Sorry it's taken so long guys. I got a note last time I updated "I thought you were dead!" and well…I certainly felt dead. I had a busy period where I couldn't concentrate on anything but school and…well, school-related projects, but when I could finally settle down to start up my writing again…I couldn't seem to write. I tried pushing through the block, but I found the results unsatisfactory. I guess it was a temporary loss of passion, and I didn't think it was fair to either me or you, the reader for me to force myself to write poor material. However, I'm back ^_^, and ready to go. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up to you pretty soon, although…it is quite a long one, and finally, for those of you who read the original version…I can start writing NEW material! I'm so excited! ^_^. So read and enjoy.
Note: I do not own Sailor Moon
*************
Darien settled his lean frame back into his chair, almost hoping to disappear. He shifted uncomfortably, his feet aching. Andrew had insisted that there be waltzing in lieu of the royalty theme. He even had to chuckle a little when he heard of it. His friend was going miles out of his way to ensure that the night was a success.
"It's uncannily like Cinderella. Don't you think?" He had even commissioned a gigantic castle backdrop which had taken hours not to mention an absurd amount of money to make. Everything he did was a nice gesture to say the least, but Darien had to draw the line somewhere. He had just barely escaped the elaborate costumes Andrew had ordered in his overzealous frenzy. Purple capes weren't a part of his repertoire, but Andrew's efforts were commendable.
Darien scanned the crowd only to reconfirm what he already had seen. It was unmistakable—the sheer number of women in attendance and most were bold enough to demand his attention. He had just broken away from the dance floor which was really something akin to a feeding pool. Without a doubt, the women had gone insane, and their subtle glances quickly became a physical demand. Before long, he found himself the subject of a refined game of tug-of-war, but tug-of-war nonetheless. He was pulled from woman to woman, more and more wildly as the dancing progressed, but finally, fury met fury as the women clashed. Taking his chance, he had ducked away just as they diverted their attention from him.
"Insane," he muttered. He had heard of competition, but this was beyond what he could have imagined. His hand reached down to massage his calf which had been the unfortunate receptor of a stiletto heel while he made his getaway. A quiet moan escaped his lips as he pressed onto the tender wound, and another was elicited by the slender palm that made its way across his chest.
"You've removed yourself from the party Mr. Shields," came a low purr. A fragrant length of blond hair brushed his nose as the hand extended to reach his, and his eyes trailed her fingers brushing alongside the line of his thigh. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lisa Devou."
He smiled politely, a plastic smile he had long since perfected, and taking her hand, he led her to the front of him as she was standing at his back, and gently, she positioned her body against his, her breasts at a comfortable eye level.
"Your guests are anxious to meet you Mr. Shields," she said. Her voice was low and sultry, deepened with obvious effort, and her eyes carried a hungry glint as she failed to hide her obvious appreciation of his form.
"And you would be one of them?"
"I'm the most anxious of all." Her full lips curved into a smile as they leaned in to meet his with ravenous vigor.
"These women don't waste time," he thought. He kept his eyes open as he kissed her, taking notice in the angry glares and busy whispers from the crowd. It seemed as if half the room had frozen just to watch him and the woman in his lap. He chuckled quietly as he pulled away from her greedy kiss. She stumbled off as he stood, but he looked away, taking care not to study her face too closely.
"Miss Devou," he politely nodded to the woman, his movements epitomizing charm, "Your audience awaits." He turned away, and gave a brief salute to his astonished guests.
*************
The crisp autumn night sported a clear sky, almost completely void of stars. Among the building tops and smog of New York City, only one remained in visibility. Andrew sighed, leaning on the side of the grand Plaza Hotel. The wind whipped cold and brutal by his nose, and his breath escaped in mists.
It was a curious thing—the night air. It smelled clean, and Andrew laughed. There was no such thing as clean air in New York. He jammed his hands deftly into his pockets to escape the brittle temperatures similarly to the way he had had to escape the party upstairs. However indifferent he was to the night, it was a stark improvement to the ballroom that he had worked so long and hard to set up. The atmosphere was suffocating—the women like starving dogs, and it was never much fun to play the bone. He looked around, hoping that Darien had more luck than he did. In truth, he had only hoped for one arrival, the only one that counted, but Mina wasn't coming. He had known that—even when her invitation was being written out.
What ever happened the good days? When things were shiny and new, and New York City was a marvel to a young, naïve boy in love. There had been so much he'd never seen, never experienced, never felt, and he endeavored to live the dream with Mina by his side. But punch-drunk stupors never last, and now, he had seen and felt everything—seen and felt too much. Things are never as good the second time around. He wasn't happy; he hadn't been for a long time. How long had it been?
She wasn't in love anymore. He knew. Mina was passionate like no other. She had once told him that she would rather die in his arms than live anywhere else, and he didn't put it past her. She never lied about love. She wouldn't have left him if she had love for him still, any passion, any feelings at all. She said she owed herself too much to pass up a chance at love.
"I do too," he thought. She deserved to love again, and someone deserved to be loved by her, but the thought of her lying in someone else's arms, smiling and willing, professing her devotion…
"Damn it!" he cursed beneath his breath, and he felt his hands clench in jealous rage. He brought his fist to the building side in frustration, and took it back slowly with quick notice to its throbbing pain.
