First Comes By Karisma Chapter One Romance, Alt. Rating: PG-13 Karisma456@hotmail.com Standard Disclaimers Apply March 2001 Darien Mathison angrily crumpled up the paper in his hand. Uttering a few choice phrases, he made a quick call and was soon in the safe haven of a limo, reading a manila folder with interest while his crazy chauffeur navigated his way through the busy streets. Arriving at his destination, he smoothed out the certificate that had suffered his wrath and left the elegant car, looking upon the tall building in front of him with a bored eye. Straightening his suit, he quickly ascended up the gravel steps, his stride proud and swift. Passing the double pillars to the main entrance, he walked passed the formidable double doors without so much as a glance to the uniformed men that had opened it for him. Questioning a startled receptionist with an impatience that harried her, he turned on his heel and walked away, his expensive shoe caps taping on the marble floor. Sighing heavily in disgust, he shot a glare down at the paper in his clenched hand, estimating exactly how much trouble this hassle would cause him and the woman he was about to meet. **** Serena Price frantically ran around the backstage area, her heeled shoes clipping against the uncarpeted floor. Dragging open every closet and door she could find, she searched every conceivable nook and cranny a person could possibly be hiding. Disgusted in her futile search, she allowed herself a bemoaning cry before half running back to the dressing room. “I have no idea where she is,” she stated, angrily, her small fists balled up at her sides. “I can’t believe she’d pull this. Tonight of all nights!” “Serena,” a petite woman reassured, soothing the taller woman’s back. “It’ll be fine. We can find a replacement.” “Like who?” Serena cried, flinging herself down on the brown, tattered couch. She buried her head in her hands, fervently hoping Ann Howard would come back and finish the job she had paid her handsomely to do. “Ann is on the schedule for tonight! I need this fundraiser, Ames!” “I know, I know.” Amy Jenkins said, her mind racing to find a solution for her distraught friend. A smile brightening her small features, she chewed her lip thoughtfully. Finally, she spoke, “Serena, how about yourself?” “What?” Serena leapt up, her hand on her brow. “How would that even be possible? The emcee can’t auction herself off!” “So let me sub for you, you’ll bring in money and besides, remember how much you need this.” Serena bit her lip, but she didn’t really have any options. She needed this fundraiser to work; it was the only way the Children’s Charity of Good Will would put in a good word for her at the bank for her loan. And in order to get on their good side, she had reassured them she could reach a certain amount of money for their cause. A feat that would have easy had not one of the auctionees run off at the last moment. “Let me get dressed, you can fill out the information card for me.” Serena ran to the bathroom, grabbing Ann’s gown with her. The event was black tie and as Serena donned the traitor’s dress (luckily they were about the same size), she couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous in the strapless black dress. Shoving on some heels, she hopped into the sitting room where the girls chatted before they were called on stage. “Well?” She asked expectantly, twirling about. “I think the dress looks better on you than it did on Ann,” Amy concluded stoutly, scribbling some facts on a three by five card. “All right, let’s go.” Serena sucked in her breath, reminding herself exactly why she was doing all this. She needed this loan to start the company. She needed this loan to start the company. She needed— “Oh, Ames,” she whispered, biting her black gloved hands into her friends upper arm. “I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can!” She gave her childhood friend a quick shove and soon they were both under the hot lights, overlooking a rather intimidating crowd of men and women, all dressed in cocktail dress and tuxedos. Amy flashed the crowd a dazzling smile, the lights playing softly with the rhinestone studs carefully placed in her dark, cropped hair. “To show just how loyal she is to the CCGW, our very own hostess, Serena Price, is putting herself up to the plate.” She waited for the titters to subside from the crowd. “Serena graduated from NYU with a degree in contemporary art. She is currently an interior decorator. She enjoys reading and art museums. Now for this lovely lady’s companionship