“We know we’re about to become grandparents again. Simone’s baby boy is due in October—only six more weeks.” Sylvie spoke slowly and then took a sip of water.
“I was talking about me,” Stephan said, eyeing his mother.
Her eyes hardened, and she carefully set the glass of water back on the tray in front of him. “You’re not married,” she said calmly.
“I know that.”
They stared at each other, and tension thickened the air.
Oscar leaned forward. “Stephan, how did this…never mind. Who is the mother and how far along is she?”
“Roselle, and she’s ten weeks pregnant.”
“Roselle, my employee?” Sylvie looked at Oscar but pointed at Stephan. “You see what has happened? And you want me to change my mind about the trust. Why? Look at the mess he’s made yet again.”
Stephan took the tongue-lashing.
Oscar kept his gaze on Stephan. “I’m sure he’s remorseful.”
“Remorseful is not enough! His behavior must change, and it has not. Instead of getting better, it’s become progressively worse. Now he’s gotten Roselle—my employee—pregnant. And you want me to go easy on him? I will not. I have indulged his behavior long enough. No more.”
It was strange to hear the parental roles had reversed, with his father being his champion while his mother insisted on meting out punishment.
Sylvie swung a fierce look in Stephan’s direction. “Did you explain to her that you’re getting married?”
“Sylvie,” Oscar said in a warning voice.
“No, Oscar. He will do the right thing and marry her. He will be responsible.”
“She doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Did you ask her?” Sylvie demanded.
“Of course. She doesn’t want to marry me, and she doesn’t have to.” No matter how much he wanted her to. No matter how much, in retrospect, he’d seen her pregnancy as an opportunity to lock her down and had simply used his mother as an excuse.
“Of course she has to marry you. For heaven’s sake, why wouldn’t she? You can support her and my grandchild, and it’s the right thing to do. You will not be an absentee father.”
Oscar slammed his glass on the table, and both Sylvie and Stephan swung their heads in his direction. “Sylvie, you can’t force them to get married. You’re being ridiculous.”
“How am I being ridiculous? You forbade me to interfere because you said that he loves her and was heartbroken over their split. Do you love her, Stephan?”
“Yes.”
“Does she love you?”
Pain wrenched through him. “No.”
“No?” Sylvie repeated, incredulous. “Why not?”
There was a shift in the conversation. Sylvie had pivoted into protective mode. Minutes ago she’d complained about Stephan’s behavior, but now she couldn’t fathom why anyone wouldn’t adore him.
“We’re not compatible.”
“You were compatible enough to sleep with and create a child with.”
Stephan ran a hand down the back of his head and sat back. “She made it clear what she thinks about me, and marriage is off the table.”
Sylvie placed her hands on her hips. “Indeed? Well, marriage may be off the table, but making sure you have access to your child is not. I will handle this. I’ll make an appointment for you and me with the attorneys next week. We will discuss options on how to proceed. I will also contact HR first thing on Monday because there is no way she will continue to work at my company while she keeps me from my grandbaby.”
Sylvie was ready for war, as surely as if she’d donned camouflage gear and makeup. She stormed out, and silence filled the room, out of place after her explosive rant.
“Well, that went well.” Oscar sighed. “I thought I told you nothing else.”
“Guess I didn’t listen, as usual.”
“I don’t think I can talk your mother down this time.”
“I don’t want you to talk her down.”
“Why not? You understand she’s about to unleash hell on Roselle.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Why?”
“Because I want my kid. Because I don’t want to be an absentee father who sees my kid a few days at a time or a couple weekends out of the year. Maybe less if Roselle ever moves away from Atlanta.”
Oscar sat forward. “If that comment was directed at me, I tried. But as you got older, you kids didn’t want to spend as much time with me. You preferred to go on lavish vacations and party and spend time with your celebrity friends.”
“Kind of like you preferred spending time on your boat with all of your young hot girlfriends.”
“There weren’t that many,” Oscar said through clenched teeth.
If there was one thing his father hated, it was anyone referencing the younger women he became involved with during the period he and Sylvie were divorced.
Stephan didn’t want to fight with his father. They were in a good place now. “To be honest, none of that matters. It’s in the past. All I know is, I’m waking up with my kid in the morning and putting them to bed at night. That’s what I want, and if Mother can make that happen, so be it. She’s angry at me, but we both want the same outcome, which is my son or my daughter with me every day.”
“Think about what you’re doing. You have your mother and your whole family and soon a team of attorneys. Who does Roselle have?”
He’d never had to be responsible for anything in his life. Never had to do the right thing. And now, the one time—the one time he tried to be responsible and do the right thing, he wasn’t allowed to. Well, Roselle would have to deal with the consequences.
Hardening his heart, Stephan stood. “She should’ve thought of that before she tossed my proposal back in my face.”
He walked out without another word.
Chapter 27
“Did you come in here to rant, or did you want advice?” Ella asked.
“Both,” Stephan answered wearily. He stood in Ella’s gourmet kitchen, bitching and complaining about his situation.
