Creed (The Marquette Family Book One)
Page 13
“Please do, if you must, but have someone with a key for the door,” he shot back. “I will be there in twenty minutes.”
He disconnected the call, and just as he said he would, he arrived outside Shada’s apartment twenty minutes later. When he started up the stairs toward unit three, he found an older gentleman standing beside the door, waiting. Creed saw no evidence of the police, and he sighed in relief. While he had no doubt he could settle matters with the authorities quickly, he didn’t need the delay in getting to Shada.
“You’re Creed Marquette?” the elderly man asked in a gruff tone.
“I am,” Creed said, but he strode by the man to knock on Shada’s door. He waited a few beats to see if she would answer, but he heard nothing from the apartment. “Open it.”
“Well now, hang on,” the old man said. “We need to—”
“Open it before I do.”
An unsteady hand covered in age spots reached out to the door. The man pushed the key into the lock and turned it. Once the door opened, Creed brushed by the man even as he called out to Shada and announced himself. Creed rushed through the living room, shuffling footsteps sounding behind him.
“We would have called the police if Ms. Alma hadn’t thought to look you up. Marquette name sounded familiar. Pretty well-known, you.”
Creed ignored the conversation and turned into the first bedroom he reached. He found Shada there, crumpled at the side of the bed, her head and shoulders bowed. In the bed before her, Marisa lay as still as the dead, and he knew that was the case. She had passed on. Creed couldn’t say the situation was unexpected, with Marisa always so weak, but it hit him hard. Marisa had been a sweet and intelligent woman, and he knew that, even if Shada wouldn’t accept it, Damen had liked her. Maybe more than he should have.
For now, Creed dismissed everyone from his mind except the trembling beauty before him. He knelt down on one knee and scooped her into his arms. “No,” came her weak cry, but she seemed to lack the strength to fight him. He carried her from the room and sat on the couch with her in a tight embrace.
“I need to stay with her,” she whispered.
“Shada, baby, she’s gone. She can’t stay in the apartment. She has to be laid to rest.”
“No, no, she’s my sister.”
“Shh, I know.” He did his best to calm her with words, but in the end, all he could do was hold her tight.
She sobbed nonstop, shaking so much his heart threatened to crack. “I can’t live without her, Creed. I just can’t,” she cried.
“It feels like you can’t, baby, but I promise you it will get better.” He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. She clung to him, and he willed some of his strength into her. “If you can’t, I will help you. You can lean on me all you need to.”
Shada buried her face against his chest, her fingers curled into his shirtsleeves. A sound made him look up, and he found the old man standing before him, confused. “Is that young lady in there really—”
“Be quiet,” Creed roared. “I don’t need you here anymore. Get out.”
Shada, who had settled down some, started to cry again, and the old man stumbled to the door and disappeared. Creed shifted Shada into a different position on his lap and maneuvered his phone from his pocket.
“Baby, I’m going to handle everything. You relax.”
She didn’t answer, and he made some phone calls. Within moments, he had arranged for the body to be picked up and informed his brothers. Stefan was on his way to bring meds for Shada to take. He knew she wouldn’t sleep without help.
When he set his cell phone down, Creed stood Shada on her feet. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.” Before they had taken one step, her eyes widened and she stared toward the bedroom door. For an instant, Creed had thoughts of a lingering ghost, a popular belief here, but then he realized Shada feared breaking down again. He had the feeling she hadn’t fully accepted Marisa was gone.
“On second thought, you’re staying with me.”
“Creed.”
His name was her only protest, but he got her moving down to the street. Just as they stepped on the front walk, a car pulled up, and Damen unfolded from the interior.
Creed frowned. “Where’s Stefan? She doesn’t need to see you, Damen.”
His brother appeared paler than usual. He didn’t look at Creed but focused on Shada. “Shada, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Creed knew his brother, and he heard the disillusionment in Damen’s tone.
