Power, Seduction & Scandal
Page 13
“Enough,” LaKeisha said. “All of you get back to work. All of you. Mrs. Northman is coming by today, for Pete’s sake.”
LaKeisha turned and headed back the way she came as Maurice swung back to face Sherise. If looks could kill, she knew she’d have been dead five seconds ago.
“I talk to Petra,” he exclaimed, this time in a lower, yet still-angry voice. “From now on, you clear everyone you talk to with me. Is that clear?”
“Of course,” Sherise said with a cold stare, her lips barely forming into a smile.
He furiously stomped away from everyone back to his office.
Sherise’s main goal was to make him look like a fool to everyone. This, plus the rumors already circulating, was all part of her plan. It was really in her best interest to play shocked, but with that last icy stare and wicked upturn at the edges of her lips, she let him know that she, like everyone else, knew he’d just really fucked himself.
She couldn’t help it. After all, she was Sherise Robinson.
Located in historic Old Town Alexandria, Belle Haven Country Club was the pride and joy of those who treasured exclusivity and luxury in Northern Virginia. Since the 1920s, the rolling hills, fine dining, golf, and all the other amenities made Belle Haven the belle of private clubs in the area. Membership was by invitation only and of course, their standards were higher than most could meet.
Erica didn’t have a hard time getting in. There was a lot of chaos at the club that day. They were having a few events at once. In addition to a Santa event, where many members were lined up with their little ones to sit on Santa’s lap, there was a charity event and a holiday party that a member was throwing for his small tech company. This last party created an opportunity for Erica to enter the club without a member designating her their guest.
Walking up the tree-lined entry drive, she noticed a young couple struggling with their errant daughter who looked around five years old and quickly made her way to them. The father was holding the little girl as the mother carried two large presents. The girl was reaching out for her mother and kicking her legs.
As they reached the front porte cochere member’s entrance that led to the large dark front doors, Erica swept in. She casually offered to hold the presents for the mother while she took her daughter. The mother quickly accepted. They all walked in together.
The men at the door didn’t ask for a name, even though they had a checklist. There was no way someone like her would get through those doors without inspection, but she counted on the men at the door assuming that she was with this couple that clearly fit in. She laughed with a bit of disgust as she imagined they probably suspected Erica was the nanny.
Once inside, she handed the presents to the husband, who thanked her, and she quickly went on her way. Erica had a mission and she wanted to get to it before it was found out that she wasn’t supposed to be there.
She’d heard from Tyler, Jonah’s estate lawyer, earlier that day that Jonah’s children had filed a formal contest to the will and a date was set for a hearing. Juliet, who had weak legal standing since she was no longer his legal spouse, wasn’t mentioned in the will and their children were both adults. But they were represented by Juliet’s lawyer and the filing is mostly her own claims of mental incapacity on Jonah’s part.
During her conversations with Tyler, he mentioned it would be awkward if he ran into Juliet at Belle Haven, as they both belonged to the country club and he knew she would be there for a charity event. In the end, Tyler was glad this gave him an excuse not to go since he didn’t want to in the first place.
This gave Erica the idea. She entered the ballroom the elegantly designed signs led her to. Once inside, she noticed the richly colored yellow walls with large white boxed windows framed by golden curtains. Elegant, draping chandeliers adorned the walls, shining the light on beautifully decorated circular cloth-covered tables with crystal and china and colorful flower settings in the middle.
No surprise that everyone looked her way when she walked in. No one else in there looked like her. At least, not anyone who wasn’t wearing a server’s uniform. She didn’t care. She had eyes for only one table in the far right corner. There, Juliet sat with her daughter, Elizabeth, right next to her.
Elizabeth was almost a clone of her mother. Looking like they were dressed more for an Easter event than for something in late November, both women were blond and thin with small blue eyes. They had the same sharp features, high cheekbones, and tight lips. They were both wearing their hair back in tight buns. Juliet was in her fifties, but you had to get up close to her to see the signs of alcohol. She drank too much and you saw it in the lines around her eyes and mouth, and the slight redness of her nose.
Erica felt a pang of jealousy seeing Elizabeth sitting there so prim and proper, looking every bit the privileged and entitled woman that she was.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth demanded to know, after seeing her mother was too shocked to even say anything.
“Hey, sis!” Erica exclaimed jovially, just loud enough for the immediate table to hear.
Elizabeth was mortified. She stood up and came around to her mother’s chair. “You don’t belong here,” she said, her voice almost snarling.
“She’s right,” Juliet finally found the strength to say. “Get out of here.”
“You don’t give me orders,” Erica informed her sharply. “Don’t worry. I won’t be long.”
“You’ve already been too long,” Elizabeth said. “Get the hell out of here or else.”
“Or else what?” Erica asked, taking two steps closer to her. She looked her dead in the eyes and repeated. “Or else what?”
“You’re a thug,” Elizabeth said. “Just like I imagined you’d be.”
“I’m not the one pushing people around,” Erica said.
“I’m calling security,” Juliet said.
