by Diana Nixon
I was sure my cheeks had never blushed so much. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said, lowering my eyes to the documents on my desk.
“And I know that we both know what’s going on here.”
I took a deep breath before I looked at Oliver again. “So what if he and I really are sleeping together?”
He smiled leisurely. At the moment, he looked just like his brother. “I’ve always loved women like you.”
“And what kind of a woman do you think I am?”
“You are like a wire-puller. You know how to make a man do whatever you want.”
I smirked. “I wish you were right.”
He laughed again. “I liked you at first sight. How can Dominick be so blind?”
“What do you mean?”
“How can he not see that you are exactly the woman he has always needed?”
Chapter 15
Dominick
I wanted to kill someone. Not that I wanted to become a murderer, but somehow, killing felt like the only thing that could make me feel better now. I was so fucking pissed off because of one picture in the damn newspaper that managed to mess-up my life even worse. I looked at the paper on my desk for what felt like the hundredth time already. When the hell did Pamela manage to wrap her arm around my waist? We looked like a couple who were madly in love, a couple who had just gotten out of bed together. Crap, I should have known better — the reporters would have never missed their chance to get their dramatic story of the day, which just so happened to be my life. I sighed sharply.
I always knew that falling in love would never do me any good. And now, I had even more reasons to be sure about that.
“Mr. Altier, your brother is still here,” Jillian said through the speakerphone. “He says he won’t leave without speaking to you first.”
I rolled my eyes and cursed mentally. I could swear that Oliver was my punishment for everything that I had ever done wrong. He always knew how to add more fuel to the fire.
“Fine. Let him in,” I said, hoping this wouldn’t take very long.
“You are an ass, Bro. You know that?”
“Good morning to you too, Oliver,” I muttered, sipping my third cup of coffee. “What made you wake up so early today?”
“A sweet brunette that I met last night. She turned out to be totally crazy about morning sex. Magnifique!” He said in a rare show of his French heritage. He took a seat facing me on the other side of my desk.
I smirked.
“What? Are you jealous, Bro?”
“Why would I be jealous?” I asked, trying to come up with an excuse to show him the door.
“Maybe because the object of your sexual affection is sitting just a few doors away from you, all beautiful and irresistible. But your dick isn’t allowed to enter her glorious cave.”
I grimaced at his choice of words. “You are impossible, Oliver. I don’t even know what women see in you.”
“I’m sure you probably don’t want to know the answer to that.”
“Damn true. So what did you want to talk to me about, which was so important that you just had to interrupt my workday for? I bet you’re not here just to discuss my sexual fantasies.”
“I saw yesterday’s paper. So did Mom. And guess what she’s busy doing this morning?”
“Have no idea.”
“She’s buying toys for your son.”
I groaned aloud. “Oh, no! Couldn’t she wait for the DNA results? What if he’s not even mine? She could be buying toys for some other shmuck’s kid.”
“Tell me, Dominick, do you want the kid to be yours?”
I paused for a moment. “I like him. He’s a good boy.”
“I wasn’t asking if you liked the boy or not. I was asking whether you wanted him to be yours or not,” he said with a loud sigh.
I rubbed my temples, feeling a new wave of an oncoming headache rising in my head. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “I want kids, but-”
“You don’t want Pamela as their mother.”
“Did I miss something or have you received a diploma in reading minds?”
Oliver laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, you are so screwed, my dear brother. Go, talk to her.”
“At the moment I have nothing to discuss with Pamela, Oliver.”
“I’m talking about Scarlett. Do you know she’s leaving for San Francisco?”
“What?” I felt my heart skip a beat.
“Her father offered her a new, better position there. It’s a promotion for her, and she has already accepted it.”
Well, hell…
“Serves me right,” I said, meeting Oliver’s thoughtful gaze.
“You love her, don’t you?”
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” I snapped.
“Oh, yes, you definitely do,” he replied, ignoring me entirely. “I’ve seen this look in your eyes before. I know what it means.”
“I’d really appreciate if you saved your bullshit for yourself,” I said, rising. “I need to see her, right now.”
“Good luck!” He called after me, laughing.
What a jerk…
The moment I entered Scarlett’s office, I saw her talking to one of her managers.
