The Duke of New York_A Contemporary Bad Boy Royal Romance

by Lisa Lace

  Once she’s seated, I see her blinking back tears. “Laura,” I say, reaching for her hand.

  She draws it back and rests it in her lap. “I know what I saw,” she says biting her lip. “I heard you on the phone earlier, and I followed you to see if you were cheating, and now I know the truth.”

  “Laura,” I repeat firmly. “It’s not what you think at all. That was Rebecca, an old friend from childhood. I’m not cheating on you with her. I wanted you two to meet, but I thought you were busy because you told me you were going out with Riley when you were leaving the office.”

  She’s shaking her head, and I know she’s not hearing what I’m telling her. Now is not a good time to explain to her, because no matter what I say, she’s determined to believe otherwise.

  “I believe what my eyes showed me,” she says stubbornly. Tears fall down her eyes unbidden, now. I reach across the table to brush them away, but she is too quick for me. She stands up and tucks her hair behind her ear in a gesture I know is to cover up her swiping at her tears in the process. “I’m going home,” she says quietly. She opens her mouth to say more but turns and leaves abruptly.

  “Laura!” I don’t care that other patrons are staring at me. Most of the women are glaring, and the men look like they don’t want to be associated with me. The waiters are standing with their hands behind their backs and looking at the walls. I know this will be a topic of conversation in the back kitchen. I clench my fists and mutter a curse before throwing the tip on the table and going after her.

  I get outside but don’t see any sign of Laura. I don’t see her car on the street, and wonder if she parked in the parking garage. She isn’t more than seconds ahead of me, and she couldn’t have gone far in the heels she’s wearing. I pause in the middle of the sidewalk while people move around me. It’s dark out now, but I would recognize her figure anywhere.

  I spot her out of the corner of my eye, climbing into the back of a car. She did say she was heading home, so I run back to where my car is.

  Desperation bubbles up inside me at the thought of her leaving. It seems like I’ve already lost her and I hate that feeling.

  I try calling her, but her phone is going to voicemail. After several tries, I am about to call Riley when Sam calls. “Hey, what happened to Laura?” he demands.

  “Did she call you?” I ask. I’m annoyed that Sam knows anything about us and further irritated that Laura would call him for consolation.

  “Yes, she just called and told me she’s giving me her resignation,” Sam says flatly. “I should add that she was in tears when she was talking to me, so there wasn’t much else I could get out of her. So now I’m asking you, what happened to Laura?”

  I grip the wheel at his accusing tone. “I didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re implying,” I tell him. “She misunderstood what she saw, and she won’t listen to my explanation.”

  “‘Misunderstood what she saw?’” Sam repeats incredulously. “So she caught you cheating on her?”

  “I was not cheating,” I say through gritted teeth. “I was having dinner with Rebecca—”

  “Rebecca!” Sam shouts. “You’re cheating on her with Rebecca?” Sam asks in disbelief. “Isn’t she married?”

  “Would you listen to me, dammit!” I shout. “I’m not cheating on her with Rebecca or anyone else! I was having dinner with her.”

  “So your wife saw you having dinner with a beautiful woman she’s never met, and you wonder why she thought you were cheating?” Sam’s voice is lower and dripping with sarcasm.

  “If you accuse me of cheating one more time.” I mutter an oath.

  “Whatever the hell you did, you made one of my best staff workers quit. I’d like an explanation for that if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” I say. “Stay out of my business.”

  “You made it my business when you caused her to quit. If you had treated her the way she should be treated, none of this would be a problem.”

  “And what the hell do you mean by that?” I ask. “You think I don’t treat her well either?”

  “What I mean is that you married her and made everything tailor-made to fit your lifestyle. Your marriage is designed for your benefit, and it neglects a huge part of what marriage should be.”

  “What the hell do you know about marriage?” I growl. “Have you ever been married?”

  “No, but I know my marriage shouldn’t look like a business arrangement with a timestamp on it,” Sam shoots back. I know he’s right, but I’m not about to lose this argument too.

