Part 43

The sound of a little dog yelping, followed by Paul swearing and Madeline laughing, drifted into the family room to where Nikita and Michael sat side by side, their planners out in front of them. Nikita turned her head toward the sound and she smiled before she turned back to Michael. Gazing up into his eyes, she reached up and kissed him. "Thank you for the gift," she smiled. "I love him."

"You're welcome."

He had bought for her the little Chihuahua with the sad eyes that they had seen the morning they had gone shopping. When he had entered the room that morning with the little dog in his arms, a red velvet ribbon tied around his little neck, Nikita had gasped then cried out as he carefully placed the little furry bundle in her arms. The dog had taken instantly to Nikita, climbing up on her and licking her face with his tongue. It made Michael smile to see Nikita laughing as she carefully hugged the small dog.

"He's to keep you company," he had explained quietly to her as Madeline and Birkoff took the Chihuahua to the other side of the room and played with him. Paul, on the other hand, kept his distance since he wasn't too fond of animals. As if the little dog sensed his dislike, he tended to growl and bark in his high pitched tone every time Paul came near.

"Keep me company?"

Michael held her gaze as he had reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. "We have to find some time to talk today, Nikita."

She had nodded with a small smile, a small part of her saddened at the approaching date of Michael's departure. "At least we have a week left," she had told him, but Michael shook his head as he explained quietly to Nikita that he would most likely have to leave within the next three days.

"Everything's been taken care of with regard to the New York opening," he stated. "I have to get back to Paris and begin looking into securing the art pieces that I want purchased and displayed when we open here in May."

"May . . ." Nikita whispered and looked at him with pained eyes. "Is that how long it'll be before I see you again, Michael?"

He hadn't answered her right away because he really didn't know the answer to her question. It was one of the main reasons they now sat alone, with their planners, and looked over their work schedules for the next several months.

"What's January like for you?" he asked.

Nikita opened her planner and scanned through it. "I leave on the fifth for one week at our Los Angeles office. Most likely it'll be a very busy month . . . January usually is. I'm almost positive I won't be able to get away, especially since I'll miss that week that I'm out on the west coast." She turned to Michael and added, "Don't forget to give me your photographer's card. I need to have him do the shoot in January and then after you approve the shots, he can forward them to us here. We need to start the mailing campaign by the end of March."

Michael wrote down the name of the photographer and handed it over to Nikita. "He has his office in Paris. Your office there might be familiar with some of his work. He's very popular with a lot of other galleries. His work is excellent."

"Walter Francks," Nikita read his name softly. It didn't ring any bell. "I'll have our people look him up and arrange a contract with him. How about February?" she asked.

Michael shook his head. He was scheduled for several trips that month to secure pieces from various exhibits around Europe. "March?" he asked, and this time Nikita shook her head.

"I have two major accounts that will need my attention during that time, not to mention that we'll be busy finalizing the initial ad release for the gallery." She sighed and leaned against Michael. "This doesn't look good," she murmured.

Michael raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "Have you given any thought as to when you'd like to have the wedding?" he asked quietly. She shook her head again, and turned to bury her face into the sleeve of his sweater.

"No," her voice was muffled. Michael placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face up to look at him as his thumb gently caressed her cheek.

"We'll be all right, Nikita," he assured her as she nodded.

"I know," she murmured with a sigh. She thought a moment. "I don't think we should have the wedding until after the gallery opening so that it doesn't distract from that."

Michael's eyes searched hers. "Nikita," he whispered, "marrying you is not a distraction. It's something that I want more than anything in the world." He bent and kissed her tenderly. "If you want the wedding before May, we'll work it out."

"Maybe we should work out what will happen after the wedding," Nikita stated.

"You mean where we'll live."

She nodded and offered quietly, "I could work out of our Paris office . . . ."

"Or, I could work out of New York," he suggested. Both offered to move to the other's hometown, yet both knew in their hearts that they didn't really want to move.

"Maybe we should place the wedding tentatively for June and give this issue a little more thought," Nikita stated. After a minute more of flipping through his calendar, Michael agreed. He closed his planner then and placed it over to the side along with Nikita's, and he gathered her into his arms. Together they sat quietly. They were certain that they wanted to be together, but the question was, "Would they be able to?"

Part 44

They sat beside each other for a long time. Not really thinking of the future, but rather just enjoying this moment that they had together. Nikita turned slightly so that her head could rest more comfortably against Michael's shoulder. His left arm was draped around her shoulder and she reached up with her hand and held his fingers.

"I think I'll name him Simba," she commented, a thoughtful expression settling on her face.

"Simba?" Michael frowned slightly as he tried to follow her train of thought.

"Mmm . . . the Chihuahua," Nikita replied as she looked up at him. She saw his look of confusion and began to laugh. "Don't tell me you never saw the 'Lion King?'" An incredulous expression filled her eyes as he continued to gaze at her in confusion. Then, as partial recognition dawned, he replied, "Oh, you mean the play?"

Now Nikita really did begin to laugh in earnest. A low, infectious, rolling laughter that shook her long frame and caused her eyes to water. Michael watched her, his own lips curving into a wide grin. He wasn't sure what it was that she found so amusing, but her laughter pleased him. At least talking about the future hadn't dampened her spirit too much. She was half-lying now, her head on his lap as she folded her arms about her stomach in an attempt to contain her mirth. Michael's eyes twinkled as he reached down and smoothed her long hair out of her face. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she was happy.

"I'm sorry," she uttered between deep breaths, her laughter having slowed to a wide grin and occasional giggle. She reached up with her hand and wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes. "I don't mean to laugh at you, my darling," she murmured. She relaxed against him as his hand continued to stroke her hair. "It's just that . . . it seemed funny that . . . you . . ." she gazed up into his eyes and saw the myriad of emotions in their depths. Nikita reached up and gently caressed his cheek with the palm of her hand. "Never mind," she whispered. "It doesn't really matter if you saw it or not . . . but yes, there is a 'Lion King' play. It's based on a Disney movie of the same name."

Michael gave her a small smile as he took her hand in his. Exhaling a deep breath, he slid down a little on the couch, making himself more comfortable. Nikita lifted her head and swept her long hair out from under her and let it lay across Michael's lap. His eyes followed the trail of her long golden tresses and his fingers were irrevocably drawn to them. In quiet satisfaction he ran his fingers through her hair, loving the way it slipped silkily through his fingers and back down onto his lap. Nikita closed her eyes, content to feel him stroking her hair as his other hand lay across her stomach, his fingers entwined with hers.

"Our worlds are so different," she murmured, and Michael glanced at her, watching her as she lay with her eyes closed.

"How so?"

She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. "Yesterday, at the Village, when I met Rene and your other friends . . . it was as if I were in another world. The topics, the interests . . . all rather foreign to me and what I'm used to." She paused as her eyes roamed over his face. "Teach me about your world, Michael," she asked softly.

His hand paused in its gentle stroking as he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him at her request. This was the reason he loved her so, he thought to himself. She was so giving of herself, and if she didn't know how to give, she sought to find a way. "What do you want to know?" he asked. He untwined his fingers from her left hand and reached up to gently cup her face, showing to her through his touch how much he appreciated her effort to be a part of him and those things that he loved. Nikita turned her face and kissed the palm of his hand before she returned her gaze to his.

"Everything, Michael," she murmured. "I want to know what your day is like at the gallery. What type of paintings you prefer. Your feelings about the different types of art . . . everything!" she smiled.

Michael laughed gently, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at her. "All right, Nikita," he stated. "I'll tell you what. Tomorrow, I'll take you on a tour of some of the art museums you have here and answer any questions you have. But in return, I want you to share your world with me. Do we have a deal?"

Nikita sat up and adjusted her position so that she sat facing him, one long leg folded beneath her. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded her agreement. "In fact," she said, as she stood and pulled him up to his feet, "I'll take you there right now!"

