by Andromeda
It’s not something that he likes to talk about as it makes him remember that Georgianna used him, betrayed him and in the end, Lukas is the product of it. He has some…feelings for Lukas, but every time that he looks at him, he sees Georgianna in those blue eyes and he hates it.
His mother would be angry with him as she told him to watch over the young boy as she knew that his mother was nothing more than a ‘money grabbing chienne’. Alphonse smiles every time he remembers his mother calling Georgianna a chienne, the French word for bitch. Rosalinda reminds him so much of her…
Still, he hasn’t told her a single thing about Lukas or Georgianna. His ex has a habit of running off his girlfriends; however, Alphonso has a feeling that she might have met her match in Rosalinda.
Later that night, when Rosalinda is asleep, he gets up from the bed and walks to the window to look out at the city. His mind is swirling with emotions, emotions that he is fighting to keep from realization. He swore that after Georgianna, he would never have these emotions again for another woman; yet with Rosalinda, these emotions are awakening and are stronger than he’s ever felt before. With Rosalinda…everything seems so right and perfect.
His mind goes back to the club where she taught him how to dance and how she smiled, a look that he wants to see all the time in her eyes. When she talks of her children, she speaks of them with such pride and love that it makes the ice that he has around his heart melt.
In his mind, he is the Alpha male, but Rosalinda is making him realize just how much of the opposite that is. When they first got together, she was the one that needed healing; yet, the longer they are together, he is realizing the opposite to be true in that she is the one healing him... She is changing him in the most amazing ways and he likes it.
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
Georgia holds back Rosalinda’s hair as she throws up in the trash bin of her apartment for what seems like the thousandth time. Rosalinda hates sushi; the smell is horrible to her highly sensitive nose. Yet last night, Alphonse insisted that she accompany him to the grand opening of a new Japanese restaurant. The young woman couldn't really enjoy herself honestly as the smell of fish made her just want to vomit.
Georgia, who has never seen her this sick before, rubs her back. "Girl, you sure you don't want to go to a doctor?" she asks.
Rosalinda shakes her head. "Just give me some ginger ale and crackers. My stomach is just unsteady."
Georgia nods and helps her up before they walk to the living room and plop down on the couch. Rosalinda tilts her head back and pinches the bridge of her nose to try to stop the pounding headache racking her body.
Other than this, life has been good for her and Alphonse. She and he have been together for almost seven months now and are growing strong. Her studies at Parson are great as she’s getting straight A's in all of her classes. Fashion school is anything but easy as designing is only one-third of the curriculum; there is also marketing and business management as well as learning how to make and keep connections with others. Rosalinda is very charismatic, so this is easy for her.
She calls her children daily, listening to their wild stories and dabbing her eyes when they tell her of the things that her ableua can now buy them with the money that Alphonse sends to them. She loves them so much and wishes that she was there for them, but knows that when spring break comes, she will sneak a visit.
Then there is Alphonse...he still is a bit distant, but not as much as before. She is slowly chipping away at his icy heart and he knows it. She smiles at how many times they have sex, but also the soft talks that they have as they are warming up to the other in this relationship.
Rosalinda groans as she feels another wave of bile raising up but she forces it back down; she doesn’t feel like getting up. Georgia returns with the ginger ale and crackers and turns on the TV. Flipping through the channels, she begins to turn it off when Rosalinda hold up her hand, seeing something strange.
"Hold on, Gigi; turn it up.”
Georgia nods and turns up the volume, and what they see makes them both jump to their feet. It's a video of Alphonse, standing with a bunch of models who are all richly dressed. The way his arm is wrapped around some of their waists makes her burn with slight jealousy but she swallows it down.
"…Mr. Alphonse François is a highly respected name in the world of fashion, one of the most iconic names in the world really," the newscaster continues. "The man has made millions with his fashion empire and has contracts from Gap to 21 to even Victoria’s Secret."
