Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  She falls back to the mattress as Annie rubs her arm. “You’re dangerous.” She smacks Annie in the shoulder. “Stay far, far away from him.” Beth points at me. “Dangerous. Like Tom Cruise in Top Gun dangerous.”

  Annie giggles, although I can’t see her face straight-on to know what she’s thinking.

  “You girls and that movie.” Franklin shakes his head. “They must’ve watched that volleyball clip a million times that one summer.”

  “Summer of 2005,” the sisters say in unison, and Annie’s head falls on her sister’s shoulder.

  “Am I missing something?” Joyce asks.

  “Just our entire childhood,” Annie murmurs.

  Beth’s eyes find mine and she doesn’t say anything as she runs her hand down her sister’s hair, soothing her. These two are amazing to watch. I thought my brothers and I were close. We are, but this is different. They obviously know each other’s weaknesses, have shared many nights talking about their feelings and fears.

  The doctor steps into the room. “Okay, Beth, let’s see how you’re progressing.” She pauses and takes all of us in. “Full house. Are we allowing everyone in?”

  “Um…” Beth says. “How many am I allowed?”

  “We’ll be back.” Annie stands and heads out of the room.

  I follow her because the stirrups are coming out, and yeah, I don’t need to be here for that. Her parents follow me.

  Joyce stands in front of Annie. “I really wish you could put your personal feelings aside. At least for today. It’s supposed to be a joyous day.”

  “Sure,” she says, but I can tell she has no intention of doing so.

  “You’re like you were at thirteen. So stubborn it’s ridiculous.” Joyce shakes her head.

  Annie’s hands ball into fists, and she glances at her dad.

  “Joyce, you can’t expect the girls to just understand.”

  I look between them.

  “She’s grown, let her speak for herself rather than you always putting words in her mouth.”

  “Words in her mouth? You left them. You’re the one who—” He stops himself, pushing a hand through his gray-and-black hair, then inhales a deep breath. “Just… give her a break.”

  “Must be nice to still be Daddy’s angel,” Joyce sneers.

  Annie’s jaw tics. “I’m going to the vending machine.” She walks off down the hall.

  I stand there for a moment, not sure where my place is.

  I’m going to kill Billy.

  Eventually I follow her and find her in a small room off the waiting area, digging for money in her purse.

  I pull a couple bills from my money clip and insert two dollars. “Anything you want.”

  “Oh, how nice of you.” She hits the button to dispense change and two dollars’ worth of quarters fall into the change area. “I’m not going to owe you anything.”

  She puts in her own two dollars and presses the button for mint Lifesavers. Bending over, she digs out the change and tries to hand it to me.

  “I don’t carry change in my pockets.”

  She guffaws. “Of course you don’t.”

  She walks out of the small room, and I follow. When she sees a kid coming down the hall, she holds out her hand to him.

  “Courtesy of Moneybags over here.” She thumbs my way.

  The kid’s eyes light up, and he scrambles down the hall to the vending machine.

  “Man, your family brings out the evil side of you.”

  She whips around to face me. “Clarification. My mother does.”

  I hold up my hands. “Okay. Your mom does. What’s the story?”

  Maybe if she talks about it, she’ll feel better—or at least be civil to me.

  “Yeah, I’m not going there today. It’s a joyous day,” she imitates her mom.

  By the time we reach the room again, two nurses are rushing in behind us.

  “Beth!” Annie hurries to her sister’s side.

  I stand in the doorway because all of a sudden, I realize it isn’t my place to be here. I’m intruding, even if this nice couple doesn’t seem to mind.

  Annie looks at me over her shoulder and waves me forward. “Come on, it’s time.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, it’s your family. I should probably head out.”

  Annie sighs and walks toward me. She takes my hand when she passes and drags me out of the room. “Beth’s fine with it. This is where you’ll see what I’m talking about and get a better idea of what we need to capture in our pitch. Come on.”

