Author's Note: This chapter was simple to write, difficult to post. I need some feedback now more than ever, so please review! I didn't have time to edit, so pardon the spelling or grammatical errors for now. :D I sincerely hope you enjoy this, but if you don't I totally understand. This chapter either ruins my story, or makes it a bit better. Which one, I'm not quite sure. That's why I need your help! Review!
"Ashley, why do we have to go to these things?" Scarlett questioned, slipping an earing into its rightful hole. Another party was awaiting her, the final party she would attend in New York City. It seemed every night she had been in this wonderful city, her nights that had once been destined for site-seeing, turned into shoving herself into a dress and being driven off to an extravagant venue. It may seem like a thrilling thought, but with so many disagreeable people in the same room, the parties dragged on into inexhaustible minutes.
"It's the last night we have in New York, try to enjoy it," His voice floated in from the next room, dodging the question Scarlett had asked. She heaved a deep sigh, and turned back to the mirror. Her dress was very stylish. It was one of red silk adorned with tiny white flowers. The length was not quite an evening gown, more of a cocktail dress, yet below the waist were still folds of fabric. A large white bow was tied about the waist, setting off her porcelain skin to perfection. Around her neck was a white ribbon, and her stilettos were snow colored, glistening each time the light glinted off of a thread. Instead of leaving her hair at its own leisure around her shoulders, it was straightened and pinned up in a high ponytail, the sheening hair reaching down to the base of her neck. She looked like a model. Scarlett giggled softly. I always think I look like a model.
If your appearance is so on point, than why are you so nervous to be at this party? Common sense sneered in her mind, always the buzz-kill in her life. Though annoying, it always was something to contemplate.
"Scarlett! Are you ready?" Her roommate asked, walking into the restroom where Scarlett was busy preening. His drowsy eyes automatically snapped to attention. Scarlett was always demanding his attention. She looked beautiful, as always, tempting his mouth to water.
"Yes, yes, let's just go." She pulled a comb through her already tidy hair, grabbed her clutch, and slipped an arm through Ashley's. His oggling eyes never seized to amuse her. She laughed, the sound like silver bells ringing in unison.
Her laughter broke through Ashley's male fantasies. He smiled with good nature. "What?"
"Nothing, darling." She teased, squeezing his forearm gently. Ashley looked somewhat attractive tonight, clad in a casual gray suit. It made Scarlett blush to think how she would have panted after him in this outfit only a short month prior. He looked perplexed for a moment, almost as if he were about to toss her some witty remark. Instead, Ashley pulled at his collar with a free hand and proceeded to walk them forward, to the final party of their stay in New York.
---------- One Hour Later ----------
Scarlett gingerly walked up the flight of stairs, gulping down breath. She was putting on the most brave facade in her inventory, but on the inside her stomach had wound itself into a huge knot. Her turmoil was with facing Rhett Butler. How awkward this was going to be! Of course he would be at the party. He had to be. She was unsure if she could stand his mocking looks or the hungry appraisals of her body for the entire night. As the past had revealed, Rhett had no difficulty in tricking her into humiliation. What kind of game would he play tonight? The uncertainty was gnawing at her confidence.
More than just an awkward situation was plaguing her.
It was the magnetic attraction she felt towards him. Rhett was so different, not just in his rugged looks, but the air around him. He was surprising her with every word. Most men bored her to tears, talking only about themselves. Rhett seemed to be thinking of her for a change. One moment he could be so coarse, the next humorous. It did not hurt that the way his eyes took her in made zings travel up Scarlett's spine. She hated the man. Hated him with the burning passion of a thousand suns, yet there was more to her attitude towards Butler. Scarlett was utterly, and undeniably curious about him. She had never encountered a human being on his level. One she wanted to strangle, dance with, laugh with, stab, and the like. The cool air of the North was the only thing keeping her sane. She blindly climbed the mountain of steps, blinking rapidly. Ashley was basically dragging her forward.
"Smile," He hissed into her ear, as they made their entrance into the crowded room. Scarlett was too sick to her stomach to plaster a grin on her face. Her eyes took in the room without interest. This room was so... different than where the last party had been. It was smaller, more intimate. No dance floor, only long rows of dinner tables. The atmosphere was cheery and smelled heavily of alcohol. This was definitely a party! Everyone was laughing and smiling, looking totally opposite their normally stern visages. The beautiful women(who were only there as arm candy for the more wealthy men) wore scandalously short attire, with painted faces and cigarettes. They were actually letting loose. Even the men held cigars and small glasses of brandy.