"But with all that money, does he have someone to share it with?" another newscaster asks.
"Actually, yes," the first newscaster says. "Mr. François has a seven-year-old son named Lukas with his ex-fiancée, Georgianna Waltz. Seen here."
The video changes and shows Alphonse leaving the hospital with a gorgeous blond-haired beauty who holds a bundle in her arms. It then switches again to show Alphonse and the same blond-haired woman together, this time with a three-year-old boy. Both seem to be smiling.
"Such a happy couple," the newscaster says. "Makes me wonder what happened to them?"
"Well Joyce, you never know; they have a son together, they might get back together," the second newscaster says with a chuckle.
Rosalinda turns off the TV, all the blood draining from her face, roaring in her ears. He lied to me...she thinks to herself. He lied to me. I asked him if he had any secrets and he told me no. He lied to me!
"Rose..." Georgia says gently. "Rose, are you ok?"
"I'm fine," Rosalinda whispers, dangerously fine. "Never better."
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
For the next couple of weeks, Rosalinda sees neither high nor low of Alphonse. He calls and texts her, but she ignores them all. She doesn’t have time to listen to his bullshit and instead, focuses on her classwork in order to get ready for Spring Break. She knows that if she ever does hear his voice, she’s going to curse the hell out of him and then most likely kill him.
How could he do this to me? She asks herself. We swore to each other that there would be no secrets. Not a single one. I laid myself out in the open for him and he, on the other hand, kept all of this from me. Why would he do this? Did he think that I would leave him? I couldn't give a damn about the ex, but the little boy, I would love as if he was my own. I love children seeing as I have two of my own.
Getting out of her car one day, she walks to her apartment, unlocks the door, and see that the lights are off. She frowns and doesn't step inside, shaking her head.
I don't do this shit, she thinks to herself. This is the part in the movie where the minority gets killed before the dumb ass blond girl. Uh-uh. No sir!
Digging around in her purse for her pepper spray and pocket knife, she slowly inches her way into the house, heading toward the kitchen. A hand grabs her arm, pulling her to a body. Screaming in Spanish, Rosalinda whips around, grabbing the person and kneeing them in the groin. The man grunts painfully and falls to the ground. Running to the lights, she turns them on and sees...Alphonse?
"What the blood hell was that for?" he yells at her.
"I could ask you the same thing!" she cries. "You don't just sneak up on Latina girls! That will get you cut up in more ways than that family on E TV has had surgery!"
Alphonso groans, holding his groin. "You kick like a football star! You kneed me in the balls…"
"That's not all I want to kick," she growls. "You lied to me, Alphonse!"
"About what?" he asks, slowly standing to his feet.
"I know all about it," she says tightly. "You have a fiancée and even a son!"
"Ex-fiancée," he says. "And as for my son, you didn't ask."
"I shouldn't have had to ask!" she cries at the top of her lungs. "You should have told me up front. We agreed, no secrets!"
"It wasn't really a secret..." he mumbles.
"Alphonse, the definition of a secret is something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others," she says thr
ough gritted teeth.
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Well then, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you everything about my personal life. Look, it's not any of your business anyway!"
Rosalinda wraps her arms around herself. "I'm not asking that you do! I just wish I would have found it out from you rather than on the news!"
"I shouldn't have to tell you anything!" he roars. "That's not your job to know; you're not my wife or anything! You're just my girlfriend that I bought and paid for! Your job is to be at my side if I go to an event, do what I say—hell, even open your legs when I say it! And that's all you'll ever be to me!"
His words are like a mallet pounding against glass. With each word, it pounds harder and harder until her heart shatters into a million little pieces.
"Y...you need to go," she croaks. "And you need to go now!"
He scowls. "Rosalinda..."
"NOW!" she screams. "You need to go now, Alphonse!" She is fighting against tears that are threatening to spill, but she holds them back. She’d rather die than let him see them fall.
