by Pamela Ann
“Gisele,” I uttered her name, though my eyes scanned the room, painstakingly taking stock of everything—the rumpled bed, abandoned men’s clothes on one of the armchairs, several unfinished champagne bottles to the empty condom packets on the side table.
My already blackened mood descended further into the blazing pits of hell, loathing the turn of events as they enlightened me on how deceiving her good girl image had been. She’d surely fooled the rest of us. Was this how she covered her tracks, by indulging in wild random sex during summer breaks so the security team couldn’t properly monitor the men she was ensconced with?
“The scene of the crime. Where the never-ending debauchery, endless wickedness carrying on until the break of dawn, and indulging in sinful fantasies come into sublime culmination of forbidden decadence happens on the daily.” Arching a mocking brow at her, I pointedly leveled my gaze, analyzing. “I hope it was worth it, Gisele.”
The blush in her cheeks traveled lower, spreading towards her neck and her ample cleavage. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked just as she tried to yank the offending plastic out of my death-grip and miserably failed.
“I’m curious. So, this is what you do every summer? You and your friends gallivant around, hanging off of men’s arms, indulging all your bad habits before going back home and playing the part of a good girl again?”
She glared at me. “I’ve never claimed to be a good girl, and quite frankly, I don’t ever wish to be one.”
“Tough luck. It seems you’ll have to be one since you’re to become a mother, after all.”
She shivered as her lips pressed together. “I-I didn’t plan for it to be like this. I was just so broken after you—” She paused, her horrified expression doubled before she paled.
My frown deepened. She was distraught. Impulsively, I found myself pulling her into my arms. Her cheek rested on my neck, her body rigid as my palm soothed her back. “I apologize if I was being harsh. It was unintentional.”
“It’s my fault…” she breathed out, her body loosening up in my hold.
“Don’t fret. We’ll figure something out.” Cradling the top of her head, I counted to five before lifting her face to me. “I’m sorry to be the one to break this, but I came here bearing bad news.”
“Bad news? Is it about my father?” Those bright exotic gray eyes snapped out of her funk, dismissing her immediate problem at the mere thought of her father.
Since there was no way to lessen the impact, I found it best to simply lay it out in the open, and she could come to terms with it however she could.
“Your father invited me for dinner yesterday,” I began to say with my eyes closely trained on her tear-stained face. “He disclosed he has stage four prostate cancer. He’s known for the past year and waited until it’s gotten to the last stage before enlightening any of us. He refused chemo and all of the doctors’ advice. He only wishes his legacy remains intact once he leaves this life. Since he’s appointed me as his estate’s executor and as your sole guardian, his proposed solution for keeping his legacy unbroken, however, is a tricky one. He wishes for us to marry since I hold twenty percent and you’ll be inheriting his forty. Together, we’d have a solid sixty percent hold of the company. I’ll be taking the reins as Peter previously announced two years ago. But with you by my side, with your vote, the other shareholders wouldn’t question my position any longer.”
“Oh, no. Not him, too!” Her body trembled. Her face contorted. Shock, sadness, and horror played out in her anguished eyes as tears followed, sobbing softly.
I expected hysterics, wailing—anything but acceptance. I was the true opposite of her reaction. I was enraged, beyond mental, and in grave pain all at once.
We were in the middle of the room as I held her crying figure. I’d lost track of time, but not once did I let go until Gisele slowly quieted down. Her sobs turned into sniffs. Her shivering body began to still.
“Since you’re pregnant, what are your plans with its father?” Where was the man of the hour? More importantly, who was the man? If they decided to marry for the sake of the baby, I wouldn’t stand in their way. I was sure there were other options to consider in securing Peter’s legacy and peace of mind without jeopardizing the baby’s future as well. Whatever Gisele decided to do, I’d fully support it either way.
“Nothing.” She shuddered, shaking her head. “He’s a lying, cheating, two-timing asshole. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
Again, as much as I wanted to reprimand her reckless actions, I knew this wasn’t the moment to be contemptuous. Besides, there were more important details to hash over. “Us getting married would solve all of this. The baby requires a father. I’m more than willing to be one if you allow me to be.”
She loudly gasped, mouth hanging ajar. “You’d do that?”
Once, I thought of nothing else but having my own. But that was all buried in the past. “Of course, every child deserves to have two parents in their lives.”
“Arranged marriage…” she murmured with a blank stare. “What are your stipulations?”
Gisele was too sharp, or maybe she knew me better than I imagined.
“Your father will expect it to be a regular arranged marriage, so I’m hoping to keep this between us. My only demand is that I’ll get to have a personal life outside of this agreement. You can divorce me anytime you want. If the time comes you fall in love and want to marry, I won’t stand in your way. I’ll move in at the compound as soon as it can be arranged. We’ll be sharing a bed until…the inevitable happens. We’ll carry on as before. No one needs to know of our arrangement. In the public’s eyes, I’ll be your guardian, nothing more.”
She nodded before directing those intense fathomless pools of gray at me. “You won’t be sharing my bed?”
“Not in that sense, no.”
“You’ll have a mistress, then?”
