by S. J. Tilly
“Hey, Jess. How was your weekend?”
She grins. “Great! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I met this guy. So hot. So flexible.” She fans her face.
I laugh. “Flexible? Do I even want to know?”
She claps as she does a little hop. “He’s a freaking yoga teacher! How sexy is that?”
My face scrunches. “Uh…” I’m picturing a painfully thin man in tight pants leering at a room full of women holding downward dog.
Jessica slaps my arm. “Oh my god, I don’t even want to know what you’re imaging right now.”
“You’re probably right.” I give a fake shiver.
“Whatever. Just say you’ll come with me.”
“Where?”
She rolls her eyes. “To one of his yoga classes. He gave me a pair of free passes.” Jessica puts her hands together as if in prayer. “Please, please, please. Don’t make me go alone. I need moral support.”
I sigh. “When?”
She squeals. “Wednesday afternoon. I already told Cheryl I’d be taking a late lunch that day. It’s just down the street.”
I think it over. “That should work. Send me the address and time. But - fair warning - I suck at yoga.”
“Perfect. I suck, too!” Jessica gives me one of her bouncy hugs before she disappears down the hallway.
Making my way outside, I pause to pull my sunglasses from my bag. Today is one of those beautiful Minnesota summer days that make all of those winter months worth it.
Pulling my bag back up on my shoulder, I feel my phone vibrate.
Vincent: Sweetheart if you’re available, come to my office. I have some free time for the next few hours.
Sweetheart? Ugh, this man. Honestly, I think kind and caring Vincent might be more dangerous than Devil Vincent. But since I know I won’t get any work done until I see him, I tell him I’ll be there soon.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I realize how glad I am that I ran into Jessica. Her happiness helped to calm me down. I’m fairly confident that Cheryl doesn’t suspect anything between Vincent and I, but that meeting was far more stressful than I expected. I’m not good with secrets, and my stupid guilty conscience was jabbing me in the ribs. And every time she said his name I’d flash to the image of Vincent asleep in my bed. And I’d blush.
Waiting for a crosswalk light to change, I get that strange prickling feeling on the back of my neck again. That sense of being watched. It’s the same feeling I had the morning I shame-walked out of Vincent’s apartment building.
My sunglasses have a solid tint, so I do my best to nonchalantly scan the street in front of me trying to spot a suspicious character. No one stands out. Not that I would know what to look for.
As if on cue, the king of paranoia calls.
“Hey, Special Agent Nerd.” I greet John.
I can hear his eye roll. “Mature as always, Sasha.”
Still looking around, I ask. “How do you pick a bad player out of a crowd?”
“Uh, look for the one with a ski mask and a bazooka.”
“Helpful.” I deadpan. “Like how would you spot a stalker?”
I’m too busy scanning the other pedestrians as I cross the street to notice my mistake, and the change in his tone. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I reply, trying to sound casual. “I just feel like I’m being watched.”
I nearly drop the phone when his voice booms through the speaker. “You have a fucking stalker!?”
“Jesus, chill!” My free hand presses against my chest, trying to keep my heart from bouncing out of my chest. “You scared the shit out of me, you asshat.”
“What. Are. You. Talking. About.” He punctuates each word.
“Nothing. Seriously. Take a breath before you pop a blood vessel. Everything is fine. I just had one of those strange feelings like someone was watching me. But it’s nothing. The sidewalk is crowded. I’m sure I’ve just had too much caffeine.” I leave out the fact that this isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.
“If you think someone is following you, then have your boyfriend hook you up with some security.”
“Uh, hard pass.” I cringe at the thought. Vincent is freaking overprotective enough as it is. “And no one is following me, it was just a feeling.”
John hums. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t correct me when I called him your boyfriend.”
“Oh my god.” I groan. “I don’t know what you called for, but I’m hanging up now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SASHA
M aking my way across the executive floor, I smooth down the front of my skirt. Needing the added confidence boost for my meeting with Cheryl this morning, I chose an outfit that I always feel great in. The baby blue wrap dress is simple but flattering on my curves. The V neck doesn’t plunge too far, but it’s enough to make me feel sexy. I even took the extra effort to straighten my hair, so it's laying in a glossy sheet over my shoulders. Paired with a little more jewelry than I’d normally wear, and suede ankle boots, I feel ready to face just about anything.
Rounding the corner, I spot Vincent. He’s standing next to Brent’s desk, where they appear to be deep in discussion. In profile, Vincent looks just as hot as ever. His dark hair swept back. His stubble highlighting the firm lines of his jaw. His dark lashes making it damn near impossible to look away from his nearly black eyes.
I can’t decide if he looks best like this. Perfectly tailored suit. Shirt buttoned. Hair in place. Or how he looked this weekend. Worn jeans hugging his drool-worthy ass. T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. Hair mussed.
The truth is Vincent looks hot as fuck no matter what he’s wearing. Or not wearing.
Vincent is still speaking but Brent must notice the movement of my approach. His attention turns to me and he gives me a slow once over.
“Hey there, beautiful. You look extra delicious today. Did you come all the way up here just to see me?” Brent asks, doing his best to keep a shit-eating grin off his face.