"Don't hurt yourself buddy. Who knows? I might need you someday." Darien looked out into the street, his hands nonchalantly hanging from his sides, and his lips splayed a sideways smile at his flustered friend. "A little angry tonight?"
Andrew shook his head, and tried not to smile as he shook a finger at the man beside him, "You're sneaky."
Darien held his hands out innocently, "I haven't done a thing."
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Not too long, if you must know, but after I got word that you left the party, did you really expect me to stay?"
Andrew ran a hand through his hair, "I was hoping you'd found someone to engage yourself with."
"Or engage myself to," Darien quipped.
"I wouldn't have minded."
"Well, it's a mad house up there." He added, "I really wish you had invited some decent women."
Andrew snorted, "So you noticed too."
"I had a near-death experience on the dance floor. I was being pulled in so many directions."
He laughed, "Well, did you actually speak with any of them?"
"Yes, and I must say, I don't believe I've ever had more stimulating conversation." He said sarcastically. "So have we failed in our endeavor, my friend?"
"Not exactly," Andrew grinned, "And who ever said there was a "we" involved? Last time I checked, you were full up against the very idea of it."
"And the last time I checked, it's a lot harder to fish without the bait. What do you mean by not exactly?" Darien raised an eyebrow, "Cryptic messages don't sit well on the stomach late at night."
Andrew smirked, enjoying his pull, "Take a guess."
"I'm not going back upstairs."
"No need Darien, not if my plans don't go askew."
"Are we talking secret weapons?"
He paused. Andrew hadn't really thought of Serena as any type of secret weapon. She and Darien would be something like oil and water, and the two never mixed. His friend had rich tastes, especially when it came to women, and rich, Serena seemed anything but. Darien was a charmer. Even as a young boy, he was always able to get out of the stickiest predicaments. If given the chance, he would charm Manhattan into his bed, and he was getting dangerously close.
"Well?" Darien grinned, his interest peaked.
"I invited a special guest I met earlier in the week at a charming bistro downtown. It was almost an apology at first, I spilled a cup of coffee all over her, but she's a very nice girl."
Intrigue danced in Darien's eyes as he laughed heartily, "A mysterious woman? You've been holding out on me Andrew. What's her name?"
"You'll be disappointed to know that I didn't invite her for you. I just wanted her to have some fun, that's all, and you wouldn't be interested. She's not your type at all." Andrew topped off his words with an exaggerated shrug, hoping he had done enough to put off his friend's curiosity.
Darien smiled disarmingly, "You forget. Not my type—is exactly my type. Don't worry about a thing Andrew. All I ever want is a little—" He stopped, his sentence cut short by the smooth arrival of a black, stretch limousine.
"Perfect," he whispered, "She's here." His legs carried him towards the door where he knew she was waiting, and Andrew tagged closely behind.
"Don't Darien," he warned.
The dark head turned, "Don't what? I'm just curious."
"Don't hurt her. I know this girl. Don't hurt her."
Darien stopped, half taken-aback by the sincerity in his voice. Andrew rarely interfered in his female affairs, and it made him all the more determined. He felt an odd passion in him, an energy that coursed through his body at the thought of this mysterious woman that was stronger than what he normally experienced, and he worked to maintain an indifferent face, a skill that had come naturally to him as of late.
"I wouldn't think of it," he answered, but Andrew furrowed his brow, gripping his shoulder before he could move any further.
"You never think of it. It just happens, so I'm telling you to stay away from her."
Darien sighed, turning to face his friend with earnest, "I feel something Andrew—something different. I really do, and all I've heard for the past few months is talk of finding "the one." Well, what if she is? I'll never know unless I meet her, and if she's not, I'll control myself. I promise; I will."
"You don't know anything about her."
"But I'm on fire already," he paused, "You go get her," he indicated with his head, "Your driver recognizes you. That's why he hasn't already gone, and you obviously care about this girl. So you go."
Andrew cocked his head confusedly. He knew Darien well enough to know how unlike him it was to relinquish any contact with a woman he was interested in, but he moved towards the door anyway, pausing to turn back. "She hasn't replaced Mina, you know."
He nodded, "How could she?"
*************
Serena fidgeted in her seat, as she smoothed the length of her skirt, peering into a side mirror to check her reflection for the umpteenth time. The girl that stared back at her wasn't the same as the one in her place that morning; she couldn't have been.
"But don't ruin a good thing," she thought nervously to herself, as if she could somehow wish away the way she looked. She sighed, trying to relax in the smooth ride of the car; she had never been in a limousine before, but she imagined it would be much more enjoyable under a more comfortable situation. She had gone over the last few days so many times in her mind that she was sitting easily in the hundreds of thousands, and yet, she still hadn't been able to come up with what she was looking for, given that, of course, she even knew what that was. An excuse? A pardon of some sort? Guilt still rang sharply at the edge of her thoughts where she had tried, with some difficulty, to push it, but there was no reason, no plausible one at least. She had come to New York for a reason, and she was successful. It wasn't like home. No one knew who she was. There was nothing wrong with enjoying herself once in a while, maybe even, meet another man, except that she would be falling into the same trap—somewhere else she didn't belong.