for the rest of the evening, the bidding will start at a thousand.” Serena stood there for a bit, motionlessly smiling down at the audience, repeatedly reminding herself not to play with her necklace in nervousness. Amy was about to bang her gavel after a gentleman had placed his bid of twenty thousand dollars, when a calm voice interrupted her. “One hundred thousand.” A collective hush swept over the chattering crowd and heads swung to find the owner of such an extraordinary bid. Serena nearly fainted and Amy almost dropped the heavy gavel onto her bare toe. Reacting quickly, she cleared her throat. “Are you serious, sir?” “Quite.” The same voice replied, his tone even and bored. Serena craned her neck to find the man that had bid such a ludicrous amount of money. Her frustration mounted as her search came up empty. “Sold for two million dollars!” Amy pounded her gavel and pushed Serena toward the steps that led down to the floor. “Are you crazy, Ames?” She seethed, smiling largely for the crowd whose gazes were riveted on her. Amy held on to the same kind of smile. “A hundred grand, Serena! That’ll send the CCGW running to back you up for the loan!’ “He could be some sick psycho out for the cheap thrill of buying some sex slave!” Amy rolled her eyes, “I’m sure a psycho is going to be at a black tie function and pay a hundred thousand dollars for sex.” Serena bristled. “I never said he was a poor psycho!” And that was all she could have said because whatever caustic reply was on her tongue died as she looked at her new date for the night. And boy did she look. He was in his early thirties with thick, black hair and granite eyes and looked down at her with listless approval. He was above six feet and towered over her own diminutive frame at five foot six. Though he was not wearing a tuxedo, he managed to look every bit as wealthy and powerful in a suit that could only be tailored to fit so well. “Hello, Serena Price.” He said, his eyes twinkling with something indefinable. “It’s nice to meet your acquaintance.” She bristled at his unconcealed appreciativeness of her velvet-clad body. Moving past him, allowing him to follow her, she made her way to the bar and ordered water with a lime twist. He sat down on the stool next to her and looked at her satin-gloved hands shake in her lap with an amused smile. “Do you mind telling me why you bid a hundred thousand dollars for a date that could have yours with a mere thirty thousand?” She asked quietly, her leg beginning to quake with tension. “Yes.” “Yes what?” She looked so startled and confused he wanted to laugh. “Yes, I do mind.” He averred, ordering a Martini for her. “I don’t drink and I think I deserve an explanation.” She demanded stiffly as the bartender slid clear liquid in front of her, a green olive looking large in the reflecting glass. “I’ll only tell you once you drink this,” he ordered. He watched her sigh heavily and pluck the toothpick out with a dainty hand. She took a tentative sip and blanched at the taste. Satisfied, he smoothed his tie down and began. “I bid two million dollars for the sole reason that that amount of money was sure to convince you to agree with me.” “Agree to what?” She asked suspiciously, unconsciously fingered the flute of her drink. “Apparently, nine years ago we met.” She started to interrupt him and he held up a hand to stop her. “We both don’t remember it, but I know for a fact that it is true. And the reason I know is because of this.” He flattened down a certificate that looked somewhat old, but not from continuing usage. Serena didn’t glance at it; she was too busy discerning the stranger in front of her. “What is your name?” She hoped it would jog her memory so she could actually see if what this man said was true. “Darien Mathison.” “Look, I’m sorry.” She got up to leave. “But I don’t know you, nor have I ever met you. You must have the wrong—” “We’re married.” He bit out shortly, tapping his index finger onto the crinkled paper between them. “You’re my wife of nine years, Mrs. Mathison.” She stared at him in silence for a while before turning back to her unfinished drink and draining it completely, her reaction blank to the harsh liquor as she looked at him again. “Excuse me?” “We were wed in holy matrimony nine years ago today,” he spoke dryly, looking at her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. Letting out a harsh bark of laughter, Serena signaled for another martini. “Look, mister. I don’t know what you’re pulling, but nine years ago, I was in—” she stopped suddenly, because suddenly