Vincent’s head whips up. He gives me the same once over, but - when Vincent does it - it feels like he’s doing more than just undressing me with his eyes. It’s as if I can feel his hands peeling my clothes away, caressing the skin beneath.
I close those thoughts down, not wanting to waste this golden opportunity to mess with him.
Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I give Brent my best seductive smile. “Awe, thanks sugar. I have to chat with Mr. Mazzanti, but I’ll be sure to save some time for you afterward.”
I swear I hear Vincent growl before he snaps at Brent. “Hold my fucking calls.”
Brent loses his fight against his grin as he mouths Sugar to me, raising his eyebrows. I ignore him.
“Hi.” I smile at Vincent.
He watches me for a moment before he rolls his eyes, clearly realizing that we’re trying to rile him up. But that doesn’t stop him from gripping my wrist and pulling me into his office. The action reminding me of the over-the-top demanding Vincent that I know well.
He removes his suit jacket before taking a seat behind his desk. I’m not exactly sure why he asked me to come up here, but he doesn’t make me wait long.
Vincent lets out a deep sigh, then starts talking. “I know this might not be the most appropriate thing to discuss at the office, but I wanted to thank you for this weekend.”
He’s so serious that I resist the scoff that tries to escape my throat. Most of my memories in this office are far more inappropriate than a mere personal discussion.
I cross my legs and lean forward in my chair. “You don’t need to thank me. Not again.”
“I do.” He argues. “You didn’t owe me anything. You could have left me begging outside your door. And in case I haven’t made it clear, I’m sorry for how I treated you that morning in my apartment. I had no right to take my issues out on you. I just…” He breaks off.
“I know. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t matter because it does. You made me feel like… like one of many. Your words were harsh, and you hurt me.” Vincent looks stricken. I was planning to drag this out more, but for both our sakes, I decide to put him out of his misery. “I forgive you.”
He shakes his head. “Sasha.”
I hold up my hand. “I do. If you hadn’t come over with Annie, I probably wouldn’t have. Hell, I probably wouldn’t be talking to you at all. But I saw a different side of you this weekend, and think I get it. It doesn’t make how you acted towards me okay, but I do understand. You were trying to keep what we were doing separate from Annie. I can respect that. And I can forgive you. Just don’t ever treat me like that again. My compassion and empathy have limits.”
Vincent’s exhale is audible. “You’re right. About all of it.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Annie is the best thing in my life. She was also the biggest shock.”
I hold my breath, not wanting to do anything that might stop him. Since my talk about mothers with Annie, my desire to know more has only grown. But I knew I’d have to wait for Vincent to tell me on his own time.
Vincent leans back in his chair and looks out the window. “I worked out of the Miami offices for the last couple years of my 20’s. There was a group of us that would go out about once a month. Just Angelo and some other guys from work. We always ended up at the same club. There was this girl. She was a bartender. She was nice.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I didn’t know her that well. Renee was just there. She was convenient. And hooking up just became part of the routine. She knew what it was. I’m sure she was sleeping with other people, hell she might have even had a boyfriend. I didn’t care. I didn’t know her last name and she didn’t know mine. I didn’t want her knowing who I really was. I always paid in cash. I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
“Then some things changed in the business, and I moved to New York. I didn’t tell her. There was no goodbye. There was no need for one. And I didn’t think about her again. Not until she showed up in my building a year later.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
VINCENT
I see Angelo’s name and answer distractedly. “Yeah? I’m kinda busy right now.”
“Uh, Vinny, there’s someone here for you.”
His tone pulls my attention away from the computer screen. “What do you mean here for me? Are you working the front door?”
Angelo sighs. “The guys downstairs called me. There’s a woman in the lobby throwing a fit. Saying she needs to talk to you.”
My brows furrow. “A woman?”
“Yeah, man. Fuck. I think it’s that chick from Florida. You know, that blonde chick you were hooking up with at the club.”
It takes me a moment to figure out who he’s talking about. “Wait, are you talking about Renee? Why would she be here? And how the fuck does she know where to find me?”
“Yeah, Renee, that’s the name she gave the guys at the door.”
He’s being cagey and I don’t have time for this shit. “Angelo, spit it out.”
“Shit, Vin. She has a baby with her.”
His words hit me one at a time. Like fists, each blow taking the air straight out of my lungs.
“A baby?” I whisper.
“Yeah.” Angelo’s voice sounds as pained as I feel. “She’s saying it’s yours.”
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. Fighting against the urge to be sick.
“Send her up. And call Uncle Enzo. She might be crazy, but either way I’ll need to get a… a paternity test.” I choke out the words. “He’ll know who to call.”
“Will do, brother.”
I swallow down my rising fear. “And get the fuck up here. I shouldn’t be alone in a room with her.”
-
I have a daughter.
The test came back. She’s mine. Annie is mine. Having money doesn’t solve everything, but it can get fast results.
I pace my kitchen. Itching to open the bottle of bourbon that’s sitting on my counter, but knowing that’s the last thing I need. That me getting drunk right now is the last thing my daughter needs. My daughter.