He watched her cut the crust off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Hannah and Sophia, who at the moment were running around in the backyard with their black lab, Scruffy.
“If it were me, no way I’m giving up my baby,” his other sister Simone said, rubbing her belly. She and her husband lived next door.
She sat in a cushioned armchair Tyrone and Stephan had carted into the large kitchen for her comfort. She looked ready to have her baby at any moment. Yet she’d waltzed into the house with her chestnut skin glowing, wearing a designer dress and a pair of heels that seemed precariously high considering her condition. That was Simone, though. She was glamorous and looked her best at all times.
“I didn’t ask her to give up the baby. I asked her to marry me,” Stephan said.
“Since the ranting part of the conversation is over, I’ll give you my advice. I have a theory,” Ella said.
“What’s your theory?”
Ella set down the knife. “She’s doing what she thinks Mother would do.”
His brow furrowed. “What does our mother have to do with anything?”
“Think about how much she admires our mother.”
He shrugged. “So what? Lots of people admire Mother, and fear her, too.”
Ella nodded her head. “I understand that, but my point is, she admired Mother for a very long time. A few years ago, Roselle went through a period where she wasn’t taking care of herself. Mother gave her a complete makeover—new haircut, new wardrobe, all of which probably made quite an impression on her. She’s also taken her under her wing to offer further development. Roselle probably felt guilty about sleeping with you because of her relationship with Mother and worried it could affect their relationship. Of course, when she found out she was pregnant, she must’ve panicked at first. But when you told her you’d have to get married—which isn’t exactly a proposal, by the way—she decided that it wasn�
��t the best decision for you, her, and the baby.”
“Well, she’s wrong,” Stephan said with vehemence.
“Says you,” Simone chimed in.
“The point is,” Ella continued, “she’s doing whatever she has to do to protect her family unit. And her family unit is her and that baby.”
Stephan silently considered his sister’s words. “She’s being strong, protecting the family unit, the same way Mother would.”
“Exactly. She’s doing what she thinks her mentor would do. She’s fighting back. She feels intimidated and is standing her ground. She’s in a delicate place right now, excited about having the baby but having no one to share the excitement with.”
“But it’s my kid, too!”
“I know, and I’m sympathetic, but she needs support, not aggression. Whatever you decide, you know I have your back. We all do, but you have to do the right thing.”
“She’s right,” Simone interjected. “The last thing Roselle needs right now is a fight on her hands, and right on the cusp of her aunt dying, too.”
Stephan cringed inwardly. He’d thought about that. He didn’t want to cause Roselle any more grief, but the selfishness in him found it hard to let go and wanted to force her hand. If it were possible to marry her tomorrow, he’d do it.
“I want her,” he said thickly. “This isn’t just about the baby. I want her. I want the three of us to be a family.”
Ella’s tone gentled. “You may not get that, and you could choose to forego what you want. To be selfless. To do the right thing for her. I know you love her and the baby. But you can’t get what you want this time. So how are you going to handle it? Mother is ready to go full throttle this week. Is that what you want? I don’t think so. If you want Roselle to stop pushing back against you, you have to make her feel safe. I bet if she feels safe, doesn’t believe she’s being pushed around, she won’t fight you anymore.”
“Make her feel safe,” Stephan repeated.
He could do that, but before he reached out to Roselle again, he wanted to find out more about her past. What had she withheld from him that could help him understand her better?
The Cordoba Agency was a private security firm that offered protection and other “services” to wealthy clients. They were known for their discretion and stellar work, which was well worth their hefty fees.
The entire operation was owned by Cruz Cordoba, a big Cuban standing at about six feet five and looking like he could crush small cars between his forearm and biceps.
After being ushered into Cruz’s office, Stephan sat down in front of his desk, and Cruz slid a black folder toward him.
“It’s not pretty,” he said solemnly. “She was raped at sixteen by a guy named Charles Baker. Tied her to the bed and assaulted her multiple times over several hours. The ties left marks on her wrists.”
Sickened by the words, Stephan’s right hand clenched into a fist. “Where is Charles Baker now?” He’d rip him limb from limb.
“I know what you’re thinking, but somebody already beat you to it.”
“Who? Some other guy who’s woman he raped?”
“His wife. Gutted him after he raped her.”
Startled by the revelation, Stephan was unable to speak for a few moments. “He raped his wife?”
“It happens. There was a trial that took place three years ago. According to testimony, the wife—Cheryl—after she found out Charles had been cheating on her with a coworker, told him she intended to leave him and take the kids with her. The marriage had been deteriorating for years anyway, so she wasn’t broken up about it. When she told him her plans, he assaulted her that night. It wasn’t the first time during their five years together. If you read the details, you’ll see she learned to appease him. She’d also evidently expected a problem because she’d sent the kids to stay with her parents overnight.”
“Damn.”
Stephan knew marital rape existed, but what kind of monster forced himself on any woman, much less his own wife, the woman he’d vowed to love and cherish? He flipped open the folder while Cruz continued with his commentary.
