Davenport Harbor (Six Degrees Book 3)

by Statham, Mayra

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Anne

  Twelve days and the house was still empty. The phone rang and I answered it, smiling at a now wobbly walking Zoey, who was in the living room.

  “Davenport residence.”

  “Anne?” Birdie’s voice made me smile.

  “Hey Birdie-bird,” I smiled as I picked up the dusting rag I’d just been using.

  “Mr. Davenport wanted me to call you. He needs dinner prepared for a party of four tonight. He said something nice, the works, and to please make dessert. Oh, and to make sure there were at least four bottles of champagne chilled.” Her voice was slightly hushed, and I got a cold chill. He was coming back.

  “Okay. I will.”

  “And Anne?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He umm… shoot…”

  “What is it?” The way her voice sounded made me worry more than I already did.

  “He asked if you could please use your uniform tonight. He needs you to serve his guests dinner.”

  “Oh,” my stomach sank. I walked to the laundry room and looked at the black and white maid’s uniform that resembled that of a waitress in an old school diner. So it was clear. He’d run away. He didn’t want more. He wanted his housekeeper. “What time are his guests planning on being here?” I asked, not recognizing the dead tone in my voice.

  “Nine. I can go help watch Zoey if you want,” Birdie kindly offered and I shook my head, biting my lip.

  “No.” My voice was slightly strangled. “She should be out by that time, and I’ll just have her fall asleep in her stroller. That way I don't have to wake her when we have to leave.”

  “You sure? It wouldn’t be a bother…”

  “I know. Thanks for the offer, but we should be okay.”

  “You okay?”

  “No choice but to be okay, Bird.” He didn’t want us. He’d played house and now he was done.

  “Okay… Anne?”

  “Hmm?” I was distracted by my own sadness.

  “Just… Umm…”

  “What is it, Birdie?”

  “His guests… just don’t let them get to you. Don't let him get to you, okay? He’s in a worse mood than normal. He just came back yesterday…”

  “He was in the office yesterday?”

  “Yeah.” Her whispered confirmation was making me feel even more foolish.

  “Right.”

  ***

  By eight that evening, the dining table was set, and I was dressed in my uniform, my hair in a French braid, my feet in comfortable black shoes that my grandmother would have adored for herself. All the while, I tried to add steel to my spine.

  Fifteen minutes later, John walked into the kitchen dressed in an impeccable suit that was probably worth more than I could ever think of making in a year. After twelve days of nothing from him, knowing he was going to have snobby guests and needed me in my uniform to remind me of my place in his world, I should hate him. Or at least not want to look at him, but I couldn’t help myself. The way he wore that suit! It made me think of a hundred different ways I would take it off of him, piece by piece. I’d take the chance and savor him this time. Not that that would ever happen again. The lines of our relationship had been more than blurred and he was clearing them up. It was better this way.

  “My guests are almost here. Did Bernadette speak to you?” His voice was cold as ice, his eyes didn’t even look at me, and it sparked the anger I’d been trying to hold off.

  “Yes, sir.” My voice was so damn meek it frustrated me.

  “Good,” he snapped, still not looking at me.

  His solid body hardened, tension and a blast of coldness radiating off of him in a way that made me nervous. Had I done something that had made him mad? Before I could ask, he glared at me, his eyes cold and hard. So cold and hard that I couldn’t help but take a step back from the man I hardly recognized in front of me. This wasn't the same John Davenport I’d got to know these last few months. At least I was seeing his true colors before it was too late.

  “Make sure you take their coats.”

  “Of course,” I responded, straightening my back, stopping myself from rolling my eyes at his jerky behavior.

  The doorbell rang, and I straightened my uniform and walked to the door. Taking a deep breath, not knowing what to expect, I felt my stomach turn when I opened the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Anne

  Three gorgeous, model like women were at the door, staring at me. Each one of them was decked out with full dramatic make-up and big hair.

  “Welcome,” I stuttered, stepping out of the way as they walked in. Each one was different yet the same.