He sets his jaw, "I see you need some time to think."
"Just go!" she whispers harshly. "Just leave already."
Alphonse nods stiffly and reaches for his duffel bag, and she arches an eyebrow. He was expecting to spend the night after that? When he just basically called her a money-grabbing whore? She doesn’t think so.
He walks to the door and then stops. "In a couple weeks, I have a gala event; you are coming."
"And if I say no?" she asks.
"Then consider our contract null and void," he says bluntly.
Without a second word, he leaves and closes the door behind him. Rosalinda slides down the door and then bursts into tears. She doesn’t know why she’s crying; she just is. When her eyes are puffier than that Jenner girl’s lips, she wipes them and stands up, walking to the bathroom.
Taking a package from her purse, she opens it and looks at the rod that will change her life forever. Following the instructions, she waits three minutes and when it beeps, she looks at it. Congratulations, you are five weeks pregnant.
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
A couple of days later, she sits in her grandparents’ house braiding Isabel's hair in her favorite style of an arrow braid.
"How long will you be here, Mamá?" the little girl asks.
"A couple more days," Rosalind answers, slipping a ribbon at the ends of the braids.
"We missed you," Antonio says at her side, his large brown eyes reminding her the color of deep rich chocolate.
"I missed you too, pequeño," she says, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
In the doorway, her abuela smiles at me and clicks her tongue at the children. "It's way past your bedtime," she tsks. "Your mamá needs her rest because she is leaving in the morning."
Isabel and Antonio both look crestfallen and Rosalinda hugs them to my chest. "Listen to your abuela," she whispers. "And I'll have breakfast with you in the morning."
They both hug her tightly, saying, "buenas noches, Mamá," in unison before running off to do as told.
Abuela then turns to her granddaughter and puts her hands on her hips. "Alright, hija," she says. "Who is the father?"
Rosalinda chokes on the water she was drinking. "Q...que?" is all she can say.
"What do you take me for, hija," she says. "¿Una idiota? No child, I know when a woman is pregnant, and you have a glow about you that only one can have."
Rosalinda wants to kick herself. Of course, she would know; her abuela can smell lies and secrets a mile away. How could she expect to keep such a thing from the woman who raised her? Her lip quivers as her grandmother sits down next to her and pulls her to her chest. All she can do is cry, unable to do anything else.
"Oh Abeula," she whimpers. "I am so lost...no se que hacer!"
"Calmar, mi hija," her grandmother coos as she rocks her gently. "It's going to be alright...how far are you?"
"Four or six weeks," Rosalinda whispers.
"Tell me of the father, describe him to me," she asks.
Rosalinda bites her lip. How does she describe Alphonse? "He is in my line of work," she begins slowly.
"Does he like it?" her grandmother asks.
"From what I can tell," Rosalinda says.
"Was this on accident or on purpose?" her grandmother asks.
"Completely by accident," Rosalinda swears
"Does he have a wife?" her grandmother asks.
"No," Rosalinda says, shaking her head. "But he has an ex-fiancée who has his son."
Her grandmother’s face tightens and she doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Does he know about your children?"
"Si," Rosalinda says nodding. "He knows all about them."
"Well then, here is the most important question then: does he love you?" her grandmother asks.
Rosalinda bites her lip again; the answer is so complicated. "I...I don't know..." she whispers. "He says he likes me sometimes...but the word love never leaves his lips..."
Her grandmother nods slowly. "I see...do you love him?"
"I...I don't know," Rosalinda confesses. "I mean...I'm drawn to him but I don't know exactly, Abeula."
Her grandmother nods again and cups Rosalinda’s cheeks in her hands. Wiping the tears from her eyes with her thumb, she looks into them.
"You have always been a strong woman," she says to her. "I know you have. You have been through so much, hija, and you've always gotten past the worst of it. Search your feelings, my child; that is all I can tell you to do."