"Now? Where?" Michael asked.

"To Section. It's the perfect time. The office is closed and we'll have the whole place to ourselves. Come on, Michael!" she tugged at him, excited at the prospect of them being able to share more of their lives with each other. "I'll give you the grand tour."

Michael smiled and allowed her to pull him along as they went to gather their coats. Combining their worlds would be difficult, but he knew that -- with the strength of their love for each other and their desire to be together -- they would somehow find a way to succeed.

Part 45

Nikita drove the black Porsche into the parking lot of a convenience store and proceeded to unbuckle her seatbelt as Michael turned to face her with a questioning look.

"I want to get some doughnuts for Charlie," she explained as she grabbed her wallet and exited from the car. Five minutes later she was back behind the steering wheel and handed Michael a bag. "Do you want one?" she asked. She shifted the car into reverse and looked into the rearview mirror as she began to back out of the parking stall.

"Who's Charlie?" Michael asked as he opened the bag and peered inside at the assortment of pastries. He reached in and pulled out a chocolate-covered doughnut and held it to Nikita's mouth. Keeping her eyes on the road, she opened her mouth and bit into it. It was fresh, light and fluffy. The chocolate was just as she liked it -- not too sweet or too strong.

"Mmm, that's good," she murmured as she licked the extra chocolate off her lips.

"Some more?" he asked, and she shook her head. Michael settled back into his seat and began to eat the rest of the pastry.

"Charlie's the security over at Section. He's been with us for ages. In fact, he's retiring in February," Nikita explained. "He's really sweet. He usually volunteers to work on Christmas so that everyone else can spend the time at home with their families."

"He doesn't have family?" Michael asked.

"Just his wife, Dorothea. She usually comes in and keeps him company."

Nikita smiled as she thought of the elderly couple. They didn't seem to mind spending the holiday at Section as long as they were together. Glancing over at Michael, she thought about how she wouldn't mind working either if she had Michael to keep her company. He looked up, met her eyes and smiled.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the Section 1 parking lot. As Nikita had suspected, Charlie was on duty and Dorothea was keeping him company. The couple were thrilled to meet Michael and shocked to learn that he and Nikita were engaged. "So you're the reason why Nikita's been walking on air lately," Charlie mused out loud.

"Charlie!" Nikita gasped and whispered loudly, "that's supposed to be our secret!"

Charlie and Dorothea laughed and Michael pulled her close to him and gave her a hug. After a few more minutes of small talk, Nikita and Michael departed and headed up into Section through the executive elevator.

"So this is where your work day starts?" he asked.

"That's right," she explained. The doors opened and she linked her fingers through his and walked with him into the waiting area of the executive offices. "I'm what's commonly referred to as a 'suit' in the ad biz. My main job, as you know, is to act as a liaison between clients, such as yourself, and Section."

Nikita walked with Michael slowly into the empty office area as she pointed out the staff positions beneath her. "I have a secretary, that's Gail. She's the one Birkoff likes, and my assistant, Rose." Nikita smiled as she thought of Rose, "She's my right hand -- helps me to keep everything in order. And she's one of my best friends."

"I'd like to meet her one day," Michael stated.

"She'd like that, I'm sure." Nikita laughed as she added, "Rose saw you that first day you came here and said something about you being the 'finest male specimen' she'd ever seen." Michael grinned as Nikita stepped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him lightly. "And I agree with her wholeheartedly," she murmured. Several minutes passed as they embraced and kissed.

"So what happens after you meet with a potential client?" Michael asked after they broke apart.

Nikita walked with Michael down the hall towards a second set of elevators. "Well, after I've secured the job and opened a new account, I get a feel for what it is that the client wants, and then provide the direction which the campaign will take. I meet with our creatives -- that's the art directors and copywriters -- and give them advice in terms of the campaign and what the client wants. When they've completed their job, I take the finished product back to the client and get their feedback on it. If everything is satisfactory, we go ahead with the ad."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Michael commented and Nikita smiled.

"Yes, but it rarely is as simple as it sounds. The ad business is an aggressive, highly-competitive business and all of us have to be at the top of our game or otherwise we lose clients. The creatives constantly have to come up with innovative ideas that will appeal to our clients and sell the product. I, on the other hand, have to keep in touch with the client, letting them know of the progress, etc. The majority of the time I'm on the phone or meeting with clients."

"And how long are your work days?" Michael asked.

"Normally? About ten hours . . . longer if we're busy or if I'm meeting with clients after work."

Michael paused and turned to face Nikita, a troubled look on his face. "Ten hours? Nikita, when do you rest? When do you have a personal life?"

She laughed at his question as she replied, "I don't! Not really, anyway. I'm too tired. On the weekends though I usually manage to squeeze in a couple of hours of personal time."

Michael glanced down at the ground and then looked back up at her as he reached out and pulled her close. "And what happens when we get married?" he asked. "Does that mean I'll only see you on weekends, too?"

She stared at him, her expression becoming tender as she realized his concern. Almost all of Section's employees put in long hours in order to get their jobs done successfully. She'd never really thought about the strain that those hours could have on the relationships of the married employees.

Michael raised a hand and smoothed her hair back from her face as he looked deeply into her eyes. "How do you feel about children?" he asked quietly. She gazed up into his eyes silently for a long time, then stepped into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder.

"You know that I love you," she responded softly. "I want to spend my life with you, Michael. I want us to have children, to have a family . . . but I also have to think about Section. My parents have worked hard to build this place -- I can't just let it go."

Michael pulled her gently away from him and gazed down into her eyes. He saw the traces of uncertainty in her eyes. Bending, he brushed his lips against hers as he assured her quietly, "We'll find a way, Nikita."

Part 46

An hour later Michael and Nikita were back in her office. She poured him a drink as he wandered over to the small adjoining room. "Is this your 'home away from home'?" he asked. He looked around and took in the pillow and blanket on the corner of the couch, her extra suits hanging in the corner, and the bathroom.

"Yes," she replied. She came up from behind and handed him his glass as she gave the room a cursory glance. "Home sweet home," she murmured and smiled at the slight frown on Michael's face. Sitting down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. She waited until he had settled in and then snuggled up close to him. The window behind them cast a subtle, intimate light about them.

"It's not all that bad, Michael," she assured him. "Up until now, I haven't minded the long hours or lack of personal time. Being single and having a personal interest vested in this company, I worked very hard to help make it successful. Apart from my family, this is my life." She turned to look at him, her eyes traveling over his handsome face.

Michael set his glass down and turned to put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't know how you do it," he stated softly. "I would go insane in this environment." Nikita laughed as she turned to give him a surprised look.

"Insane?"

He nodded and tried to explain, "As an artist, my work is a product of my being. My thoughts, my emotions, my visions . . . those are the forces that drive me. Even as the owner of a gallery, I have no input in the creative processes of the artists whose work I buy and display. I choose the pieces I display according to what I feel will appeal to buyers. In your work, your motivation is external. It is defined by the need to please your clients and to sell the product. It's highly structured and competitive . . . a world where marketing strategy is a key element." Michael leaned his head against Nikita's and sighed, "Doesn't it drive you crazy to have to meet all those deadlines and to please all those people?"

She laughed as she turned her head and reached up to pull his face toward hers. "Michael," she breathed his name lovingly and kissed him deeply. "You drive me crazy," she murmured as she stretched out on the couch and pulled him on top of her. "Right now, you're the only one I want to please."

Michael smiled against her mouth, his lips kissing hers. She had a demanding career that she loved, not to mention that she was a part owner of the company and would one day take over. He couldn't ask her to leave all that and come to France. She would be miserable, especially being so far away from her family. He, on the other hand, could just as easily do his work out of the New York gallery as he could out of France. He would have to talk to Monique, but he was sure she would want him to do what made him happy -- and being with Nikita was what made him happy. He loved his sister and her family, but she had her own family. Now it was time for him to start his own.

