Chapter Two

The music, the din of hundreds of conversations, the heat of the enclosed ballroom all served to remind Dorothy why she hated these functions. And that was without considering how damn uncomfortable her elegant form-fitting black beaded gown was or how her feet were already aching from the high-heeled sandals that had virtually no support. She would be hobbling for days after this charity ball. Her head hurt from what seemed like hundreds of hairpins that kept her hair swept up; her ears were weighted down with dangling diamond earrings. Dorothy had made a substantial contribution to the fund, an amount that made some people blink with surprise given that she was a public employee. But she was a public employee with a rather large inheritance and no one to share it with so she might as well give it to those in need.

In need herself, she glanced around looking for a waiter or Randolph who had gone in search of refreshment. Neither could be found, but she did see someone arrive at that moment that caused a stir and made her brows draw together.

"I thought you said she wasn't coming."

Dorothy turned to see that Randolph had come up behind her carrying two glasses of wine. Taking one from him, she didn't answer until she had taken care of her thirst. "Apparently her migraine is gone." She looked at Randolph. Wearing an impeccably tailored tuxedo, he certainly was an attractive man. A few years older than her, he had dark hair that was now slicked back, hazel eyes and chiseled features that made her think of Greek gods. The rest of him was equally chiseled, drawing the gazes of more than one woman.

"Shall we leave?" she asked him. Dorothy had a sudden urge to curl up on a sofa with him.

"Leave?" he chuckled. "Whatever for? You are all decked out, and quite nicely I might add." His warm gaze rested on her bare shoulders before sliding lower. Dorothy couldn't remember the last time he had looked at her like that. His eyes returned to hers. "However tempting your suggestion is, my dear, I have seen several of my clients and hope to get a chance to speak to them before the night is over. It will save me the trouble of setting up appointments."

Dorothy remembered why their relationship didn't seem to be going anywhere. "I'm glad you can get some work done. I think I will get an explanation from Relena, if you will excuse me."

Randolph was already headed in the direction of one of his clients before Dorothy made her way toward Relena Darlian. The Vice Foreign Minister was dressed in pink and white chiffon trimmed in silver, and her somber escort wore black. He saw her approach first, and Dorothy raised a brow as her gaze met the Prussian blue eyes of Heero Yuy.

"I talked her into attending," he explained, his voice a deep monotone. "This charity event is for a good cause."

Relena turned her head at the sound of his voice. "Oh, Dorothy, you did come! I was so sure that you would refuse that I allowed Heero to convince me to attend."

"Whatever the reason," said Dorothy, "it is good for the image of the Earth Sphere United Nation that you made an appearance, and a lot of money has been raised."

"Soon to be more," remarked Heero with a nod toward the entrance.

Dorothy turned to see several dark complected men in dark suits enter followed by a couple that was immediately set upon by photographers jostling to shoot the pictures that would appear in society pages the Earth Sphere United Nations over. Quatre Raberba Winner stood at the top of the wide staircase for a moment allowing the photographers their fill, barely flinching at the bright lights from their flashbulbs, as his beautiful, petite wife clung to his arm. Dorothy couldn't take her eyes from Quatre's face, which seemed so different and yet the same as that last day she had been with him in Barbados. Even though he stood across a crowded ballroom from her, Dorothy lost the ability to breathe for a moment as she stared at him.

"I haven't seen Quatre in years," commented Relena, snapping Dorothy out of her daze. "He looks so different."

"He has a lot of responsibility weighing him down," Heero told her. "The political situation on L4 has put a lot of pressure on his business."

"You seem very knowledgeable," commented Dorothy. She had little doubt that Heero had spent a great deal of his time lately on the colony.

Heero glanced at her but he didn't say anything.

"Let's go say hello to him," suggested Relena.

There were enough people at the ball so that Dorothy could easily avoid meeting Quatre, so she slipped away from Heero and Relena and went in search of Randolph. She found him deep in discussion with an older man, and he barely glanced at her as he continued talking about his investment portfolio. A waiter paused by them and Dorothy replaced her empty glass of wine with another.

