Rochelle stopped him and quickly enclosed the space between them and roughly pulled his lips back to hers, digging her nails into his skull. “I’m sure that it’s breakfast time somewhere in the world,” she breathed hotly, and he groaned, moving so that his large body totally overshadowed her somewhat petite, slender frame.
“Somewhere, it is, Angel.”
✽✽✽
Rochelle squinted at the design in the dim light, as the sun began creeping over the horizon. Slanting her wrist, she drew a light line over the waistband of the dress to make it seem narrower. She precisely scattered a few more vertical, light lines over the skirt to increase the volume then eased back to take in the larger picture.
“That’s beautiful.”
Rochelle jumped at the sound so close to her ear, and instantly, she felt the heat from his body. She had been so consumed by the design that she hadn’t even felt the bed shift.
“You’ve been at it for a while, erasing, redrawing, then erasing again, but I think you’ve captured the idea wonderfully.”
A blush stole across her cheeks, and she hid her smile, as she placed the sketchpad and pencils on the bed. Turning slightly, she kissed the side of his mouth, teasing her lips with the new growth on his cheek.
“Morning to you too,” she murmured, and he smiled. “How long have you been breathing into my neck?” She questioned, cocking an eyebrow.
“Since you got up an hour ago to pull out the drawer to retrieve your equipment— I saw the gun by the way,” he muttered the latter offhandedly, and her brows met in the middle of her forehead.
“You have a gun too— more than one, as a matter of fact,” she muttered, as she gestured to the silver piece on the nightstand on his side. “You can’t possibly be disapproving,” she stated.
He held his hands before him in a defensive position as her eyes turned stormy. “I’m glad that you know how to protect yourself, but why would you need it around me?” He questioned, and saw her eyes cloud before she looked down on her hands in her lap.
“I had no idea who was going to walk through that door last night, and I was scared.” She looked up at him as his heart clenched in his chest, when he saw the emotions in her eyes. “You see… I had an incident a few years ago with an oil tycoon, and—”
Carter swiftly stopped the deadly flow of her words with a long finger on her lips and felt her shudder. “Then why didn’t you just reject the arrangement, or request more information?” He queried gently.
“When my father outlines the terms of a contract, there’s no way you can go around it.” She drew a shaky breath. “Plus, I had a lot at stake on this deal.” She paused again. “It was the only way I could reclaim a major part of a company that was rightfully my mother’s,” she whispered.
Carter hid the anger that flared within every cell of his body with a gentle caress of her cheek. “I thought that the Hummingbird Club label was just a front where you just have a few designers to produce your products in order to cover what it was really about,” he stated, referring to the design with a flick of his wrist.
She looked down at her folded hands in her lap. “My mother and I design them. The dress in Vegas was my favorite,” she murmured.
“I thought that was Dior,” he marveled, the pride in his eyes warming her slender frame.
“I studied business and design at university.”
A frown created a gentle ‘V’ between his brows. “But you’re only twenty; that would mean you began at sixteen,” he marveled.
She looked up at him, light dancing in her hazel eyes at his approval. “Seventeen; I did summers to finish ahead of time,” she whispered, a blush stealing across her cheeks.
Carter’s heart swelled, and he pushed away the sketchpad to pull her into a laying position. She smiled up at him as he brushed the hair from her face. “How’s your bump?” He asked lightly, as he touched a finger to the area gently.
Rochelle cupped his cheek, pulling his lips a hair’s breadth away from hers before smiling. “I’m fine, just getting a bit cold down here,” she giggled, and he groaned, quickly pressing his very warm frame into hers.
“Let’s go to dinner tonight,” he murmured, as he brushed his lips softly against hers, smiling when she chuckled.
“You talk like you have any idea of where to go,” she murmured with a smile.
“I’m sure that I can find my way around, and I have the best town guide with me,” he chuckled, before placing a small kiss on her nose.