"I'll move here to New York," he whispered to Nikita as he continued to kiss her.

"You will?" She gazed up at him, surprise written in her face.

"I told you, Nikita," Michael whispered as he stroked her hair back from her face, "I won't live half a world away from you."

Her eyes moistened as she searched his. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he smiled and bent once more to kiss her. His lips moved to her neck and he kissed the throbbing pulse he found there. "Your hickey's gone," he whispered, "I'll have to give you another one . . . ."

She gave a little shriek and laughed as she tried to pull his mouth away from her neck. "Michael, don't you dare!" she scolded and broke into giggles when he began to tickle her. They wrestled playfully, Nikita laughing as Michael tried to reach her neck and she tried to stop him. "Michael!!!" she cried his name out and laughed as they tumbled over the edge of the couch and onto the carpeted floor. He quickly rolled her so that she lay underneath him and he gazed into her eyes, loving the way they danced with laughter.

His look became quiet as he bent and kissed her slowly. Raising himself up, he looked at her once again and whispered, "I'll come to New York, Nikita, but you have to promise that you'll cut back on your work time. No more spending the nights here . . . unless it's with me, of course."

She smiled at him as she reached up to give him a kiss. "I promise," she whispered. She placed her hands on either side of his face and gazed into his eyes, "What about children?" she asked.

"You know how I feel, Nikita," he answered softly. "How do you feel?"

Her eyes moved over his face slowly. She stared at the dark curls that fell about his face as he leaned over her, his emerald eyes that gazed at her with love, his mouth . . . He was such a passionate man, but what she loved even more was the way he loved her, treated her, and made her feel special. He was compassionate, loving, giving . . . he would make a great father. She felt her heart pounding madly in her chest and she knew that she wanted him completely -- friend, lover, husband, and father of her children.

"Yes, Michael," she replied tenderly as her fingers traced his lips, "children, too."

He sat up then and they both began to quickly remove their clothing. Before he lowered himself to her, Michael gazed into her eyes with one last question. "Charlie doesn't do rounds of the offices, does he?" he asked.

Nikita smiled as her eyes twinkled with amusement. "I certainly hope not," she whispered and received him into her open arms.

Part 47

Christmas dinner that night was lively as the discussion centered round Michael and Nikita's wedding. Madeline and Paul besieged them with questions as the two looked at each other and smiled.

"I think a Christmas wedding would be nice," Madeline commented.

Nikita's eyebrows shot up as Michael swallowed.

"You mean, as in next Christmas?" he asked.

"Yes. Wouldn't that be lovely?" she asked. "It would give us plenty of time to plan and prepare. We could rent out the . . . ."

"Mom . . ." Nikita interrupted gently and Madeline turned to her.

"Yes, dear?"

The corners of Nikita's mouth curved up into a crooked grin, "I don't think Michael and I can wait that long." She turned and glanced at Michael who smiled back at her with relief. "We were thinking perhaps immediately after the gallery opening in May."

"MAY!"

Paul and Madeline looked at them with shock as they quickly calculated the time they had to plan everything. "That leaves only five months!" Madeline exclaimed. "Actually four because we can't really count May . . ."

A contemplative expression came over Paul's face, "You'll definitely need Mother's help, Madeline. I'll call her tonight."

She shot him a warning look and he flashed her a teasing smile as the others at the table laughed. Madeline sighed, "I guess we should be thankful you two didn't decide on an immediate wedding."

"We certainly thought about it . . ." Nikita answered.

"Have you decided where you'll live?" Birkoff asked. Nikita glanced at Michael as her family waited for her answer. He nodded his head to Nikita and she turned and announced with a smile, "We're going to live here in New York. Michael has agreed to move his headquarters here so that I can continue on at Section and be near you folks."

There was silence at the table as Madeline and Paul exchanged looks. Nikita could see the look of relief in their eyes, especially in her father's. He looked over at Michael and stated quietly, "Thank you." Michael smiled his acknowledgment as he turned to look at Nikita. He could see the happiness in her eyes and it pleased him.

The rest of the evening passed quickly and with much laughter and talk. After dinner, they retired to the family room where Madeline and Nikita drew out a rough time-line for the wedding preparations as Michael, Paul and Birkoff talked on the side. Occasionally, Nikita's eyes wandered over to where Michael was sitting. It warmed her heart to see him fit in so comfortably with her family.

"He's a wonderful man," Madeline commented softly, her eyes following Nikita's gaze.

"I know," Nikita smiled as she reached for her mother's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I've been real lucky," she whispered and glanced down at Bailey, the Chihuahua that Michael had given her. Birkoff had objected to the name Simba saying that it was too girlish. Nikita had asked for suggestions and he had come up with Bailey, so Bailey it was. He was sleeping peacefully now on her lap as she stroked his long silky hair.

"I think you're both lucky," Madeline commented as Nikita looked up at her and smiled.

"Did you and dad have a big wedding?" she asked.

Madeline shook her head as she closed her eyes. "No. Your father and I weren't as patient as you and Michael." She opened her eyes and smiled at Nikita. "Once we knew we couldn't live without the other, we flew to Vegas and got married right away. Your grandmother was furious."

Nikita laughed causing Bailey to wake, his ears perking up as he tilted his head and stared at Nikita with an offended look. This made Nikita laugh even more as she hugged the little dog. She glanced up again and this time saw Michael looking at her. Their eyes communicated silently before she turned to her mother and leaned over to kiss her goodnight.

"Goodnight, my love," Madeline whispered as she laid a loving hand on her daughter's arm. Nikita stood and walked over to her father and proceeded to say goodnight to him and Birkoff as she slipped her hand into Michael's and pulled him up to his feet.

Later in their room, Michael came out of the bathroom to see Nikita lying in bed wearing a nightshirt and Bailey curled up on top of her stomach. He removed his robe and slipped into bed beside her. His eyes met hers then moved down to Bailey who was staring back at him with wide eyes.

"Where is he sleeping?" Michael asked.

"Right here," she answered.

He raised one brow. "And where am I sleeping?"

Nikita grinned and pointed with her chin to where he lay. "Right there."

"Nikita . . ." he frowned and she began to laugh. Bailey lifted his head and looked at her and then at Michael.

"Oh . . . shhh," she whispered loudly to Michael. "I don't think he likes loud noises."

"You're kidding, right?"

Bailey bared his sharp little teeth and growled.

"See? Now you've made him angry," Nikita scolded and then began to coo softly to Bailey. The little Chihuahua instantly settled down, placed his head on his little paws, and stared at Nikita with his big sad eyes. "Aww, he's so cute . . ." Nikita murmured as she turned and smiled at Michael.

"He'd be cuter in his own bed," Michael complained.

"You did say he was to keep me company," she reminded him.

"Yes, but I meant after I left for France, not now . . . ."

"It's just for one night," she whispered, "besides, he was crying. I think he's lonely for his friends at the pet shop."

"Well maybe I should take him back to the pet shop," Michael said as he gave Bailey a threatening look. The little dog growled.

"Michael!"

"Oh, all right," he mumbled and settled down into bed, trying to snuggle up to Nikita. Every time he tried to put his arm around Nikita though, Bailey issued a warning growl. Finally, in frustration, Michael faced the other way and closed his eyes. "I should have bought the cat," he muttered.

