Hey guys,

sorry it's taken me a while to get back to this.

Enjoy, and please review :)

Chapter Six

Melting the Promise

"Wh-what?" she sputtered disbelievingly, having to constantly remind herself to grip the dark sheets engulfing the nakedness of her body. His large frame didn't waver. Its stillness was more unnerving than anything.

"Marry me," he repeated quietly, brown gaze locked on hers.

"I hope you're joking." A soft string of threatened laughter left her lips as she shifted on the inviting mattress, diverting his piercing stare and desperately trying to set her thoughts clearly. If he as much as stepped closer, she would be very tempted to take him up on his way-too-early-in-the-morning joke, especially now that she felt a sudden panging headache tickle the frizzles of her nerves.

Luis uncrossed his ankles and made his way to the bed, settling beside her... as if reading her thoughts and acting through her fears. His hand ran along the top of the sheet, brushing against her skin, fingers slightly dipping between her breasts. He leaned closer towards her; their lips touched. She closed her eyes and moaned softly when he rubbed his lips against hers for a moment, then traced open-mouthed kisses along her throat.

"Don't you want to marry me, Sheridan?" he asked tauntingly, his hand gently easing the sheet away from her body.

"I… I don't even know why we're having this conversation," she uttered breathlessly, following the movement of his body until she was lying flat on her back against the mattress.

"Because we're going to get married in a week."

When his mouth had sought hers in a deep, arousing kiss she'd found no point in arguing. They would later discuss the colossal decision that would topple both of their worlds apart. Oddly enough, she seemed to perfectly fit into his world, sliding in like an oiled coin in an empty slot, like he had planned her presence. He had brought up the sudden arrangement, yet it hadn't seemed nearly as impulsive on his side as it did on hers. She had watched her life—good and bad—tumble slowly around her and had looked forward to building it once again with him. Naïve as she'd been, she hadn't counted on her new life to barricade her with the fallen angels Luis imagined.

Her social life had risen beautifully when society's most influential patriarchs finally met Luis Lopez, mysterious only—and sudden—son of the late Don Fernando Lopez, owner of the largest importing company of Spanish tobacco. What he owned was belittled before the man who stood for the wealth. Young, but surpassingly smart he'd gained their admiration as well as their distrust. Such a clever, charismatic, rich man wasn't to be trusted. Alistair Crane was envied for his newly acquired ally. No one would want Luis Lopez as an enemy.

It had nagged at her mind relentlessly that Don Fernando Lopez was said to having died childless. Luis claimed to have family, but then again he never mentioned siblings—nor did he mention a father or a mother. All he spoke about was a general idea of family. Dragging in a confused breath, Sheridan pushed the door to the guest bedroom open. The room was sunny and insensibly big. Pale blue sheets sat in a rumpled mound in the middle of the bed where Luis spent most of his nights, and a single forgotten personal touch rested on the wooden nightstand. Cautiously, she crossed the room and touched it with the illusion of being watched nailed firmly in the back of her mind. The silver necklace had a most peculiar glow in the abundant sunlight, its rounded pendant shining. She'd seen it around his neck often but had never gotten the chance to inspect it closely.

Picking it up, she smoothed the pad of her thumb over the polished metal and frowned slightly at the strangest pendant she had ever come across. It was relatively small and resembled half the outline of a circle that was a few millimeters thick and hollow from the inside in such a way that would allow another piece to fit into it. Turning it over, Sheridan was surprised to find words engraved within the fine silver.

never die. LLF

Her brow furrowed with lack of understanding. It didn't make sense.

"What would never die?" she whispered softly, to no one in particular, her frustration growing at yet another mystery in his world of embraced authenticities and illusions. It was exhaustion in its mere simplicity and destructive missiles to decipher the many dark shadows lurking in Luis's past and present. Sheridan Crane prided herself for being a strong woman with an effervescent capability to cope and hinder even with a neck breaking blow to the head. But at a certain point when everything cried out to her with the bleakness of the life she embraced, she couldn't possibly imagine herself weathering yet another obstacle to a murky aim. It wasn't worth it.