  She nods toward the room, and I find myself following her. I take my place up near the head of the bed and off to the side so I’m not in the way, and I watch it unfold.

  “Come on, Beth, push,” the doctor says.

  She grunts and sighs, her face as red as a tomato.

  “There you go, just one more.”

  “I can’t believe I let you do this to me,” Beth says to Sam through gritted teeth. “Never again. Never touch me again! Got it?” She falls back to the mattress, gasping for air. “This is worse than spin class. I was no good at that and I’m no good at this.” Tears stream down her face.

  “Come on, Beth. You got this,” Sam says. “You’re the strongest woman in the entire world.”

  Annie smiles at Sam.

  Beth touches her husband’s cheek. “Oh, sweet… JESUS!” She wails again, and her face scrunches. “Don’t do it, Annie, don’t.” She shakes her head back and forth.

  “A few more big pushes. I see the head,” the doctor says.

  “Is that really the head?” Joyce asks from her position at the foot of the bed. “Is that red hair? None of us have red hair.”

  Franklin narrows his eyes. “Shut up, Joyce.”

  “Sam, do you have red hair in your family?” Joyce looks quizzically between her daughter’s legs.

  “No.”

  “It’s very common for blond hair to be red at birth,” the doctor says.

  We all look at Sam’s mop of blond hair.

  “Except isn’t brown the dominant gene?” Joyce asks.

  Annie’s jaw tics again and she stares at her dad, silently willing him to step in.

  “Enough, Joyce!” Franklin snaps.

  “I’m just saying, it’s unusual.”

  “Shut up!” Annie says. “Just shut up and be happy you were invited.”

  “Great, Beth. One more and you’ll be done,” the doctor says, ignoring the chaos around her.

  “I can’t. I can’t.” Beth’s head moves from side to side.

  “You can. Remember the last five minutes of a workout? Always the hardest. Soon you’ll get to hold your baby as an award for all your hard work.” Annie kisses her sister’s forehead and wipes her sweaty hair off her face.

  “Come on, babe, one more for our little boy or girl. Red hair and all.” Sam laughs, which makes Beth laugh.

  With the help of her sister and husband, she sits up and bears down.

  “You did it!” the doctor says.

  A second later, a cry echoes in the room, and the doctor holds up the baby.

  I think I’m going to throw up. It’s covered in blood and some other crap. Sure enough, there’s a patch of red hair on its head.

  “It’s a baby girl,” the doctor announces.

  “She’s adorable,” Annie says.

  After Sam comes around to cut the umbilical cord, Beth relaxes. I watch intently how the nurse brings the baby to Beth and everyone fights to get a closer look. They count the baby’s toes and fingers, pointing out the different features she inherited from her parents.

  “She has our nose,” Joyce says, wrapping her arm around Annie.

  Annie doesn’t pull away, and Beth smiles at them. “Three generations.”

  Sam snaps a picture.

  “We’re grandparents,” Franklin says, hugging Joyce.

  “We’re parents,” Sam says to Beth and kisses her temple.

  Annie was right. A new baby trumps family drama.

  Chap
ter 7

  Annie

  * * *

  I head up the elevator to work the next morning. I still can’t believe Enzo witnessed me telling off my mom. No wonder he shot out of the hospital as soon as the opportunity allowed.

  Wait… when did I start thinking of him as Enzo and not Mr. Mancini?

  Probably about the same time he bore witness to my family drama and my niece’s birth.

  The delivery of flowers to my sister’s hospital room an hour later was unexpected. I may have read the card more than once. It’s not my fault—the man has a way with words.

  * * *

  Thank you for allowing me to be part of your special day. Wishing you many years of happiness with your new bundle of joy. Your beautiful little girl is the luckiest baby in the world because she has the two of you to call Mommy and Daddy. Cherish one another.

