a calculated look and said, "Sooner or later, Al, someone is going to put two and two together and get the correct answer. Its common knowledge with the press that you were married before you started your modeling career."

"Yes, but they also think I got divorced." She squeezed my hand. "Ben's leaving it up to me, but I don't think he's happy with being outed as my husband just yet."

That wasn't it, and she knew it. The fact that we were still married didn't worry me. I was scared that I'd grow comfortable with my new family, only to have it taken away from me when Ali wised up once again and understood that she could do better than me.

It was as though Ali could read my mind; she drew Sandy and me to one side, to a quiet corner where we wouldn't be overheard. Why she had included Sandy was quickly obvious as she addressed her first. "Ben is worried that I'll grow ambitious and leave him again. I did it once before, and I haven't been able to convince him it will never happen again! He doesn't want us to have the additional pressure of the press knowing that we have been married all these years, am I right, love?"

"I guess that's a fair assessment of my fears," I replied.

"Then you're a bloody fool," Sandy stated. "For as long as I've known Ali, she's been telling me about the man she loves, the father of her daughter. It wasn't until she thought that you'd given up on her that she even looked at other men, and that didn't go very well, did it! She made a mistake, and I can't ever see her making it again."

"Ben's underlying issue is that he's never thought he was good enough for me and I'll find someone better," Ali pointed out. "When the truth is, I know I'm not good enough for him, I don't deserve him."

"Christ, the pair of you are no better than each other, just admit it, will you? Kiss and make up, then we can all enjoy the rest of the evening."

We did as we were told, and then we sat down. I'd come to an epiphany, I sure as hell wasn't going to announce to the gathered press we are married, but I wouldn't deny it, and if Ali wanted to tell them I wouldn't stop her.

"Look, if you want to tell the world we are still married I won't stop you," I whispered to her.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, and she smiled back at me.

The rest of the early part of the evening went as I'd expected, with one notable exception. Our meal was counterpointed with music from the stage. During the coffee, there were several, thankfully brief speeches. Then to my surprise, they announced Ali as the next speaker. No wonder she'd been anxious about not missing this reception.

Ali stood, gave my bemused face a quick kiss and walked up the steps to the stage.

Her speech was simple and reasonably brief. She thanked all her friends in the fashion business for their support and guidance over the years. She confirmed that this would be her last event that she would be walking the runways as a model. But she didn't rule out the odd foray down the catwalk for the Ali Mac shows. She said the last with a laugh. "I'm too cheap a businesswoman to pay for a model when I can do it myself, and I'm my agent, so I don't have to pay me."

The audience dutifully laughed.

Then she continued. "Ali Mac announced earlier this year that we would be providing two full grants for a pair of deserving students to the college of their choice. We are pleased that we will be announcing the first two recipients of these bursaries at the awards ceremony at the end of the week. We will be adding two more places next year and another pair the following year, so ultimately, we will be supporting six students annually. I know that this is a drop in the ocean, but then all oceans are made up of multiple drops."

"When I was a student, I was one of the lucky ones; I had the financial support of my parents and the emotional support of the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. There are a lot of talented people out there without those advantages, and I feel that all the fashion houses must support and develop newcomers."

She finished off with a second round of thanks to her team at Ali Mac. Waited until the applause had stopped and then made her way back to our table.

"You did good love, thought you might tell them about us," I said.

"I almost did, and I will, I just didn't think that this was the right time. You're right; I need to prove to you first that I'm still that girl you fell in love with all those years ago." She gave me a brief kiss.

There was one more speech and then the formal part of the evening was over. The tables were cleared, and drink orders were taken. The guests began to circulate, a considerable number zeroing in on Ali. Hey, I understood that Ali was the star of our group and I was only the supporting actor. When Ali introduced me as, my good friend Ben, I wasn't that surprised by the efforts of those people to sideline me and monopolize Ali's attention immediately.

Sandy and the rest of our group were circulating and networking with their contemporaries from the other fashion houses and journalists from the upmarket fashion magazines.

I was left more and more on my own. At first, I stood by Ali side and tried to join in with the conversations, but as soon as her companions thought I was a nobody, I was ignored. There was a moment when a fashion editor from one of the big glossy magazines blatantly turned her back to me, that I considered introducing myself as Xander Morton, the author instead of Ben, just to see her reaction. I didn't, of course.

Ali seemed to stop bothering to try and include me, her conversations centering on subjects she was aware I neither knew nor cared about.

I wasn't stupid; I'd been there before. This was Ali at her best; she dominated any group she'd was in, making contacts and setting up deals; this was her world, and briefly, years ago, it had been mine. Not now, I liked my slower pace of life; I enjoyed the passing of the seasons viewed from the comfort of my boat and cottage, watching my grapes ripening on the vines and enjoying the liquid fruits of my labors.

The final straw came when I spotted Ali with a woman I recognized as Kelly James, one of the world's best-known models. They both had an arm around the other's waist, and they were laughing and talking. I smiled and started in their direction, indicating I'd like to meet the woman and hoping that Ali would introduce me to her. Before I could get close, she shook her head at me and waved me away.

That was it, I got my jacket from the back of the seat at the far side of our table and headed for the exit. I know Ali had said she'd leave as soon as I felt uncomfortable but honestly, what was the point in asking? As far as I could see it would be yet another request she'd ignore.

I held my jacket and slipped off my tie as soon as I left the ballroom, finally feeling comfortable for the first time all evening. I was able to slip past the bodyguards and followed the signs to the hotel lobby intending to grab a taxi to anywhere so long it was away from here. I was sidetracked when I spotted a nice cozy bar set back from the lobby. I must have anticipated something like this was going to happen, for as I was leaving the apartment, I had remembered to pick up my wallet.

