Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  Now, at 37 years old, I was worth $6 billion between my financial center and my holdings company/flipping enterprise…

  … and my parents still told me I should’ve followed their plan.

  Mom called to ask for money every once in a while, and for a time I gave it to her: money for a new dress here; extra money for a vacation there. I paid for my father’s open-heart surgery after his first heart attack, and I even paid for mom to stay in the nicest hotel in the area while dad recuperated in the hospital.

  I eventually issued her a credit card tied to my account in case there were medical things that came up with dad while he recuperated at home. At first, he needed a new oxygen tank or new tubing for his breathing apparatus. New sheets for the hospital bed he was using until he was cleared to walk upright, and the copayments for his medications he needed. But then, payments that didn’t make any sense started showing up: shoe stores; gas stations outside of the state; expensive hotel rooms; and very pricey tabs at incredibly fancy restaurants.

  I called dad to figure out what was happening. I thought that maybe something had occurred. He had gotten a fatal diagnosis and they were having one last hurrah.

  I would’ve gone home if my dad had been dying.

  But what I found was the neighbor taking care of him while my mother was off treating herself. Said she deserved it after the stress dad’s heart attack had on her.

  I cut her credit card, paid for a full-time in-home nurse, and I haven’t heard from her since.

  Dad calls every now and then to update me on his firm. He sounds weak, and every day I wonder if I’m going to get a call that tells me he’s finally up and croaked.

  But every time we talk, he asks me two things: if I have a nice girl in my life and if I will ever consider going to school to get an education.

  The fuck do I need an education?

  I’ve got $6 billion in assets!

  As a straight-C student!

  “We’re here, sir,” the driver said.

  It yanked me from my thoughts. My eyes darted up towards the looming building as the sun finally decided to peek above the horizon of the city, and I opened the door before I stepped my shining shoe onto the pavement. The coffee shop in the building wouldn’t be open until six, so I shut the door behind me and went on into my office. I figured when my secretary came in I could send her to get both her and I something.

  But when I got up to my office, the coffee soon left my mind.

  The elevator doors parted onto the top floor of the building, and I began the dark descent to an office I never thought I’d want as I thought back to Clara. She had those big blue eyes that were unmistakably Gracie’s, and I started wondering what happened to her.

  Gracie wasn’t one just… to run away–

  – Unless it was from me, of course.

  She was headstrong: loud; opinionated; never backed down from a fight; and always made sure she had the last word. She was an infuriating ball of residual energy that zapped the life out of you before breathing it all back in through a hole in her lips.

  Was she all right?

  Did she need anything?

  I didn’t love her anymore: of course not. She left me high and dry – the only woman I’d ever hooked myself onto after my mother shoved all those stupid, brainless women onto me as a teenager – and pregnant with my daughter! I missed out on formidable weeks of her life because she ran scared!

  But she was still the mother of my child, and for all I knew she was bleeding out in a ditch somewhere after getting herself into some trouble.

  If there was anything that girl knew how to do, it was get herself into trouble.

  So, as the clock slowly peeled upwards and struck 6 AM, I called the only private investigator in all of New York City that could possibly be up at this hour.

  And he just happened to be the best.

  16

  The grunting and groaning that came from Clara’s room woke me around 7 AM. The house was eerily quiet, since Derek’s snores were usually wafting down the hallway around this time. I stretched and sat up in my bed just before Clara’s cries began to kick up, and it was then I realized why it was so quiet.

  Today was the day Derek went back to work.

  I squinted at the clock and double-checked the time; surely Derek wasn’t due into work before this hour in the morning. But when I wrapped my newly-purchased house robe around my body and ventured out into the hallway, I saw his door hanging open.

  That was one thing Derek never did: sleep with the door open.

  I shuffled into Clara’s room and turned on the light, anxious to get the crying girl some breakfast before I figured out what to do with my day. I’d honestly gotten used to Derek being around, and since there wasn’t much to do in the way of buying her anything, I really wasn’t sure what I would do with my day.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” I cooed. I wrapped my hands underneath her armpits and slowly pulled her to me. Her eyes were just now peeling open, and I pulled her close to my body before I wrapped my own robe around her shoulders. I held her tight while I made my way to the kitchen, and as I pulled the refrigerator door open I realized something.

  This was the third night in a row Clara had slept in her own crib.

  “Already growing up,” I smiled.

  Soon, I was sitting at the breakfast nook and feeding Clara her bottle. I found myself thinking about Derek at work and realized I didn’t really know what he did for a living. I mean, it must be something important or of value. He’s a very rich man not to be of value to anyone. Did he build his own business? Did he sell something? Was he a motivational speaker, or maybe a trader on Wall Street? Was he a philanthropist, or did he keep all his money for himself?

  I lost myself in my thoughts until I heard Clara sucking on an empty bottle.

  “Ooooh, hungry aren’t we?” I giggled.