her one mistake was hurting back through time to slap her in the face. “Las Vegas?” Darien offered, taping the paper again. “Oh, no,” she whispered hoarsely. “No.” “Oh, yes,” Darien said, his tone grave. “Yes.” “The one time I rebel and get drunk and I end up marrying some guy I don’t even know!” Serena wailed, causing heads to turn. Darien noticed and looked at her sternly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware that the next subject of her wrath was him. “How could you let this happen? I was eighteen—and horrifically stupid! What were you, twenty something?” He nodded grimly. “Twenty-two.” “And you didn’t stop us?” Her voice fluctuated, no doubt from the alcohol she had consumed rapidly. “I wasn’t exactly sober either.” His voice was steely, warning her not to push this. “And now,” she laughed out, “after all these years, you decide to do me a favor and tell me?” “I just found out myself, Miss Price.” He snapped. “Had I known earlier, I would have immediately informed you.” “I can’t be married to you,” she moaned, finishing her second drink and wobbling slightly on her chair. “I have a fiancé!” Rolling his eyes at the distraught female he now had on his hands, he took firm hold of her bare upper arm and led her to the cooling air of the deserted balcony and away from prying eyes. Serena sucked in mouthfuls of air, trying valiantly to control the hysterical sobs that arose in her dry throat. She turned to look at the stranger again. No, not a stranger. Her husband. Her husband! Just then the hilarity of all this struck, and Serena found herself at first giggling and soon gasping for breath in between peals of laughter. She slapped the banister repeatedly, trying to catch her breath to no avail. Darien watched her performance with a wary eye. Afraid she was going into shock or a nervous breakdown, he kept his voice stern, “What, may I ask, is so humorous?” She looked up at him with a blank expression in her eyes, as if she had forgotten he was there. Her lip quivered and a fresh gale of laughter escaped. “W-Would you believe,” she giggled out, gasping for breath. “I used to be the most unpopular girl growing up. And now! And now I have a husband and a fiancé!” She gave up in a helpless bout of chuckled, wrapping her arms around her aching stomach. Darien watched the blonde in front of him, his lip twitching inadvertently at the sight she made, leaning against the railing for support. Suppressing the smile, he rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off before he could get a word in. “And you.” She pointed a satin encased finger at him. “Just spent a hundred thousand dollars for a date with your wife!” She was all but squealing now, the mixture of alcohol and hysteria muddling her senses. Darien stood stoically, his hands itching to grab her bare shoulders and shake her until she listened to him without erupting into laughter. “I paid a hundred thousand dollars to that charity. To you I’m offering two million.” That turned her somber like no coffee could. When she stared at him, waiting for the punch line to this sick joke and none came, she decided to demand answers. “You were serious about the two million?” Her mouth parted, she looked at him as if he was ludicrously stupid. “You weren’t joking?” “I never joke about money, Miss Price.” “B-But…”Serena trailed off, realizing there was nothing she could say really. Nothing that would make coherent sense anyhow. “For the period of a month, I’m going to need your cooperation and for your trouble the two million will be transferred to your account immediately after.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, pushing back his impeccably tailored jacket. Serena remained motionless, staring up at him. She dimly realized she had been wrong and his eyes were not gray. Instead they were a curious blend of sapphire blue with a silver tint. Forcing her lips to move, she cleared her throat and began, “Uh—why would you need my cooperation?” He looked down at her grimly, “Tell me, Serena. When you realized we were married, what was your initial plan of action.” “Quiet divorce.” She said stoutly, her befuddled mind beginning to clear up with increasing suspicion. “Well, then the two million dollars is to do the exact opposite.” She stabbed at a valiant attempt at humor, “A loud divorce?” Her half smile diminished when she caught his less than amused expression. “I’m really not getting you here.” “For the duration of a month, I’m asking you not to do anything. The two million is for you to still be my wife for thirty days.”