Nikita broke out into a wide grin as she pulled the covers back and walked with Bailey over to the basket that she had converted into a bed for him. Setting him down, she gave him a stern look and ordered him to go to sleep. She stood then and walked to the bed, smiling at Michael's back as she pulled off her nightshirt. Reaching over to the lamp, she clicked it off and then climbed back into bed, slipping in between the sheets and sliding over till she came into contact with Michael's warm body. With a sigh she cuddled up to him in spoon fashion. Her arm went about his waist as she slipped her leg between his and she kissed his back tenderly. She felt him relax instantly as his hand found hers and folded it up against his chest. "Thank you," he murmured sleepily. Nikita smiled, kissing his back once more as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Part 48

"How does it make you feel?" Michael asked.

He and Nikita were at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and were standing in front of an oil painting of an old guitarist done on wood panel. True to his word to share more of his world with her, they had spent the morning wandering at a leisurely pace through the museum as they discussed various types of paintings and styles.

Nikita was an avid student, eagerly listening to his explanations and descriptions as they moved through the various displays and exhibits. "I've studied some art in the past," she had commented earlier, "but unfortunately I never really paid much attention. Perhaps if my teacher had looked more like you, I would have learned more," she stated with an impish smile. Michael had laughed quietly as he took her hand in his.

Now, as Michael waited for her response to his question, her eyes scanned slowly over the painting they stood in front of, noticing the alternating shades of blue which the artist had used. A thoughtful look filled her expression as she assessed her reaction to the painting. "Lonely," she replied softly. "He seems so alone, so sad. As if he has no one left in this world -- nothing but the guitar that he holds in his hand." Her brows scrunched together in concentration. "The color . . . and the way he seems to have painted everything to point in a downward position . . . it evokes a feeling of loneliness . . . alienation."

Michael nodded his agreement as he placed his hand on her lower back and gently caressed her. "This is from Picasso's earlier paintings," he explained. "It's one of his first original styles in which he used color to portray the emotions he wanted viewers to see and feel. Most of his work during this period reflects this loneliness theme." He turned to look at Nikita who was still studying the painting. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured. "It's sad, but beautiful."

Michael gazed deeply into her eyes, smiling tenderly at her before he turned back to the painting. "This was one of my mother's favorites," he stated softly. Nikita saw the look of love mingled with pain that crossed his emerald eyes as he remembered his mother. She reached out and touched the back of her fingers to his cheek and he turned and gave her a grateful smile. He didn't talk much about her or his father and she suspected that their loss was still too painful a topic for him to speak about. She hoped, though, that one day he would be able to share that part of his life with her as well.

Quietly, they moved on to the next room and stood viewing another painting. In this one there was no subject, but rather just bright colors arranged almost haphazardly. They were in the process of discussing the artist's purpose in the painting when someone called out Michael's name and they turned to see a skinny man with beady eyes and balding blond hair strolling toward them.

"Michael, it is you!" he stated in a high nasally voice as his eyes shifted back and forth and roamed slowly over Nikita in an almost lewd manner. Nikita felt Michael stiffen as he moved to stand between her and the expensively dressed stranger.

"What do you want, Perry?" he asked in a low voice. Nikita glanced at Michael, slightly surprised by his tone. She could see his jaw clench and his eyes stare, with obvious contempt, at the other man. The man Michael had called "Perry" laughed, his lips curving in a lazy leering grin as he came to stand a few feet in front of them.

"Now, Michael," he commented in his nasally voice. "Is that any way to treat a fellow artist?"

Michael gave him an icy look as he replied flatly, "I don't see any other artist here."

Perry raised his brows mockingly and gave a short laugh as his tongue darted out and licked his thin lips. "Just because you don't particularly like my choice of expression, doesn't mean I'm not an artist," he smiled. His eyes flicked back over to Nikita, his eyes staring intently at her. "Pardon me, mademoiselle," he bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Allow me to introduce myself. Perry Bauer." He extended his hand to Nikita.

She glanced at Michael and noticed how his eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the other man. Hesitantly she reached out and placed her fingers, almost tentatively, in Perry Bauer's hand. "Nikita Wolfe," she murmured.

Perry Bauer's fingers instantly grasped hers and began to lift it toward his lips when Michael reached forward and withdrew Nikita's hand. His eyes flashed a warning look at Bauer, who laughed again and looked from Nikita to Michael, then back again. "Wolfe?" His face took on a contemplative look, then, as recognition dawned, he smiled his obscene little grin once more and asked Nikita, "Are you related to Madeline Wolfe, by any chance?"

Nikita's eyes widened slightly in surprise, which was all that Bauer needed to confirm his suspicion. "Ah, I should have known . . ." he murmured. "Beauty seems to run in your family." His emphasis on the word 'beauty' made Nikita's skin crawl and she began to feel an intense dislike for the man before her.

Michael placed his hand on Nikita's elbow and began to steer her away but was halted momentarily by Bauer's next words. "I'm hosting an exhibit at my gallery tomorrow night. I'd love for you two to attend." His eyes once again were focused solely on Nikita. "I'm featuring the works of a bright new artist that critics have been raving about. He's Asian. I believe you know his work, Michael. His name is Suba."

Michael turned to give Bauer another icy look as he declined the invitation and then led Nikita away. He remained quiet for several minutes as he led her toward the exit of the museum. The relaxed atmosphere they had shared earlier was gone and she could feel Michael's anger radiating from him.

"Michael?" she stopped and turned to look at him with a worried expression. Her voice seemed to snap him out of his dark mood and his eyes softened slightly as he gazed down at her. His hand slipped down from her elbow to her hand and he caressed her fingers gently. "Who is he?" Nikita asked.

He sighed as his eyes turned to look back the way they had come, as if checking to make sure that Perry Bauer hadn't followed them. "Someone I don't want anywhere near you," he stated softly as he turned his attention back to her. "He owns a gallery here, over in the Tribeca area. I don't know him very well, but what I do know, I don't like."

She nodded her understanding and then smiled up at him as she reached up and kissed him briefly, tenderly. "Let's go get some lunch. I'm hungry," she stated. She wanted to forget about this Perry Bauer and the effect he had on Michael and herself.

Michael smiled as his hand reached out and touched her cheek. "All right, my love," he replied softly, and then took her hand and walked with her out into the street.

From a corner in the back, Perry Bauer watched the display of intimacy between Michael and Nikita and his eyes sparkled with amusement as his lips curved into a thin grin.

"Ni-ki-ta. Nikita Wolfe . . . ."

He repeated her name several times, rolling it around his mouth, as if familiarizing himself with it, almost caressing it in an indecent manner. "I think I shall have to pay Section 1 a visit tomorrow," he thought to himself. "I could use a little advertising for the gallery," he stated, and then turned and sauntered leisurely back to the exhibits.

Part 49

Nikita slouched down on the couch, grinning at Bailey who laid on her stomach, his front paws and head resting atop her chest as he stared at her with his large dark eyes. She took a paw in each of her hands and lifted them, shaking them gently as she spoke tenderly to him. "Did you miss me today?" she asked and giggled when Bailey tilted his head sideways and gave a little whimper. "You're so cute . . ." she whispered. "Yes, you are!" She laughed quietly as Bailey stared at her with a puzzled look.

"You're spoiling him," Michael commented as he settled down next to her. Nikita had cooked, so he had offered to clean up after dinner. As he cleared the dishes, he had watched with amusement as Nikita had scooped Bailey up from his basket and sat playing with him -- treating him as if he were a child rather than a pet. Nikita leaned forward and rubbed her nose against Bailey's.

"Don't listen to him, baby," she cooed. "He's just jealous of you." Michael squeezed her thigh causing her to laugh out loud. Bailey showed his displeasure by barking in his high, little dog, voice. "Oooh, I'm sorry, darling," Nikita whispered, lowering her voice so as not to further excite the little Chihuahua.

"Darling?" Michael glared at the dog. "How did you become her darling?" he asked. Bailey responded by laying his head back down atop Nikita's breasts.