  I put her on my shoulder and started the rhythmic drumming on her back. She burped and she gurgled, and I had a feeling I was going to have to change my robe before this was all over. Sounds no small child should make were coming out of every orifice she had, and before I knew it she let out a massive sneeze and filled her diaper at the same time.

  “Good god, child,” I breathed.

  I carried the giggling little girl back to her room and expedited the changing of her butt. I wiped her down while her arms flailed in the air, and I couldn’t help but gaze down at her and smile. She really was a chunky one, with red and bulging apple peaks for cheeks. Even for a child, her lips were very full, and her eyes were big and bright.

  Her father had the icy eyes of the Arctic, but she had the deep sea foam eyes of the calm before the storm.

  “Must be your mom’s,” I smiled down at her.

  That’s when I really began to study her: the rolls upon rolls of her short, stubby legs and the way her fingers still instinctively curled into the palm of her hand. Her hair still had that newborn baby smell to it, and I thought back to something Derek had mentioned the very first day I had been there.

  If his math had been right, and we added three weeks to that time, Clara was almost four months old.

  That meant she would be due for another check-up soon.

  “Possibly shots…” I trailed off.

  I then realized what it was I was going to do that day. I was going to play with Clara, maybe take her on a walk outside while I went to seek out a double-mocha coffee, and then I was going to research pediatricians in the area.

  Even if her mom was coming back, she still needed a doctor in the area in case she ever got sick.

  But then, that brought up the whole ordeal of health insurance.

  “Guess I’m just gonna have to call your daddy!” I smiled. “Yes I am!”

  I scooped her body up into my arms and bundled her back up into my robe. I could feel her head nuzzling into my bosom while I made my way to my room, and when I picked up my cell phone I saw I had a message …

  … From Derek.

 
; My heart skipped a beat and my toes began to burn as my thumb swiped over the screen to open it up. The idea of hearing from him during the day while he was at work stirred something inside of me that I really couldn’t place.

  I was… happy… that he was thinking of me while he was hard at work.

  “Get my note on the door?” it said.

  I furrowed my brow and put my phone down before I strode out towards the front door. I saw the taped piece of paper and reached out to grasp it, and a smile crept across my cheeks as I read the words on the paper.

  Apparently he figured Clara could use a doctor as well.

  I clenched the note in my hand and bounded back to my room, and when I picked up the phone I already had another message from him.

  “Sleep well?” it asked.

  I squealed with delight at the simple question. God, I was acting like a schoolgirl with a celebrity crush! One little ounce of attention and I was ready to jump at his every beckoning call.

  What the hell was happening to me?

  “Seems great minds think alike. I was just thinking I should find her a pediatrician today. But, that brings up the question of health insurance.”

  I sent the message before I typed another one in rapid succession.

  “And I slept well. You?”

  I felt Clara’s breathing evening out against my skin, so I sat on the edge of my bed and waited. My hand was grasping my phone as tightly as it could, and part of me swore that the phone was about to cave in on itself from the pressure I was exerting. My stomach was lurching for the phone to vibrate in my hand, and when it did I let out an audible gasp.

  “I’ll take care of the health insurance company. Just find some doctors to interview and we can go talk to them sometime this week. And I slept just fine.”

  We.

  He said “we” could go talk to them.

  I felt this weird settling in the pit of my stomach. For my entire life, I had walked on eggshells around people. I always wanted to impress them, to prove my worth. I always felt I had to bring something to the table, or to be of value somewhere in order for someone to want me around. For as long as I could remember, I always had things flying through my head: “Sit with your back straight” and “don’t forget your manners.”

  “Keep a steady foot” and “don’t look down when you’re talking to someone.”

  But now, as I sat here in the middle of a multimillion-dollar penthouse on top of my designated California king-sized bed with its Egyptian cotton sheets and a walk-in closet the size of my own bedroom growing up at home, all I could think about was my mind…

  … and how utterly blank it was.

  I had settled into a routine with Derek: a routine that consisted of taking care of the little girl snoring lightly against my chest; a routine that consisted of guarding this home while its owner was away, and cooking dinners with the man who had settled into a fatherly role a lot easier than either of us expected.

  I had settled into a routine with a man who wanted nothing more of me except everything I could give that was mine. He didn’t expect me to talk or act or sit or look a certain way.

  He simply wanted me to be… me.

  At least, I think he did.

  And even then, that was still a change from what I was used to.

  How I was raised.

  But the vibrating of my phone ripped me from my thoughts before I looked down and saw my phone was ringing.

  And it was Derek who was calling.

  “Well hello there,” I answered.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked quickly.

  I looked at my phone and saw I had a few missed messages.

  “Uh… yeah; yeah, everything’s all right. Are you all right?” I breathed.

  “Has anyone come to the door?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Has anyone come to the door, Madeline!?” Derek yelled.

  Before I could even comprehend why he was asking, I held the phone in my hand and cradled Clara close while my feet slid across the hardwood floors. Dust kicked up around me, and I made a mental note to clean up a bit before my hand flew out and locked the lock on the door.