“I’m currently with someone; her name’s Rose. She won’t know of our arrangement, but I do intend to keep her. You can carry on with yours as well. I won’t hinder you from dating after you’ve settled into motherhood and resumed school at Stanford.”
“Right. Of course,” she said with an edge to her voice. “When do you need me to leave?”
“I applied for the marriage license yesterday. We have to leave as soon as possible. Your father wants to speak with you, too. The jet’s being refueled as we speak. Will you be ready in an hour’s time?”
“Yes, I’ll be ready.” Her lips pressed together, seemingly avoiding my meticulous gaze as she pulled her body off mine, putting a great amount of space between us.
Her immediate withdrawal made me frown. “Okay. I’ll leave you be. I’ll be in the stateroom, waiting for you once you’re set to leave.”
There was something in her eyes I couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t sadness. More of anger and something along those lines. It couldn’t have been directed at me. It had to be towards the lying cheat she mentioned before. What asshole would abandon her in her delicate state?
Poor Gisele. She couldn’t seem to catch a break. With a baby on the way and its father out of the picture, topped with her father’s impending demise, I could only imagine the turmoil and confusion she was experiencing.
Whatever happened from here on out, I’d be her silent strength, ensuring she wanted for nothing.
Chapter 6
Gisele
“Is there anything else I can get to make you comfortable?” Jared strode into the bedroom situated at the back of the jet where I’d been trying to sleep for the past three hours to no avail.
He found me staring holes into the ceiling, wearing only my robe. My eyes dropped, only to connect with cerulean blues, studying him with open scrutiny.
“Why are you doing this?” I found myself asking. “You’ve said you needed my vote. You have it. So why, Jared? I don’t get why you’re willing to sacrifice yourself.”
“Your father wished it of me. He’s done so much for me…This is h
is last wish…You know I’d do anything to make him ecstatic, Gisele.”
“You’re sacrificing a lot to achieve such results.”
“I owe him my life,” he said as if it was explanation enough. “Do you have any reservations? If so, I’d like to address them now before we get home.”
As if I’d ever turn him down. Or my father at that. “I’ll follow what my father asks of me; don’t doubt that for a second. But what I want to ask is, why can’t we try to make this into a real one, Jared? Maybe not right away, but maybe later on when things aren’t so crazy around us…”
“A real one?” He appeared perplexed, as if the thought never occurred to him.
“Yes, the whole shebang.”
“I don’t know about that…”
“Why not? Am I not pretty enough for you?” Amongst other things. I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.
He paused before vehemently shaking his head. “No, it’s not that, but I have needs I doubt you can satisfy.”
“I can learn to please you.”
“Gisele, please don’t take this as an insult…but I don’t see you that way. You are so young, and I need a woman, not a girl.”
A girl. He saw me as a girl. I sighed loudly, swallowing the bitter rejection before making a small nod, never wanting to open that can of worms again.
“Is there anything else you want to discuss further, apart from where I’ll be spending some of my nights?”
“I think I’m good for now.”
I finally get to have my wish, but I’ll only get the icing, not the cake, I bitterly thought as I tried to swallow the lump that had been lodged in the back of my throat since I had found him standing there in my bedroom. And there was the surprise pregnancy issue. Though Jack was meticulous in wearing protection, was there a possibility of it being Jared’s? After all, the man didn’t wear one that night.
The moment we landed, calling for an appointment had to be a priority. I’d rather sort this out and figure out how far into the pregnancy I was. Maybe then I’d get a clearer picture. If it turned out to be Jack’s, should I bother telling him?
The trivial matters could wait. My father and the appointment were far more critical than pondering about Jack being a capable father.
“Papa?” I called out the moment I heard the door secured behind me. Carl Orff’s “Carmina Burana” softly echoed in the background. Knowing how my father functioned, the song would be on a loop until he was ready to retire for the day.
The entire house had cameras in every corner. The second we entered the gate, he’d have been alerted already. He’d been expecting me.
The security in this house was top notch. There was a safe room on every floor. Each bedroom had one. There was no switch in our home. Each room functioned with voice commands. Each section had authorized voice encryptions, and if it weren’t recognized, the security that littered the grounds would be immediately alerted. My father wasn’t a paranoid man, but ever since he began accepting government funded projects on the side a few years back, things drastically changed. He was cautious; working with the government entailed the dangers of our national security if his projects got leaked or hacked. My father once alluded that he could be the world’s greatest hacker…until Jared came along and proved him otherwise.
Jared St. James was the son he never had. He found joy and camaraderie with him, whereas with me, I was the daughter he kept at arm’s length after his wife died. If I hadn’t been so crazy about Jared, I’d have probably resented his relationship with my father. But I had no ill feelings whatsoever. Truth be told, I was glad he had Jared in his life. Had it not been for Jared’s keeping a close eye on him, he’d have probably wasted his life on other things than working incessant hours at the headquarters.
Peter Weber Technologies, Inc.—or Web, as the consumers preferred call it. The mammoth company in Silicon Valley referred to as ‘the headquarters’ or ‘the campus’ to some.
One would expect a sick man in bed, waiting for the floodgates of Heaven to welcome him, but no, that was not how the renowned Peter Weber intended to go.
