by Amelia Autin
The slow smile she gave him melted the last vestiges of ice encasing his heart. “I’d be honored, lang jai.”
“I’ll contact your embassy and mine to see what we need to do to make it happen. I have dual citizenship through my parents—British and Chinese—but I was born in the UK and I want this to be legal six ways from Sunday.” He touched her cheek. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” Then he smiled and added, “And before then, too. Because...just because.”
* * *
They walked hand in hand back to the main house, and when Mei-li and Dirk saw the two of them, Jason and Alana didn’t even need to say a word. Mei-li threw her arms around Jason, exclaiming, “I’m so thrilled, I can’t even... There are no... Alana is so perfect for... I was hoping and praying... Oh, Jason!”
Dirk grinned and leaned over to kiss Alana’s cheek, murmuring, “This is only the second time since I’ve known her she’s been unable to finish a sentence.” He waited a beat. “The first time was right before I proposed...when she knew I was just about to.”
Which told Alana Jason’s sister was ecstatic over their engagement. A conclusion confirmed when Mei-li embraced her, saying, “I always wanted a sister.” She cast a teasing glance at Jason before hugging Alana again. “Brothers are well enough, but a sister is...a sister. I’m so glad it’s you.”
* * *
After Jason left and Alana was able to escape to her room, she calculated the time difference and called her cousin. “Guess who’s engaged, Jules?” she asked when Juliana answered.
“Hmm,” her cousin pretended to ponder. “Let me think.” She named a famous prince, one the tabloids had speculated about for years.
When Alana exclaimed, “No, of course not. Guess again!” her laughter pealed.
“Oh, honey, it’s you.” Deep happiness colored her words. “I’m so thrilled for you. You have no idea how worried I was—I know how much you love him.” She paused for a moment. “So I take it he changed his mind about children when you told him about the baby?”
That question burst Alana’s bubble, and she had no answer. When she didn’t say anything, Juliana’s voice sharpened. “You did tell him about the baby, didn’t you?”
Alana sighed. “Not yet.”
“Oh, honey, why not? You have to tell him.”
“I know. I know. It’s just... I told him Friday night I couldn’t agree to his ‘no children’ stance. And...it was terrible, Jules. He broke my heart. But something happened today—I don’t want to go into it now, but I promise I’ll email you all about it—well anyway, he...he said he can’t give me up. That if not having children is a deal breaker for me...he’d agree to it.”
“Yes, but there’s a huge difference between agreeing to children in theory, and knowing it’s a fait accompli.”
“I know that. And I will tell him...before we get married.”
“When’s the wedding?”
She drew a deep breath and held it, wincing as she admitted, “He wants it to be next month.”
“Next month?” Juliana didn’t have to say that didn’t give Alana much time; she already knew it. “Oh, honey...”
“Please just be happy for me, Jules,” she pleaded. “I love him so much—it just has to work out.”
Her cousin’s voice softened. “Of course I’m happy for you. Worried, of course—who wouldn’t be?—knowing what I know. But if you love each other, that’s half the battle.” Then she addressed the other elephant in the room. “Have you told your parents?”
Alana winced again. “Not yet. There’s a twelve-hour time difference between here and there, and I...I don’t want to wake them.” That had nothing to do with why she was dreading telling her parents, and her cousin knew it.
“It makes no difference to me, honey. You know that. Everything you’ve told me about him says he’s a wonderful man. And you love each other. That’s precious and rare, and I’m thrilled you found a man who means as much to you as Andre means to me. But it’s going to be an issue for your parents. It shouldn’t be, but it will. Have you thought about how you’re going to tell them about Jason’s parentage?”
No, she hadn’t thought about it. Because she’d never allowed their insular prejudices to guide her actions...rule her thoughts. And she had no intention of starting now. Just as she had no intention of even introducing Jason to them...until they understood she wouldn’t tolerate anything they said or did that might hurt him. He was hers to cherish and protect, just as she was his.
“I won’t let them hurt Jason.” Her voice was low but contained a thread of steel. “Even if it means cutting myself off from them.”
There was a moment’s silence at the other end. Then Juliana sighed with thankfulness. “I’m so glad you feel that way. You have no idea.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s the difference between love and love. Selfless love, not selfish. Not that I thought you... I didn’t, but... It means you really love him. That the rest of the world can go hang if you have him.”
Alana considered this for a moment. Then softly, more to herself than to her cousin, said, “Yes.”
* * *
Alana was still filled with that same quiet strength of purpose when she called her parents at 9:30 that night. Sunday morning at home, this time of day, her parents would be leisurely getting ready for the 11:00 a.m. church service they attended. Not that her parents were particularly religious. They weren’t. Attendance at church was merely a social obligation to them. But it meant she knew exactly where her parents would be and how long they’d have to talk.
When her mother answered the phone, she said, “Mom? It’s Alana.”
“Hello, darling. Your father and I were just talking about you.”
“You were?”
Her mother’s tinkling laugh sounded. “Of course. Are you ready to admit you made a mistake taking that job over there working for that actor? Is that why you’re calling?”
