Decadent Dreams (The Draysons: Sprinkled with Love)

by Arthur, A. C.

  “Well, I’m going,” she snapped finally.

  “We didn’t doubt that for one minute,” Carter said with a shake of his head.

  “All of us should go,” Malik added in an attempt to take the mounting pressure off Belinda. “If it’s about the competition, we should all be there. Remember Ms. Lillian said we’re in this together, as a team. How’s it going to look if only part of the team shows up at a strategizing meeting?”

  “That’s not what it’s going to be and you know it,” Carter said. “If Grandma really wanted to talk business she would have called a meeting like she normally does. If she’s been cooking all day, that means she wants some family time, which I can pass on when there’s a lady like Cindy Carmichael waiting for me.”

  “The Cindy Carmichael?” Drake asked. He’d looked up from counting the money to see if Carter were serious.

  Carter’s answer was a wiggle of his eyebrows and a nod of his head.

  “Yeah, maybe he should be allowed a pass on this one,” Drake added.

  “He should be allowed a pass so he can go get laid?” Belinda asked with disgust.

  Carter chuckled. “You know, it’s something you should probably look into doing sometime this century, Belinda. It could relieve a lot of that stress you’re carrying.”

  Malik clenched his teeth as Belinda’s gaze quickly shifted to his.

  “Priorities, Carter. We’re talking about priorities here,” Malik told his longtime friend.

  Carter gave him a look of shock, then dismal pity.

  After a few awkward seconds Carter sighed. “Whatever you say, man. But I’m not staying long.”

  “I’m not driving, so who’s picking me up?” Shari asked, slamming pots into a bottom cabinet.

  Her mood hadn’t been the sunniest today. Malik noticed, so he knew the others did, as well. Wisely, none of them commented. They merely looked at each other, silently trying to decide who would volunteer to drive her and her mood to dinner tonight.

  * * *

  “Are you okay?” Malik asked Belinda the moment she arrived at her grandmother’s house.

  It was a lovely estate in Glenville Heights, the gorgeously scenic neighborhood running alongside Lake Michigan with tree-lined streets and palatial homes. Each time she’d driven through the black wrought iron gates along the curving driveway outlined with lush green grass and huge evergreen trees, she felt overwhelmed with pride. Her grandmother had come from an urban Chicago neighborhood. She’d raised Belinda’s uncle Dwight in a modest two-bedroom apartment, the upper half of a duplex, near downtown Chicago so she would be close to work. When she’d met her second husband, they’d moved into a town house near Midway Airport. By the time Belinda had been born, the entire family was living on this estate, now affectionately called Drayson Drive.

  In addition to the five-bedroom, three-bath main house, there were two other smaller homes and a pool house located on the estate. Before her parents had moved into their own house, they’d occupied one of the smaller ones on the property. Now, only Lillian and Henry lived on Drayson Drive. All this space and only the two of them; that thought made Belinda sad.

  Not only did she come into the house with a melancholy feeling, she was bone tired from the exertion of the day’s work and she was sleepy. Last night’s nightmare had robbed her of rest and, unfortunately, of the peace of mind she’d been striving for.

  And now Malik was in her face.

  She just simply wasn’t in the mood.

  “I’m fine,” she said tightly.

  “You look a little stressed.”

  She frowned. “Gee, thanks.”

  Pushing past him, she tried to move out of the foyer. Her grandmother would be in the kitchen. When Lillian cooked dinner, that’s where she stayed until her guests were seated and the blessing was about to be said.

  But Malik grabbed her by the arm. “Hold on a second. You’re not fine. I can tell.”

  “That’s right, because you can read my thoughts. You can tell what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. You just know everything!”

  She shouted the last sentence, even though it wasn’t her intention. Closing her eyes she tried for calm. “I apologize.”

  Malik still held her arm, his fingers tracing a slow line upward. “It’s okay. I’m just a little worried about you, that’s all. And I know tonight is going to be even more stressful. So I want you to know I’m here, you can lean on me.”

  That would be easy, she thought, looking into his warm brown eyes. He was so handsome and so enticing. Leaning on him and letting him take over would be so easy. But would it be right? This was her life, her family, her battle. It just wasn’t fair to dump it all in Malik’s lap.

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you,” she said, then moved away from him before he could reach for her again. Before he could try to change her mind.

  Chapter 13

  “I saw Dina English’s name on the guest list for the fund-raiser on Saturday,” Daisy said as they all sat at the massive dining room table enjoying coffee and Lillian’s lemon tart for dessert.

  Belinda nearly jumped as Shari’s fork clattered against her plate. “Did you invite her, Aunt Daisy?” Shari asked.

  “No, dear. I would never do that,” was Daisy’s slow reply. “But this is a fund-raiser. Anyone who donates can purchase tickets. I cannot turn her away.”

  “She’s right,” Uncle Dwight replied. “Her donation is as good as anyone else’s.”

  “It doesn’t matter if she attends the fund-raiser,” Monica said, reaching out a hand to touch her sister’s. “We’re still going to win the competition.”

  Shari didn’t look like she’d heard a word Monica said. Her gaze was focused down at the table, her lips drawn in a tight line.

