Recovery

After deciding on an electric blue silk chemise, Nikita soaked in the tub, applied her makeup, brushed her long golden hair and slipped on the dress. As she padded down the steps from the bedroom to the bar on the first floor she heard the front door open.

Michael, dressed in a double breasted charcoal grey Versace suit, looked the part of the corporate executive. With his newly shorn hair, his face was as handsome as ever and he carried himself with the assurance of success.

She stopped halfway down the stairs and waited for him to turn and greet her. But when he saw her, he stopped his pale green eyes deepened tot he color of jade. She saw the reaction instantly, but held herself in tact.

"Hi, how was your first day on the new job?" she asked nonchalantly as she continued down the steps. She could feel the cool silk brush against her bare skin. As she walked past Michael she felt the intesity of his look and she knew that he was aware of the cool silk brushing against her skin as well.

He followed her into the spacious living room as she made her way to the bar. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her back.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"No, I should get a shower and change for the party," he said.

From the look on his face and the tension in his body, she knew that it would be a cold shower. Let the games begin, she thought as she poured herself a glass of soda water.

The party was as lush and ostentatious as Nikita imagined it would be. Preston Gant's home clung to the side of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Newport Beach. Gant's wife, Gloria, was a vision in red leather, with ultra straight shoulder length black hair and a body that had been visited upon by many a Southern Californian plastic surgeon.

When Gloria saw Michael it was as if she was witness to the reincarnation of Casanova and Don Juan de Marco all rolled into one. Nikita did not see much of Michael the rest of the evening, however, she was not lacking for attention. Gant was the perfect host, seeing to her every need.

He introduced her to his executives and their assorted wives. At first it was hard to tell Sherry and Marsha and Michelle and Suzette apart. They were each expensively dressed, flawlessly tanned and anatomically taut.

Rick Darrow eyed her appreciatively. "Now I know why Michael worked out so hard at the gym today," he said with a leer. "He has to keep up his stamina to keep up with you."

Rick was never far from her side throughout the evening. He kept her martini glass filled and Nikita tried to engage him in conversation about his work. It wasn't hard to get him to talk about himself.

Towards the end of the evening, Nikita and Gant strolled onto the wide expanse of powdery beach that lined the coast. He told her how he had started the company ten years ago and how he had turned it into a multi-billion dollar enterprise.

"I've never been one to do things in a small way," Gant said. "I was always the kid in high school who brought in the most elaborate science project or wore the most outrageous costume at the Halloween party."

"My tastes have always gone to the extreme, Nikita," Gant said. "When I saw you I knew that you would be the ultimate to possess."

"I don't know that I'm really one to allow myself to be a possession, Preston," Nikita said. "I've always been pretty independent. I've had to be to survive."

"That's what I sensed about you from the start," Gant said. "You're a survivor. And once you're a survivor, you fight that much harder to stay on top. That's why I refuse to allow my company to be held hostage. I've worked too hard to build this company over the last ten years. I'm not going to let anyone take it away from me. I made it to the top and I intend to stay there, no matter what it takes."

Nikita could feel the tension in his voice as he spoke. His words took on a maniacal tone, almost as if he were face to face with the enemy he so desperately fought against. She truly believed that his very survival depended not only on keeping his company in tact, but in conquering some inner demon that threatened his hold on reality.

As they walked, Gant lightly touched Nikita's bare shoulders with his fingertips. The pads of his fingers moved down her spine to stop just below her waist. Although she was attracted to him, she felt a moment of fear. She couldn't quite define where it came from, but the feeling went as quickly as it came.

"I know you need to get close to Rick, but I wouldn't get too close," Gant said. "Rick is into some pretty kinky stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Nikita asked.

"Domination mostly," Gant said, gauging her reaction. "He's hungry for power and punishment and if he doesn't get his way, he can be pretty cruel. It's not just a game to him."

Gant increased the pressure of his hand at the base of her spine. "I wouldn't want you to get mixed up with anything dangerous," he said as he pulled her body towards his in a swift motion.

Before she realized it, he had his lips pressed against hers in a feverish kiss. As she brought her arms around his neck she moaned. Her thoughts whirled in her mind and as his tongue moved into her mouth, she sensed rather than felt, a pair of jade green eyes. Michael. At that moment, she knew that she didn't want anyone other than Michael to be kissing her.

As the realization swept over her, she began to pull herself back to reality. As she ended the kiss, Gant placed his hands against her buttocks and pressed her against his hardening flesh.

"Michael," she gasped. "I have to get back to Michael. He must wonder where I've been."

"From what I saw earlier, I think Michael can take care of himself, love," Gant said. "I think yolu already know we like to share here, and I'm more than willing to share what I've got as long as he's willing to share what he's got."

Nikita felt a cold chill move through her body and she shivered. The thought of Michael pressing his body against Preston Gant's wife sickened her.

"Preston, I really want to go back in," Nikita said. "I'm cold and I've had too much to drink and am feeling a little light-headed."

"Are you sure it's the alcohol that's making you feel light headed?" Gant said with a lascivious laugh. "I think you want this as much as I do. You did from the start. Let's just take what we can get right now."

She couldn't bare to hear those words "take what we can get". She had to get away from this place and her desperation was turning to fear. She had to take control of the situation.

"Why don't we continue this when I'm not quite so tipsy," Nikita said. "I think you'll like the results much better when I have all my wits about me."

"I'm going to hold you to it, Nikita," Gant said. "You're giving me lots of ideas of some of the most wicked things we can do to each other."

Nikita wasn't sure if it was Rick Darrow or Preston Gant that she should watch out for.

As Nikita kicked off her shoes she could feel Michael's arm support her before she went sprawling onto the bed.

"Oops. Guess I'm a little tipsy," she slurred.

"I noticed," Michael said.

"Tell me Michael," Nikita said slowly, "How is it that even when you drink, you don't ever loosen up just a little bit? Not a teensy bit."

"How do you know I'm not?" Michael asked.

"Not what?" Nikita said with a hiccup.

"Loosened up," Michael said.

"You know Michael," Nikita said, trying to sound serious while giggling at the same time, "You're right. I don't know. I don't know when you're happy. I don't know when you're sad. I don't know...whoa."

Nikita felt Michael's fingers pull down the zipper at the back of her dress.

"Michael?" Nikita said softly.

"Yes," Michael said.

"I certainly hope," Nikita said dreamily, "That you're not going to take advantage of my inebriated state, my darling husband."

"You know me better than that," Michael said. "I'd never do that, my darling wife."

Nikita felt her dress slip to the floor as her head hit the pillow. "Love you, Michael," she murmured before passing out.

"Love you, too," Michael whispered as he brushed his knuckles across Nikita's jawline before pulling the comforter over her naked body.