Those Black Roses. Joyce Zeledonis

      Chapter One

      The art gallery was crowded tonight for the fundraiser, and Elizabeth Summerton looked around wishing she did not have to stand there with these three men as they talked politics, policies, law and power, and money. She did have the privilege of meeting people with power and money—lots of money that talked and people who walked the walk.

      It was all going to end soon. She would be out of this circle of people because she filed divorce from Richard Summerton, the congressman. Her lawyer informed her the divorce would take three to four months to be final. Why she was here tonight was beyond her, but she and Richard did spend money on these tickets.

      “I see Lafayette is here.” Richard’s voice broke her out of her train of thought.

      “He owns the gallery now. He bought it three years ago,” the judge answered. “He owns lots of buildings in the city, makes crazy money renting them and selling them.”

      “Money talks,” Richard said as he took a drink from the waiter as he walked by with a tray of them.

      “I heard he has designs on your wife,” the commissioner stated without looking at her, and he was not smiling.

      “Oh well, Elizabeth will not be my wife soon. We are getting a divorce.” Richard sounded like he did not care. “She’s only here because I spent money on the tickets last year.”

      She had enough of these men, and she shook her head, letting out a loud sigh, and then walked away from them. The nerve of them talking about her. And the commissioner said that Mr. Lafayette had designs on her. He was married to a very beautiful woman named Isabell.

      She did not think that Mr. Lafayette was the cheating kind, and if he was, she wasn’t going to cheat. That was so wrong! They should be talking about Richard and his career, or what he did to her. She did nothing to Richard; he did it to himself.

      She walked to the table where the food and drinks were placed, and she took a glass of wine and walked around sipping from the glass.

      It was a photo in the corner away from the other art that made her stop. It was beautiful and haunting. The ocean waves were pounding the cliffs of a lighthouse, and the light in the tower was searching in the fog and the rain.

      “Good evening, Mrs. Summerton.” She heard the smooth voice from behind her; he found like he always did.

      She glanced at Simon Lafayette; he was alone tonight. He was dressed in tailored black suit with a light-blue tie, white shirt, and shiny black shoes. His jet-black hair was combed neatly, and his face was smooth. He had piercing blue eyes. They seemed to look right through a person to their soul. Was the commissioner right? Did he have designs on her?

      “Good evening, Mr. Lafayette.” She had to look back at the photo. She could not just stare at him. He was a very attractive man.

      “Where’s your husband?” he asked, standing next to her.

      “My soon-to-be ex-husband is over there.” She let it slip. It must be the wine. “He is over there talking to those men.”

      She pointed to the group of men in the middle of the room and asked, looking at him,” Where is your wife?”

      “My soon-to-be ex-wife is not here tonight.” He was smiling, showing off his pearly white teeth. “So you’re getting a divorce from Richard.”

      “Yes.” She looked back at the photo. Why was he smiling at her like that? She hoped he would go away, but in a way, she wanted him to stay. She was so confused.

      “Maybe the next time we meet, we will both be divorced.” His voice was rough, and she looked at him quickly, wondering where this conversation was headed. The commissioner was right; he did have designs on her. He was a smooth operator.

      She sipped on the wine, trying not to choke, and looked at the photo again. She felt her face growing hot, and it was cool in the gallery.

      He stepped closer to her; she could smell his cologne. He smelled of wood and spice. He was never this close to her before. She could feel the heat coming from his solid body. Why was he close to her?

      He took the glass from her hand and placed it on the tray as the waiter walked by, and she let him. She felt like she was under a spell. She didn’t know what to say to him. She wanted to move away; she couldn’t.

      “I’d better leave,” she whispered, turning to go, but his hand rested on her arm, stopping her.

      Chills danced on her skin from his touch. He had power over her, and she could not free herself. She felt powerless against him.

      “I want to kiss you,” he stated roughly. “I have for years.”

      “You want to what?” She couldn’t believe it. She must be hearing things; it must be the wine.

      “You heard me.” His hands went to her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, lowering his head. His hot breath fanned her face, making her feel weak, and whispered, “I am going kiss you.”

      His lips descended toward her, and all she could do was watch as her heart began to pound in her chest. Simon Lafayette wanted to kiss her and hold her so close that she could feel the pounding of his heart.

      “Elizabeth,” he whispered her name and kissed her softly, making the world stop.

      She closed her eyes and felt the kiss all the way to the pit of her stomach, and she melted against him like butter. She never felt like this before.

      His

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