  “We both agreed to those terms,” I point out. “And she signed willingly because she’s benefitting from it too.”

  “Yes, you used her debt as a lure to marry her. Then, in not so many words, made emotions null and void in your agreement, and had her sign on the dotted line. Where does that leave her?”

  I don’t have an answer for him because I know he’s right. I’m stopped at a light, and I slam my fist down on the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t hear anything on the other line, and wonder if Sam hung up.

  “Not everyone is like your ex,” Sam says in a quieter voice. “Laura is different, and she needs someone who will love her and care for her like a husband should. Remember that.” I hear a click and know that he ended the call.

  What does he mean by remember that? I’m nearing the house and wonder what I can tell Laura that will convince her that nothing is going on with Rebecca. But all I can think of are Sam’s last words to me before he hung up. I’ve been trying to push aside the jealousy that I have for Sam and Laura’s work relationship, and I’ve chalked it up to my own insecurities. But I wonder if Sam feels a lot more for Laura than he should

  Well, I reason, he has a right to feel whatever he wants, since I put that damned end date on our relationship. I reach the house before Laura and try her phone again. It’s still going to voicemail. With nothing else left to do but wait, my mind takes me to places I’d rather not visit. Sam might like Laura, that is an uncomfortable truth I will have to confront at some point. But does Laura like Sam? I don’t know if I want to know the answer to that question.

  Laura

  “Laura, are you listening?” Bella tugs at the hem of my skirt. “I wanted you to see the drawing I made!” She withdraws three hastily colored pictures with three figures on each of them. “This is me and you and that’s Daddy.” She points out each of us again in the remaining two pictures.

  “Wow, Bella! I love them, but this one is my favorite,” I tell her. I point at the one where she’s drawn herself with a pink skirt. “You look beautiful here.”

  Bella beams up at me. “I like that one, too, because that’s the skirt you bought me. It’s the prettiest skirt I have, and I think I look like you in it.”

  “You sure do,” I tell her, pulling her into a hug. I’m scared by how much Bella’s grown attached to me, and how much I’ve become attached to her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I can’t see her anymore. My heart breaks for her, and I wish I could help her understand why I have to leave, but it’s not something a child can or should comprehend. I barely understand it myself.

  Bella begins to fill me in on all the things that happened at camp, and I listen to her chatter all the way home, asking her questions half-heartedly. Luckily, she hasn’t picked up on my mood. If she had, she would pepper me with questions like on the day I got a slight headache, and she tried to nurse me back to health, toy stethoscope and all.

  Once we arrive at the house, I get Bella inside and lead her to the kitchen, with her chattering all the way. The housekeeper is taking her break at the table. “Oh! Ms. Laura and Ms. Bella, you’re home early! Can I make you a snack?” She jumps up to go to the refrigerator, but I stop her midway.

  “You relax, Helen,” I tell her with a hand on her shoulder.

  She smiles at me, but I can sense a nervous energy in her. “I can take my break later,” she insists.

  “No, Bella and I can
make a snack together.” I smile. “Can’t we, Bella?”

  “Yes,” Bella says importantly. “I’m old enough to stir things. Laura says so.”

  I wink at her and pick her up to sit on the counter.

  “You sit here while I see what we have. Maybe we can have some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

  “We can make brownies!” Bella says, kicking her feet out and enjoying kicking the cupboards behind them.

  The housekeeper begins to list a few other snacks that are in the refrigerator already, and Bella settles on a lasagna I made and froze a week ago. I put it in the oven to bake and take Bella to the garden outside while we wait.

  “Ms. Laura,” the housekeeper calls from the doorway. “Your phone is ringing.”

  My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if it’s Max. I haven’t spoken to him since the evening I left the restaurant a few days ago. I’ve taken to sleeping in a different room closer to Bella’s to avoid him. I know his obligations this week have him on a tighter schedule than usual so he hasn’t been able to talk to me. That hasn’t stopped him from calling, though.