LLF

Luis Lopez F? It couldn't be. The letters had to stand for something else. There was no "F" in his name that she knew of. Then again, he was an expert in the field of avoiding the truth, better known to the human race as lying. Luis was a proclaimed liar who found it suiting to claim the woman he bedded a close relative. Either that, or he was a sick bastard who fucked his cousin. She found the latter to be too repulsive to consider and safely stuck to the assumption that he was indeed a black belt karate-master in the masterful art of 'avoiding the truth'.

Ding dong!

She jumped at the sudden sound, splendid and tingling as it was. The rapid beating of her heart only relaxed when she replaced the necklace on the nightstand and stepped back, surveying the area and noting that it looked exactly as it had when she'd first come in. Only slightly calmer, she walked quickly towards the door and slowly opened it, not wanting to alert her visitor of how jumpy she truly felt.

"Mrs. Lopez, thank God! I thought I was so late that no one was at home." Martha's plump face lit up with an aging smile as she walked into the mansion. Her purse was of genuine leather, so old that it had a particular smell which she carried around like an ornament to such a prized possession. The strap was loose, its black leather casing eaten away with age.

"No, Martha, I haven't gone out yet. I was just about leave, but I got caught up with something," Sheridan explained quickly, taking the white coat from the rack and grabbing the purse left beside it.

"Cook arrives at one o'clock. Is Mr. Lopez arriving early? Should I call and tell him to come sooner?"

"No, one is fine. Luis shouldn't be home before three."

She nodded obediently.

"Goodbye, Martha."

"Sheridan!" Matthew Laurence exclaimed, genuinely and pleasantly surprised as he gently caught her arm and brushed a kiss to her cool cheek. "What brings you by C.I.?"

She took her time releasing her irritated breath and sliding the bulky coat off her shoulders. He relieved her of it quickly, hanging it beside his on the coat hanger in the corner of his office. The action seemed to please him; the sheer intimacy of ridding her of an article of clothing was like a foretold familiarity he relished. His lean, soft hand lingered over the fur coat as he inhaled its scent—hers.

She tried not to clear her throat and agonize him with a death look at the ridicule he was performing before her. "I would like to see my father."

"Of course, I'm sure he'd love to see you. He's engaged at the moment, but that will be over in a few minutes. Would you like to have a seat?" He waved his hand in the direction of the severely ugly leather brown armchairs in front of his desk while he stood behind it, blue eyes sparkling her way. His admiration was intolerable and struck her as childish and obsessive.

She nodded in displeased agreement and quietly rested in one of the identically worn chairs. Methodically, he sat in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. He was wearing a white button-up shirt that he didn't fill up quite as well or as much as Luis did. It hadn't caught on the bicep of his arm when he'd lifted her coat, and it wasn't hanging on the defined muscles of his chest.

When he cleared his throat, she managed to force Luis-oriented thoughts away from her mind even though her visit was Luis-oriented. His dull, dark blue tie was boring, too, she noted with dismay.

"Did Alistair call for you?" He questioned curiously, following her every movement like a scientist fussing over his creation.

"No, I don't need a reason to visit my father, Matthew. Why are you acting like a detective on a mission?" Sheridan snapped angrily, trying not to look as apologetic as she felt. The bastard just had a way of looking so innocent.

"I'm sorry." With a humble smile, he lifted his arms up into the air. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"It's alright. I'm just a bit on the edge." And entirely not in the mood to deal with you, she added mentally.

"You look beautiful."

Biting her lip, she ran her left hand over her face, flashing the wedding ring his way purposefully. It wasn't a challenging task for the heavy rock to reflect the light and for some of those rays to shine annoyingly in his eyes. "Matthew…"

He swallowed her subtle signal physically. "What? I'm just saying the truth."