"I see that Quatre Winner has arrived."

"Yes," remarked Randolph. "I have directed several investors to his enterprises, all sure money makers. Hassan Barak has done an excellent job controlling the day to day operations."

"I've heard speculation that Winner will close the operations on L4."

"The amount of money required to protect the Winner interest there is beginning to cut into profits."

Dorothy was getting a headache listening to them. "I need some air," she told Randolph.

Her escort was turning to acknowledge her, but his attention was captured elsewhere. "Is John Addison speaking to Hassan Barak? Perhaps I can get an introduction. I'd like to hear his comments about the problems on L4 and the possibility of closing the Winner operations there."

Dorothy watched in bemusement as Randolph walked away from her. He joined another man standing with the tall, dark older man that Dorothy recognized as Hassan Barak. As Randolph shook hands with the Arab financier, Dorothy studied him and ultimately decided there was something about the man that she did not like, having formed that opinion years ago in Barbados when he informed her of Quatre's departure form the island. A moment passed and just as she realized that she was staring, he looked in her direction and their eyes met. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Turning on her heel, she started to walk away, but she paused when the orchestra began to play, and she hadn't gotten a step away before Randolph was at her side. "I'm sorry, Dorothy," he murmured as he slipped an arm around her waist. "I guess I got a little carried away."

She forced a smile to her lips. "I understand." Dorothy wished she didn't understand that to Randolph, business would always be more important. That was what she liked about him, wasn't it? No involvement, no broken heart.

"Why don't we dance?" he suggested, and without waiting for her response, he swept her onto the dance floor.

The sticky, humid heat was almost unbearable. Quatre had tossed off his dinner jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but Dorothy was stuck wearing a long sleeved silk blouse that had been perfect at the air-conditioned restaurant she had planned to eat at. She was regretting already leaving that comfort behind to come to this open-air restaurant. The drinks were quite good, as evidenced by several tiny umbrellas lying on the table along with the bones of the barbecued ribs Quatre had finished off. Dorothy was starting to think she was in the middle of a macabre nightmare when the calypso music started.

"Why don't we dance?" suggested Quatre as couples moved onto the area cleared for that purpose.

Dorothy watched the couples swaying together for a moment to the rhythms of steel drums and maracas, but before she answered Quatre, she drained the glass of the rum fortified drink and feeling bolstered herself, she rose to her feet although her knees felt a little wobbly. Quatre was grinning as he took her hand to steady her, then pull her out to dance. Dorothy had never danced to such music before and found it difficult to match her movements to the tempo. But the combination of Quatre's patience and the effects of the rum helped her find a natural rhythm that had her dancing in such a way that she was sure would have her Dermail ancestors spinning in their graves.

At first Quatre seemed surprised by her sudden exuberance, but he quickly took advantage of her lack of inhibition to touch dance a little too close with movements that should have made her blush. When the music changed to a slower beat, Dorothy tried to return to their table, but Quatre caught her against him, and she danced with her body pressed against his.

"I've thought about you, Miss Dorothy," he murmured in her ear. "After finding into you here, I'm beginning to believe in fate."

"Why would you think about me?" she asked, her words a little slurred.

"You might not believe this, but I've only been run through by an epee only once in my life."

Dorothy looked up at his face to see that a lazy half-smile curved his lips. "Are you expecting me to apologize?"

"You did what you believed you had to," he said with a shrug.

"I did what I wanted," she corrected him.

"You're a tough woman, Dorothy Catalonia."

"I was," she murmured as she laid her head against his shoulder. She liked swaying with his body to the music in what the headmistress of her school would call an improper dance. She regretted the song coming to an end because Quatre stepped away, and putting his hand on the small of her back, he lead her back to their table. Her drink had been replaced by another, and while Quatre drank club soda, she half-emptied her glass.