I wouldn’t have recognized Renee if I’d seen her on the streets. In fact, she looked like she’d been living on the streets. She had always been small, but the past year had not been good to her. Even after having a baby, her previous slender build is now painfully thin. Her blonde hair - dull and stringy. Her skin is no longer tan, but pale and marked.
She was a user. What sort of drugs, I wasn’t sure. I always knew she was on something back in Florida. But it wasn’t my business. Wasn’t my problem. But now it is. Because she’s been raising my fucking daughter.
My. Daughter. Each time I roll the word around in my mind, it stings a little bit less. It gets just a little less scary. I can do this. I will do this. Annie’s mine now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SASHA
L istening to Vincent tell his story, I feel like I’m living through it.
Vincent’s gaze is still aimed out the window. “Once I decided what I needed to do, I put it in motion. I had my lawyers draw up the paperwork and within 48 hours Renee signed over all parental rights in exchange for $500,000 and her signature on an NDA. My mom moved in with me that very same day. Two months later we left New York and moved back to Minnesota. I wanted to raise my daughter in the only place that’s ever felt like home to me.”
I can’t even imagine how life-altering that experience must have been for him. So I focus my question on Annie. “How was Annie? I mean, was she healthy?” Not sure how to ask if her mom’s abuse caused her to be addicted to drugs.
Vincent finally turns back to face me, the smallest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “She was perfect. The strongest little baby. Renee had only ever given her formula and she must have been clean enough for most of the pregnancy. There were no drugs anywhere in Annie’s system. She turned 6 months old the day the papers were signed. Renee had to have been a couple months along when I moved away. It had never been a consideration. We always used condoms, but clearly something failed along the way. She didn’t know who I was. Didn't know I was rich. So I don’t think she intentionally got pregnant. For all that’s happened, I’ll be forever grateful that she found me. That she brought Annie into my life. My daughter might look like she only shares my eyes, but she’s so much like me it’s scary sometimes.”
“Annie is lucky to have you. And her grandma.” I pause. “How did she find you? Renee. If she didn’t know who you were?”
The smile leaves Vincent’s face and he grinds his teeth. “Randal.”
The anger is palpable in the way he says the name. I wait for him to elaborate.
“Renee’s twin brother. I didn’t even know she had a twin until the day she showed up in New York and Angelo ran a background check on her. The two of them were abandoned at birth and went into the system. They managed to stay together throughout their years in the system, and - apparently - they’d still been living together in Florida.
“Randal is a lot of things. He’s a paranoid sociopath with a multitude of disorders, but he’s also a skilled hacker. Somehow he was able to put the pieces together and track me to New York.”
“Where is he now?” I ask, feeling like there’s more.
“On the run.” Vincent shuts his eyes. “Around Annie’s third birthday I got word that Renee had died. It was ruled an accidental overdose. I don’t know what drugs she was on over the years, but it was heroin that killed her. I wasn’t surprised. Honestly, I was expecting it. And I’d be lying if I said I was sad.” He opens his eyes and looks right at me. “It might make me a monster, but with Renee dead it meant that no one could try to take Annie away from me. She signed away her rights, but there was always a chance that some judge would deem that she’d been unfit to make that decision at the time. And that might be true, but Annie was mine. Is mine. And no one will ever take her from me.”
“I understand.” I whis
per. And I do. I hardly know Annie, but I would already do just about anything to protect her. I can only imagine the constant fear Vincent must have lived in, worrying that someday a judge would come and tear his daughter from his arms.
He must sense that I’m telling the truth, because he continues. “The first time I ever saw Randal in person was one month after Renee died. I was leaving a meeting, walking down the sidewalk with Angelo. As soon as I saw Randal, I knew who he was. We had his image from the background check, but I would have recognized him anyway. He looked just like Renee. Average height. Thin. Bright blonde hair. Pale blue eyes. The only difference is that he didn’t look strung out, he just looked crazy.
“He started shouting about how I killed his sister. How I gave her all that money knowing she’d use it to kill herself with drugs. He said I stole her baby and that she couldn’t live with the depression. I didn’t point out that she had never, not once, tried to see Annie. Not one attempt to call. Not one letter. But I didn’t say anything to Randal. I just called the cops and got a restraining order.”
“You said the first time you saw him. Was there a second?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“The second time I saw Randal, I was sprinting across a parking lot trying to reach him before he disappeared with my daughter.”
I suck in a breath.
Listening to Vincent tell me the story of Annie’s near kidnapping has me swallowing down the urge to vomit. His tone is cool, but I can see that the retelling is costing him. If he hadn’t reached her in time… No. I can’t even think about that. I’m sure Vincent has played that scenario endless times; I don’t need to add to his torment.
“They never caught him?” I ask, not believing it.
“No.” I watch as Vincent’s fists clench on his desk. “I don’t know how he did it, but he slipped away. I knew him well enough by then. Knew he’d be monitoring the police stations, the information going in and out. So I flooded every precinct in the state with images of him ensuring he would see it. I offered a private reward to any officer who could find him. Had him officially labeled as a child molester. Randal might have thought he was clever enough to evade the system, but he knows what happens to perverts in jail. I had to make the risk greater than the reward.”