“The DA tried to say the murder was premeditated because Cheryl made sure the kids were out of the house, but her parents were well off and hired a great attorney. She also had photos of bruises on her wrists from that night and a few other times when he’d assaulted her.”
“Son of a bitch never changed his tactics,” Stephan said bitterly.
“The defense had several witnesses take the stand to show a pattern of behavior. Understandably, not all of them came forward. Roselle did.”
What must she have gone through, having to relive that trauma?
“When did you say this happened?” Stephan paused on a grisly photo of the crime scene. Charles’ wife had done a number on the son of a bitch, but no more than he deserved after hurting so many women.
“Three years ago.”
That had to be around the time Ella said Roselle wasn’t taking care of herself.
Stephan set the folder on the table and ran a hand over the back of his head. He had a lot to digest. “What happened to the wife?”
“She was found not guilty.”
“A happy ending of sorts,” Stephan muttered.
“There’s something else you should know,” Cruz said.
Stephen braced for more bad news.
“Charles Baker was a hotshot basketball player, the kind of guy with a promising career that people in a small town don’t want to see derailed. Your girlfriend was basically ostracized by the good town folk. Her friends eventually turned their backs on her, and her own mother…” Cruz shook his head. “Her own mother didn’t stick up for her. Called her fast, said she had no business sneaking out and going over to Charles’ house. Basically, posing the same questions we’ve heard a million times. What did she think would happen when she went up to his bedroom? Eventually, she sent her here to live with her great aunt. Sending her away served two purposes. She didn’t have to answer for her daughter’s accusations, and Charles Baker could go on with his life.”
“Man.” Sickened, Stephan ran a hand down his face and sat for a moment and digested everything Cruz had told him. Finally, he stood and picked up the folder, though he wasn’t sure he would ever read through it in detail. He’d heard enough. He shook Cruz’s hand. “Thanks, this was very helpful.”
“Sure thing. I have a question for you though—what would you have done if he was alive and you’d caught up with Charles?” Cruz asked, eyes narrowed.
Stephan paused. “Probably something to get my ass in trouble. But now we’ll never know.”
He left the building with Roselle on the brain. No wonder she felt alone. No wonder she was adamant about standing up for herself because other than her great aunt, history had taught her not to count on others for help. Not friends. Not family. She’d been traumatized again after being traumatized by that monster.
Right then he vowed he’d do whatever was necessary to make sure Roselle never felt alone again.
Sylvie’s sitting room was deathly quiet. Seconds before, Stephan told his mother he no longer wanted to pursue legal action against Roselle.
“I beg your pardon? Brit has already sent papers to inform her that you will pursue full custody of the baby once it is born. You are in a much better financial position to take care of the child. You have plenty of space for a child to run around and play in. You have the support of your entire family and me. Roselle doesn’t even have a job. Before I had the chance to contact HR, she sneaked into the office on Sunday, cleared out the personal belongings from her office, and sent me a rather cryptic resignation—effective immediately.” Sylvie’s lips tightened with displeasure.
“Mother, I want you to stop. Leave her alone. She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s not hurting me. I’m hurting her by taking legal action against her.” Stephan swallowed. “She’s being strong, like you. And I admire her for it.”
“Are you trying to sweet-talk me?”
“No, I mean it. I do admire you. And I love you. If you love me as much as you say you do, you’ll respect my wishes. Don’t interfere. Don’t hurt her. I…I want to protect her. Take care of her. Even if I can’t have my way.” He took a deep breath. “I hired the Cordoba Agency to look into her background. She was sexually assaulted at sixteen.”
Sylvie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no. Who did that to her?”
“A guy from back in her home town. A hotshot basketball player who everyone was concerned about. Very few were concerned about Roselle.” He gave her a summary of what he’d discussed with Cruz. “That’s why I want you to stop, and under no circumstances are you to use this information against her.”
“Good heavens, Stephan, of course I won’t use it against her. I’m your mother, not the evil villain in a superhero movie.”
Stephan almost smiled.
“You said the trial took place three years ago? She changed around that time. She was one of my in-house designers, and I noticed she’d become horribly thin and clearly wasn’t taking care of herself. That must have been around the time of the trial. That poor girl.” Sylvie’s fingers encircled her throat. “I will call off the lawyers. I assume you’re going to talk to Roselle?”
Stephan nodded. “I’m not sure what we’ll be able to work out, but we’ll figure it out.”
Sylvie took his hand and squeezed it. “You will, and I will stay out of it, and let you figure out your next steps. My only request is that I have access to my grandchild.”
“I’ll be sure to include that in the negotiations,” Stephan said with amusement.
Sylvie’s sympathetic gaze swept his features. “I’m sorry your relationship didn’t last.”
“I thought you didn’t like us together.”
“I didn’t. Workplace relationships are notoriously problematic, and as I mentioned to you, I didn’t want to lose her as an employee. Yet, here we are.” She stared at him accusingly, and Stephan smothered a sigh. “But I’ve been thinking about the two of you the past few days, and in conversation with your father, we think you and Roselle are well-matched.”
Two Nights in Paris Page 17