Chapter Ten
Rosalinda’s hand carefully applies the makeup on her eyelids before she puts the makeup pen down and looks at myself in the mirror. Dressed in a red halter top, shorts, wedge sandals, and her hair pulled back into a single ponytail, she looks perfect.
She has returned to New York only a couple days ago and Alphonse actually gave her some space—until he showed up last night and they made up...all night long. She is still trying to understand her feelings toward Alphonse but when it comes to the sex...she can't say no.
This morning, he is taking her to a morning brunch with some of his business partners and their wives/girlfriends. Rosalinda chose her outfit carefully; her stomach is still flat but her breasts are tender, and wearing a bra can be very constricting right now, so a halter top with a built-in bra helps a lot.
Once she is dressed and Alphonse comes to pick her up, they climb into his car and head to the house of his brother, a man named Pascal. Rosalinda has only met both he and the sister Lucille twice and while she like the sister, Pascal is a bit to...flirtatious.
She still feels terrible; her grandmother gave her some pills for morning sickness that she hides from Alphonse, but they were in such a rush that she forgot to take them. The scent of cooked meats and other food makes the bile rise in her throat, but she forces it back down in order to keep from upchucking.
"You ok?" he asks as they get out of the car. "You look a little...green."
"I'm fine," she says quickly. "Just still a little air sick."
Alphonse frowns. "That should have gone away hours after you landed. It's been days."
"I'm fine, Alphonse," she says sharply. "Just fine! Stop acting like you care for me when we both know you don't!"
Slamming the door of the car, she marches into the house, having to get away from him. She doesn’t know what's wrong with me; oh wait, yes she does: she’s pregnant and the father of said child will tell her to get rid of it the moment he finds out!
"Rosalinda," he says, following her. "Rosalinda, wait!" His hand grabs her arm and pulls her to him. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"Of course I do," she says, yanking her arm from his grip. "You don't care for me, Alphonse, so stop acting like you do."
Pushing past him, she marches into the house and quickly finds where the women all are. She needs to get her mind off him. Time goes by quickly and they talk and laugh, but her mind still stays on Alphon
se. Should she tell him? Shouldn't she? It's her baby, not his. But he helped her create it, right?
Her mind spins at all the different possibilities of how this can go; not only this, but what if Parsons finds out? Alphonse is the most respected man in the world of fashion; what would they think? Would she get kicked out because of their relationship? She would die if that happened.
"Rose?" a familiar voice says softly. "Rose, are you listening to me?"
Rosalinda blinks and sees Lucille looking at her with a frown. "Huh?"
"Did you hear me?" the young woman asks, her hands on her hips.
"I'm sorry, what was the question?" Rosalinda asks.
"Do you want to go out and play football with the guys?" Lucille repeats.
"Oh," Rosalinda says and then nods. "Sure, why not?"
Rosalinda loves playing football. In Hispanic culture, however, their word for football is the American word for soccer. However, if she is guessing right, Lucille must mean American football, which makes no sense to her since they don't use their feet almost at all.
Taking off her sandals and walking to the soft grass, she loves the feel of it under my toes. They split into teams, men against women, and she believes the men go easy on their women. The sun is unusually hot at this time of year and it isn't long until she sweating heavily. She catches the ball and Pascal tackles her to the ground, chuckling as he pins her under him.
"Well, this would be an interesting position I'd love to see you in," he chuckles.
"Pascal," Alphonse barks. "Get off of her."
Pascal chuckles and does so, helping her up to her feet before he turns away. Suddenly, great pain knocks the wind from her lungs. Rosalinda doubles over in pain, screaming as she falls to my knees.
"Rose!" Lucille cries out as she runs to her. "Rose, what's wrong?"
Rosalinda is unable to talk as the pain racks her body; she feels like she’s being torn in half, something ripping from her...from her womb. Looking down, she sees spots of red dripping down her legs and she gasps.
"No...no...no...no..." she cries. "No! No!"