  ~ Lorenzo Mancini

  * * *

  The minute I step into the office, Jake grabs my elbow and guides me into the copier room. From his urgency, there’s clearly gossip to spill.

  “Okay, what did I miss yesterday?” I ask.

  “What was the dry cleaning thing?” he asks, his eyes frantic.

  I wave him off. “Oh, some stupid bet Enzo initiated. I told him that his other assistants took his dry cleaning downstairs because he’s good-looking. He said I’d get the same special treatment, and to prove it, I had to see if you’d take my dry cleaning down for me.”

  He steps back. “You were tricking me?”

  “I told him it wasn’t fair. That you’d agree because we’re friends.”

  He nods, waiting for more information. I don’t offer any because I forgot about the whole thing with all the excitement of yesterday. “Yeah, we’re friends… but you know you’re attractive, right?”

  Jake and I have always been platonic, no underlying sexual tension between us. That’s what I love about our relationship. But we’re not friends who talk about our insecurities. Mae is the one who hears my rambling about the size of my thighs and my ass or how my hair will never do exactly what I want it to.

  “We’re not talking about this.” I push past him.

  He wheels me around again by my elbow. “Yes, we are, because if you’re going to work with Lorenzo Mancini, you need to know that you’re at his level.”

  “Whoa, calm down on the pep talk.” I laugh.

  He doesn’t. He’s serious. “Don’t play his games.”

  I tilt my head. “I’m not.” The doorknob jiggles. “Great.”

  I storm over and unlock the door, and a pair of dreamy brown eyes meet mine.

  “Miss Stewart?”

  “Sorry, I’m coming now. Jake had an emergency paper jam and needed my expertise.” I slide by Enzo, careful not to allow our bodies to touch.

  “Please keep your private affairs off the office equipment,” he says behind me.

  “It’s not like that.” I toss my purse on my desk.

  He holds open his door for me. “I need to see you.”

  “Can I take off my coat first?”

  He huffs, continuing to hold the door open. “I suppose.” He glances at his watch and taps his foot.

  I roll my eyes, throw my purse in the bottom drawer, and grab paper and a pen. “How sweet of you to be so patient.”

  I walk into his office, and he shuts the door. I take a seat in front of his desk while he rounds it and sits in his chair, the skyline behind him. He’s like King of New York right now.

  “Listen, I don’t care what you and your boyfriend do, but keep it off the clock, okay?”

  My jaw hangs open. “You know he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Then why am I always finding you in the copier room with him?”

  “Why are you going to the copier room? I know it’s not to make your own copies.”

  He leans back in his plush chair, the pen in his hand teeter-tottering back and forth. “I saw you come in and I followed. I gave you ample time to answer a professional question, then I sought you out.”

  “Ample time? You followed me?” I hold out my wrist. “Why don’t you put a tracking device on me to save yourself time?”

  He hems and haws. “I kind of like that idea.” His smirk appears. The one that indents the one dimple on his left cheek.

  I retract my wrist. “Not going to happen.”

  “Anyway, I wanted to speak with you to let you know that I sent you flowers.” He changes topics faster than a round of Jeopardy.

  “You did?” My heartbeat picks up. As sad as it is, I’ve never received flowers from a guy, except for my prom and homecoming dates.

  “The florist couldn’t deliver them because she had the wrong address.” His perfectly shaped eyebrows rise as though I purposely gave him the wrong address. More like he went through personnel files or he bribed poor Mildreth down in Human Resources.

  “I just moved.” My voice is softer now, my attitude improving thanks to the fact that he sent me flowers. That thought shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.

  “Well, they’ll be delivered to work now, and because I didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, I had them scrap the card.” He slides a small envelope across the desk. “This is for you.”

  I hold the white envelope and lift the flap.

  “You don’t need to read it here. It’s just a thank you for letting me join in yesterday,” he says.

  Lorenzo Mancini civil? Thankful even? This is a revelation.