  “It’s going to be hard to win if we can’t stay focused on the competition instead of an old family feud,” Belinda said. All eyes fell to her—some accusatory, some reflecting the pity they wanted her to give to Shari and another with perplexity—but she didn’t cringe.

  This personal vendetta Shari had against Dina could cost them the competition. That was a fact. Ignoring it to placate Shari wasn’t the answer. No matter how sorry she felt for her cousin and the betrayal that seemed to haunt her more than it did any of the rest of the family.

  “I’ll be focused, Belinda. You don’t have to worry about the first thing you’ve ever lost coming at my hand,” Shari retorted.

  Now she was angry with Belinda. But Belinda didn’t care. She’d rather Shari be angry with her, angry enough to want to prove her point, just as she had when they’d been growing up. Shari had always felt inferior to the other Drayson cousins—why, Belinda had no idea. But it had been her mother who’d tried to explain the dynamic of the cousins’ competition. One day one of them would run Lillian’s. Until the time that one was selected, they were all on what seemed like an endless audition. Shari seemed to take that to heart.

  “It’s not about a win for me, Shari. This is for the family,” Belinda told her.

  “She’s right,” Carter chimed in. “We have to focus on each other, on our team. Not on Dina English.”

  “Even though we plan to kick her butt thoroughly,” Drake added.

  Malik only nodded at those words, his eyes still focused on her. Belinda wished he’d stop staring at her like that. As if he were looking straight through to her soul, peeling away each layer of the wall she’d built around herself. He wanted things from her she knew she couldn’t give, probably didn’t have to give. And at some point she’d have to tell him that was futile. But not until after the fund-raiser, since he’d agreed to be her date.

  “Let’s stop all this shop talk. This family is about more than the bakery,” Grandpa interjected.

  The entire room went quiet as he took Grandma’s hand in his.

  “We’re a family and we all love each other. There’s no need to bite off each other’s heads, or place blame that hasn’t been earned. And I don’t want any of you going into this
contest thinking of what it can do for you personally,” he continued.

  “That’s right,” Lillian said, nodding her head. “If the bakery wins, that’s wonderful for the whole bakery. Not just for Carter or for Shari. It’s for everyone.”

  Belinda didn’t reply because she didn’t believe that was true. Everybody had their own agenda. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. Carter wanted more recognition for his work, Drake wanted more notoriety for the bakery and his blog, and Shari, of course, wanted revenge. As for Belinda, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  With that her gaze fell right to Malik, who was still looking at her. And then for whatever reason she looked toward her mother, who was also staring at her, with a look of displeasure. Totally uncomfortable now, Belinda excused herself from the table.

  * * *

  She was upset. Malik could tell by the stiffness of her shoulders and her furrowed brow. When she left the table, he did the same, following her into the den, where she’d opened the doors to the deck and now stood at the railing looking out.

  There was a great view here of more plush trees and land, right out onto Lake Michigan with its eerie dark shimmer in the dimness of night. A light breeze had picked up and Belinda folded her arms across her chest.

  “Tired of the scene already?” he asked, stepping out into the night with her.

  “Just tired period,” she told him.

  He sighed, coming to stand right beside her. “I hear you on that one. I’m beat.”

  “Then why’d you volunteer to run that delivery in the morning? Carlos will probably show up. It’s his job anyway.”

  “I want to make sure it gets out and on time. If he’s having car trouble, there’s no telling how long it’ll take to be fixed, or if he can even fix it. I didn’t hear from him any more today.”

  “He should still find a way to work. That’s his responsibility.”

  “It is. But sometimes circumstances get in the way. I’m sure Carlos will do whatever he can to get there.”

  “He doesn’t have to now since you volunteered to do the delivery. You’ve given him a pass to come in as late as he wants.”

  Malik nodded and let her words sink it. She wasn’t yelling, in fact she sounded as tired as she’d told him she was. And yet, her words were just as callous and coldhearted.

  “Carlos is a good worker.”

  “He’s a delivery guy. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to do his job and we can just as easily find another one. A more dependable one.”

  Malik hadn’t thought she could offend him. He’d been wrong. “I was a delivery guy, remember?”

  She looked at him then, the breeze sweeping wisps of hair across her face. “You worked your way up.”

  “As can Carlos.”

  “Not if he keeps pulling stunts like this. Look, I know what it takes to run a successful bakery. I need people that I can depend on to be there and to do their jobs.”

  “You need?” Malik asked with an irritated chuckle. “You don’t run Lillian’s, Belinda. Not yet anyway.”

  She waited a beat and shrugged.

  “Listen, why don’t I come over to your place tonight. We can leave here and I’ll follow you home.”

  She turned to face him then. “I don’t need another bath and I can fix my own glass of wine,” she told him.

  A slap to his face wouldn’t have been more painful. Unfortunately, Malik wasn’t at all surprised. This was the Belinda he’d known for years, the one who knew exactly where to hit and how hard when she needed to. The one who had defensive mechanisms down to a science. He’d told himself when he decided to pursue her that he was ready for any- and everything she dished out. For a second he wondered how true that was.