  One had dark-black, flowing hair and bright blue eyes, another was a blonde Barbie personified, and the last had beautiful, midnight-ebony skin and a small afro. All three women were extremely tall and thin. Each one had overly large breasts that couldn’t be real, and each one was beautiful in the way you knew they could easily be on a magazine cover.

  “May I take your coats?” I asked and they smiled, but it was the raven-haired beauty that looked down on me while the other two had kinder eyes.

  They took their coats off, and I was surprised to see them dressed in lingerie, each in different colors. My stomach turned as I hung up their coats, it churned at what he was having me do. He was putting me in my place all right. He was making me serve his whores dinner, placing me below those who served him. God! Who was John Davenport, and whom the hell had I fallen in love with? There was no way these two men could be one and the same.

  “Johnny!” The raven-haired woman squealed in delight, and I glanced up as she rushed to him and put her arms around him, her fake breasts plastered to his front, and a surge of jealousy flew through me. I was an idiot. Missing him, worrying about him, when he was probably shacked up with these women the entire time he was gone. Jealousy turned to obvious feelings of inadequacy as I excused myself and walked back to the kitchen.

  John

  Watching her flee made me feel sick to my stomach. What the fuck are you doing, Johnny boy?

  “Back off, Vikki,” I mumbled the moment Anne was no longer in the room. I led them to the dining room, the scent of their perfumes surrounding me, each one different and too strong and not the right scent because it wasn’t her scent. It made my head pound.

  I looked at the three scantily clad, beautiful women sitting at my table, but my body had no reaction. Not one. I was an asshole. I should have called Belle and canceled. But like a complete shit I’d let tonight happen and had stayed quiet instead of stopping the events of the evening, like my heart had been yelling at me to do, but instead I watched as the evening unraveled in front of me.

  I needed her to see that I was no one’s hero. I needed for her to look at me with disgust in her eyes instead of the way that she had before. I needed for her to hate me instead of love me the way that she did. I was no good for her or Zoey. I remembered the night of our first real date, remembered the way she’d looked at me as if I was some fucking knight in shining armor, and I remembered that, like an asshole, I’d let her. Like a true bastard, I’d fucking basked in the beauty of how she saw me. I had wanted to be that man for her.

  But reality set in twelve nights ago. My armor was rusted and cracked, beyond flawed and no good for her or the little princess, and she needed to see that.

  Vikki was being a bitch, making horribly rude comments about the help under her breath the entire night while Serena and Gretchen snickered and laughed. But even then, I could see how uncomfortable they were. They knew the play. They knew the truth about what tonight was. I was sure Belle had given them a heads up.

  Every time my kitten came out with a new course, I saw the look in her eyes start to change when our stares met, saw the light start to dim, but I had to let it play out. She needed to see me for the complete asshole I was.

  Finally, it was time for dessert, and my mouth watered as I watched Anne walk into the dining room with a
silver tray that carried what looked to be four perfectly made chocolate lava cakes. Not able to take my eyes off the beautiful woman or the delicious desserts, I watched as she set them down carefully: one in front of Serena, then Gretchen, then she gracefully and silently placed one in front of Vikki, and as she turned, I watched in horror as Vikki, with a bitchy smirk on her face, placed her leg out. Her spiked heel was in the way as everything unfolded in front of me too quickly. I was unable to stop Anne from falling on her knees in front of me, and her hand landed dead center in the lava cake, her head slumping forward.

  “Ugh” Vikki yelled in horror, “You stupid, bitch! You ripped my stocking!” Vikki’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “How stupid can you fucking be?” She kept yelling, but I stopped paying attention to her words. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Anne and how she wasn’t moving.

  Her head still slumped over slightly, her shoulders rose and fell and her face lifted up, her eyes closed. I watched as they opened slowly, and my heart literally stopped.

  I hated what I saw. I hated that I had helped put that look there.

  What have you done, Johnny boy?

  Anne

  Breathe, Anne, I silently pleaded with myself so that I didn’t rush off sobbing into the night.