"How long will you be in Barbados?" asked Quatre casually.

"I am taking a flight tomorrow," she said. "And you?"

"I have meetings arranged for most of the week."

Dorothy stared at her drink for a moment, then looked at his face. He was silently watching her. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

"I might enjoy it more if I had such pleasant company every evening. My business associates don't dance as well as you."

Dorothy couldn't stop the laughter as she imagined him dancing with dour-faced businessmen.

"Why don't you stay a few more days?" he suggested, leaning toward her.

"I can't," she lied. "I have obligations to return to. I've already wasted too much time here. Besides, my room at the hotel has been booked already. I have to leave by noon."

Quatre chuckled. "That isn't a problem, Miss Dorothy. I have a place on the beach with more than enough room for another occupant."

Dorothy stared at him incredulously. "That...that wouldn't be proper."

"Why do you care what is proper?" His blond brow arched, the tone of his voice was challenging. "If you are worried about your reputation, then rest assured that my men would never betray my confidence, or yours if I so ordered."

"I can't," she repeated although she was seriously considering his offer. Dorothy didn't want to return to her lonely home, but she couldn't imagine sharing a beachfront bungalow with Quatre Winner.

He took her hand and as he raised it to his lips, his blue eyes met hers. "You will."

The evening dragged on with the usual ennui for Quatre who wished he could have handed over the check and left to spend the evening with Jamila. He thought about her delight when he swung her around in a dance as he waited for Sadirah to finish dressing, but that delight had faded when her mother entered the room and flashed them a disapproving frown.

"You'll wrinkle your tuxedo," she had pointed out to Quatre before turning her attention to her daughter. "Jamila, you should go to your bed."

Jamila went to her mother for a goodnight kiss, but Sadirah stepped back. "You mustn't smudge my makeup."

Although she tried not to show her hurt, Quatre knew Jamila felt her mother's rejection. "You are very beautiful tonight, mama."

Jamila hadn't been lying. The crimson silk gown she wore brought out Sadirah's incredible beauty. Her dark hair was pinned up except for a few curls that strategically escaped to spill onto her bare shoulders. Around her slender neck she wore a gold filigree necklace with rubies and diamonds, and long earrings from the set dangled from her ears. As usual she would leave her throngs of admirers breathless.

Sadirah nodded regally. "Run along to bed now."

Quatre caught Jamila before she left the room and he kissed her soundly, whispering in her ear, "I'll tell you all about it later."

She was giggling as she left.

"You shouldn't spoil her," commented Sadirah as she drew on the long gloves matching her gown. "You will make it very difficult for her to adjust when it is time for her to go away to school."

Thinking about the ensuing argument he had with his wife on the way to the ball about Jamila's education made Quatre miss a step in the dance, prompting him to apologize to the wealthy matron he had felt compelled to dance with after discussing political matters with her husband. When the music came to an end, he looked around the room, noting the location of Relena Darlian who had greeted him earlier before she had been drawn away by what might be termed as work. Heero Yuy hadn't said much, and Quatre wondered if he and Relena had become an official couple until he noted that Heero was discreetly hiding an earpiece receiver. Relena probably didn't even know that Heero was not actually her date, but her bodyguard for the evening.

Finding Sadirah in the crowded ballroom wasn't too difficult. Wherever there was a gathering of fawning men, he would find his wife. Now he saw her being delivered by her latest dance partner to her father's side. As would be expected, Hassan Barak was talking business with several men Quatre recognized. He introduced his daughter to a man Quatre didn't know, a tall man, dark, not any more or less good-looking than any other man that showed an interest in her. Sadirah extended her hand to him, and Quatre imagined her looking deeply into the unsuspecting fool's eyes, making him her latest conquest. Quatre wasn't affected like other men. He knew her too well.