Scarlett grinned giddily, eager for a drink and some fun. For once, fun! A squeal of joy built in the back of her throat at the thought. With thoughts if a good martini, her stomach began to unravel. She couldn't even see Rhett. Maybe he wasn't there... yes!
"Scarlett, Ashley!" A throaty voice cut through the collective hum of voices. It was one of the representatives for the company; one she knew rather well. Lesley Lombard. She was a plain woman, slightly pretty. Her body was long and thin, face void of emotion. She had an intelligent aura clinging to her every move. The only thing distinctive about her, was her raspy voice. It was hardly one a gentle woman would posses. Maybe a drunk, fat man...
"Ms. Lombard, how nice to see you again! I adore your suit!" Scarlett exclaimed each of the words, acting as excited as she did not feel. She settled into the background as Ashley engaged her in a very literary conversation. Her face looked interested and aloof even though she was dying of boredom. It was a trained mask she used whenever out with Ashley on business.
If the conversation with Lesley was boring, than the following conversations with just about everyone in the room could have put her to sleep. The zzzzz's above her head were forming already. During most of these mind numbing back and forth's, Scarlett would keep her eyes peeled for Rhett Butler. She would hunt for his tall body among the shoulders of men. Each time she searched it was never successful. Her mind was overjoyed and annoyed at the same time, and when she went back to talking to whoever, it showed plainly on her face.
After a thirty minute chunk of customary small-talk, a woman made the announcement for dinner. Thank God! Scarlett had been forced to converse with a short man who shamelessly hit on her. He had incredibly quick hands, and when Scarlett wasn't looking he never failed to brush his fingers along her ass. You could say the chat was no better than a few cheesy pick-up lines.
Scarlett fled to an empty seat, away from the pervert, and away from Ashley. With Ashley came boring people, and during dinner she preferred to avoid them. Precious food could be her company. Both seats at her right and left were empty, and she knew everyone thought her as a loner or a bitch with no friends. It was an odd position to be in. People were casting her as the outcast. Scarlett, feeling awkward and alone, ordered a martini on the rocks, waiting impatiently for the tall glass of clear liquid to arrive. When it did, she slurped the whole thing down, delighted at the buzz it sent through her veins. It was numbing the pain of becoming an outsider. She shot her eyes around to look at Ashley, but he was busy chatting it up with a pretty little girl with silky brunette hair. He wasn't even looking for her. Another martini was ordered.
After the second beverage was downed, Scarlett sat twirling the remaining olive around the glass. She felt oddly abandoned by Ashley and the rest of the world. Her looks had always attracted some sort of attention to her in the real world. But in the literary world looks did not matter. The women hated her for being beautiful-the bitches, and the men were either too shy, or stuck in fantasies that did not exist, but all of them did not have the guts to approach her. For the millionth time that night, Scarlett heaved a sigh. The entire party was lively with laughter, but none of it included Scarlett. God, they were in their own little cliques.
"All alone?" The whisper tickled against her ear, a frame slipping into the seat at her side. Rhett Butler. Never in her life did Scarlett think she would be so glad to see him. Any stimulation would have pleased her.
"Yes, and you?" Scarlett replied, not wanting to let on how pathetically upset she had been. Rhett would laugh and think her petulant. She remained cordial, crossing one leg and smoothing out the folds in her dress.
"Not any more," His eyes flickered, an innuendo seemingly buried underneath his words. Scarlett could not find it. She tipped back her drink, guzzling the alcohol. Rhett called a waiter and ordered a brandy for himself. With him around, the table did not stay deserted for long. Women and men alike flocked to the chairs, forcing cheery conversation even when Rhett thwarted their efforts to be polite. After a few desperate attempts to please him, they began to talk amongst themselves, stealing nervous glances at the man who held their jobs. Scarlett was secretly glad when they were fended off. That meant she could talk to Rhett at her will, without interruption. Her mouth was twisted into a bemused grin as a female, who was considerably attractive, began to vie for Rhett's attention, using all of the charm she had. Luckily a plate of steaming soup was placed in front of them all, as dinner was served. Scarlett plucked the soup spoon from her napkin and greedily began sipping at the sustenance.