"Great," Michael mumbled. "Not only are you her darling, but now you've got the best seat in the house, too," Michael complained. Nikita laughed softly as she turned and turned her head to give him a long, satisfying kiss. As she pulled away, Michael looked down at Bailey, and smiled triumphantly. "At least, you'll never get that," he murmured, and Nikita grinned as she rested her head against his shoulder. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as Michael took her hand in his. The laughter slowly faded from her eyes and was replaced by a sad smile.

"You're thinking of tomorrow?" he asked quietly, and she nodded.

"I wish you didn't have to leave so early, Michael," she whispered. She turned her head and buried her face in his sleeve as she closed her eyes tightly against the sting of tears and the pain that filled her heart with a dull ache. She had promised herself that she wouldn't focus on his impending departure, but she couldn't help it. It lingered at the back of her mind constantly, gnawing at her with increasing magnitude.

"I don't want you to go."

Her voice broke and Michael turned, removed Bailey gently from her and placed him on the ground. "Come here," he instructed as he helped her to settle on his lap. Wrapping his arms about her, he held her and kissed the tears that strayed from her eyes as his fingers combed through her long hair.

"Shh . . . Nikita, ma chere," he whispered. "Let's not think of tomorrow. Let's just enjoy tonight and the time we have together." He placed his fingers tenderly on either side of her face, feeling the softness of her cheeks. His eyes wandered slowly over her face, committing her beauty to memory, as his fingers glided down to her chin and gently drew her to him. "I love you," he breathed against her mouth, and his lips brushed against hers. He took his time kissing her, pressing his lips against hers again and again, with small tender caresses, before entering into her sweet depths with his tongue.

"Nikita."

He sighed her name, the sound of his voice filled with love, desire, and torment. The strength of his feelings for her constantly amazed him. They had only known each other for a very short period of time, yet, he felt as if she had been a part of him all his life. He couldn't recall what his life had been like before she entered it, and he couldn't -- didn't want to -- imagine what it would be like without her. He gazed into her beautiful blue eyes that shone with unshed tears. His fingers reached up to gently touch her eyelids, watching as her lashes fluttered closed and a tear rolled from beneath each.

"I love you," he whispered and leaned forward to kiss each tear, its saltiness filling him with the desire to comfort her, as she took a deep, trembling breath. "My Nikita," he whispered, "my beautiful, sweet Nikita."

His lips moved over to her mouth, gently kneading her lips open and he breathed in the life sustaining air that flowed between their parted lips. Closing his eyes slowly, he merged his mouth with hers. They moved in unison, their tongues dancing tenderly, intimately as they expressed their love for each other. When Michael pulled away and began to move down, Nikita leaned her head back, arching her long graceful neck to him. Michael's eyes roamed over her, loving the way her lips parted while her eyes closed. The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed wildly, tempting him. With a groan, he bent and kissed it, feeling her fingers grasp his shoulders as his mouth fastened onto the sensitive skin.

"Michael," she cried out softly.

She could feel his teeth as he bit her gently and she gasped, her hips straining against him as she felt desire shoot through to the very core of her. Moving to the other side of her neck, he kissed her tenderly, as her fingers glided up and buried themselves in his silky auburn curls. He trailed small, tiny kisses up the graceful curve of her neck, to her chin, and back to her lips. Lifting his eyes, he saw her watching him with half-closed eyes. Her gaze moved to his lips then glanced back up at his eyes.

"Love me, Michael," she whispered.

She needed to feel him tonight. Needed to feel their physical and spiritual joining to sustain her through the long days and nights that they would be apart.

"Make me yours," she pleaded softly.

He looked at her tenderly as he kissed her again, whispering against her mouth, "Always, Nikita. You'll always be mine."

He pulled away then, laying her back gently against the arm rest as his hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. He gazed up to see her eyes watching him as her hands came up and softly caressed his arms. He continued to gaze into her eyes as his fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse. When their task was completed, his eyes left hers and traveled down to watch as his fingers peeled back the material to reveal the twin treasures beneath. He inhaled sharply, desire and passion consuming him at the sight of her. She was so lovely -- and she was his. He glanced up at her, wonder and agony intermingled in his green eyes. Her gaze focused on his mouth as she parted her own lips and whispered, ". . . please, Michael."

He slipped the blouse completely off of her and then watched with great yearning as Nikita placed her hands on her stomach and let them glide up slowly over her breasts.

"No," Michael moaned his protest as her fingers covered the beauty of her breasts from his eyes. He reached down and gently removed her hands, as he bent and took her right nipple in his mouth. Like a babe, he suckled her, loved her, as his hands glided around to her back and pressed her up against him.

Ecstasy filled Nikita as she felt his warm mouth fasten around her. She arched up against him as a soft whimper escaped her lips. Her fingers glided through his silky hair and came back to rest on either side of his face, savoring the feel of his facial muscles as his mouth continued to suckle her. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him on her, and then opened again to watch as he moved to her other breast.

"Michael," she sighed as her fingers stroked his hair. "My darling, Michael."

He lifted his gaze to meet hers as he moved up to find her mouth again. Meanwhile, his hands moved up to cup her breasts, gently stroking their hardened, erect tips. Urgently his lips parted hers as he kissed her deeply. She responded to his passion with equal fervor as she began to beg him softly for more.

Michael removed his hands from her breasts and moved them beneath her. Lifting her up into his arms, he stood and carried her to the bedroom. There he gently laid her down and then stood back and began to undress. Her eyes watched silently as he pulled the sweater he wore up and over his head, then let it slip from his fingers. Her gaze drank in the sight of his smooth chest, his flat male nipples, the firm abdominal muscles of his stomach. Her gaze moved lower to the bulging evidence of his need and desire for her. She looked up to meet his eyes and communicated silently her own desire. When his hands moved to the button at the top of his pants, her eyes glided back down and watched. He lowered his zipper slowly, watching her eyes darken passionately and her lips part hungrily. His manhood throbbed achingly in response to her. Slipping his hands inside, he slid both trousers and boxers slowly down and off.

Nikita bit her lower lip and suppressed a moan as she felt her internal muscles contract at the sight of him. He was divine in his naked splendor. She reached out and touched him, reveling at his size, his warmth, and smooth strength. Michael groaned at her touch, his arousal throbbing as she rubbed the back of her fingers along his length. He moved his hand over hers and adjusted her fingers so that they encircled him.

She moved then, climbing out of bed and taking his hand in hers. She led him to stand in front of the mirror as she stood behind him and met his gaze in their reflection. Her fingers glided around his waist and up to his chest, softly caressing him. Her eyes slowly moved down the length of his body before returning to meet his gaze.

"You're so beautiful, Michael," she whispered. He tried to turn around to face her, but she held him there, objecting quietly. "No, Michael," she sighed. "I want you to see what I see. To see the man that I love."

His eyes darkened and he moaned as her hands glided down his stomach and found his throbbing member. His lips parted and his breathing quickened as she took him in her right hand and began to stroke him as her lips pressed against the back of his shoulder. Her left hand glided back up to his chest and caressed his flat nipple till it hardened and became erect. He was filled with such intense pleasure as he watched her in the mirror . . . watched her touching him, stroking him. "Nikita," he whispered and moaned her name over and over. She shifted again, coming around to his front and knelt down before him.

"Nikita, no," he whispered. "Let me pleasure you." His fingers ran through her hair, as he looked down to meet her gaze.

"You are, Michael," she responded, and then took him in her mouth. Michael gasped and breathed in quickly at the white-hot erotic pleasure that shot through his body as he felt Nikita's tongue swirl around him. His fingers grasped her hair and he held her to him, his senses overcome with the enjoyment of her mouth on him. She moved down to the base of his shaft, placing a tender kiss on his scrotum, before moving back and kissing him all along his hardened length.

Michael felt his legs beginning to tremble. He was torn between the desire to have her continue her exquisite torture and the need to be with her.