She nodded tiredly, deciding to ignore him, just as a young gentleman emerged from the door adjoining Matthew's office with her father's. He bowed his head courteously their way and resumed his quick step out of the office without a hitch. The way businessmen walked irritated her. They had purposefully long strides that were quicker than they appeared that they could manage and so untouchable. It was one of those simple things she'd so admired about her husband. He was a businessman who didn't walk like businessmen. He just strolled or breezed in a smooth way that could creep up on you if you weren't looking and totally attract you if you were.

Sheridan knocked softly on the connecting door before she walked into Alistair's office and closed the door. The air was laden with the smell of cigars and coffee and damp wood. It was potent enough to dizzy her for a few moments.

"Sheridan, what a pleasant surprise!" The obnoxious voice that had terrified her as a child now did little to feather her emotions. Solely as a child had he found it necessary to frighten her. As she'd grown, he'd become closer to her and had tried to show her how much he truly cared about his only daughter. She couldn't deem his attempts completely failed or absolutely lucrative. Love didn't exist in the manual she held for her father. Alistair was just Father; not loving father, not adored father. Her sentiments concerning him bordered on affection, earthly affection, the warmest kind to be born within the walls of aristocracy. It was almost the same way she felt about her mother, but Katherine was too… vivid to not deserve an ounce of admiration that was dampened by the distractedness she had fallen hostage to.

A halfhearted smile held her lips as she went around his desk and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Hello, Father."

"I didn't know you were coming by." A tiny muscle running along the line of his moustache twitched relentlessly like a life pulse, proving an existence. It was a sign of anxiety.

She frowned, restlessly leaning against his desk and staring at him. "I thought it would be alright."

"It was… I mean it is!" Alistair cleared his throat and tugged slightly at the dark gray tie around his neck.

Elegant, she smiled, and matching the color of his hair. Looking down, she played with her nails and pondered silently whether to divert the subject and then lead him to it eventually. "What was my husband doing at the mansion the other day?" Cutting the chase appealed to her much more.

He laughed; the twitch increased relatively, but he appeared collected and nonchalant. Popping open his cigar box, he retrieved one, circumcised its end with an absurd tool resembling a medieval head-chopper and caught it between his teeth. "Sheridan, dear, business is for men. Go buy a new coat or a pair of shoes or whatever it is you spend your days doing."

Visibly fuming but proficiently hiding it, she slid into one of the chairs surrounding his vast desk and gripped the edge of the dark wood. "This is important, Father. I need to know." There was a pleading sense to her tone that she despised but had no control over.

"Don't worry yourself, dear. It's just business." He shrugged, smiling slightly, but he was uneasy. She could tell.

Whatever it was Luis wanted from him wasn't settling right in Alistair Crane's mind. She braced her elbows on her knees, leaned forward and dropped her head between her hands. "Is it risky?" Her muffled voice sounded as if she were strangling. Secretly, she hoped she was, so that she could escape all the inevitable suffering she divined.

"Business is usually risky."

"How risky, Father?" Blue eyes captured his gray ones in palpable concern and mild fear.

He leaned back against his chair and lit his cigar, inhaling deeply before he set it on a needlessly bulky crystal ashtray before him. "Very," he admitted.

Her blonde head bobbed up and down in an unconscious nod, but her insides screamed with the feeling they regarded. He would name her ridiculous if she spoke of her fears, and she didn't need that. Not from him, not from Luis… not from anyone.

"Is that all, Sheridan?" His Rolex gleamed as he stared at it for a reflecting moment.

"Yes." She stood up, smoothing the beige velvety skirt that had climbed a couple of inches up her legs. "Say hello to Mother."

"Of course."

At the door, Sheridan paused and turned back towards him slightly. She parted her lips, took a deep breath then shook her head and walked directly into Matthew's office before she could change her mind again.

The door clicked shut.

Matthew stood to greet her back into his office, seeming more delighted now than he was before. "Will you stay for a while? I can have them bring you some coffee…"

"No, thank you. I'd rather just go home."

