Bought at a price #SYTYCW15 #PRESENTS - completed

Part Thirteen - Chapter Twelve

Sara sneaked up beside her husband to slid an arm around his waist to be smiled at. She rose on her toes to be kissed on the lips to see her through the next few hours, her hand under his jacket, running over the contours of his perfect bottom.

"Sara," he growled in warning to be chuckled at. "Go and play the good hostess that you are."

She pressed up against him instead. "I could play at being your wife," she offered instead.

"That you're also good at," he noted eyes twinkling. "Later, we have guests so behave yourself, sweetheart." She gave a playful pout to be kissed, then sent on her way to see to their guests, removing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Proudly Sayyid watched his wife as she worked the room, all smile and warmth. She was a natural and had finally let go of her past and was so proud of her. She had achieved so much already, worked hard at night studying. Already passed her HSC with flying colours, now taking courses in business management while researching and running their household with help to free up her time. She never looked so beautiful in her strapless teal chiffon dress over teal silk, wearing his diamonds. Most importantly, his ring, only to be distracted by George Peterson and his determination to push his business proposal upon him.

"Enough George, send me the proposal to my offices and I'll look over them. Now relax and enjoy. These get together are more to do with socialising. I'm sure you don't want to upset my wife who has gone to so much trouble."

George blanched, shaking his head. "Of course not," he whispered then turn to go looking for his wife. Sayyid quickly looked around relieved Sara wasn't in hearing distance. He had been in trouble more than once for using her as an excuse to get out of a sticky situation. She would flash those baby blues at him and he was history doing whatever he had to do to get back in her good books. Frowning, he glanced around the gathering. Where was she? Not with her parents, or Cherry or Karen. Not mingling with her guests to start searching for her.

Hearing the front doorbell, Sara went to answer. Obviously, a late comer to wave away the attendant to open the door herself. Her mind went blank as she looked at her past. A elegant classy woman with red hair in a chignon dressed in her finest, diamonds sparkling. The woman stepped in, ripping off long black gloves to place in her hand. "Please announce me," she ordered, brown eyes hard.

"Of course, Mrs Stafford."

Dark cold brown eyes bored into her sending a shiver down Sara's spine, putting her on alert. "And who might you be?" she enquired running eyes over her strapless gown. Clearly, she didn't recognised her that was a good sign.

"Your hostess, Mrs Roxbury." Just as Sayyid had instructed. Something dark and dangerous passed through her eyes. "Will be so thrilled to see you, I'm Mrs. Basam," she changed quickly, and she was sticking to it. She had seen this woman lose it once and that was enough. Keep it calm. Warn her mother. "Please do come in."

She wave her glove in the air. "Sounds foreign," she said with so much disdain. How on earth did she except Roxbury not Basam? Easily, money. It had always been about money with her.

"Yes, Middle Eastern. Shall I take your coat?" Cecilla Stafford pulled it closer as she frowned. "No?"

"I'm sure there has been no wedding yet. Plans are still in the making."

"Of course, my mistake. I've been out of the country." That was true, since they had just come back from London. She was talking about Cherry, her daughter. "Miss Stafford is around. Shall I find her for you?" Please say yes, so she can warn everyone. Get her mother out of here before all hell broke loose. A shiver of fear went through her. She couldn't cause a scene. There was a party going on. Keep it calm and find her father. "Since you have arrived late," dark eyes flashed wildly at her to have gloves swiped at her.