  Every time he calls, I’m busy with one thing or another, but I haven’t made any attempt to call him back when I’m free. I can’t bear to face the reality of the situation. I don’t know if I’m willing or able to deal with it. It brings up a lot of old memories for me, and I wish I’d never entered into this contract in the first place. I don’t think any amount of money is worth the heartache that I’m experiencing. I feel things I shouldn’t feel, and I want things I shouldn’t want.

  “Hello?” I’m so lost in thought, I don’t look at the screen on the phone.

  “Hi, is this Laura?” a chipper voice asks.

  “Yes, this is she,” I reply. “May I ask who this is?”

  She introduces herself, and I vaguely recall meeting her in Milan. She tells me she had a chance to look over my portfolio. “We feel that it’s in line with what we’re looking for, and I want to know if we can meet and discuss your future with us.” The rest of what she’s saying flies over my head. I’m thrilled at this opportunity. It’s all I’ve wanted since I started college, and here is my chance.

  “It must be late where you are,” I tell her glancing at my watch.

  “Yes, we wanted to catch you at a good time,” she replies. She tells me they’re eager to see me again and hope that I can join their team soon.

  I hang up, feeling overwhelmed and excited. I immediately call Max but hang up before it rings. In my excitement, I forget about being upset with him. I wish I could tell him about the phone call, but I can’t. There’s too much standing between us, and I don’t see the point in sharing any of my good news now.

  I’ve always thought I should keep myself somewhat removed from our relationship to protect myself, but those warnings didn’t help me much in the long run. I’m still trying to ease myself into the idea that I need to separate from him, and it’s a difficult pill to swallow.

  “Laura,” Bella calls out in the middle of picking flowers. “My tummy hurts.” I rush over to her. Her face is flushed, and I feel her forehead, it doesn’t feel like she has a fever.

  “Let’s go inside, you’re probably hungry. The lasagna should be about done.”

  “Okay.” Bella continues to rub her stomach as she walks back into the house ahead of me. I give her a small portion and pick at my own plate while she eats. When she’s done, the housekeeper swoops in to clear the table.

  “You let me get these,” she says, giving me a warning look.

  “Of course.” I smile, tugging at Bella’s hand. “We’ll help you with the dishes next time, right Bella?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Bella murmurs. I see her hand still resting on her stomach, and I pick her up to carry her the rest of the way.

  Her room is closer to the bedroom I’ve taken over temporarily, so when I enter her room and see a pile of books on the floor and dolls on her bed, I take her to my room. “You can sleep here tonight,” I tell her.

  Bella perks up a little at this news. “Can Daddy come too?”

  “No, honey. Just you and me. Daddy is busy, and anyway, this bed isn’t very big. Maybe next time.” I feel guilty for lying to her about there being a next time, but it’s just one more thing I can’t explain to her.

  “Okay,” she sighs. “I don’t mind sleeping next to you only. It’s going to be fun.” She yawns.

  She settles in next to me as soon as I get her pajamas on and her teeth brushed. I brush her hair while she’s lying down, and tell her a short story about when I was little and my mom brushed my hair. She likes this and asks me to tell her more about when I was little like her. I hear her voice getting drowsy, and I lower my voice more until I hear her soft, steady breathing.

  My own eyes are drifting closed, but I force them back open to ready myself for bed. Since I gave Sam my notice the other day, I haven’t had anything to occupy my time besides Bella. Ironically, I’m more tired when I’m not working than I was when I did have work. I shake my head at this and change into my pajamas.

  I hear the doorbell ring as I’m brushing my teeth and frown. It’s a little late for visitors. Max usually schedules his meetings outside the house, so I wonder who it could be. I finish up in the bathroom and go downstairs, knowing Helen probably has the visitor waiting in the formal living room.