Shada stared at the ground, not meeting his eyes. Creed couldn’t tell if she was angry at his brother or didn’t hear him speak at all.
He held out his hand for the meds, and Damen handed them over. He could tell Damen wanted to say more, but he shook his head. “Give her time. If you could wait inside until…”
Damen nodded and backed off. Creed knew he asked for a lot, but Damen was stronger than Shada right now. He believed his brother would do what he could. Creed tucked Shada into the car and slid behind the wheel. He waved to both his bodyguard, who had dogged his steps the entire way over there, and to Damen. His brother would find his way back.
“She’s staying with me. I’ll be in later.”
Damen leaned on the driver-side door and glanced across at Shada. Creed studied her beautiful face as well. Her hands were clutched in her lap, and her shoulders shook. His brother squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t bother. We’ll handle it. She needs you.”
Creed agreed and pulled off. Now he had to figure out how to help Shada through the next few days, maybe even the next few weeks and months.
Chapter Thirteen
Creed stood behind Shada in the shower. Warm water ran over her bowed head, and he drew her toward him a little. He ignored the reaction in his body, which responded to her nakedness. Shada didn’t need to think about sex right now, so he didn’t. Despite his hard-on, he washed her, running a cloth over her soft skin, careful not to let his fingers touch it. Every now and then, she shuddered, and it tore at him.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he encouraged her.
She didn’t move, so he pushed a knee between her thighs to do it himself. Her heat warmed his hand, but he worked quickly. As he turned off the shower, he noted the mess of her hair, wondering what the heck he would do with it. He knew nothing of styling a woman’s hair. Thoughts of calling in a stylist ran through his mind. She would need to come to him, because he wouldn’t subject Shada to stepping out in public before she was ready. For now, he would dry her hair, wrap it, and get her into bed.
Creed tucked Shada beneath the sheets and brought in warm milk and the medicine. He held the glass out to her, but she shook her head.
“One sip for me,” he encouraged her.
“It’s gross.”
He reached for her chin and tipped it up. “You haven’t kept down anything that I gave you earlier. Drink enough to take your medicine, Shada.” Instilling firmness in his tone got her to drink, but he hated doing it. He’d wanted to treat her tenderly in this terrible time. As he had watched her over the last twenty-four hours, he realized the shudders might occur when she recalled finding her sister. Add to that the memory of her parents being taken from her when she was so young, and Shada must feel she was all alone in the world. He determined to change that perception until she grew stronger.
She sighed and took the glass. She popped the pills into her mouth and then drank. When she’d taken two swallows, she pushed it away, and he set it aside. He tucked the sheets beneath her chin and turned away.
“Creed.”
He froze at her small voice, as she hadn’t spoken much since he’d picked her up, and he looked back at her.
“Stay with me. I can’t be alone. I just can’t.”
He dropped to his knees at her bedside and stroked her cheek. “You’re not, Shada.”
“Please.”
“You don’t have to beg me. Hold on. Let me put something on.”
He’d forgotten he stepped out o
f the shower naked, and he’d put her to bed without a stitch on herself. He couldn’t lie in bed with her that way, so he found a T-shirt and shorts, then slipped behind her. She tucked her head beneath his chin and drew her knees to her chest. Creed enfolded her in his embrace and shut his eyes, resting while she did.
* * * *
Shada sat up on the side of the bed, which woke Creed. He studied her beautiful face as she bowed her head. Concern washed over him. How long had it been since he’d given her something for the pain? Had enough time passed to give her more? Other than the pain, he could imagine what she felt. All she wanted was to disappear, but he had also begun to see some light. She acknowledged him and her surroundings more and more with each hour that passed. She would go on and beat this grief.
A buzzing caught her attention, and as she reached for his cell phone on the side table, he sat up and caught her hand. For a few moments, she blinked at him as if she couldn’t clear her vision.
“Come back to bed, Shada.”
She didn’t move.