Rochelle ran her fingers through his thick mane, smiling up at him. “How about I cook for you after we visit Mom and get the last signature on these shares?” She suggested.
Carter pressed his lower body into hers, his steely bulge very evident. “Even better, I can tie you to the bed until visiting hours,” he murmured real huskily, causing her face to flush.
“I’ve got to say that I’m favoring that idea.”
✽✽✽
Carter stroked the jewelry box in his pocket as he watched her talk to the doctor. He looked at her mother, pale against the white sheets. Her bruises stood out now from the lack of make-up and he cringed, wondering how a man could dare raise his hands at a woman, much more, the woman whom he claimed to love, the mother of his children.
His knuckles whitened around the black velvet as he remembered the bruises along Rochelle’s thighs and abdomen. He wanted to crush Percival Jones under the heel of his shoes, but he was just biding time. His heart skittered when she looked across at him and smiled assuredly. After a heartbeat, she stretched her hand towards him in an open invitation, and he didn’t hesitate to move towards her.
Rochelle leaned into his strength, as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Doctor Lewis, Carter de Silva; Carter, Doctor Lewis,” she murmured, and felt his fingers tighten around her waist after nodding in acknowledgment to the older man. A shiver raced down her spine as he brought his lips close to her ear.
“One of your father’s cover-uppers,” he started coldly, and she gave him a sad smile when he looked at her mother.
A soothing hand caressed her back to ease the tension from her spine. She looked up at him when he kissed her temple and smiled gently, turning over his darkened heart.
“I have something for you, but it’ll have to wait ‘til I see you naked in the kitchen,” he whispered, chuckling when her cheeks reddened before she cast a glance at the middle-aged doctor.
“As I was saying prior, we’ll need to keep a close eye on her, especially for the latter part of the first trimester into the second; I doubt there’ll be any issues after that, but she’ll need to take it easy,” the doctor murmured.
Carter tightened his fingers into a fist in his empty pocket, as anger clawed against the wall of his chest. He wanted to grab the man and shout at him; how the hell was she supposed to take it easy with a murderer for a husband? But instead, he pressed his lips tightly together.
“So, when can she come home?” Rochelle questioned softly.
“We’ll be keeping her for a few more days, or until we hear their heartbeats. She’ll be in her second trimester by early next week; so, maybe until then.” He paused and nervously toyed with his name tag. “She needs to rest. I’m not sure how her body will fair if she has another miscarriage; she’s already had too many,” he stated flatly, and she nodded her understanding.
Rochelle felt Carter’s muscles tense beneath her fingers at the doctor’s words, anger radiating from his large frame, and for a brief moment, she felt afraid of his strength and the power that he now held over her. Just as she was about to ask another question, his cell rung, and after checking the Caller ID, he asked to be excused. For a moment, jealousy flared bright and hot inside her, but she suppressed it, for he did not belong to her- he had truly made no promises.
Carter watched as the jealousy disappeared when her eyes unveiled once more. Easing down, he brushed her lips. “It’s my grandfather,” he said, in an assuring tone, before kissing her cheek and moving away
.
Rochelle watched his broad shoulders and sexy ass disappear down the corridor with a lusty look on her face. Had her jealousy been that obvious? She wondered. A blush stole across her cheeks from embarrassment, but she couldn’t suppress the airiness she felt that he’d taken the time to reassure her.
“Your father knows?”
Roland’s voice pulled her attention to him. She shrugged in answer to his question, not giving anything away. The doctor’s eyes turned towards the now empty hallway.
“He looks powerful enough to tear Jones apart limb by limb.”
She cocked an eyebrow and shrugged once more, a cocky smile on her pink lips.
“It’s good that you’ve found someone to protect you,” he stated, giving her a sad smile when he reached out to touch her and she stepped back.
“What’s your job title?” She demanded, her hands crossed beneath her adequate bosom.
Roland paled beneath his brown shade. “A general practitioner and a trauma surgeon,” he responded, taking a step back at the coldness in her hazel eyes so like her father’s.