"Mr. Butler, how have you been tonight? Did you recently arrive?" The skeletal blond questioned, batting both fake lashes.
"Wonderfully madam, and yourself?" He responded, turning on the charm for this one. His voice to her was like velvet when it had been laced with annoyance to everyone else. Scarlett shot him a glare, halting her spoon midway to her mouth.
"Great, now that you're here." She said, in front of the whole table. Scarlett choked on the soup she was dragging down her throat. Her hand went to her mouth, desperately trying to cover for herself. This woman was ridiculously tacky! You couldn't just say things like that to a man! Did she not know the charm rules? She was probably a gold-digger anyway, out on the hunt for Rhett's money. Despite her cover-up, everyone turned to look at Scarlett, an eyebrow raised.
"Sorry," She mumbled, wiping a napkin to her lips. A trail of pink lip gloss was left on the white fabric. Rhett looked at her briefly, an extremely obvious smirk on his mouth.
"You're too kind," He responded, taking a mouthful of his brandy and rolling his eyes. The woman did not notice. Luckily, before she made any other inexorable comments, a new dish was served. It was a plate of fish and...God, what was that? It was a very expensive looking plate. A tender wad of salmon colored meat sat in the middle of her china, while a few very small black circles sat in a bed of leaves. Caviar! Yes, that's what those egg looking things were called. The fish looked so delicious in its buttery glory, however the caviar looked a bit questionable. She could not recall ever eating it before. Where did it even come from? Scarlett knew the fish had been snatched from the sea, but was caviar from the sea as well? Was it raised on a farm? Before she could contemplate such things any longer, her stomach let out a ferocious growl. Fuck Caviar. Scarlett took one look at the fish and dug in, knife and fork tearing into the meat. It tasted like heaven. The butter oozed over her tongue, pleasing her taste buds. The slippery fish plummeted into her stomach before being eagerly digested by her stomach. That poor little fish. Scarlett finished the animal off quickly. She and her stomach soon became very content, so she settled into the leisurely after-meal process of watching the others finish their food. Her hands brought the ice cold glass of alcohol to her mouth, chugging a luxurious mouthful. Hm, it seemed no fish was on their plates either. Scarlett watched all of them. The woman herded the little circles of caviar onto a cracker, tucking the food into their mouths. No look of disgust came across their faces. She turned to the men. They scooped spoonfuls of the black circles onto a spoon and chewed on them delicately. Most of them even muttered how much they enjoyed the food. Scarlett gulped, looking down at her plate. A dozen untouched black dots sat in front of her. Would she look terribly rude not to eat them? She blinked nervously. The others seemed to enjoy them...With shaky fingers, she took a salty cracker, scooping some of the caviar to the center. Her lips parted slowly, the cracker pushed inside. Scarlett crunched down on the mass in her mouth, immediately changing an unnatural shade of green. Juice filled her mouth. Her teeth crunched into the squishy orbs, a fishy, chalky taste replacing the smoothness of butter. EW! Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew! What the hell are these? Scarlett nearly gagged, groping for a napkin and pitting the half-chewed glob into it. She took large gulps of her martini, panting all the while. There was a low chuckling beside her. With a mouthful of sloshing liquid, Scarlett turned to glare.
"You didn't like the eggs?" He mocked, leaning back in his chair. His black eyes tampered with her gluttony.
She swallowed, staring at him incredulously. "Eggs?" What kind of eggs? Had he been watching her eat? Her fork went down to the remainder of leaves on her plate, poking for something to wash the taste of vomit out of her mouth. Meanwhile, the woman(who was completely oblivious of the conversation Rhett and Scarlett were having) tried to strike up another flirtatious tryst, but Rhett wasn't playing. Scarlett slowed her hunting to listen, laughing softly at some of the things Rhett said to this girl. Soon, she quit. The blond looked near tears at her failed trials to get into Rhett's bed. It was hilarious. It was even soothing the horrifying taste lingering at the back of her throat.
"You don't like her?" Scarlett taunted, her attention on the man at her side now that her food had been carried away, and they were waiting for desert. Rhett smiled, pulling out a rich cigar.