She shook her head, forcing her eyes from her lap to the window, and her thoughts to what she saw, which, unfortunately, wasn't much. The tint of the glass hindered the visibility so severely that she saw little other than the lights that lined the street. She heaved a shallow sigh, slightly disappointed as she noted that the lights began moving by more and more slowly. Eventually, the momentum of the vehicle was brought down to a stop, and she felt her muscles stiffen as she swallowed deeply, trying to relieve some tensions. She debated in her mind whether to ask the driver to send her back home or to exit to her left. Her pace quickened as she struggled to keep it down, breathing deeply and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Just one night," she thought, "I owe it to myself." She peered forward at the driver, still in his seat, and raised a nervous hand to the door handle, surprised as it popped open with a blunt snap before she had even reached it.
*************
Darien sauntered back, closer to the building as he watched his friend traverse the sidewalk to the limousine, and the effort to keep his demeanor nonchalant was nearly a struggle. He was suddenly aware of his heart, his pulse growing more and more rapid with each second, and he shook his head, trying to laugh off his bodily state. It had been a while since he was faced with such mystery…and yet he couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from the woman emerging from the vehicle. Andrew had her by the hand, and he saw—one delicate wrist followed by a smooth leg which introduced a woman astonishingly beautiful. Her pallor seemed to melt into her white dress, making it seem like a second skin, and she glowed—like an angel. He felt his heart beating impossibly fast, as he continued to stare, wanting to drink in her image and whet his thirst. He had met hundreds of women in his life, but none of them like her, not a single one. The very sight of her bewitched him, and he couldn't look away.
"Evening Cinderella," he heard Andrew say, and his voice brought his feet back down to the pavement. He still held both her hands, and the concerned expression that darkened her features melted away as she smiled and laughter poured from her lips so naturally that Darien knew a frown wasn't meant to grace her face. He felt a sudden pang of jealousy though, as Andrew reached forward and wrapped his arms around her slight frame.
"Let me introduce you to my friend," Andrew said, directing her gaze to Darien, "Serena, this is Darien. Darien—Serena."
She looked forward to be welcomed by the deepest blue she had ever seen. His eyes flashed as her own flickered over them, noting the shock of black hair that donned his head, and it soon became apparent that she was just as taken with him as he was with her. He took her small hand into his and brought it gently to his lips, enjoying the feel of her skin against his, and she swallowed deeply as his warmth enveloped her hand, her breath caught exquisitely in her chest.
"Good Evening," he breathed, leaning forward subtly in response to his body's desire to touch her and hold her against him, and as the couple stood, each more flustered than the other, Andrew merely stood at the side, watching them with amusement and interest. He hadn't expected Darien to receive her so warmly, nor her to him, but then, he hadn't expected her to come looking like she did. She seemed almost a new person entirely, and he had been so shocked when she emerged from the limousine that he had to collect himself to keep from asking who she was. It was only her eyes that gave her away, nothing else seemed to have remained the same, but it was a welcome change. He had seen a beauty in her before, but tonight—she was breathtaking.
"We should get Serena upstairs to the party. It wouldn't be fair for her to miss it just because we were having a dull time. The women seemed to be enjoying themselves up there."
Darien felt his body tense, at the mention of going upstairs. The crowds would rip her away from him in jealousy for sure. He couldn't risk that. His hand still clutched hers, and he gently pulled her towards him in a sign of possession. She noticed, and tilted her gaze to his face, surprised. Their eyes met with an astounding intensity, exploding in a passionate heat that astonished them both.
"I don't think that's a good idea," said Darien, collecting himself. "The women are probably furious that we left. I'm surprised they haven't hunted us down already."
"There are plenty of other men up there for them to snatch up."
Serena fought to suppress a chuckle that itched her throat. What kind of party was this? She felt Darien's hand close tighter around her own.
"I'd rather go somewhere else," he objected.
Serena nodded her assent, "I don't think it'll be fair for the both of you to return when you don't want to. I'm sure I won't miss a thing."
"Alright then," Andrew smiled jauntily, "Where to?" He knew Darien. He wanted to be alone with her; he could see it in his eyes, but he didn't want Serena to end up like the blond that had been escorted from his apartment just earlier that week. He noted that there was a marked difference in his behavior tonight than usual, but he had taken Serena and assured her that she was in good hands. He didn't want to risk another heartbreak in Darien's arms.
Darien lowered his head to Serena, "Let's go away—alone," he said, emphasizing his last word.
"And am I supposed to stand out here?" Andrew entreated Serena's sympathy, knowing he would get none from Darien.
"Well," she started, not wanting to leave her friend, but she glanced at Darien, the shadows licking at his face illuminating his handsome features so enticingly. Her words were left abandoned behind her lips.
"Go back to your party," he said, "They're probably rallying up there. One of us should go."
"Then let's go together to make it fair," Andrew took a step towards the door, "It's your party as much as—" he stopped. They were gone. "Mine."