Creed stroked her face and then wrapped an arm about her waist to draw her to his chest. “Come on, baby.”
“I’m hungry.”
Her small voice provoked a protectiveness in him. He pushed her down against the mattress and drew up over her. “Okay, I’ll make you food, but stay put.”
Creed had the ingredients for a sandwich he knew Shada liked. Since arriving in New Orleans, she had learned to make and enjoy the Italian muffuletta, or muff for short. He had seen her put the creation together, and he felt confident he could recreate it. From the refrigerator, he removed muffuletta bread, olive salad, olive oil, salami, Italian ham, and provolone cheese. He cut the bread in half across the middle, brushed the halves with olive oil, and began layering the meat and cheese. On top, he added a healthy amount of olive salad, then smashed the whole together. With care, he placed the sandwich on a saucer, cut it, and prepared Earl Grey tea. When everything was ready, he took Shada’s lunch in to her on a tray and presented it with a flourish.
Shada sat up as he approached the bed, her eyes widening at the sandwich.
He grinned. “Looks good, doesn’t it? It’s the muff.”
“I see,” she murmured.
He couldn’t tell if her response was one of pleasure or something else. When he sat her lunch before her, he hovered, waiting. Somehow he was nervous. He’d dealt with people from all backgrounds, and he found that running a corporation came naturally once he had learned the ropes. Yet standing before this woman while she passed judgment on his creation took all his courage, and he didn’t like it.
Shada raised one side of the sandwich a bit awkwardly and leaned forward. He realized she would never be able to open her mouth wide enough to reach from the top of the loaf to the bottom. She settled for the bottom section and chewed.
“Do you like it?” he asked, then cleared his throat because he sounded like a damn wuss.
“It’s good,” she said.
He heard a little something. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Shada.”
She sighed. “I like some of the dough taken out of the middle so the bread’s not so thick, and you were a little heavy-handed with the oil. Then there’s—”
“I get it. I suck at cooking.”
He reached for the plate, but she raised the sandwich to her lips and continued to eat.
“You don’t have to force yourself, Shada.”
She ignored him and finished the sandwich. After the last bite disappeared into her mouth, she climbed off the bed. He couldn’t help allowing his gaze to follow her movements, enjoying the sight of her naked body as she went into the bathroom. The toilet flushed. Water came on at the sink. He heard her brushing her teeth and recalled how he had helped her do even that after he brought her to his home.
She appeared again, but this time she’d covered herself, wearing a robe he had left on the back of the bathroom door. The material hung well past her hands and almost to the floor. She seemed lost in it, and smaller. A pain tightened the muscles in his chest.
“Come back to bed,” he encouraged her.
“I need to make arrangements.”
“I’ve begun those,” he said.
He started to explain to her that the dead in New Orleans are buried aboveground in vaults and that, because of a shortage in space, the body would only occupy its casket space for a short while before being transferred to a bag and placed in the back of the vault to make room for the next occupant. The casket would then be thrown away. When he had heard about the process, enacted because of an ordinance in New Orleans, he had been shocked beyond belief. He didn’t want to share the details with Shada and wondered if they should just have Marisa’s body shipped back to New York for burial.
“Metairie Cemetery?” she said, surprising him.
“You know about the customs here?”
She swallowed and nodded, but he saw how difficult it was for her. “Marisa learned everything there was to know about her new city and told me. She loved this place from the first moment our plane touched down. I’ll lay her to rest here.”
She wobbled, and he caught her so he could guide her to the bed to sit down. Creed dropped to one knee and cupped her chin in his palm. “I’ll pay for everything.”
“No, I—”
“It’s settled, Shada.”
She glared at him, but the expression faded right away. From the look of it, the death of her sister had sapped all her energy, and Shada couldn’t fight his will in her current state. He knew he took advantage of it, managing what she hadn’t turned over to him. She needed him, the decision had to be made, and he got it done. Period.