“Don’t bother,” Erica told her. “I just wanted to let you know that your attempt to contest the will isn’t going to work.”
“I won’t discuss this with you,” Juliet said, dismissively. “That’s what lawyers are for.”
“Not surprised you wouldn’t know that,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“I know what lawyers are for,” Erica said, eyeing Elizabeth intently. “They just won’t be necessary. Jonah was of sound mind when he made that will.”
Juliet huffed. “No, he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been.”
“Why not?” Erica’s voice got considerably louder. “I’m his daughter and he loved me. He loved my mother. Why wouldn’t he want me to have his money?”
“Stop it.” Juliet stood up this time, her eyes like daggers for Erica.
Elizabeth grabbed her mother’s arms to control her. “Don’t let this ghetto trash get to you, Mother.”
Erica looked around the room, doing her best not to tear the girl’s hair out for her insults.
“This room looks a little bored. Maybe they’d love to hear my story. One last chapter in the flawed life of Jonah Nolan.”
“You wouldn’t,” Juliet said. “You know what happened to that boy when the truth about him came out. His life was ruined and he had to run away.”
“That boy’s name was Alex,” Erica said. “Alex and I aren’t the same. I don’t give a shit. And for a million dollars, I’ll take some press attention. What about you? How many of these wonderful little parties will you be attending when everyone is talking about yet another illegitimate brown child Jonah had?”
Suddenly, Erica felt someone come up behind her and she turned to see a large man dressed in a black suit. He had to be security. He was looking right at her.
“Get her out of here,” Elizabeth demanded. “She’s crashing this party and insulting the guests.”
“And what about all the other women?” Erica asked Juliet, ignoring the man behind her. “You don’t know about all his affairs. I know about some as well. I could even write a book.”
“Ma’am,” the guard said in a deep, authoritative voice.
“Don’t you hear her?” Elizabeth asked the guard. “She’s threatening my mother.”
Erica kept her attention on Juliet, who was no longer amazed or shocked. Her face was stone, covering up disdain and resentment. Erica knew that nothing mattered more to Juliet than what she looked like to her peers. Jonah had done so much to damage that, but she was trying to salvage all she could. It was all she had left.
“You’re trash,” Elizabeth sneered to Erica. “You’ll get nothing.”
“No,” Erica said, pointing to her face. “You’re the one that’s going to get nothing. You see, I know what he left you. Just half of his life insurance policy. That’s barely half a million. So sad. I bet you thought he actually loved you.”
Elizabeth let out a hateful growl before reaching back to the table. The second Erica saw her snatch a glass of wine, she jumped away. The guard, thinking she was trying to run away, turned to grab her. Just in time. When Elizabeth tossed the glass that she intended to hit Erica in the face with, all the wine hit the guard on the back of his jacket.
The whole room reacted to the scene as the guard let go of Erica and tried to see what damage had been done to his suit. He wasn’t happy.
“You bitch!” Elizabeth yelled out to Erica.
“Lizzie!” Juliet snapped at her. “Quiet down. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
Erica smiled at both women before turning to the guard and politely saying, “I’m ready to be thrown out now.”
“This one,” Billie said as she showed Michael the page in the magazine.
Lying next to her on the bed of pillows they had made next to their toasty fireplace, Michael took the magazine and gazed at the picture. He read the message written in cursive below.
“The perfect location, the only location for the classic bride is the center of the world. The Hay-Adams Hotel, a registered Historic Hotel of America, is your place for the wedding of her dreams.”
He looked at her with a sly eye. “Sounds a bit . . .”
“Bougie?” she asked. “I know, but it’s such a beautiful hotel, Michael. I used to walk by it as a young girl and wish I could go inside, and every time I’ve been inside, I’ve been in awe.”
“I’ve been there a few times,” he said. “For a lunch or a charity or two. It’s pretty amazing. You know the Obamas stayed there before moving into the White House.”
“And it’s haunted.” Billie giggled. “Clover Adams, a family member of the presidential Adams.”
“So you’re telling me you’re crazy.” He handed the magazine back to her.
“I think it’s romantic,” she said. “It has the Elizabethan and Tudor motifs everywhere. All that beautiful architecture. Everything about it is perfect.”
He pointed to a note, in less obvious writing, at the bottom. “Menus starting at $180 a plate. You know what that means? For $180 you get half a cold chicken thigh and two pieces of iceberg lettuce. A real menu is gonna be at least $100 more.”
“We aren’t inviting the universe,” Billie said. “We already agreed just our close family and friends. We can do this.”
“I’d pay for five hundred guests if that’s what my baby wanted.”
She turned her head to his and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. She scooted her body closer to him so that there was no space between them.
“We’re both paying for this wedding,” she insisted. “And you don’t have to worry about five hundred. The place only seats three fifty.”
He rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll make ’em knock down a wall if you need the room.”
Billie felt her body tingling as his warm, strong arms wrapped around her. “So you agree? The Hay-Adams?”
He nodded. “But when?”