“Saving lives is what you should be doing; is it not, Dr. Lewis?” She demanded once more, causing him to swallow nervously.
When had this little girl grown and blossomed into a devastating woman? He wondered. “Yes,” he answered cautiously. “Rochelle, I was trying to save—”
She stepped back from his outstretched hand once more, anger flashing through her eyes, killing his now seemingly feeble excuses. “You’re answerable only to Percival, Roland; I don’t care for your excuses or your insight in my personal life.” She drew a shaky breath, the tone of her voice causing a shiver to run down his spine. “From now onwards, whatever you have to say to me ought to be as a professional, with no inkling of what happens behind the closed doors of our home, unless you want to be dragged through court.” She raised a hand to shut him up before he even begun to speak. “And I don’t give a fuck about what will be exposed about me, because I have a brick wall behind me, and I’m sure he has no qualms to fuck you over.” She pasted a sickly sweet smile on her lips, as her threats hit him with deadly blows. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to my mother.”
✽✽✽
Carter pressed the cell to his ear and his grandfather’s voice hit him. “Abuelo,” he murmured. “How are you?”
Rafael let out an almost harsh laugh at the concern in his grandson’s voice. “Your concern is misplaced, boy,” he stated authoritatively, and Carter released the breath that he hadn’t realized that he’d even been holding. “Have you gotten her pregnant yet?” The old man demanded without hesitation.
Carter burst into laughter. “Such confidence in my prowess, Grandfather,” he chuckled. “How are you even sure that I got her to go home with me?” He questioned, the laughter never absent from his voice.
“I never doubted that you could, boy. Plus, I know for a fact that you’re in Jamaica at this very moment.” The old man paused to catch a breath. “So, I figured that you’d nailed it, and are pining for some more. Therefore, you put your tail between your legs and crawled after her,” he chuckled, and Carter rolled his very green eyes.
“I’ve got to admit that you’re probably right about the pining part; however, I’m still working on the pregnancy,” he stated casually, remembering the package of pills that he’d seen on the bathroom’s counter. Rochelle hadn’t carried the pills to Vegas, nor has she taken it since, and Carter had ensured never to use protection. He would not have needed to even if he hadn’t been trying to impregnate her and she’d been on the pills, because he had all her medical records on his cell and in his email.
“You better hurry it along, boy.” His grandfather’s voice sobered and Carter’s spine straightened as his muscles tensed. “Time is running out.”
Carter looked at the white walls around him and blew out a pent-up breath. “I know, Grandfather; I know,” he whispered.
“Be safe, my boy,” Rafael stated affectionately, before severing the connection between Jamaica and Spain.
With a defeated sigh, he turned towards Rochelle’s mother’s room.
✽✽✽
Rochelle sucked in a breath as firm, muscular hands, cupped her hips, and warm cologne invaded her airways before a hot body pressed against her backside.
“She’s still sleeping,” he observed, concern clouding his voice.
She tipped her head back to kiss his neck, and his fingers dug into her hips. As her body melted into his, she came to the swift realization that she was falling for a guy whom she’d known for only a few days, and she wasn’t sure if she should be afraid. Rochelle swallowed before looking at her mother. “Her body’s exhausted; must be a while since she could rest like this,” she whispered.
This time, he kissed her ear gently. “It’s not your fault, Rochelle; you were too young to protect her,” he said gently.
“I was gone all the time- partying, clubbing, constantly,” she breathed.
His heart ached when she reached up to wipe away a fat tear. “She understood that you were forced to, Rochelle; just as she was forced to keep silent,” he said, his voice firming, as if to assure her, but she only felt more wretched.
“She doesn’t know, Carter; she has no idea. She still doesn’t, and I don’t know if I can ever tell her.”
Carter’s fingers now dug into her biceps. “Rochelle; oh, baby.” She buried her face into his shirt as he turned her into his arms.