He followed her to the entrance and caught her wrist before she could step out. "Sheridan…"

"What?" Wide with surprise and trivial disbelief, her eyes pinned him with an even glower. They both knew he was fighting a losing battle. She didn't know why she had him so defeated. He wasn't an enemy, and she could use him as an ally. Pushing back the sudden thoughts, she blew out an impatient breath. Despite the fact that Luis would deserve it if she cheated on him, she couldn't possibly find it in her to do that to him. Besides, he would probably kill Matthew which wasn't something she wanted. Not at the moment, anyway.

"Can we have dinner tomorrow?"

Slapping him would have been wonderful, but she decided against it. Scenes weren't in her best interest. "No."

"Why?"

"I can't," she lied and tugged her hand away.

"After tomorrow?"

"No!"

"How about Friday?" Grasping at needles in piles and piles of straw. His eyes were pleading… pathetic and so completely devoted to her.

"No." Her voice was softer, her tone kinder. Smiling lightly, she placed a hand over one cheek and leaned towards him, pressing an innocent kiss to his other one. "Not any other day either."

"I know. I just thought I'd take a shot." He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and stepped backwards, watching as she shook her head in disapproval before she disappeared from his office. Less than a year ago, he hadn't been able to stay away from the fiery Miss Crane—even after several rejections—his hope had stood out and paid off the many times she had come seeking acceptance in his arms. And now, he couldn't foresee ever letting go of the elegant Mrs. Lopez, even if it took her years to realize that she couldn't possibly continue a life without his presence.

It was after eight when she finally returned to the mansion after an exhausting visit to Harmony's Children's Cancer Center. She felt emotionally drained and so wholly useless that she had the urge to call the world and tell everyone how pathetic her problems were in comparison to others. While she fought her husband to oblivion, digging into the shallow yet endless pit of his life, tiny children were battling for their lives. She felt… petty. And rightfully so. The children were fighters for their lives, but their defeat was almost inevitable if there wasn't any miraculous intervention. Her fight was for… for her life, too, just in a different sense. If she lost her battle, she would rather die than live a miserable life alongside a man who often couldn't bear looking at her. It was simple when she thought of it. Luis was her cancer, in a more creative and tormenting way… only less physically painful.

It had started raining again, thankfully after she'd left the center. Winter nights in Harmony could only be described as rainy. Sometimes there wasn't a storm, but there would be rain. The farmer she'd met on one of her charity trips had told her it was a blessing… that love grew in the rain like plants, that the rain washed away all rotten things, that it might kill something but it gave life to so many others… he made it sound as though some things just die to make way for others. It was ridiculous, but he was such a darling old man with too many children to count and more grandchildren than he knew of.

Shivering, she entered the mansion to be met with its customary absolute darkness. Rich laughter spilled faintly from the living room down the hall—Luis's laughter. She closed the door as quietly as possible and stealthily crept along the hallway, breathing quietly and straining her ears to drop a few notches on the scale of pride and eavesdrop on her husband's conversations.

"Perfect, Richmond. Just perfect... Of course, the shipment will be held in as a priority next week… By next month, then… I'll be waiting… No problem…"

Between the pounding of the rain and the constant hum of the television, she could barely hear a thing even with her ear pressed firmly against the door. It was darker in the corridor and colder, desolate enough for her childish fears of darkness to return to haunt her at such an unlikely time.

"It's been a real pleasure dealing with you…"

His footsteps were suddenly clearer, his voice louder. Closing her eyes, she held her breath.

"We'll meet tomorrow for lunch to finalize the contract…"

In a sudden swift movement, the door swung open. She tumbled forward, gasping audibly and falling against his chest in the mingled sense of a startled person and a frightened one. Luis caught her around the waist and gently helped her to gain the balance she'd lost. It would have almost been comical had she not been so scared and he so intensely keen.