“We have to be flexible,” she said. “They’re in high demand. Unless we want to wait another year to—”
“No,” Michael said. “I’m not waiting a whole year to make you my wife, Billie.”
She felt indescribable happiness at hearing him say those words and knowing he meant it. She couldn’t wait another year either.
“Then we might have to be flexible on the day,” she said. “Like maybe not Saturday?”
“Who gets married on a Saturday anymore?” he asked, jokingly. “That’s old-fashioned. We get married when we want. Tuesday at three a.m.”
“So I’ll call.” Billie looked around the living room area, wondering where she’d left her phone.
“Not right now,” Michael said. “I don’t want you to get up. I’m enjoying this too much. We haven’t snuggled in a while.”
“I love that you love to snuggle.” She rubbed her nose against his.
“You just better not tell anyone,” he warned playfully. “I have my manhood to protect.”
“Too late.” She laughed. “I’ve already told Sherise and Erica you’re a cuddler.”
“You tell them everything,” he said. “I should have guessed.”
Billie didn’t want to spoil the moment, but things were so good right now, she thought maybe it was the best time to bring this up again.
“I also told them about you thinking about Atlanta,” she said. “But it seems like you’d already mentioned something to them?”
“When?”
“Thanksgiving. You said something about not wanting to raise your kids in D.C.”
He shrugged. “I might have. I don’t remember. Look, baby, I’m sorry for springing that on you. It’s just . . . I’ve really been thinking about it. I miss Atlanta.”
“I know you do.” She brought her hand to his face and held his cheek. “Baby, I want you to be happy. Wherever you are is my home, but . . . leaving Tara and the girls just feels so painful to me. Can you understand that?”
He was looking tenderly in her eyes. “Of course I do. I want you to be happy too. This isn’t an easy decision.”
“We both have to keep our hearts and minds open about it,” she said.
“I promise I will,” he said. “We’re getting married. We have to make these big decisions together, right?”
“We’re getting married,” she said in a giddy voice as she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “We’re really getting married.”
“At the Hay-Adams Hotel,” he added. “Shit just got real, Billie. You ready for it?”
“Am I ready?” she laughed. “Baby, I been ready. I bought this magazine four months ago.”
He squinted at her with a sweet smile before leaning down to kiss her on the lips. She met his lips with eagerness.
Within a second, their hands were all over each other frantically. Billie let out a quiet moan as she felt his hands, hot and commanding, reach up her loose blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so his hands went immediately to her small, firm breasts. Her body responded to his touch by moving into him.
Billie reached down and felt him getting hard in her hands. She aggressively caressed him, making him groan her name.
The sound of the doorbell ringing jolted them both from their haze. Their eyes met, each wondering if the other had heard it. Then it rang again and they both rolled their eyes.
“Why now?” he asked.
“Who could it be at this hour?” she asked.
“I’ll get it.” Michael stood up and headed for the short hallway that lead to the front door.
“Who is it?” he asked loudly before reaching the door.
No response, just another ringing of the doorbell.
Billie was just tucking in her blouse when she heard Michael gasp. She rushed around the corner of the living room into the hallway just as Michael opened the door. She walked at a brisk pace down the hallway, waiting to hear Michael greet the person, but he didn’t speak.
“Hello, Michael,” said a woman in a sweet Southern drawl.
Billie finally reached the door and could see who was on the other s
ide. The woman who was looking at Michael with a tender, but cautious smile turned to look at her. Their eyes met and Billie could see that the woman wasn’t expecting to see her. She didn’t seem unhappy to see her. Just surprised.
She was an attractive cinnamon-colored woman with gentle features on a makeup-free face that looked to be in its mid-thirties. She was medium height and had an earthy look to her, with soft black hair that fell in several twists just past her shoulders. Her form-fitted multicolored dress went just past her knees, covering the top of her sandy brown boots.
“Hello,” Billie said to her.
The woman smiled in response.
Billie turned to Michael and could see from her side view of him that he was shocked. She nudged him in his side with her elbow. He turned to her and blinked before turning back to the woman.
“What are you . . . What are you doing here?” he asked.
Billie found that a curious greeting. She could see from the woman’s expression that it wasn’t surprising to her at all.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you and . . . Billie, right?” She turned to Billie.
Billie nodded. “Billie Carter.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Billie.” The woman held her hand out underneath the arm that Michael still held against the archway of the door.
Billie accepted her hand and shook it firmly. What was going on?
“And you are?” Billie asked.
“Darina,” the woman said, turning to Michael to finish. “Darina Wheeler.”
Billie felt a thud in her gut. Darina Wheeler.
So this was her. The woman that Michael had once thought was the love of his life. He’d never shown Billie a picture. The woman everyone thought, and his family still hoped, he would marry. The woman who broke his heart when she chose activism over him. The woman he hadn’t spoken to in over a decade. She was standing in his doorway, in their doorway.
“How did you even know where I live?” Michael asked.
“Dee Dee told me,” Darina answered. “You know I’ve kept in touch with your mother. Well, not very well in touch, but she told me where I could find you.”