He hadn't enjoyed the afternoon with his wife. Sadirah's attempt to seduce him had been sadly pathetic when she so obviously did not want to be with him. Quatre didn't want to have sex with her either, but he took malicious pleasure in taking what she offered. Sadirah pretended to enjoy, and he pretended he was with another woman, and when the obligatory conjugal episode came to an end, she brought up the troubles on L4. Quatre had almost laughed aloud that her naiveté would lead her to believe that she pleased him so well that he would do as she and her father wished. Even now Quatre was watching her flirt with the stranger, almost praying she would find him attractive enough to break her marriage vow. The only way Quatre could keep Jamila was if Sadirah committed adultery. Unfortunately, her aversion to sex was probably going to make that unlikely.

After returning his dance partner to her husband, he politely excused himself and moved through the people, speaking briefly to those that hailed him. He was relieved to finally reach the door to the terrace, and equally relieved that it appeared to be deserted as the orchestra struck up a slower paced song.

Quatre went to the edge of the balcony and looked over the lights of the city as he reached into his pocket to draw out a cigar. The lighter appeared from no where, and Quatre turned his head to see Rashid waiting patiently. After breathing smoke that calmed his nerves, he remarked to Rashid, "You aren't my servant."

"I'll do whatever needs to be done, master," he told Quatre cryptically. They both knew what he spoke of.

"I'm not that desperate," remarked Quatre with a chuckle, but he allowed himself to visualize Rashid's big hands around Sadirah's neck.

"I heard your discussion on the way here."

Quatre didn't respond as he smoked his cigar in silence. Sadirah wanted to send Jamila to an exclusive primary school on Earth, had even made arrangements for her to begin within the week. Although Quatre knew that some day his daughter would probably attend a boarding school, he wasn't ready to give her up. Jamila was too young, too fragile to be left alone with strangers, many days distant from her family. Sadirah wouldn't listen to his arguments, had told Quatre that her father thought it was a good idea. Barak thought it would bring some the stability of a routine to Jamila's life, and she would be safer on Earth, far from the troubles on L4. Quatre knew he would have to fight both his wife and his father-in-law on this issue, but he would not give in to them.

Aware that Rashid had stepped discreetly away, Quatre turned to see what had caused him to disappear into the shadows. Stepping through the French doors leading to the terrace was a woman that made his heart pound. Dorothy Catalonia was here? He hadn't seen her all evening, but since there were hundreds of guests, he wasn't surprised. She was every bit as attractive as he remembered, perhaps even more so now as she appeared to have rounded out nicely in the places that mattered.

She didn't glance in his direction as she went to the edge of the terrace where she took a deep breath. Her nose wrinkled, and she turned toward him. Whatever scathing remark she had been about to make about his smoking was never uttered as she stared at him speechlessly.

Quatre drew off his slender cigar one last time before stubbing it out and dropping it in an ashtray.

"So you smoke now?" she asked with an arch to her brow.

"Nice to see you too, Miss Dorothy." He didn't move to her, and she didn't leave her place.

Dorothy turned away to look out over the city. "I needed some air."

"Are you alone?"

She didn't look at him. "No."

Quatre knew she wasn't married. He remembered reading once that she had been promoted to assistant to the public relations director of the Earth Sphere United Nation. "Are you here on business?"

"I was ordered to attend," she answered.

As she leaned against the balcony railing, Quatre let his eyes rove over her. He couldn't stop the memories of her breathless sighs, her soft moans, her surrender to pleasure she didn't want to acknowledge. The difference between her and Sadirah was like night and day, and Quatre found it painful to stand only a few feet away knowing that he could never have her.

Dorothy turned her head to look at him. He sensed she wanted to say something, but her pride was preventing her.

"Master," he heard an urgent whisper from the shadows.

Quatre glanced toward the door and saw that Sadirah was approaching, accompanied by the man he had seen her speaking with earlier. Dorothy turned toward the door, and Quatre saw her become rigid.

"Here you are," said Sadirah with a false note of delight. Quatre could see by the disappointed look on her escort's face that he had been hoping to spend time alone with her, not to lead her straight back to her husband.