I found a quiet booth in the corner, sat down and ordered a malt whiskey from a hovering waitress. I added a few drops of water and sipped the amber liquid, relishing in the subtle burn as the fiery liquid slid down my throat. A beautiful woman at a nearby table glanced in my direction, she raised a half-empty glass and toasted me in a silent question. I smiled, yet briefly shook my head, declining the high-class escort's invitation of her company. She gave me a regretful smile, and I got the waitress to get her a fresh drink as compensation.

Again, I sipped my drink and pondered my future. In the short term, it was pointless trying to retrieve my Porsche, as A, there was no way the security at the apartment was let me take it, and B; I'd had too much to drink to drive safely anyway. With that decision made, I ordered another drink.

That left me with a couple of other options: either use the TGV to get home, or try to get a room here. Neither seemed viable at the moment.

Having dismissed the short-term issues, I was left with the big one, and I was far too sober to make those decisions. I drained my glass and ordered a refill.

I'd walked away from Ali once before, even though I had still loved her, and I was sure I could do it again, regardless of my rekindled feelings for the woman. There was a big difference, now: I had a daughter, there was Julia to consider, and I wasn't willing to give her up.

God knows how long I sat there, mulling over the pros and cons. For years I'd accepted, I wasn't part of her lifestyle. Fashion and modeling was her passion, just as photography had been mine. Yes, I loved photography, but after we'd gone our separate ways, I'd soon understood that my true passion had been taking photos of Alisha. Other subjects were fun, but I didn't have the same passion for taking them. I'd barely touched my cameras the last few years, only taking them out occasionally.

I became aware that someone had sat down next to me, I thought it might be the escort, and I glanced at her intending to decline her offer again. It wasn't her, Sandy's voice broke into my thoughts.

"She's got everyone out looking for you," she stated.

"Well if she'd been paying a bit more attention to me earlier, I wouldn't have been able to walk away unnoticed."

She turned in her seat to look at me. "What's your problem, you should be so grateful she wants to be with you."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me, I should be grateful that the woman who ripped my heart out, hid the fact I had a daughter from me for 13 years. Now she wants me to drop everything to be with her, and when I do, she ignores me."

"But she loves you!"

"And she has a bloody funny way of showing it. She loved me then, but that didn't stop her from putting her career first. And where is she now, still back in the ballroom with her fashion friends I'd guess."

She shook her head, "She's on her way to the Gare du Nord!"

That wasn't the answer I had expected, and I gave her a surprised look; The Gare du Nord was a train station in Paris, the big question was; why the hell was Ali going there?

"Why the fuck is she on her way to the Gare du Nord?" Then it struck me, I snapped my fingers and guessed, "Did she forget to tell me she was going somewhere?"

"No, you manage to fuck up your big surprise. You were both supposed to go and meet Julia and your parents when they got off the Eurostar. She's arranged for them to join both of you for the week. They were on a late train because Julia couldn't leave until classes finished. It should have arrived by now."

I sat back and rested my head against the padded back of the bench. My first thoughts were that she'd always enjoyed trying to surprise me, a trait it seemed she hadn't lost, only this time it had come back to bite her. No wonder she'd seemed to be preoccupied with meeting everyone. She had wanted to free herself up to spring this surprise on me. I'd just seen her actions as her reverting to the focused Ali I recalled from before.

Then I shook my head to dispel those sugar-coated thoughts. I hadn't misunderstood Ali's actions; I was doing what I'd done numerous times in the past, creating a convenient excuse for her behavior. There had been no reason to keep this secret from me; hell, if she'd mentioned it this morning she would have known I wouldn't have behaved the way I had. I was fairly sure the decision to invite Julia and my parents had been last minute, a very last minute one if all the texting she did in the car was anything to go by. It was something to deflect my attention from what was going on this week, an attempt to keep me calm as she did her usual thing.

"Well I'm fucked, aren't I," I said bitterly. Sandy nodded in agreement.

"You'll have to give all of them my apologies," I told her as I struggled to get to my feet. Sandy's hand on my shoulder prevented me.

"You can do it yourself."

"No, I won't, I'm going home, and I don't mean that damned apartment," I replied as I started to get up. "She's all yours and Jamal's problem from now on, and if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the front desk to see if they can get me a car and driver to take me back to the cottage."

"I can't let you do that, Ali will kill me."

"Don't be daft, you do what you think you need to, but I don't see the point of me staying, Ali will do what Ali does best. Tell her I love her, but I'm going home."

In a way I felt sorry for Sandy; all she ever wanted was to make sure Ali had everything she needed. Now I was back in Ali's life causing problems, and worst of all I couldn't care less about her celebrity status. Both she and Jamal expected me to defer to all of Ali's wishes. I felt I needed to make her understand why I was so upset.

"If you can explain to me Sandy, why after Ali made such a fuss about needing me here tonight, she thought I would be happy that she spent a good part of it ignoring me."

I paused to take a sip from my glass before continuing. "If you can do that, then I'll go back with you, but it had better be a good fucking reason. I tried to talk to her and her friends, and she brushed me off."

Sandy shook her head, "She wouldn't do that!"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No," she said dismissively, "It must have been a misunderstanding. What about your parents and Julia? Are you going to ignore them?"

"Christ, I might be a bit more sympathetic if my stupid wife hadn't snuck around at the last moment arranging for their visit as a distraction for whatever it is that she has going on this week. And don't deny that's what she was up to in the car. As it is Alisha can explain why I'm not going to be there."