Over the next day or so, Creed stood with Shada, along with his brothers and a few of his employees, to say good-bye to Marisa. Creed held Shada while she cried against his chest. He witnessed her weakness and the point when she decided to stand on her own two feet. She dried the tears and raised her chin, but he noted the way she held onto his arm as he escorted her from the cemetery.
“You okay?” Damen asked as they neared Creed’s car.
Creed glanced down at Shada beside him and back to his brother. “We’re fine. You’re…” He wasn’t sure what Marisa had been to Damen, other than a brief lover. Damen hadn’t confided in him, and Creed hadn’t pushed, because he knew his brother could handle the loss. Shada had needed him.
Damen shrugged, but Creed saw a touch of sadness in his gaze before it disappeared. He started to say something, but Damen swung away and headed toward his own vehicle. Stefan joined him, and Tiffany hitched a ride with the two of them.
Creed tucked Shada into his vehicle and slid behind the wheel. When he started the car, she sighed.
He eyed her a second, judging her mood. “We can skip the celebration at the restaurant, if you like.”
She turned a hopeful gaze on him. “That seems so wrong, but I just don’t think I can do it. Do you think the others will mind?”
“No, they’ll understand. If they don’t…” He clenched his jaw, and she tried to smile but failed. Her small fingers curled around his when he took her hand. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“To your place,” came the rapid response.
He hesitated.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Shada, I don’t think that’s a good idea with the state you’re in. Remember, we broke it off before this happened.”
“I know. Are you saying you don’t want to anymore?”
His cock twitched at the sheer thought, and she questioned his desire. “I want you. I just don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now. I’d be a sorry S.O.B. to take you to bed, feeling the way you do.”
“It’s because of the way I feel I want to.” She twisted to face him as he idled rather than pull out into traffic. “She fills my thoughts. I can hear her laughter, see the twinkle in her eyes, even when she was at her lowest physically.
It hurts so bad I can’t breathe. If for an instant I can forget, I want it like a drug. Can you understand?”
He could. Still, he hesitated. If she should change her mind half way through or afterward and get angry at him for giving in to his weakness, then what would they do? The will to say no crumbled with each passing second, and he opened his mouth to tell her.
She rested her hand over his crotch and gave his cock a squeeze.
Damn! “Shada.”
She rubbed his shaft until it hardened, then shifted in her seat until the form-fitting black dress she wore rose up her soft brown thighs.
Need robbed him of the ability to speak. The word no was the farthest it had ever been from his lips. Creed leaned across the seats, turned her chin up toward him, and claimed her mouth. She’d better not tell him no, he decided as he thrust out his tongue. Her soft moan tightened his cock even more, and he jerked away to force the car into gear. Fifty minutes later, they arrived at his house, and he pulled into the gravel drive.
Creed escorted Shada inside. Where he normally would have taken her the second they crossed the threshold, having ripped off every shred of clothing, he kept firm control of his desires until they reached his bedroom.
She tossed her purse on the settee and strode to the bed. Creed followed, watching the sway of her hips. His cock, which hadn’t softened since she first touched it in the car, tented his pants and strained to be set free. He moved up behind her and lay his hands on her shoulders. Dipping at the knee, he brought his erection into contact with her round ass and almost moaned with pleasure. Shada arched her back and ground into him. All of a sudden, a desperate need to take her from behind came over him. They had had anal sex plenty of times, so he knew she liked it. He ached to possess her, but he wasn’t sure if that was what she needed. Perhaps she longed to take it slow and easy.
When she pulled away from his grasp, Creed let her go with reluctance. With her back turned to him, Shada unzipped her dress and drew it over her shoulders. She stepped out of it and tossed it to join her purse. Black matching panties and bra met his gaze, made sexier by her bare legs and high heels. She flattened her hands on the bed and pushed out her ass again. Creed didn’t have to guess what his woman asked him for. She was so in tune with his sexual desires, it was uncanny.