  “Madeline!” Derek bellowed.

  “No!” I yelped. “And I have the front door locked.”

  “God, you aren’t in danger,” Derek groaned.

  “What’s going on? Are my missed messages from you?”

  “Yes. Listen, it’s an involved story that starts with me getting up very early this morning, but I need you to keep an ear out th--”

  But his sentiment was interrupted by a loud and ferocious pounding on the door.

  “Was that the door?” Derek asked quickly.

  My jaw went slack while the little child in my arms began to stir. The phone clattered to the floor while my head began to race and my body was shaking as I tried to pull it together. One minute I was feeling safe and secure… rooted into this new life that seemed to be forming in front of me, and the next minute I was back in the middle of shaky ground. It felt as if the Earth itself was trying to part its jowls and swallow me whole, and all I could do was grip the stirring child in my arms and clench my jaw to keep it from chattering with fear.

  I felt tears rise to my eyes as the door sounded with yet another thud.

  I reached my hand out for the lock on the door before I slowly flipped it open. My weakened hand laid itself on the doorknob just as another thud sounded, but then a voice accompanied the sound before I had a chance to turn it.

  “Derrie! Are you home? Is Clara with you?”

  My eyes widened at the boisterous female voice, and suddenly I found myself ripping the door open as I stood toe-to-toe with the unmistakable form of Clara’s mother. My eyes met hers and clocked the color of raging sea foam that decorated the depths of her eyes before the woman’s stare dropped to my chest.

  “Clara!” she breathed before she reached out and ripped the child from me.

  And as the woman I had only ever heard called “Gracie” came whirling into the room like a freak tornado, the only thing I could register was my heart plummeting to my feet.

  So much for new beginnings.

  17

  I couldn’t get out of my office quick enough. When the private eye called me just before my lunch hour and had told me what he had found, there were two things I thought: 1) I’m putting him on speed dial; and 2) holy fucking hell.

  Gracie was back in town.

  I slammed the car door open and ran for the steps without even shutting the door. Franz quickly opened the door and offered a kind smile, but he must have seen the fire burning behind my eyes because he quickly stepped to my side and jogged ahead to hit the elevator button.

  “Somethin’ wrong with the girls?” he breathed.

  I could only imagine, with the panic running through my veins, that he would’ve thought something was wrong with them. I turned my hot eyes towards him and shook my head quickly. I saw relief actively flood his system before the elevator lurched and began catapulting us towards the top of the building.

  You see, Franz’s daughter used to live in this building: on the twentieth floor, to be exact. I didn’t really know her, but she was one of those young things that had married for money. She traipsed around in all the latest fashions on the arm of a man who was three chugs of a milkshake away from developing permanent gout, and she spent his money faster than he could make it.

  His daughter’s death was the only tragedy that had ever occurred in this building as long as I’d been residing here, and it was a result of the doorman taking a longer break that night than he should have.

  So when Franz figured that out, he ended up volunteering his time during the night shift in order to cover the breaks the doorman was taking. “No one’s child should end up like that,” he would always say, and he stayed dedicated to his position for so long that they eventually started paying him a wage to do what he was doing.

  Maybe he was making up for not being around to k
eep his daughter safe.

  I could only imagine how I would feel if something were to happen t-

  “We’re here, Mr. Blake.”

  Franz’s voice ripped me from my thoughts before I saw that the elevator doors had opened onto my floor. I strode out and turned to the right, throwing my body down the hallway before my eyes happened to glance upon the door to my penthouse.

  And it was hanging wide open.

  “Clara! Madeline!” I roared as I ran through the open doorway.

  But all I saw was Clara being bounced in the arms of a woman I never expected to see again.

  She really was a sight, and didn’t seem to have changed a bit: her thin frame that stood at 5 feet, 10 inches tall remained decorated with the brightly-colored tattoos my tongue had fallen in love with on more than one occasion. Sure, her hips seemed a bit fuller and her breasts hung a bit lower, but her neck was still long and straight and her pixie-cut black hair now graced the middle of her neck and her petite shoulders rocked in a fluid motion while she sang a song lowly to my daughter …

  … Our daughter.

  And then, she turned around and hooked her darkened stare to mine.

  “Welcome home,” Gracie smirked.

  My eyes raked over her as she held my daughter close, and I could tell by the way Clara was squirming that she was probably not comfortable. After all, for the last three weeks the only woman’s bosom she had been nestled against was Madeline’s. She had just become comfortable with the arms of another woman, and here Gracie comes swooping in like she had never left –

  – Like she had never dropped this beautiful child onto my doorstep without so much as an explanation.

  Which begged the question: where the hell was Madeline anyway?

  “Aren’t you gonna say hi?” Gracie giggled.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I said lowly.

  “There’s my Derrie, always wanting to jump in head-first.”

  “What the hell happened to you?” I asked louder.

  “How’s Clara been? Not too much trouble, I hope. She’s been a rough sleeper, but all in all she’s a good little girl.”