"Did you like Morton?" He questioned. Scarlett frowned and turned to face his grinning face. She had meant to talk to him about that.
"You are such a bastard," She whispered, feeling comfortable enough to curse at him. "Rhett, he talking to me about his...er... pants for an hour! An hour!" Rhett chuckle with genuine humor, eying her up. The girl was fun, no doubt. This was why he constantly searched for her company. After she left him after parties, or business functions, he starved for more. He even found himself dreaming of the emerald gazed vixen after that fateful kiss was blown to him. Scarlett O'Hara intrigued him.
She was not afraid of him, like so many other woman were. They nearly coward at his mere glance. Scarlett swore at him. Others constantly were trying to get under his covers, for example, blondie. It was growing tiresome. O'Hara was refreshing, and stunning to boot. Her radiant green eyes peering at him below stiff black lashes were arresting. They lacked a hint of hazel. He could see everything she was thinking through those two eyes. Her magnolia white skin was luminescent, begging to be touched. Rhett yearned to caress that skin; it was fragile and innocent, not roughened by the brutal hands of a lover. Her lips, fastened to a martini glass, were perfectly red. Curved and soft, so kissable. Damn the girl for being so tempting. Before losing himself in the depths of her beauty, Rhett took a long swig of brandy.
"You should feel terrible," She crossed her arms, glad to see Rhett swigging at alcohol. The hound was feeling remorse. Good! It served him right!
"But I don't,"
"You don't?" Her face drooped. He didn't? Rhett smiled in that enchanting, devilish way of his.
"No, Scarlett. Seeing you upset makes me happier than it ought to. You look so pretty when you're angry..."
"Rhett, you forget yourself," Scarlett replied peevishly, breathless at what he had just said.
"I know exactly where I am," Rhett took a long drag of his cigar, inwardly smirking at the fire blazing behind her eyes at the comment. Wherever he was, he did not want to be there. He wanted Scarlett. He shouldn't. He knew better than to become involved with an employee, and a girl like Scarlett would suck him dry. It would be wise for him to stay far away from her. Rhett had been with girls who shared her... mindset. Clever, witty, pretty, charming. The different girls always took with him. Maybe it was for the simple reason he had bedded too many women before to settle with the normal ones. The girls like Scarlett kept his mind stimulated, distracting him to madness. They changed him, they always did.
Scarlett sharply turned her face away from him, 1,000 volts of electricity pulsing through her fingers. This wasn't right. She didn't want to become wrapped up in Rhett Butler. He would treat her the same way Ashley had, like a piece of meat. She knew this in the way he smiled at her, the mischief behind his every word. Each time his eyes devoured her body(which became more and more often) her body melted, but her mind pushed him away. Scarlett reprimanded herself for feeling all of this. She was twenty two years old! Her mother had been married by nineteen! It was time for her to fall in love. No more cheap flings. She needed to feel real, wholesome love, for the first time. Not the spell other men, including Ashley, had cast upon her. Those relationships weren't love. Scarlett turned her gaze back on Rhett. He was puffing away on his cigar, looking without a care. He could never love her.
"Do you?" She cocked an eyebrow and focused her attention on the man walking up to the stage. Announcement time! Wonderful. Scarlett quickly snagged another martini, forgetting what number this was. Damn, she had had way too many. Five or Six? She only weighed one-hundred and ten pounds. Scarlett's vision and mind were a bit hazy, okay, a lot hazy. She had not been this hammered in a long, long time.
The man, who looked quite elegant in his black tuxedo, began to rattle off a list of 'thank yous' to many people in the company. Scarlett could not care less. She was eying the desert trays being carried out of the kitchen. Decadent chocolate cakes, warm from the oven, swimming in dark sauce; light cheesecakes with bright red cherries on top. Cheesecake! Scarlett leaned forward and gripped Rhett's arm tightly. "I want one of those!" She whispered, stabbing a finger at the waiters with slices of cheesecake on their silver trays.
Rhett looked confused at first, startled at her soft, but firm touch. His eyes stared into hers. She was wasted. Beyond wasted. He looked at his own array of empty brandy glasses. Oh well, he was nearly on her level of inebriation.
"You want a waiter?"