  It’s Sam. “Laura, there you are. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Sam,” I tell him with a small smile. “I’m sorry I called you upset the other day.” I trail off.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sam says quickly. His eyes shift to the other side of the room, and I see Helen moving around the foyer. I know Sam wants to keep what happened discreet, and I appreciate that. “Where’s Max? I’ve been calling him but he hasn’t been answering,” he says.

  “Oh, he’s not here. Actually, I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

  “Oh,” he says in disappointment. “I was hoping to talk to him in person about some, uh, things. But his schedule is crazy this week, so I haven’t been able to get a word in at work either.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks uncomfortably at Helen who is moving around the room, straightening things as she does. She shows no sign of leaving yet.

  “Well, you’re always welcome to wait until he does come,” I offer. “He should be home soon, I would imagine.”

  “Why don’t you all have dinner together?” the housekeeper offers. “Ms. Laura made some lasagna,” she says proudly.

  “You can cook too?” Sam’s eyebrows lift. “You know Max has a cook, right?”

  “I know, and his food is excellent. I like to prepare my own food, though. There’s a simple pleasure in doing that and serving someone else that I like. It’s more meaningful to me.”

  Sam nods. “Dad used to do that sometimes. It was his way of connecting with us. He didn’t talk much to us about anything, but his meals spoke for themselves.”

  “Made from the heart, huh?” I ask with a smile.

  “Always.” He grins.

  The decision was made, and we settle into the kitchen. I reheat the lasagna for him, and the housekeeper warms up another piece for me, giving me her signature warning look. I surrender and allow her to put it in front of me. “You’d better finish this one,” she says with her eyebrows raised.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I surrender to her.

  Sam settles in and begins to eat with gusto. He has seconds and thirds, and I start to worry if there’s enough for Max, while also chastising myself for worrying. I shouldn’t care so much.

  “I put some aside for him,” Helen winks at me. She’s seen the look on my face and read my thoughts. I give her a grateful look and turn back to Sam.

  I ask him more about his dad, and soon he’s regaling me with stories from his childhood. I laugh when I hear about his antics with Max and how the age gap worked in his favor. “I never had to worry about anything,” Sam tells me. “I knew Max would do things for me that our parents never would. He taught me ho
w to adapt to a school overnight, and how to make friends the same way. I didn’t have to do that beyond seventh grade, but it sure made elementary school a lot easier.”

  “So you guys stopped moving around then?” I ask, pushing the salad bowl closer to him. He pauses to help himself to more and continues talking.

  “Yeah. When I was younger, we moved a lot, but I have no recollection of most of those moves. Max does, though. He moved around pretty much until he left home early.”

  I feel a pang of sadness for Max. He felt an instability that left a real impression on him.

  “Why did he leave home?” I ask him curiously.

  “He didn’t tell you? Our parents got divorced.” Sam munches on a bite thoughtfully before continuing. “It was for the best. The only reason their marriage lasted as long as it did was due to those moves. It forced them to cling to each other when they knew no one else. Once they got settled, they stopped clinging when they realized they didn’t like each other as much as they thought they did. They were just comfortable in their pain, or whatever those textbook psychologists say.” He chuckles.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him sadly. “Divorce must have been hard on all of you.”

  “Yes, it was,” he agrees. He turns a piercing gaze on me. “You going down that road too?”

  “Well, that was kind of the plan,” I tell him slowly. “It’s unavoidable. And anyway, it’s for the best, like you said. Better now than later, when we share too many responsibilities or our lives overlap too much. This is easy enough that we can untangle ourselves from the situation without a hassle.”

  “Why did you agree to marry him in the first place?” Sam wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans back to study me.

  “I married him for a few reasons,” I hedge. “It’s...well, it’s complicated.”

  “It always is,” Sam quips, stabbing a small tomato with a fork. “I’m with someone now, but I’ll tell you what, if you were married to me, I never would have let you leave.”

  We hear a shuffle and turn quickly to see Max standing in the doorway. He doesn’t look pleased. I draw in a breath and hold it. I don’t want to say anything to come between the brothers, although it seems like Sam has done a good job of that all by himself today.