“She probably thinks that I’m a rebellious, ungrateful child, who—”
“Shhh… It’ll be okay, sweetheart; it’ll be okay,” he murmured, stroking her thick, loose mane.
Rochelle struggled with the huge lump in her throat, as he gently stroked her back, causing shivers to run throughout her slight frame. “I couldn’t protect her,” she whispered; letting out her greatest fear seconds after. “How will I ever be able to protect my own children?” She questioned in a broken whisper, and his body stiffened as reality slammed into him: this is the life that he would’ve been subjecting his children to if he’d just upped and left.
He cupped her chin to bring her hazel eyes to his greens. “Rochelle, you’ll be a wonderful mother, and I assure you that Percival will not be allowed anywhere near our kids,” he murmured, waiting for his words to sink in. He saw it the instant that her eyes changed color, something glowed behind the lenses. Something achingly familiar; it was the same look that his mother used to give him before she’d been murdered. The thought of offering her a cold proposition to be the mother of his children disappeared instantly. He wanted- no, he needed, much more, from this beautiful young lady. There was no way in hell that he would leave her or her mother in this godforsaken hell.
“I don’t doubt that for a second,” she whispered back, and he released a breath that he hadn’t realized that he’d been holding.
When had Prince Carter Lejandré Rafael Felip de Silva of Spain ever felt afraid of rejection? A voice mocked.
No one would have ever dared to reject him. He’d never been opposed- even in the boardroom- before. His decisions had always been precise and factual, he wasn’t called the Lion King for nothing.
He kissed her forehead and smiled, his bone-melting smile, and oh, she didn’t disappoint; he instantly felt her nipples harden against the hard wall of his chest.
“You know what I think we should do? Celebrate your freedom from hell,” he stated, answering his own question. “I came with business associates, who are really my best friends, maybe you can call some of your friends, and we hit the clubs?” He suggested. “Feel like hitting the ‘Hip Strip?’” He grinned.
“No problem, I’m sure that I can find a few unavailable, but…” Her hazel eyes conveyed the message that she was uncertain to speak out loud.
“They know, sweetheart, and they’re still dying to meet you,” he murmured, and she gave him a small smile.
“Then we could get a head start on our plans so that we don’t end up reaching
Montego Bay when the sun is rising tomorrow,” she said, with a sweet smile.
“I’m sure that I’d make it worth your while anyway,” he grinned, causing her color to deepen.
✽✽✽
Carter leaned into the cushion of the seat and scanned the room in search of Rochelle and her friends once more. He had wanted to journey up with her, but she had refused, wanting to surprise him and the boys with the girls. They’d had to travel in his Range Rover, whilst the girls had taken the Jaguar, and they had also been forced into two separate rooms for the night. He groaned at the thought, as he raised a cold Heineken to his lips.
“Holy fuck! That’s her!” Morris’ astonished voice brought Carter’s eyes to him in the dim room, then to the three stunning women who were walking towards them.
Carter grinned, as he took in the twins that flanked each of his woman’s curvaceous hips and shook his head. She had adsorbed every detail about the boys, and reproduced them in the girls that she’d chosen. Surprisingly, her friend was also the woman that had gotten away from Morris. Carter’s grin widened when he met her eyes, just as Martin and Morris said…
“Left.”
“Right.”
… In unison.
✽✽✽
Heat rushed through her body, as Carter’s eyes slowly undressed her as she advanced on the male group of drop-dead-gorgeous males.
Stacey moaned beside her, voicing her pleasure.
“When can we tell them that we have three separate rooms?” Stacey questioned breathlessly, and Rochelle chuckled. Stacey quickly masked her initial shock before Rochelle could realize.
This had to be fate, Stacey thought.
“You have to choose which one’s yours first, and then you tell them after drinks,” Rochelle laughed. Her laughter only increased when they said…
“Left.”
“Right.”
… At the same time, moving in the direction of their choice, almost colliding with each other.
Chapter Thirteen
From A Harlot To A Princess Page 13