"Nikita . . ." he moaned.

She moved up to his tip again, running the tip of her tongue under his ridge, before taking him back in her mouth and sucking on him gently. His hands moved obsessively over her head, stroking her silky golden hair back from her face as he looked down at her. His chest heaved as his breathing quickened even more. His eyes glanced up and he encountered his own desire-filled gaze in the mirror. His brows furrowed as his passion increased at the sight of Nikita kneeling before him. He closed his eyes and groaned, "Nikita, I can't hold on . . . ."

She could feel the rigidity in his whole body as he approached the brink of his pleasure. "Please, Nikita . . ." he moaned.

Quickly she stood and unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down together with her bikini underwear. Turning she leaned against the dresser as she spread her legs and met his desperate gaze in the mirror.

"Come for me, Michael," she whispered.

Immediately he was upon her, feeling her to make sure she was ready, then thrusting himself deeply inside of her. He cried out as the sensation nearly caused him to lose control. His eyes closed tightly as he struggled to rein in his release.

"No, Michael," Nikita whispered as she watched him in the mirror. He gazed at her with tortured eyes and she reached back with her hand to caress his buttock. "Don't hold back, my love," she whispered. "Come for me."

"But you . . ." he murmured.

"Michael, please," she pleaded, "do this for me."

Michael released a low groan then and thrust into her in quick succession. With a cry he thrust one last, powerful time and held her hips tightly to him as he exploded his life-giving seed into her. "Nikita!" he called out and convulsed against her. He continued to hold her to him for several long seconds as he rode his climax out. Finally, his body beginning to recover, he leaned over her. His hands gripped the dresser next to her own hands as he bent over her and kissed her back.

Slowly she moved, feeling him slide out of her as they both straightened. She turned in his arms and cupped his face tenderly in her hands as her eyes caressed him. Silently he expressed his love to her as he stared deeply into her eyes. With a smile she reached up, pulled his face down to her and kissed him.

Part 50

Michael's flight left at 8:00 a.m., so they were up early putting all his belongings together. They worked silently, occasionally glancing at the other. They hadn't slept much the night before. In between making love, and talking, they had simply lain there holding each other close. By 6:00 a.m. they were out of the apartment and on their way to the airport.

The silence that had filled their early morning movements carried on into the car. Nikita looked out into the morning sky and thought it looked as bleak and cold as she felt inside. This is foolish, she thought, as she reflected upon her melancholy. He'll be back soon. They had promised to call each other every day, or email each other. It wasn't as if they were never going to see other again. The corner of her mouth curved up in a small smile. You're turning into such a wimp, she scolded herself. Taking a deep breath, she settled back more comfortably in her seat. I can do this, she told herself. I can do this.

Michael glanced over at her and wondered what it was that caused her to smile. "Feeling better?" he asked quietly. She turned to look at him and her smile widened.

"Yes."

The airport was already crowded with people when they arrived. Nikita stood quietly alongside Michael as they waited in line to check in his baggage. Afterward they walked side by side to the gate. By the time they reached it, people were all ready beginning to board the plane. Michael turned to look at Nikita and saw that she had slipped a pair of dark glasses on, shielding her eyes from him. He stared at her a moment as she continued to look at the people around them. Glancing around, he spotted a secluded area on the far side of the gate. Reaching down, he took Nikita's hand in his and pulled her after him.

"What's going on?" she asked as Michael placed her against the wall and then blocked her body with his. He reached up and removed her shades, folding them and placing them in her coat pocket as he gazed deeply into her eyes.

His eyes roamed over her face tenderly before he bent and kissed her. She melted against him, her arms slipping into his coat and around his waist. She buried her head against his chest and breathed in deeply of his strong clean scent before she lifted her eyes to gaze into his. "Call me when you get home?" she asked. He nodded as his hand came up to touch her cheek.

"What will you do today?" he asked.

She heaved a sigh as she stepped back into his embrace. "I'm going into the office. Don't want to stay at home." He smiled and nodded as his hand stroked her hair. She would bury herself in her work, just as he would do once he reached home, in an effort to keep their minds off of each other.

A voice over the intercom announced the final boarding call for his flight and Michael reluctantly withdrew from her. He gazed down into her eyes and saw her struggling to conceal her agony. He reached out and touched her cheek as he whispered gently, "Tu me manquerai, Nikita. I'll miss you." She smiled then at him, turning her face to kiss his hand before she removed it and placed it down at his side.

"Go, Michael," she said. "Be well, and come back to me."

He nodded and turned to leave. As he stood at the door that led to the entryway into the plane, he turned to see her standing alone in the corner. Even with the distance between them he could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. "I love you," he mouthed quietly, gave her a little wave, then turned and walked through the door.

Part 51

Rose shrieked as she caught sight of the diamond ring on Nikita's hand. "Oh, my god!!" she cried, dropping the folders in her hand and pulling Nikita's hand toward her. She gazed up at Nikita with wide eyes as she asked, "The Frenchman? He proposed?" When Nikita smiled and nodded, Rose gave a loud whoop and threw her fist into the air, doing a little jig in a circle as she shouted softly, "YES! YES! YES!!!"

Rose hugged Nikita as the tall blonde laughed and cried at the same time. Gail and Terry, the receptionist, glanced at each other in confusion at the commotion. Rose turned to them and pointed to Nikita, "He asked her to marry him!!! The Frenchman asked her to marry him!!!"

Gail and Terry rushed over, excitement written on their faces as they, along with Rose, bent over and scrutinized Michael's ring.

"Oooh, it's so beautiful!"

"My god, look at the size of that rock!"

"It must have cost him a fortune."

"I hate you!"

Nikita laughed as she looked at Rose's pouting face. "I hate you!" she repeated through her tears and then hugged Nikita again. "You were supposed to introduce me to him, not take him for yourself!"

Nikita laughed as she hugged her dear friend and asked for her forgiveness. "I couldn't help myself," she smiled as she rolled her eyes dreamily. "He was so irresistible . . . ."

"Oh, shut up. Now I really hate you . . ." Rose sniffed, and they all burst out laughing.

"I see the news is out."

The women turned to see a smiling Madeline standing at the doorway. They smiled their good morning and apologies to her for the noise as they set about restoring order to the office. Gail bent to help Rose pick up the folders that had scattered to the ground when she dropped them as Nikita walked over to her mother, absently wiping tears away from her face.

"Walk with me to my office, darling," she stated and Nikita fell into step next to her.

"Has Michael left?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay?"

Nikita nodded. "I miss him, but I'll be okay."

Madeline glanced sideways at her. "Do you need an extra day off, or are you ready to work?"

Nikita sighed as she clasped her hands behind her. "No. It's time to get back to work. Besides I don't want to sit around at home with nothing to do. It's better to keep busy."

Madeline nodded her understanding. "Good. I was hoping to hear that. I know you're just getting back into the swing of things, but I have a returning client that just came in this morning and he's requested that you handle his account. I wasn't aware that you knew him. His name is Perry Bauer?"

Nikita froze at the mention of the man she had met at the museum and she turned to face her mother. "Did you say Perry Bauer?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "He's an artist, like Michael, and owns a gallery here in town. We've done work for him in the past."

Nikita stood frowning as she stared at the ground. When her mother finished speaking, she looked up at her and said quietly. "I don't like him. He gives me the creeps."

Madeline sighed and reached out to touch her hand. "I know what you mean, my dear. None of the other female account execs are willing to work with him either. Actually, I've placed his account under Jamison, but I had to console him by promising that you would stop by the gala he's holding tonight at his gallery." She saw the stricken look on Nikita's face and she reached out and touched her arm.

"Darling, part of this business is learning to deal with people that we wouldn't particularly care to associate with in our personal lives. You know that."