Sadirah looked from Quatre to Dorothy. Although they were standing several feet apart, Sadirah looked at Dorothy as if assessing her, and finding her lacking she turned her full attention back to Quatre.

Her companion seemed to notice Dorothy for the first time since coming onto the terrace. "I didn't realize you had come out here, Dorothy."

"I told you earlier that I needed some air," she remarked dryly.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Quatre took the opportunity to get a closer look at Sadirah's latest victim. Obviously he was acquainted with Dorothy, so he waited patiently for her to get over her wounded pride from Sadirah's ill-concealed slight to make introductions.

Finally she looked at the man who was a stranger to Quatre. "Allow me to introduce Quatre Raberba Winner." She looked at Quatre, purposely avoiding his gaze. "Randolph Morrison."

Quatre extended his hand to the other man. His grasp was firm, his smile polite. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Winner. I didn't realize that Dorothy was acquainted with you."

"We briefly attended school together in the Cinq Kingdom, then met again later during the war."

"During your days as a gundam pilot." Randolph Morrison shook his head. "Hard to believe that a man of your station would become involved in those troubles."

Troubles, thought Quatre wryly as he mentally judged Morrison a nitwit not worthy of Dorothy Catalonia. "I fought for what I believed in."

Sadirah discreetly cleared her throat. He glanced at her, then turned back to the other couple, focusing his attention on Dorothy. "I present Sadirah Barak Winner, my wife." Sadirah inclined her head. "My dear, this is Dorothy Catalonia, I believe that she is an assistant to the public relations director of the Earth Sphere United Nation."

Sadirah's head snapped up, she looked closer at Dorothy, and for reasons Quatre couldn't immediately fathom, she moved closer to him. "I am pleased to meet you." Dorothy might not know his wife well enough to judge her mood, but Quatre suspected that she was far from pleased to meet Dorothy. Then he remembered that her father had accompanied him to Barbados, had on that trip, assumed more responsibility than he had previously for the Winner family. Quatre had allowed himself to be distracted by Dorothy, giving Barak the leverage he needed to inveigle himself into the decision-making processes of the Winner fortunes. He must have told Sadirah about his affair with Dorothy and she considered the other woman a threat.

As for Dorothy, she showed no emotion as she looked at his wife. She turned to look at her escort without responding to Sadirah, and Quatre had to suppress a smile. "Randolph, if you do not mind, I would like to leave."

"I'll call for a car," he offered.

Quatre raised his brows slightly. He wasn't going to accompany her? What kind of man treated a woman so callously? "That will not be necessary. I was about to leave myself. I have some early appointments tomorrow." Before he could give Sadirah a chance to protest, he said to her, "I will expect you later with your father."

Dorothy seemed at a loss for words, stuck between not wanting to be alone with him and not wanting to appear churlish before her beau.

Morrison came to the rescue, at least from Quatre's point of view. "That is a splendid idea." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Quatre. "I would like nothing better than to have lunch some day, and if you are ever in needed of an investment broker, I hope you will consider my office." He took Dorothy's arm. "I'll find your wrap."

She didn't look back at him as she left the terrace with Morrison.

Quatre remained behind with Sadirah, and for a moment she didn't say anything, and when she did, her voice was tight with anger. "I will be informing my father of this."

He raised a brow. "That I have offered a ride to an old friend?"

"Don't play innocent with me, you bastard! I know she was your whore!"

Quatre chuckled. "If I thought you gave a damn, I'd almost think you are jealous."

Sadirah raised her chin. "Do whatever you want to her, but in the end you'll still be my husband or I will make sure you never see Jamila again."

Her skirts swished around his legs as she spun and marched back into the ballroom.

Rashid stepped from the shadows shaking his head. "Master, how have you displeased Allah to be given the fires of hell on Earth?"

Quatre suspected that the fires of hell on Earth would be heating up during his limousine ride with Dorothy Catalonia.