Alana gritted her teeth. She hated the way her mother said that actor, referring to Dirk. Dirk, who’d willingly sacrificed her services when Juliana needed her. Dirk, who’d paid her full salary the entire time she was gone. Dirk, who’d cared enough about her to warn her that Jason might break her heart, and conversely to advise her how best to deal with him when he called to apologize.
If that was how her mother talked about Dirk, who was white through and through, what would she say about Jason?
“No, Mom. That’s not why I’m calling.” She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as a calming technique. “I wanted you and Dad to know I’m engaged.”
“Engaged?” Her mother’s voice rose in pitch and volume. “As in...engaged to be married?”
“Yes.” Then she waited for the outburst.
“Who could you possibly have met over there that you’d want to marry? Do you know his family? What does he do for a living? Alan!” This last was said away from the phone as her mother called for Alana’s father. Alana knew she wasn’t meant to hear, but her mother’s voice came through loud and clear. “She’s engaged, Alan. Your daughter’s engaged.”
It wasn’t really funny but she chose to be amused at how whenever she did something one of her parents disapproved of, she suddenly became “your daughter,” as if the disapproving parent disavowed her.
Her amusement faded away when her father took the phone. “Who is he? How did you meet him? What does he do for a living?” were the machine-gunned questions aimed at her. “Does he know you’re one of the Virginia Richardsons? Is he after your money?”
“I don’t have any money,” she reminded him, answering his last question first. “Just that little trust fund from Grandmother Richardson.”
“Yes, but when your mother and I die you’ll be a rich woman. Are you aware there are men out there who prey on g
ullible young women? Rich, gullible young women?”
“Jason’s not like that,” she began. “He makes a decent living working for Wing Wah Enterprises here in Hong Kong. He’s—”
Her father cut her off, pouncing on the name. “Jason? Jason who? What’s his last name?”
“Moore. Jason Moore.”
“Moore? We don’t know any Moores. What’s his background? Who are his family? Where does he come from?”
Alana drew another calming breath. “Jason’s father is a baronet, Sir Joshua Moore. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s a famous producer and director.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. She shouldn’t have tried to impress her snobbish father and instead just told him Jason’s family background didn’t matter. That his character was what counted. And when it came to character, Jason had everyone, including her, beat.
“In the movie industry?” Disdain dripped from his voice. “Like your cousin Juliana? Like that actor fellow you work for?”
She bit her tongue to hold back angry, defensive words and said as evenly as she could, “Yes, Dad. Like them.”
“Ridiculous,” her father snorted. “This is what comes of letting you take a job recommended by your cousin. You would have thought that now she’s a queen she’d be more circumspect, but she’s just like her mother.”
“Don’t you dare say anything against Juliana’s mother, Dad. Don’t you dare!”
“Don’t think you can talk to me like that, missy!” her father roared. “I’m still your father, and you’ll treat me with respect!”
“Respect where it’s earned, Dad.” The words came pouring out of her. “I’ve had it with the way you and Mom talk about people in that way. And I’ll tell you right now, I won’t stand for it when it comes to Jason. Understand? Jason’s father is British, but his mother’s Chinese, and—”
“Eurasian?” The absolute shock in her father’s voice infuriated Alana.
“If you say one word against him—one word—I’m no longer your daughter. You hear me? Think about that and decide what’s more important—me, or your prejudices!” With that she disconnected.
She sobbed once, then laughed a little hysterically as she realized how satisfying it would have been to slam the phone down on her father. But you couldn’t do that with a cell phone—you could only disconnect. There should be a slamming app, she told herself with a hiccupping laugh. It’d make a fortune!
Then she buried her face in her hands, weeping in earnest. Not because of her parents. Because she’d just figured out why Jason didn’t want children.
Chapter 21
Jason had no sooner hung up the phone Monday morning after arranging to take Alana out to celebrate their engagement when he received a cryptic text from Cam.
The pigeons have gone home to roost as we hoped, he read. Call me?
He unlocked a desk drawer he always kept locked, pulled out a disposable cell phone that couldn’t be traced to him, then called Cam’s corresponding throwaway. “Tell me some good news,” he said when Cam answered.
“Those gizmos your company manufactures came through for us once again.”
Jason smiled. He’d designed those electronic devices himself and had overridden the objections of the board of directors for the manufacture of the prototypes. He was close to inking a deal with the FBI in the US, MI5 in the UK and the Chinese government for use by law enforcement in all three countries. The design was simple. Tiny enough to be installed in a cell phone’s battery compartment and drawing its power directly from the battery, it was powerful enough to send a signal that could be tracked from miles away. It also transmitted in real time every keystroke made on the cell phones, including phone numbers called and texts sent.
Jason wasn’t worried about the legality of the device’s usage by law enforcement the way the board of directors had been—that was up to the jurisdictions intending to use it. All he cared about was how effective it was for RMM.