Nikita nodded reluctantly as Madeline continued. "Take Birkoff or Jamison with you. After about thirty minutes, feign some excuse and leave. All right?"

Nikita sighed as she gave her mother a small smile. She was right of course. She couldn't let personal feelings get in the way of business. "All right, Mother," she conceded. "I'll go."

Madeline smiled her approval and touched her hand to her arm one more time and then turned to leave. It's a good thing Michael's not here, Nikita thought, as she spun on her heel and made her way back to her own office.

Part 52

Nikita turned around slowly, carefully scrutinizing her appearance. She had chosen to wear a black high-collared, sleeveless gown with a fitted bodice that fell away into a long A-line skirt. It was simple, almost austere, which was precisely what she wanted. She had brushed her hair back into a chignon at the back of her neck and used a minimal amount of makeup. Her only adornments were small diamond studded-earrings and her engagement ring. She recalled only too clearly Bauer's lecherous looks at her the day before. She wanted to do everything in her power not to draw attention to herself tonight. Little did she realize though that the severity of her apparel only enhanced her pale beauty.

There was a knock at the door and Bailey, who was lying on the bed, picked his head up and gave a little bark. She glanced over at the clock, eight o'clock, that would be her escort. Giving Bailey a little smile and a reminder to be good while she was gone, she left the bedroom and crossed the living room to the door. Opening it, she smiled at the man standing in the hallway. He was wearing black trousers, and a black long-sleeved silk shirt that was left open at the collar. His long blond hair hung loose and shiny about his shoulders.

"Nikita!" he greeted her warmly and stepped forward to kiss her on both cheeks. She smiled as she gave him a hug and pulled him into the apartment.

"Thank you for doing this on such short notice," she stated.

"Nonsense, my dear," he smiled as he waved her apology away with a sweeping motion. "I told Michel before he left that I would watch out for you, and so, here I am!"

Nikita smiled at Rene. Michael had called earlier in the day to let her know that he had arrived safely and that he would call her that evening at the apartment. "I'll call you," she had suggested. "I have to work late tonight and I might miss your call." Eventually she had to tell him the reason why she was working late. As she had predicted, he was furious, not at her, but at Bauer for deliberately putting her in this position. After a few moments of silence, he had told Nikita that he was calling Rene to accompany her.

"Michael, no . . ." she had protested. "I can take Birkoff or one of the other execs. Don't bother Rene." But he had insisted, explaining to Nikita that Rene was familiar with the likes of Bauer and would be a better escort for her. In regard to Bauer, Michael told her, "He's the lowest type of slime there is, Nikita. I don't want you alone, unprotected around him or any of his people. Rene will take care of you. Trust me." So she had agreed.

"Are you ready to leave?" Rene asked.

"Yes, let me just grab my coat and then we can go."

He looked around her apartment and commented, "This is very nice. You are lucky to be able to live next to the park. It's beautiful in the summer, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Nikita agreed as she slipped on her coat. Rene helped her and then stood back and gave her an appraising look. He frowned as he folded his arms across his chest, one hand going up to thoughtfully stroke his chin.

"Is something wrong?" Nikita asked as she looked down at her outfit.

Rene shook his head and clucked his tongue. "You are too beautiful, Nikita. It is no wonder my poor brother fell helplessly in love with you."

Nikita beamed as Rene laughed and slipped her arm through his. "Come, my dear. Let us go see what this artist's . . . er, what's his name? Tuba, Cuba ..."

"Suba," Nikita corrected him with a smile.

"Yes, well whatever his name is . . . Let us go see what is so good about him, eh? Why I bet I could paint circles about him. Blindfolded even!" Nikita laughed, thinking that maybe this evening wouldn't be so bad after all.

Rene kept Nikita entertained with stories of Michael all the way over to the gallery. She laughed as he told her of what a serious soul Michael was and how he had always tried to get "Michel" to open up -- live a little dangerously, but all to no avail. "Don't tell him, I'm telling you all this!" Rene warned with a serious, frowning look that made Nikita laugh even more. "Otherwise, he will never allow me near you again!"

He smiled as he glanced over at Nikita and listened to her laughter. She was beautiful, he thought, and his heart was filled with happiness for Michel. For so many years his friend -- brother -- had been filled with sorrow, and now, out of the blue, love had found him. He had seen the difference in Michel the day they had come to visit his shop. There was a contentment about him that he hadn't possessed in years and Rene knew it was because of this special woman beside him.

"Even his paintings are rather serious," he mused out loud.

Nikita suddenly realized that she and Michael never did discuss his preference in painting and art. "What type of painting does Michael prefer?" she asked.

Rene smiled quietly as he divided his attention between driving and answering Nikita's question. "He's more of a traditionalist, an impressionist, you know? Michel . . . he is a serious soul who appreciates the simple beauty in the world, in nature, people. He feels very deeply and it is reflected in his paintings."

Nikita sat back and smiled as she thought about the truth in Rene's words. It was one of the things she loved most about Michael. He had no airs about him. What you saw was what you got. He was straightforward and open in his love for her, giving and compassionate. Elegant and sophisticated, yet very down to earth and simple in his needs and joys. He found little ways of expressing his love for her that thrilled and warmed her heart. Like how he would fix their bed every morning . . . or how he picked up their hastily discarded clothes from the night before and quietly put them away. She loved seeing him standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, and she knew he loved when she came up from behind him and encircled her arms about him. Michael made even washing dishes a sensual experience.

"Unfortunately he doesn't paint any more."

"What do you mean?" Nikita asked as she turned to face Rene.

Rene glanced again at her. Of course, she wouldn't know, he thought. He sat quietly, thinking that maybe he should have just remained silent.

"What is it?" Nikita asked. "Please tell me. What do you mean, Michael doesn't paint any more?"

Rene sighed deeply and then explained quietly. "He hasn't painted in years. Not since his parents died. Michel . . . he loved his parents, especially his mother. She was an artist, too. She taught him how to paint from the time he was very young. He has her love for art, for beauty. It was she who encouraged him to pursue his talent and she was the one, along with his father, who helped him to open his first gallery. After their deaths, he was devastated. He threw himself into his work, making the gallery the success it is today. But he never painted after that. Or if he does, he does not share it with anyone."

An ache filled Nikita as she wished that her Michael was here. Wished that she had known this earlier and could have comforted him. Yet, he hadn't told her any of this and perhaps wasn't ready to share it with her. She hoped that one day he would though.

Rene glanced back over at Nikita. "Perhaps your love for him will change all that though, Nikita," he stated softly.

Nikita met Rene's gaze and she gave him a small smile. "I hope so, Rene," she stated softly. "I certainly hope so."

Part 53

"Nikita! How wonderful to see you!"

Nikita swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and repressed a shudder as she felt Perry Bauer's beady eyes rake over her. She pasted a pleasant smile on her face and nodded her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Mr. Bauer."

"Please, call me Perry. Mr. Bauer sounds so stiff and formal."

Nikita gave him another false little smile as she turned to her escort. "This is a friend of mine, Re --"

"Rene Dian. Yes, yes," Perry Bauer's smile widened as his eyes raked over Rene with the same devouring look that he had given Nikita. "Rene and I go back a long way."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," Rene returned icily.

Bauer raised an amused eyebrow as he turned to Nikita. "Please, let me show you around."

"Thank you," Rene interrupted, "but we'll be fine on our own."

"But I insist," Bauer stated, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"As do I," Rene countered. The two men glared at each other for several long moments before Bauer acquiesced.

"Very well," he stated stiffly. "Look around. There's lots of food and champagne. Enjoy yourselves." He turned to walk away, then stopped. "Oh, by the way . . . where's Michael?" he asked as his eyes once again glided over Nikita.

"Michael couldn't make it," Rene answered. "I'm here in his stead."