  “Look, I’m just offering for us to spend some time unwinding together. If you don’t want a bath that’s fine. I can even pass on the wine. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. I thought you might be feeling the same way.”

  His cell phone rang just as he finished that sentence. He reached for it and ran his finger along the screen to see who was calling. He had no idea that Belinda had leaned in for a closer look herself.

  “Well, isn’t that right on time,” she said. “You can spend the evening with Mrs. Martin,” was her final retort before she left him on the deck alone.

  With a low curse Malik blocked the call. He could have gone after Belinda, but decided not to. She needed her space and so did he. She was sounding off at him like he’d done something to her, and he wasn’t sure how long he was willing to be her punching bag. Last night she’d been pliable in his arms, generous in her kisses and her smiles. Why today had been totally different, he wasn’t sure. But there was only so much he was willing to take from her.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Trouble in paradise?”

  At the sound of Carter’s voice Malik turned toward him even though Carter may have been the last person he wanted to talk to at this moment. “Don’t go there,” Malik warned.

  Carter only laughed. He had a drink in one hand, most likely wine because Ms. Lillian didn’t allow anything stronger in her house.

  “Do you want to hear it now or do you want me to wait a little later to say it?”

  “You can just keep your mouth shut. That might work,” Malik replied.

  “Not a chance in hell.” Carter laughed again. When he sobered, he stood by Malik and tried not to smile, or at least not to smile as hard. “I told you so.”

  “Carter—”

  Carter was holding up his free hand to cut off Malik. “Don’t steal my joy because you’re in a funk. I told you to stay away from Belinda. To let her live in that cold shell she’d created for herself. But no, you had to go with your body instead of your head. Or is it that you were following the lead of the wrong head?”

  “Not funny,” Malik chided. “And it’s not what you think.”

  “Isn’t it? Didn’t my dear sweet cousin just give you the ice pick to the heart and basically tell you to go find another date for tonight?”

  “I don’t have a date for tonight.”

  “If you call back whoever that was on your phone, you would,” Carter said, nodding toward the cell phone Malik still held in his hand.

  He shook his head. “Not a chance. That woman is as crazy as they come.”

  “You must like them that way.”

  “I vaguely remember telling to you shut up,” Malik replied with a frown, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

  Carter followed suit. “I don’t listen to you any more than Belinda does.”

  “Belinda doesn’t listen to anyone but Belinda.”

  “No news there,” Carter added. “Listen, why don’t you consider coming to New York with me? I’m sure I can get you as sweet a deal as Robinson’s offering me.”

  Malik was shaking his head before Carter could even finish his words. New York was too far away from Chicago, too far away from Belinda—the woman who he wasn’t quite ready to give up on.

  “No, thank you. I think I’ve decided that my place is here. With her,” he ended with a sigh. “There’s something else bothering her. Something happened. I just need to figure out what.”

  Carter was not amused and didn’t sound like he believed what Malik was saying. “Don’t waste your time, man. She’s not going to change.”

  “I’m not asking her to change.”

  Carter looked surprised. “Then what are you asking of her? What is it that you want from Belinda, Malik?”

  For a few moments Malik was quiet. He’d thought about this many nights, and last night he had thought of nothing else. If admitting it to Carter would solidify the fact in his mind, reassure him that he was on the right path, so be it.

  “I want to marry her, to take care of her.”

  Carter didn’t say a word. Even though Malik didn’t expect him to. Actually, he half expected his arrogant friend to laugh once more. Instead Carter sat up in his chair and stared at him.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he a
sked.

  Malik nodded. “I am. Whether or not that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever said I don’t know. But it’s the truth.”

  “You’re in love with Belinda. That’s what you’re saying because you wouldn’t say the m word unless you were seriously in love.”

  “For years I was afraid I was in love with her. But it was just a thought. Now I know for sure. I’m in love with her.”

  “Then you’re in more trouble than I thought,” Carter quipped, then sighed and took another sip of his drink.

  “You’re absolutely right about that,” Drake said as he, too, walked out onto the deck.

  * * *

  Malik hadn’t called her or tried to talk to her alone for the rest of the week. Belinda couldn’t blame him. She’d been a bitch the other day and she’d left him standing on that deck with his phone and that simple woman calling. She should have stayed and answered the call herself. But that wasn’t something that she did. Mrs. Martin was Malik’s responsibility, not hers.

  And the phone call hadn’t given her any right to be as obnoxious as she’d been with him. Thinking about it retrospectively was a lot easier and a lot more troubling to Belinda than it had been that day. This was not the change in life she was looking for. The dream had caused her to revert to the old her, to fall into the slump of feeling guilty about what she hadn’t done, or had no control over in the first place. It was silly and she wondered now if it had cost her a date to the fund-raiser.

  Not that the no-date status would stop her from going. Her mother had already called her three times today to stress the importance of her being there. Staying home was not an option. And yet it was still a very attractive thought.

  When the doorbell rang, Belinda thought it was the men from the garage who she’d paid to wash and detail her car. She’d just stepped out of the shower and pulled her robe over her shoulders. Belting it tightly, she headed to the door and was beyond shocked to see her grandmother standing on the other side.