He sat on a black leather wingback chair, dressed in his preferred all black ensemble, sole concentration aimed at his white expanse of a work desk, one hand on a keyboard with 3D digital layouts across the screen while the other went over the small device in his hand, which connected to another screen. Data encryptions sporadically updated every minute or so.
“We’re developing this new project for the NSA. It’s still in the early stages…I hope to finish it before I go,” I heard him say as I gradually approached him. There was no tremor in his voice, only clear determination. If he was saddened about his present terminal condition, there was no indication at all.
“Is it really necessary to worry about unfinished projects right now, Papa?” Being that my mother was Brazilian, I learned to call him Papa instead of dad.
Peter Weber warily placed the device down and finally gazed upon me, standing a few feet away, frustratingly frowning at him.
“I figured you’d be a little upset, my darling,” he said, gauging my temper. “I thought it best to send Jared first so you’d have enough time to acclimate yourself to the changes in your life.”
“A little upset?” My voice quivered, appalled that my father couldn’t grasp how affected I was. Upset barely scratched the surface to fully describe my feelings. “My father’s dying, and you think me upset? Are you so detached from the rest of humanity that you can’t take a moment to consider how distraught I’d be? Mom’s gone and you’ll be, too, very soon…you could’ve at least warned me that you were ill.” I paused, trying to compose myself, even though tears rimmed my eyes. “What am I going to do without you?” My voice came out as a soft whisper. “I’m going to be all alone…I’ll have no one else…no one at all.”
My father made an effort to stand up but was too weak to successfully achieve it. His lips pressed together, frustrated by his lack of strength, before slowly reclining back in his seat. Depleted. “I apologize for all my faults—don’t doubt that—but I hope you understand my plight. I’m old, and after your mother died, something died in me, too.” His voice shook for the first time, showing signs of distress and a combination of exhaustion and emotional upheaval. His gray eyes, identical to mine, gravely implored. “I want to be with her, my darling. I’ve lived enough. It’s time to go. I’m tired.”
“But what about me? Don’t I matter at all?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve failed you. But I can’t go on living like this. It’s not living at all. I hope you understand why I had to ask Jared to look after you. He’s a good man…and I know how you feel about him, too, so I figured this would be the best step for you.”
“What?” I gasped loudly, blinking at him, stunned speechless. He knew? For how long? “Whatever do you mean?”
A soft, knowing, tired smile tugged at his lips. “You are my daughter, Gisele. I know you’ve pined for him over the years. He’s overlooked you, but this changes things. I hope your marriage will blossom into something significantly beautiful. I hope my marriage to your mother gave you a compass of what a blissful, meaningful marriage is like. Strive for that completeness, my darling. And if you can’t find it with Jared, don’t settle until you find a man who will worship the ugly side of you. If a man loves you through that, he’ll be your strength, helping you to navigate through life. Parting this life knowing you have him to care for you, it eases most of my guilt.”
“If you think that eases the pain of losing you, it won’t.”
“I know, my darling Gisele. I’m sorry for that.” He suddenly looked haggard, as if our exchange had spent most of his energy.
“Jared said he hired a doctor and a slew of nurses to help you get comfortable…but don’t you want to go to a hospital, instead?” My heart ached. I felt helpless.
“If I die, it’ll be in my home.” He released a strangled breath before closing his eyes. His hand then reached towards the intercom. “Tho
mas, tell Dr. Kim I need my dose of morphine.”
“Right away, sir,” Thomas smoothly responded.
I could easily picture him striding down the polished halls, perfect posture, chin up, and stoic as ever as he hunted for the physician in question. Our butler Thomas had been employed for over fifteen years. My mother managed to convince him to leave working for The Savoy to run their household. Thomas hadn’t left since. He was loyal to my parents, so much so that his personal life was practically nonexistent. I’d never heard him take a day off in his life.
After my mother’s death, the good man had been the only person who could bring a smile to my face in this house.
“When did he find out?” I asked out of the blue, wondering out loud. Thomas was family. Father was fond of him as well. We all were, including Jared.
My father pressed his lips, seeming pale as he rested his head against the leather chair. “He was the first to know—two weeks ago.”
He had kept it all from us. For him to slowly bring us into the fold could only mean one thing—the end was near. I thought after speaking to him I’d be enlightened as to why he chose this route—disregarding doctors’ advice for any sort of treatment. He made no attempt at all. Not even the holistic approach. My father simply declined each and every one of them, willingly accepting his fate as it was. No holds barred. This shouldn’t have surprised me; this was the great Peter Weber, after all. The man had the unconventional kind of thinking. Eccentricity was in his DNA. But I was left more confused than before. How could he throw away his life? All the hard work he channeled into his company, and for what? Because he was tired of living without my mother? That wasn’t reason enough, not to me, anyway.
Thomas, Dr. Kim, and the nurses came rushing in to aid him with his pain medication.
“Do you want me to leave while they tend to you?” My voice faltered as my gaze shifted from my father to the gang of medical staff instantaneously checking his temperature and pulse. One of the nurses pulled out a needle and a bottle of something, which probably was the medication my father had requested.