"No, no, the cake." She giggled softly at his joke. Surely if she were sober she would not think him so funny. Rhett pinched her chin playfully and his hand dropped away from her before it was swatted away. One black eyebrow went up as he bent a cool long look on her.
Scarlett waved her hand, trying to call a waiter over for more cake and alcohol, but Rhett stopped her. He allowed the cake, but not the martini. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Scarlett began to hiss.
"Don't think you're my damned father, telling me when I can and cannot drink!" She was furious. He may be her boss, but she was not his slave. He had no say in her damned life!
"Yes, smooth your feathers, dear. You've had much too much to drink,"
"And you haven't?" She hiccoughed drunkenly.
"I hold my alcohol I bit more quietly,"
"Why you unbelievable-!" She fumed, voice rising along with her temper.
"I know what I am, save your breath." Scarlett frowned at him, becoming annoyed with his coolness. Angry, she stabbed her fork into the creamy cake, taking large mouthfuls. The man at the front finished off his speech just as she polished off her desert. It was wonderful. It also put her in a considerably more agreeable mood.
A round of applause was offered to the man who had just spoken, and the men and women began to gather their purses and coats. Many of them held pleasant chatter with one another as they slipped shawls and heavy woolen jackets about their shoulders.
"What's going on?!" Scarlett whispered to Rhett,
"It's over, Scarlett, be glad." He chuckled at her glare. "Excuse me," He disappeared into the sea of silks and chiffons, out to dismiss his party and play the role of host.
Scarlett nodded at his leave, slumping over in her chair. She was in no rush to leave. Her eyes searched for Ashley lazily, spotting him in a dark corner with his hands up a brunette's skirt, lips fastened to hers. So much for Melanie, right old chap? She thought bitterly. He had most likely forgotten all about her, or was too drunk to remember. Scarlett pried her clutch open, searching for a few bills for a cab.
"Allow me to take you home," Rhett offered as soon as he returned to her side and most of the party-goers had taken an exit.
"I'm not telling you where I'm staying," She answered defiantly. Rhett grinned.
"Are you forgetting who is paying the pretty penny for all of my employees to stay in the finest hotel in New York?" He replied with a smug look. "I'm staying there myself."
Scarlett blew out the air in her cheeks and nodded. All escapes were blocked now. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to take a free ride home. He offered an arm, which Scarlett unsteadily took.
Rhett had a deep black car parked in a lot not too far away from the restaurant. He did everything a gentleman should; open and close the door, make a sarcastic bow, flash a row of even white teeth.
They began to drive along the road back to the hotel. Scarlett offered no conversation, save a few drunken babbles. Rhett laughed at her blunders, keeping a steady eye on the heavy New York City traffic. He hardly swerved, even in a drunken state.
It took nearly an entire hour, but they finally arrived at the Historic, French named hotel. It was monumental in size, with long white pillars, large windows, green ivy climbing up the walls, and crisp white paint over each of the walls. On the inside of the hotel was the decor of Kings. Everything was of the highest cost, and coated in some expensive sheen. It was exquisite, and something Scarlett had never experienced before. For a brief moment, she could look at the lavish hotel and imagine it was mid-summer in Georgia and the afternoon skies were blue and she lay in the thick clover of Tara's lawn, looking up at the billowing cloud castles, the fragrance of white blossoms in her nose and the pleasant humming of bees in her ears. When she snapped back from the scene, she was standing in the middle of New York, the smell of rotten garbage in her nose, and the sound of honking taxis in her ears.
"Which one's your room?" Rhett questioned one they were in the elevator, holding her arms to keep her steady. She looked ready to topple over.
"458." She mumbled, leaning into his shoulder. It was so hard to stand, and why was it so warm? Her hair was slipping from its ponytail, framing her pale facade. Rhett looked at her with something near tenderness in his eyes. He pushed a loose strand behind her ear, the touch of his fingers sending a rush down her spine. Scarlett remained completely still, unknowing of how to react in this situation. Had Rhett really just touched her in such an affectionate way? It was hard to believe. Her blank green eyes stared up at his, at the closest distance to him since they had met. Their lips were separated by a mere inch of air. Scarlett dragged in a long inhale of breath and fluttered her lashes. Rhett's head began to move, only the slightest inch, before the door of the elevator popped open with a loud noise. Here they were, on level four.