  My hand stung from the hot molten chocolate. But it was my heart that hurt more when I opened my eyes and drowned in the dark depths in front of me. I could hear the raven-haired woman shrieking, but couldn’t make out the words. Adrenaline and shame made my ears buzz and my hearing was off. I stood up slowly, still staring at him. Why would he treat me like this? I was beyond an idiot to think I could ever be wanted by a man like him, to be in love with a man like him. Why I still wanted to have him hold me close baffled me.

  He’d shown me that even if he wasn’t as horrible as Blake had been, he wasn’t any better either.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I stumbled slightly as I stood, my knees protesting in agony as a warm wetness started to seep down my leg. Shit! I’m bleeding.

  “Ma’am?” She kept shrieking, “Do you think I’m old, you clumsy idiot?”

  “I… I’m sorry…” I murmured, trying to get my wits about me.

  “Sorry?! These are hundred dollar stockings!”

  “I’m….” I didn’t even know what to say as I tried to hold back tears of anger and humiliation.

  “ENOUGH!” John yelled, and I watched all three of his guests look at him, eyes stunned wide in shock, but I didn’t look at him. My eyes were on the raven-haired slut in front of me.

  He’d shown me his true colors, and I was done. First thing in the morning, I’d pack up Zoey and my things, and we’d hit the road. I had enough money saved.

  “Johnny!” The raven-haired woman gasped in surprise.

  “GET OUT! NOW!” John roared. Thinking he was about to talk to me, I stumbled out of the dining room and headed back to the kitchen, my eyes to the ground, too many things running through my head.

  Going straight to the faucet, I turned on the cool water. I placed my singed hands under it, letting the murkiness of the chocolate wash away, my mind drifting to another time, to another man who’d hurt me. Except that time, it’d been blood pouring from my nose instead of melted chocolate off my hands.

  “You stupid bitch! Don’t you see I don't want to do these things? It’s your fault. You push me to do this. I'm all you are supposed to want, Annie! You’re mine. You’re never going to get away! Do you hear me? His words rang loudly in my ears and I closed my eyes.

  Hunching my shoulders forward, I let the cool water cleanse my hands as I tried to shut my mind off from the past. Completely wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the front door close. I didn’t even hear John walk into the kitchen.

  My eyes still shut tightly, I felt the water turn off and my hands being taken in his, a soft towel gently drying them. A part of me wanted to open my eyes and let myself believe that he actually cared, that in a way, he had done all this for some whacked reason, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me to give in and look at him only to let myself hope again.

  Men were all the same.

  “Look at me,” his voice gently demanded, and I swallowed the knot at my throat so I wouldn’t let the tears stream down my face. “Kitten, look at me.” The tortured tone of his voice made me open my eyes, and I was surprised to see the regret in his dark, smoldering ones.

  “I…I’m sorry I messed up your dinner party,” I started to tell him, my eyes captive to his, trying, even if fruitlessly, not to let him see how I was feeling. How his voice, his touch, affected me. How HE affected me.

  “Anne…”

  “I have an extra lava cake. I know they’re your favorite…” I started to mumble, and the look he gave me made me shut up mid-sentence.

  He broke our gaze, his eyes going to my now bright pink hand. One hand held a towel between us, but the other hand skimmed over mine, and I winced as his touch grazed over the sensitive skin.

  “Does it hurt?” He asked, and I almost wanted to laugh, not sure what he was asking. My hand? Yes. My ego? Yes. My heart? Hell, yes!

  “No,” I lied and could tell by the look on his face that he knew I was lying.

  He lowered his head as he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed the singed skin. I tried to pull away, but he didn’t let me. He wasn’t rough about it, which only made my breath hitch. A stupid tear escaped as his eyes met mine, his eyes on the sole tear slowly rolling down my face, his gaze tortured.

  “I'm the lowest of the low, Kitten,” his voice rumbled. He leaned his forehead down on my hand, and it was then I realized he was kneeling in front of me.

  “Mr. Davenport.”

