| Subject: Chapter 14 a |
Author:
Juli
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Date Posted: Wednesday, May 25, 02:42:36pm
In reply to:
Juli
's message, "Angelita - new chapters (finally)" on Friday, February 18, 01:02:53pm
Keep your ideas coming ladies - obviously, its helping.
J
*******
Chapter 14
The next day, Nikita was flipping through the channels on the television when she stopped on a local entertainment show. She watched in awe as the reporter showed clips from the night before, the news story was about the Mayor’s Gala. She stared transfixed at the screen as it showed her, her father, and Michael on the red carpet. Her dress and jewels glittered in the flashbulbs of the photographers. She turned up the volume to hear the report talk about them.
“… and Nicholas Wirth and his long lost daughter also made a stunning pair as they attended the gala as Platinum sponsors. Nikita Wirth has only recently returned to New York and her story is fascinating. Rita Wirth, Nicholas’ wife, disappeared twenty years ago in a guerilla attack while aboard their yacht in Bolivia. Mr. Wirth was injured and searches for his wife turned up nothing. Everyone presumed she was dead. However, a pregnant Rita, having more strength than any could have imagined, made her way to a native village and remained there until her death several years ago.”
Nikita stopped listening as the reporter continued to talk about the events that surrounded her being found by Michael and returning to New York. Jurgen was right. She would certainly be infamous now. She wrinkled her nose and turned off the TV. Thinking of Jurgen, she went to her room to determine what she would wear for their dinner that evening.
***
Michael turned as he heard the soft knock on the door.
“Michael?” Nikita asked quietly as she poked her head around the doorframe.
“Come in, Nikita,” he told her, going to the door to open it all the way.
“Do you think I look alright?” she asked, unsure of herself.
Michael took in the designer outfit she had chosen, a long, black skirt, paired with a soft, cream colored sweater, and black boots, and nodded.
“You look beautiful, ‘kita,” he told her with a sad smile.
Nikita’s radiant smile lit up her face at his compliment.
“You look very nice too,” she told him.
Michael buttoned the jacket of his Armani suit with his left hand, and escorted her into the hall.
“The people from the TV have been contacting Miranda constantly for me to be on their programs,” Nikita said as they waited for the elevator. “What should I tell her?” she asked, turning to look at him.
“Whatever you do is your choice, Nikita. I can’t make that decision for you. Neither your father, nor Walter, nor Miranda can make that choice. You have to decide if you would like more publicity or not,” he told her.
Nikita chewed on her lower lip and thought about his words.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The pair entered and rode down to the garage where they would meet the Wirth’s limousine. Nick had insisted that they take the limousine for safety’s sake instead of going in Jurgen’s own car. It had also solved the problem of the uncomfortable fact that Michael would be going along as well.
Michael opened the door to the limousine for Nikita and then went around to sit in the front with the driver.
“You’re not going to sit back here, Michael?” Nikita asked, lowering the partition as the driver started to pull away.
“I don’t want to intrude on your evening. Forget I’m even here, Nikita,” Michael said, his heart twisting at what he was about to participate in.
“Well, I feel silly sitting back here by myself,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s not far, Miss Wirth,” the driver assured her.
Nikita rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “Well, at least leave the ‘thing’ down, ok?” she asked, motioning her hand toward the partition.
Michael smiled.
Even with the partition down, they didn’t speak much on the way to Jurgen’s apartment. As they pulled up to the curb, the driver spoke to the doorman who buzzed up to Jurgen’s residence.
“He’ll be down shortly, Miss,” the driver conveyed back to Nikita, who nodded.
Only a few minutes later, Jurgen joined Nikita in the back of the limousine. He smiled at her and then immediately closed the partition without so much as glancing at Michael.
The intercom buzzed and the driver picked up the handset, receiving his instructions on which restaurant to take them to. He agreed and hung up the phone.
As Michael tortured himself in the front, Nikita sat nervously in back with Jurgen discussing pleasantries.
“So how has everything been Nikita?” Jurgen asked. “I mean, since yesterday,” he said with an embarrassed smile.
Nikita smiled. “Fine. I heard from Miranda again. She says that the people from all the TV and radio programs keep asking for me to appear on their shows. I don’t know what I should do.”
“Hmmm,” Jurgen pondered. “I think you should probably do it. Your story is amazing and you are a beautiful woman. Perhaps if you give the public more information about you, they won’t hound you as much,” he suggested.
“I never thought of that,” she said, thinking about what he had said.
“You can always start with the most reputable shows like Oprah, Jane Pauley, Today show – some of those,” he told her. “There will be some shows that you won’t want to do for any reason. Miranda can help you decide which ones. It would probably bring a lot of attention to your father’s company. It could bring in business.”
“Really?” she asked, surprised. She hadn’t thought that it might help her father.
Jurgen nodded. “Will you tell me more about you Nikita? I know only as much as everyone else. I want to get to know you.”
Nikita almost gasped at his intensity. She had never had this kind of attention from a man before. Her mind went unbidden to the morning that Michael had held her in his arms, but she tried to shake the image away.
“Well …” she began, trying to get her thoughts on his question, instead of picturing Michael’s green eyes staring intently into hers.
She was saved from the impossible task when the limo pulled up to the restaurant and stopped. Nikita looked up as the door was opened by Michael, who held out a hand to assist her from the car.
As Jurgen climbed out, he put a hand on Nikita’s back and ushered her into the warmth of the restaurant. As the maitre d’ helped Nikita off with her coat, Jurgen turned to Michael. “I booked you a separate table where you would more easily be able to see the entire restaurant and keep an eye on things,” he said with a strained politeness.
Michael nodded as Jurgen turned back to Nikita, a smile on his face.
Michael’s eyes went to the hand that Jurgen placed once again on Nikita’s back. If looks could have killed, Jurgen’s hand would have shriveled into a stump.
When the maitre d’ returned from seating the couple, he led Michael to his table. Michael sat, and studied the room as he held his menu in front of him.
Michael glanced at Jurgen and Nikita and thought that they couldn’t be any further away from his table. He was sure that Jurgen had deliberately planned it that way. Michael examined the people in the restaurant carefully. He noted with satisfaction, that the high-end establishment would not allow any paparazzi inside. Michael was fairly certain, however, that there would be photographers present when they left.
Taking another look around the room and letting his gaze linger on Nikita for a long moment, Michael finally forced his eyes to his menu.
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