"This is my floor," She said, the electric air between her and Rhett electrifying her. His lips looked seriously prepared to kiss her. Along with the thrill and adrenaline, came a bolt of revulsion. Her hands shoved against his shoulder, head acutely turning away from him. If Rhett had only known how prepared she was to kissing him herself... oh God, how he would have laughed! No, she wasn't going to do this. Not with Rhett. He was a heartless bastard who deserved none of her time. Scarlett rushed from the elevator, taking in large gulps of air, and staggering down the hallway with wobbling legs, high-heels hindering her steps. He followed her, heavy tread echoing in the hallway. He walked with the light stride of a savage and his head was carried like a pagan prince. There was a carefully restrained ferocity in his dark face, a ruthlessness which would have made her writhe had she the wits to see it. Rhett's sudden laughter assaulted her ears. Assuming he was laughing at her, Scarlett turned to sneer at him, fishing out a room key and pushing into the sanctuary that was hers' and Ashley's. Luckily, Ashley wasn't there.
Rhett leaned in the doorway, blocking her efforts to close the door in his face.
"Move!" Scarlett hissed, thinking she needed a cold bath. It was severely hot in this hotel...
"No, you're drunk." He accused, knowing he was on the same level. Scarlett wasn't listening. She had her heels kicked off, and had slunk into the depths of the messy room, full of luggage and rumpled clothes. Did she have a fever or something? Was it the alcohol? She pressed her palms to a window, enjoying the cool condensation on her burning skin. Her hands wrestled the window open, grinning at the cool rush of air blasting her face. It felt so nice to be cool once again. Scarlett looked at the pool below her. The small specks of people, the kidney shaped pool with its smooth waters, undisturbed by the wind. The night was completely still.
"I'm going swimming." Scarlett stated with conviction. That's what she needed. The cool aqua rushing over her feverish skin. God, that would be great.
"It's midnight," Somehow, Rhett had found his way into the room, through the swamp of clothing.
"I don't care, I'm not tired." By now she was on her knees, sifting through her suitcase for a swimsuit. She had not planned to swim at all, but Scarlett always kept a spare bikini with her, no matter where she went. Even in Antarctica, Scarlett O'Hara could find a use for a bikini.
"All right." Rhett replied after a pause, seeming somewhat distracted. Scarlett slipped into the restroom, slithering from her dress. She looked at her naked body in the mirror, totally satisfied with the image. Thank God she had spent those two weeks on the treadmill before coming to New York.The bikini she had was bright green, covering the minimal amount of skin possible. Scarlett took in a deep breath, staring at her radiant reflection. She was really beyond perfect sometimes.
When she slipped from the room with a towel in hand, Scarlett was a tad disappointed Rhett had left her. He must be staying on the side of caution. Oh well, a swim alone was fine with her.
Her bare feet upon the dry cement of the pool area was the only sound in the air. Everything was still. Surely, nobody was swimming at midnight. The water was silky, nearly purple in color. It was beckoning her to jump inside, take a relaxing swim to romp in the waters. The pool had a great argument against her mind telling her not to swim. Scarlett giggled and tossed her towel haphazardly onto a chair, sprinting into a run for the pool. Nobody needing a conscience at twelve o'clock at night. Her legs devoured the ground, tucked themselves into a ball, and crashed into the still liquid, breaking its perfection. The first and most immediate thing Scarlett felt was the cold. New York was a naturally frigid environment in the fall, and the pool did not have its heat on. Damn, it was really freezing. It was sobering and very, very frightening. Her lungs clamped into a fist, allowing no air inside. The temperature of her body plunged, replacing her feverish energy with bone tired weariness. She began to thrash and struggle for the surface, panting for air. The world was crushing in on her, like she was a simple sheet of paper. Her legs churned the serene water to bubbles. All of her efforts seemed to be in vain. Nothing was working! Scarlett, in one final, desperate, effort, forced her eyes open. A large, cement mass was the only thing in sight, aside from more water. The pool wall was only a few feet away! Her hands reached forward, pulling her head away from the chilling waters' surface. Thank God! She heaved in massive amounts of air, appreciating having her life spared. That had been incredibly frightening. Her body shuttered and convulsed, gaining back some form of heat. Scarlett waded through the violet waters, shakily pulling herself out of the pool. She jogged through the freezing air, eyes dead set on her towel. Once reached, its warm fibers encompassed her body, soaking the icy liquid from her skin and restoring some sense of normality to her nervous system. Scarlett plopped down into a vacant chair, drying her legs with the towel. It was peaceful and eerie in the night. A siren, along with the sound of a creaking door, grabbed her attention. The siren was rushing to a fire, but the door was only yards away from her. Scarlett looked up from her towel, seeing who could possibly be swimming at this hour as well as herself. Maybe it was a lifeguard coming to reprimand her... midnight was not exactly open swim.