  He straightens in his chair. “Make sure you change your address with Human Resources. And I rescheduled the meeting with Billy for this afternoon. And…” His gaze trails to the dry cleaning bag on the chair next to me.

  I wait for him to say it. The bag is like a bomb about to go off.

  “That’s all.”

  I nod, biting my lip to stop myself from smiling. “Okay. Well, let me know if there’s anything else.”

  “I will.” He turns to his computer and, with his hand on his mouse, disregards me.

  Once I’m at my desk, I discreetly open the small card. It’s his chicken-scratch handwriting.

  * * *

  Thank you for allowing me to pry into your family for my own gain. You’ve gone above and beyond, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

  ~ Lorenzo Mancini

  * * *

  I sigh and close my eyes, stuffing the card back inside the envelope then into the bottom of my purse.

  A half hour later, the mailroom comes up and leaves a dozen Juliet Garden roses in a soft apricot color on my desk.

  When Mae comes to my desk to grab me for lunch, she leans down to smell the flowers. “These are beautiful. Who are they from?”

  How did I not think of an excuse earlier? No one has asked because Jake has been in meetings all morning and has yet to see them.

  “My dad,” I lie, crossing my fingers under my desk.

  “Your dad sent you roses?” Mae’s forehead scrunches. “That’s sweet and… weird.”

  “Mae!” I feign offense.

  Enzo’s office door is open, and I glance inside to find him at his desk, watching the scene unfold with a smirk, as if all he needs is a bowl of popcorn to fully enjoy my squirming.

  Mae turns around and follows my vision. Enzo straightens, burying his head in his phone before Mae notices anything is amiss.

  “I’m just saying, roses insinuate romance. I’ve never seen ones like these before.” She inhales their scent again.

  “I know, I had to google them. They’re called Juliet Garden roses. They look like peonies, right?”

  We admire the bouquet in the clear vase, smelling them and feeling how soft the petals are.

  “You sure your dad didn’t mix this up at the florist?”

  My gaze shoots to Enzo. Once again, he’s watching. A tingle skitters up my spine.

  “Can we forget the flowers for now? My mom was in the delivery room,” I say.

  Mae’s lips tip down.

  Mission accomplished.

  “She didn
’t…”

  “She did.” I grab my purse and pick up my phone, pressing Enzo’s extension.

  “That was entertaining,” he answers.

  I ignore his comment. “I’m going to lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “What did you tell her? Who are those beautiful flowers from? An admirer? Your boyfriend?”

  “My dad,” I answer.

  Mae peers down at the screen of the phone to see who I’m talking to, then she rolls her eyes.

  “Interesting.”

  “What?” I shouldn’t care what he thinks is interesting.

  “That you went with your dad instead of someone you’re romantically linked to.”

  My eyes flick to him through his glass door. He’s smiling as if he’s the big cat and I’m the small mouse trapped in a corner.

  “Well, I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m going to lunch. I’ll pick up yours on the way back.”

  He chuckles. “Are you uncomfortable talking about relationships?”

  The longer this conversation with Enzo continues, the more Mae is shaking her head with furrowed brows.

  “Can we discuss this when I return?”

  He laughs again. “Sure. Don’t forget our meeting this afternoon with Billy.” Click.

  I inhale a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  I secure my purse crossways over my body, and I don’t bother looking into his office to see if he’s watching because I shouldn’t care if he is. How did I go in a matter of days from never talking to Enzo Mancini to him sending me flowers and asking me about romantic relationships?

  I don’t have an answer, but one thing is for certain. Enzo Mancini is not what I expected.

  Chapter 8

  Enzo

  * * *

  “Come on, Blanca.” I hold the phone to my ear and swivel my chair around to look out at the Manhattan skyline. It’s a gloomy spring day and I’m thankful my lunch will be delivered so I don’t have to go out in the rain.

  “What, did you lose at rock, paper, scissors?” my smartass sister asks.