Perry grinned as he lifted his glass to them, "Enjoy the evening." He turned then and strolled away.

"Pig," Rene muttered. He held onto Nikita's elbow as they looked around. The main lights had been turned off and instead flashing spotlights of different colors rotated throughout the room. A mirrored ball, the type used in many dance halls, hung suspended in the center of the room creating a shower of metallic-like lights that spun around the room. What sounded like middle-eastern music blared loudly through the room as the crowd, a mostly young, chic group, milled about surveying the exhibits. Rene surveyed the scene before him and commented, "This isn't an exhibit -- it's an exhibition."

Several circular platforms had been placed throughout the room and on each one stood a woman or man who, apart from a tiny piece of loin cloth that barely concealed anything, wore absolutely nothing. Their bodies, apparently, were the canvases of choice of this "Suba" character. He had painted their bodies, from head to toe, in bold contrasting colors. The exhibits swayed, some of them in a sexually suggestive manner, to the music.

"My god, how absolutely garish!" Rene commented. He quickly turned Nikita away from the male exhibit, who was also the one dancing suggestively, and ushered her to the other side. "I don't think Michel would approve of us viewing those pieces too closely."

Nikita grinned as she looked back over her shoulder at the male dancer. "Oh, I don't know. It does look rather interesting . . . ."

"Nikita!" Rene acted horrified as he reached over and turned her face in a safer direction. "My god, I can see my poor brother has his hands full with you!" Nikita began to laugh and Rene joined her.

Suddenly, a man, Asian with long black hair combed back in a neat ponytail that hung to the middle of his back, stood before them. His eyes were dark, mysterious, and piercing as they gazed into Nikita's eyes.

"I'm glad you're enjoying my work," he commented in a low voice.

Nikita instinctively drew closer to Rene. "You must be Suba."

The man bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Nikita's. "And you are . . .?" he asked.

"My wife," Rene answered, his eyes flashing as he put a protective arm about Nikita's shoulder. Nikita bit back her surprise.

Suba's eyes transferred over to Rene then back to Nikita, and he gave an obviously disappointed sigh. "Such a pity," he murmured.

"Excuse me?" Rene straightened to his full height as he stared icily at the shorter man.

"Relax . . . relax . . ." Suba smiled. "I only meant that I would have loved to have painted your lovely wife." He said this as his eyes flowed over Nikita's body. He turned back to Rene. "You wouldn't happen to share would you?" At Rene's look of indignation, Suba laughed and raised his hands, "Kidding . . . kidding!" and he chuckled as he shook his head and sauntered away.

"Merde!" Rene muttered, as Nikita laughed and glanced at her watch.

"Let's just make one more round and then let's get out of here."

Rene smiled thankfully, as he linked his arm through hers. "That's the best news I've heard all evening."

Part 54

Nikita entered her key into the door, turned it, and pushed the door open. Immediately she heard Bailey's sharp little bark, and smiled. "Come in," she invited Rene, as she reached over to the side and flipped on additional lights. Bailey appeared from around the corner and Nikita instantly bent and held her arms out. "Come here, Bailey," she called. The little dog stood, gazing at the stranger behind Nikita, then ran into her arms. She laughed as she hugged him to her and buried her face in his soft fur.

Rene stood in the doorway smiling. It seems that Michael had chosen well, he thought. From what he had seen tonight, Nikita was the perfect match for him. "Did you know that Michel also loves dogs?"

Nikita raised her face to look at Rene, as she continued to cuddle Bailey. "No. I didn't." She smiled as she recalled all of Michael's complaints about Bailey. "He gave me Bailey, though," she informed Rene as she looked down at the bundle of fur in her arms. "My Christmas present."

Rene smiled as he looked at the little dog. "Well, usually he prefers the bigger ones, you know?" He held his hand out to his side as he measured a height that was near mid-thigh. "Collies. He keeps them out at his farm in Lyons."

"Come inside," Nikita invited again. She still had an hour to kill before Michael would call and she liked talking with Rene. He told her so many things about Michael that she didn't know.

Rene hesitated. "No, it's getting late and you must be tired. I should go."

"Oh, please don't go. Not yet," Nikita begged. "Stay and talk with me a while. Tell me more about Michael, please?"

He smiled as he stared at the beautiful blonde. She was as much in love with Michael as he was with her. Ah, fate, he thought. Fate had been kind to these two. "All right, but only for a little while." He closed the door behind him as Nikita pointed to the living room and asked him to have a seat.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No. I'm fine, thank you," he replied. He settled into the arm chair as Nikita sat with Bailey on the couch. Rene glanced around, his attention caught by the family photos on the wall. "That day you and Michel came to visit and you said you were in advertising, I had no idea you meant you owned the advertising business."

"Oh! I don't own it!" Nikita laughed. "Heavens, no! My parents actually own and control Section -- and we certainly do not make up the advertising business as a whole!"

"Yes, but very close to it!" Rene countered and Nikita smiled.

"We've been very lucky," she commented. "My parents have worked hard to build Section into what it is today and my brother and I have practically grown up in the business."

"You have a brother?" Rene asked with interest.

"Yes." Nikita stood and walked over to a recent photo of Birkoff and brought it over to Rene. "That's my brother, Birkoff. He's younger than I am. Rather shy, but a wiz when it comes to computers."

Rene smiled as he looked at the photo of Birkoff. He and Nikita didn't look at all alike. "You two are like Michel and Monique. She looks like their father, and Michel looks like their mother. In personality also, Michel tends to be quiet and Monique is loud and full of life." The blond man tilted his head back in contemplation. "Come to think of it, Monique is a lot like you."

Nikita smiled as she returned the photo to its proper place and walked back with Bailey to her seat. "I hope I get to meet her soon. I can tell from the way Michael talks about her and her family that he loves them very much."

"Ah, yes." Rene smiled. "I never had a family. I was an orphan, you know? I grew up a little on the wild side. When I met Michel, I was living out on the streets, selling paintings to survive. Michel befriended me and took me home to meet his family. Monique was very young then . . . maybe twelve, thirteen." Rene's expression softened as he became lost in his memories. "Michel's family took me in and treated me as their own," he stated softly. "They fed me, clothed me, scolded me!" His eyes twinkled as he gazed at Nikita. "Sometimes I was a bit . . . er, how do you say? Rowdy?"

Nikita laughed as she nodded. "Oh, I bet you were rowdy."

Rene shrugged his shoulders as he lifted his hands. "Those were in the younger days. Now . . . I'm much better -- most of the time!" He glanced then at his watch and shook his head as he stood and walked toward Nikita. "My dear, I must be going." He bent and kissed her on both cheeks and then turned to leave. "I enjoyed tonight very much," he called over his shoulder as Nikita and Bailey followed him to the door. "When you next speak with Michel, give him my love, oui?"

Nikita smiled as she thanked him and closed the door. All in all it had been an interesting evening. She had fulfilled her responsibility by attending the gala, had gotten to know Rene better, and learned some interesting things about Michael that she hadn't known before. She gazed down at Bailey who was resting comfortably in her arms. 'You're spoiling him.' She broke into a wide grin as she recalled Michael's remark and kissed the top of Bailey's head. "If I spoil him, my love, it's because you gave him to me," she whispered.

She sighed then as she walked slowly to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway she looked about the room and she thought how utterly empty it seemed. She blinked several times as she felt the tears begin to form, but it was no use. First one, then another tear fell silently from her eyes.

Bailey lifted his head as he felt the first of the tears fall on him and he looked at Nikita with his wide eyes. It was as if he could sense her despair as her breathing quickened and her lip trembled slightly. He gave a little whimper then placed his head against her shoulder. Nikita closed her eyes and leaned her head against the little dog and held him as she rocked him back and forth. "I miss him, Bailey," she whispered. "I miss him."