Nope, none of the above.
Rhett Butler. He was dressed in nothing but standard male swimming trunks in a dull shade of white. The rest of his body was exposed. His flawless, tan skin; muscular, toned, body; extreme height; hair that slightly hung over his black eyes. Sexy, much? Scarlett was speechless.
"You couldn't wait?" He asked in a cocky, suave, arrogant-ass tone, one that Scarlett would have frowned upon, had she not been drooling.
"For you, no." It was the best she could come up with.
"Come on," He said, eying the water without apprehension. Rhett didn't come down here to sit around and argue.
"I'm done." Scarlett said cautiously. She was not about to face that pool again, no way. Rhett only chuckled and took her wrist, leading her past the edges of the water, to the diving board.
"Let me go!" She cried indignantly, walking behind him. "I don't need to be fricking dragged."
Rhett grinned, stepping onto one of the blue boards, helping her step onto it alongside him. The plank swayed under their weight, but held them suspended over the water. It showed no evidence of holding Scarlett moments before.
"Go ahead, Miss. Independent." Rhett smiled, stepping to the side for her to take the first plunge. Her heart was flipping in its rib-clad cavity. There was no way she could jump in there and drown.
"No," She spat, turning to leave.
"Yes," He smirked, glad to see her fear. Strong characters in fear were always amusing. Scarlett glared at his smirk, her loosened hair falling free from its ties. It billowed out around her shoulders in long black cascades. She saw Rhett swallow, his eyes trailing to places a boss should never look. What would a clever girl do in this situation? Scarlett put on her most demure expression, pouting her lips.
"I'm afraid, Rhett." She cooed, taking a side-step towards him. Her hands grasped the firm skin of his forearm, heart stuttering at all of the muscles. Scarlett peered over the board at the glass-like water staring back at her. It was rather menacing. "Why don't you go first?" Rhett's face changed from male fascination to blankness. Scarlett smirked deviantly and pressed both hands against his shoulders, shoving him backwards, plummeting into the water. She didn't watch as his body cracked through the liquid. Unlike herself, he surfaced in a short amount of time, treading water like a professional swimmer. Scarlett placed her hand on both slender hips, grinning victoriously.
"Get in the water." Rhett growled, slowly moving through the water, edging towards the diving board.
"No," Scarlett stared down at him, one slick brow raised.
In one swift movement he flashed a toothy grin, reached out, took her ankle, and yanked her clean down with him into the pool of glimmering water. A shrill scream escaped Scarlett in the split second before she was completely submerged in the liquid. Scarlett began the tiresome routine of thrashing and flailing, her own terror holding her arms and legs leaden. The bubbling water was so deep and cold, and she was going down, so far down. Her feet shoved against the floor of the pool, desperately happy to see a ground underneath her. With the momentum, her head broke the surface, refreshing air sinking back into her. Scarlett took the gratifying air in, sending hateful messages through to Rhett. She hoped he could just read her mind right now. His black eyes danced as though amused by the whole affair. The dangers of drowning in the night which had driven Scarlett into panic had infected him like an intoxicant. She swayed towards him, her face white, her green eyes burning. Though she had only been in the dangers of being swallowed up by the chill waters for a few seconds, it felt as though it had been an eternity.
"I loathe you," She snarled, hair sopping with water.
"We're in five feet of water. I assumed you could swim, though if not I could have saved you." He smiled in a way that made her long to shove him under the water to drown.