"Two is great…"

Releasing her, he took a step away and studied her unwaveringly. She felt like a high-school student caught red-handed in a formidable sin, awaiting the punishment. But it was fear that gripped her like an iron suit, making her feel heavy from head to toe as if she would waver and drop unconscious at any moment. Her heart beat rapidly, like a tribal melody flicking her eardrum.

"Alright… I'll see you tomorrow." Looking away from her, he turned off his cell phone and tossed it onto the couch.

She tried to focus on the news running meaninglessly on the television behind him, averting his piercing stare. The picture looked pale, the woman tired, the sound inaudible, and the surrounding too fuzzy.

"If you wanted to listen, you could have just walked in," he said softly, his brown eyes darker as they searched her face. Tiny replicates of the chandelier above played in his eyes.

"I was…"

"Paid Matthew a visit this morning?" Luis asked calmly, loosening the top buttons of his white shirt. His tanned complexion basked in the faint light, flaunting its beauty.

For a few moments, she chose to stop breathing and gaped at him. "Wh-what?" He couldn't have…

Sighing, he turned around and walked over to the television, switched it off and swiveled back to face her. "What were you doing at Crane Industries this morning?"

She blinked. "Visiting my father."

"Catching a few tender moments with Matthew," he corrected, running a quick hand through his ebony black hair. His tone was astonishingly calm, tender even. "Does visiting your father include intimate conversations with Laurence at the door to his office?"

Her face flushed, eyes grew dim, flashing fire at him. "Are you spying on me?"

A small smile curved his lips, and he stepped towards her. "No, I'm looking out for you." He paused and undid the buttons holding the pressed sleeves around his wrists. "I'm not doing it personally."

Indignant tears filled her eyes; she turned away, unwilling to divulge her vulnerability before him—again. Her legs wobbled vaguely as she crossed the distance separating her from the window. When she reached her destination, her hands fell against the cold pane, squeezing it insistently. "How dare you," she hissed harshly, making a fist and pressing it against the window with all of her might. The rain was beautiful, and it reminded her of Luis because he loved it, one of the very few things he related to sentimentality. She could feel the night transforming into a delicate replicate of the one before and that before it, and before and before… The estate glistened in its own lights, adopting the pure water heaven found it necessary to release.

His hand closed over hers gently, his bicep brushing against her arm as it reached past her. She hadn't realized he was so close, and the notion was inconveniently sexy. A shiver ran down her spine as he lowered her hand and left it hanging at her side. Coming around her from behind, his arm held her back against his chest in a loose headlock. He breathed against her cheek, a warm chilling breath. The strength of his muscled arm pressed over her chest should have been threatening, but she knew he wasn't going to hurt he

"Are you angry?"

The image of the window faded into darkness and mysterious light blobs when her eyes fluttered shut at their own volition. She knew he could tell how shaky her breathing was, how uneven her breaths. "Yes." How unsteady her voice.

"You smell divine." Craning its elbow around her waist, his other arm wrapped firmly around her abdomen. His cheek brushed against her temple.

So do you, she mused inwardly, covering his arm with both hers over her flat stomach. The perfume he wore to perfection crept awkwardly, like a sweet poison into her nostrils, filling her until she could taste its pungent tang in her mouth. He rarely used it, so it struck her as awkward that he did that day, but the idea was stolen away when he abruptly turned her around and crushed his lips to hers. It was long forgotten when he slid his hands under her red, woolen turtle neck and pulled away from her long enough to pull it over her head. His arms went around her naked waist, radiating heat through the thin material of his shirt—the type that hung wonderfully on his chest. He kissed her mouth again, his tongue massaging hers until the flavor of his perfume was a nonexistent memory. Her arms curled around his neck, and the feminine curves of her body fit perfectly against the muscular frame he easily maintained. She wanted to drown in the sensations forever because they were as breathtaking as melting a smidgen of Swiss chocolate on her tongue. His lips left hers to imitate the rain and shower every inch of exposed skin with intimate kisses.

I promised myself never to touch you.

She melted with his promise.