All six of the men who’d abducted Alana yesterday morning had been released on a relatively remote island, but one with adequate cell towers. After the gizmos, as Cam called them, had been surreptitiously installed on their cell phones. The minute the Night Wind was out of sight, one of the men had sent out a Mayday call. Another RMM boat, disguised as a fishing vessel, had been in the vicinity and had picked up the signals, then tracked the boat the Eight Tigers had dispatched to rescue their men from the remote island. But all info gleaned from that operation had been reported at last night’s meeting. Which meant something else must have occurred for Cam to contact him this morning.
“Let’s have it.”
“I think we’ve identified one of the upper echelon of the Eight Tigers.”
* * *
Jason walked in the front door of Wing Wah Enterprises Tuesday morning, briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other, trying to text with the thumb of one hand.
Sorry I had to cancel last night, lang loi. Can I make it up to you tonight? Six-ish? Dinner, and...?
He smiled to himself as he remembered Alana’s playful response when he’d texted her that last sentence before. From there it was a short segue to memories of that night he would cherish until the day he died. Memories he had every intention of adding to tonight.
As he’d put in his text, his plans to take Alana out to dinner and back to his condo last night had come to naught because of an urgent RMM strategy session to deal with what Cam had told him yesterday. She’d understood when he’d called to apologize. No apology necessary, she’d insisted so adamantly he’d believed her. You do what you need to do. We have all the time in the world to celebrate.
So tonight they’d have their one-day-delayed celebratory dinner, after which he would finally make love to her again as he’d longed to do since their first time. Only this time she wouldn’t turn away from him in shame. This time there would be no moonlight goodbyes.
But before he did that, he would confess everything. Who he really was. Why it mattered so much she loved him for the man he was inside, not the public figure the business world knew. Tonight he would once and for all put his past firmly behind him, because none of it would matter...if Alana loved him. Understood him. Believed in him.
And...if she asked him...if she fixed those amethyst eyes on him and asked with the little catch in her voice that only surfaced when something meant the world to her, he’d make love to her without a condom. All. Night. Long.
Jason had just hit Send and was tucking his phone in his pocket when he heard an angry voice resounding through the lobby. He looked up and saw an older man loudly berating the female receptionist.
“Jason Moore. How many times do I have to tell you? J-A-S-O-N M-O-O-R-E. My daughter said he works here, and I’m not leaving until I see him.”
Obviously embarrassed, the receptionist looked left and right. She caught sight of Jason, but loyal employee that she was, she didn’t say anything except, “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have a Jason Moore in the employee directory. I have a J.C. Moore, but he’s an extremely busy man, and unless you have an appointment, I don’t think—”
“He’ll see me.” Three words spoken through gritted teeth.
“If you’ll give me your name,” she said in a placating tone, “I’ll ring upstairs and see if Mr. Moore is available.”
“The name’s Richardson. Alan Richardson.”
Jason had been heading for the executive elevator, but he halted abruptly at the name. Alan Richardson? Has to be Alana’s father.
“Tell...Mr. Moore—” the sarcastic emphasis told his listeners Alan Richardson resented using the honorific “—that I’m here to discuss my daughter.”
Jason turned around and walked up to the desk. “I’m Jason Moore, Mr. Richardson,” he said mildly, holding out his hand. A hand he quickly withdrew when i
t became painfully obvious the other man had no intention of shaking it.
“You’re Moore?” Alana’s father seemed incredulous. “Jason Moore?”
He went cold all over at the implied insult. “I assure you,” he said with an icy smile, “I’m the man you’ve come to see.” He glanced at the receptionist. “Sign Mr. Richardson in under my name, please. What conference room is available?”
The receptionist nervously checked her screen. “Five East is free until nine, sir.”
“Fine.” He gave her a warm smile, very different from the one he’d given Alan Richardson. “Block that room off for me, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned back to the other man and indicated the direction of the elevator. “Shall we?”
* * *
Jason had barely ushered Alana’s father into the conference room and closed the door behind them before the man’s throttled anger spilled over and an accusation was thrown at him. “Alana says she’s engaged. To you.”
Unsure exactly what she’d told her father, Jason merely raised his eyebrows and said, “Yes. Alana has honored me by agreeing to—”
“My daughter...and you.” The contempt was almost palpable. “Playing on her sympathies, no doubt. Feeding her a pack of lies to get your filthy hands on her money. Taking advantage of a sheltered innocent, that’s what you’re doing!” Rage mottled the older man’s features, and the next words out of his mouth were a slur.
Jason froze. Suddenly he was thirteen years old again, just starting boarding school. Hearing schoolboy taunts from his paternal cousins and their friends that sliced through his soul. The same words Alana’s father had just used.
He’d been too shocked back then to react at first, but Sean had waded into them, fists flying, shouting, You take that back! Then David had joined Sean, and finally Jason, when the shock wore off. Three boys against a dozen. Black eyes. Bloody noses. Split lips. The Three Musketeers had given as good as they’d gotten, until two of Jason’s cousins had run for the headmaster, who’d soon put a stop to the fight. The dozen had pointed their fingers at Sean as the instigator. Sean, the best, most loyal friend a boy—or a man—could ever have. Sean, who could never stand to see injustice done, who always stood up to bullies.