"I don't want you to save me! I want you out of my life," Her words may have been convincing, though her eyes were not. Whatever the reason might be, she found his company most exciting. Scarlett enjoyed tormenting him with plump lips and batted eyelashes. A thought came into her mind. "I want to go and see Ashley," With pseudo enthusiasm, she thought of her once drowsy eyes hero. Thinking of him always brought a softness to her face. Scarlett had seen the way Rhett looked at her, and she also knew he was convinced she was infatuated with Ashley. If she played her cards right she could drive him mad.
"Fine, go." He said in a voice that was thick of unshared feeling. The entire evening he had put a curb on his hands, fighting to keep them off of her slim body. He could not allow her to put jealousy into him. Rhett never thought of Ashley when with Scarlett. Her heart belonged to him, a man that was not himself. Rhett didn't know what he was thinking, coming down here with O'Hara.
Scarlett was delighted to see his demeanor change. "Yes, he promised me something special." It was her filthy, drunken mind that concocted the lie. Her mind thought of something 'special' Ashley would plan. A romantic night with Ashley seemed so repulsive to her now. His long body naked upon a bed, his timid complacence... disgusting. She did not know that her face had changed, that image had brought a softness to her face which Rhett misinterpreted as longing for Ashley. He looked at the slanting green eyes, wide and misty, and the tender curve of her lips and for a moment his breath stopped. Then his mouth went violently down at one corner and he swore with passionate impatience.
"You fool," His voice was rough and swift, showing the first sign of emotion Scarlett had ever seen from him. Before she could withdraw her mind from its far off pictures, his arms were a round her, as sure and hard as a tree. She felt a rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp. And the quiet face of Ashley Wilkes was blurred and drown out to nothing. He bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with the swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy, swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she knew she was kissing him back. Her lips mashed into his, not minding to be gentle. Together they stood in the water, the only sound being the swishing water. Rhett began to move, very slowly, keeping their lips intermingled. His hands found their way to the edge of the pool, hoisting their intertwined out of the liquid together. Neither of them missed a beat. Before she knew it, Rhett had her tightly pressed to his chest, carrying her down to the elevator. He really was not wasting time. He did not ask her if she was 'sure' about anything. It didn't matter if they were sure about this. They needed each other for the burning, brash moment.
Rhett's hasty fingers punched in the floor numbers before tangling themselves into Scarlett's raven hair. Scarlett was pressed against the mahogany wall, panting with want. His tongue slid into her mouth, questing for her own. Scarlett easily granted him. His fingers found their way to her slippery thighs, crawling up the white skin, into the bottom layer of her bikini. From there they had no trouble slipping inside of her. Scarlett's breath caught. He really was wasting no time. Her rapid kissing speed increased nervously, afraid of how far he really was going to take her. She could feel his pattern of breathing falter momentarily as the door opened. They moved down the hall, shuffling their feet, pausing only to press the other against the wall for a kiss.
Scarlett was surprised when Rhett did not allow her to go back to her room. He lead her into his. If they were not in a steamy ordeal, she would have stopped to marvel at its splendor. However, the only thing she would be seeing was the bedroom.
Rhett had her on top of his silky bed sheets in a matter of moments. Scarlett had lost all of her apprehension somewhere between the hallway and bed. She pulled Rhett to her and he answered with a soft sound that escaped his lips. Then he shifted to the side and traced the lines of her hips, pulling the bottoms down with him. Scarlett closed her eyes for a millisecond as his own pants slipped away. His hard body moved atop hers, and she feels she shall burst for sheer need of him.
"Rhett!" She gasped as he entered her, a wave of emotion crashing in on her mind, driving her wild. Amid such a reckless moment, the bastard actually smirked, or at least Scarlett thought he did. Her eyes snapped closed, hands gripping the sheets for support. It was all so unreal, like a drug trip. For the few minutes it lasted, Scarlett came near shouting twice. And when it was over, Scarlett regretted nothing; at least at first.
She sank back into the soft pillows, covered in perspiration, and turned to look at Rhett. It was then Scarlett realized she had made an irreparable mistake.
END PART ONE CHAPTER TEN.
Okay, it's done. There's another part to chapter ten that helps complete this little cliff-hanger. I had NO time to re-read and edit this chapter so there may be tons of spelling errors, but those will be fixed in a matter of days. As soon as I get the time, I will revise.
Thank you for reading this chapter, no matter what you thought of it. Trust me, it's not the climax of the story. Ohhhhh, no, that has not come yet, don't worry. :D