  “John. Please, Anne.” His hands left mine and went to my waist. He lifted his head, pressing it to the slight roundness of my belly.

  His hands slowly moved down the outer sides of my hips, down to my thighs. And even though my skin was covered by the uniform he'd ordered me to wear, it itched to feel him closer. His hands moved lower until his fingers touched the back of my knees and my sex was aching for more. God, I’m an idiot. A slutty idiot! His thumbs moved to my knees, and I looked down and saw a scowl on his face. His eyes were on my knees.

  “You're bleeding.” His voice was hoarse.

  “It’s just a scratch. I’ll clean it at the guest house.” His eyes burned me when they connected with mine.

  “Where is Zoey?”

  “She is asleep in her stroller in the family room.” He nodded and stood, leaving me there. As quickly as he left, he returned with a sleeping Zoey on his chest and extended his hand. I hesitated.

  Do I take it? Do I let myself go with him? Could I make it this easy for us? For him?

  John

  My hand was out to her, the princess on my chest, self-loathing coursing through me. I hated the hesitation in her eyes. I opened my mouth to talk, but she shook her head.

  “I should go home.” Her voice was calm, too calm. My heart was racing at what that could mean.

  She extended her arms to reach for Zoey, and I stepped forward, placing a hand gently behind her head. She looked up at me.

  “I know saying sorry isn’t enough.”

  “Stop, please just...just stop,” she blurted out in a hard whisper so as not to wake up Zoey. “These last couple of weeks you’ve been gone and I’ve been worried...” her voice still had that eerily calm tone, “We were a mistake.” Her eyes burning into mine, she kept talking, her tone calm and scary, “You made sure to remind us of our places in the world tonight. We shouldn’t have crossed those lines, but we did. It was a mistake. A beautiful mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.”

  “No!” The regret over my actions only flared brighter. I had to explain. Make her understand where my mind was at.

  “Yes.”

  “Anne.”

  “I was worried about you,” she murmured, her eyes shining bright, and I froze, “I was worried and you were where? With them?”

  “Kitten.�
�

  “I thought I meant something to you, but you had me serve your whores!” The look in her eyes made my heart hammer. “I’m putting in my notice, Mr. Davenport.” Her gaze was flat, her stare not directly on me. Regret flushed away into painstaking panic as she kept talking in that same damn tone, “I want you to know that I … I appreciate you taking us in, but I think it is time for Zoey and I to—”

  “No. You can’t leave…” I said, not caring about the desperation in my voice. We fucked up, Johnny boy.

  “I can give you a week. Zoey and I have to—”

  “Two.” I let my hand fall, anger sweeping through me.

  She wouldn’t even look at me or let me speak. I wanted to grab her, make her listen to me, but I shoved my hands into the pockets of my slacks instead.

  “Okay, two weeks,” she said softly, her hands going to Zoey’s delicate back and quickly placing her on her chest. The child hardly stirred. I glanced at the time.

  Almost eleven.

  “You could stay here tonight if…”

  “That isn’t necessary, Mr. Davenport. We will be out of here the moment I finish cleaning,” she curtly told me, a wall a mile high around her and her stare completely guarded.

  More than it had been that rainy night when we’d first met.

  I was a fucking genius. My little plan had worked better than I could have ever imagined. She definitely saw the rust and chinks in my armor now that was for sure. Shit, I was a fucking beast. No, I was the unredeemable monster of fairy tales now. Shaking my head in disgust at myself and for my actions, I quickly let her know I’d be in my office as I walked away alone, feeling emptier than I had in a very long time.

  Anne

  My temples throbbed, my knees felt stiff, and my hand still stung, but the kitchen and dining room were spotless.

  I was surprised to discover that John’s dinner companions were gone.

  Not that it really mattered, but I couldn’t help the feeling of relief knowing that he hadn’t taken the three of them back to our room. No, to his room. Escorts! He’d made me serve his call girls. Mrs. Garcia, my old boss from the diner, would have looked at the three of them for one second and instantly would have made the sign of the cross over herself, praying to the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost on their behalf.