“I need you to change this banner, it looks too old-fashioned,” she said, frowning. “Add some bright colors, and maybe change the slogan. It sounds childish.”
She didn’t see me, so I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. She always looked so focused while she was working. Who would have thought that there was so much passion hidden behind her iron-lady profile? A little more than a week passed since the night we first met, but it felt like we already knew everything about each other. I could decipher every small change in her eyes, her voice, and her movements. I couldn’t stop thinking about how responsive she was whenever we were together. They say that a strong man can handle a strong woman, and I always thought that I was a difficult nut to crack. But now, I doubted every single step I took and I wondered if just maybe she could possibly be the reason for my doubts?
“I’ll try to fix everything within the hour.”
“Thanks, Paul.” Scarlett smiled briefly at the guy, and only then she turned around and saw me standing against the doorframe, studying her intently.
She waited for Paul to leave and said, “I thought I made myself clear about seeing you today.”
“Why did you accept your father’s offer?”
“Why do you care?” She snapped back.
“I thought I made myself clear about my feelings for you, Scarlett.”
She smirked. “Clear doesn’t even begin to cover your actions.”
“I’m talking about the time we spent together in LA.”
She shot me an angry glance and went back to her desk.
“Don’t go,” I said suddenly, feeling like I was losing a very important part of my life. Maybe even the best part of it.
“I’ve already said yes to my father.”
“You can change your mind,” I said, coming to her desk.
“No, I can’t.” She looked up at me and I thought I saw regret flashing in her eyes. Did she regret the decision she made or did she just regret meeting me altogether? I couldn’t understand.
“Can I ask you something?” I said, still watching her intently.
“Since when do you need my permission? It seems to me you do whatever you please, whenever you please.”
“Have I ever meant anything to you?”
She swallowed and lowered her eyes; her cheeks blushed slightly. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does matter to me. Answer the question, Scarlett.” I reached my hand across the table and touched her chin with my fingers, making her look at me again.
What surprised me the most, were the tears I saw glistening in her eyes. I swore quietly and came to stand near her chair.
Then I turned her to face me and asked, “Did I hurt you that much, that you can’t even stand working with me under the
same roof?”
“It’s not about that, Dominick.”
“Then what is it about? Do you really think that running away will help you forget me?”
“I hope so,” she said, instantly becoming cold and distant again. For the first time since we met, I couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes. I had no idea what she was thinking about and for a second, I thought that I was talking to a stranger and not to the woman that…
“I love you, Scarlett,” I said, cupping her face in my hands. “And if that fact will ever be enough to make you believe that I can change, I promise I will wait as long as you need me to. I will wait forever if it means in the end I will have you by my side.” I leaned closer and kissed her lips, trying to put as much love as I could into that kiss. She didn’t respond to my kiss, but I knew she was as taken aback as I was. The moment felt so final…
Then I stepped back and walked to the door, trying to suppress my desire to run back, sweep her in my arms and never let her go. But I realized that it was her turn to make some decisions. I said everything that I had wanted to say. She knew I didn’t want her to go, and I couldn’t make her change her mind because for the first time ever, I doubted myself, I doubted that I was even good enough for a woman like her…
***
A week later, I was still sure that my life couldn’t get any worse. I thought that last week before I had told Scarlett that I loved her and that I didn’t want her to go. But since that day, my life has been in a downward, never-ending spiral, getting worse and worse by the day.
I think I never worked so much in my life. Scarlett left and I didn’t even manage to talk to her again. She did her best to avoid me for the rest of the week, and even if we bumped into each other, it was nothing but a short greeting or an exchange of a few meaningless phrases. I had to shove my hands deeper into my pockets to stop myself from touching her. God, she always looked so beautiful. Every time I saw her wearing a dress, I couldn’t help but imagine taking it off of her and sliding my hands up and down her perfect curves.
Every day I woke up, hoping to feel her warm body pressed against mine. Even staying home felt like being in my own personal version of hell. Everything reminded me of her and those moments that we spent here together. I swear I still could smell her perfume in my bedroom, in my bed, and on my pillow.
I tried to block all of the memories of her, tried to switch my thoughts to something more realistic than the dreams about the woman who didn’t want to be with me, who left me when I had asked her to stay, and who blew me off when I told her that I loved her. But I was hopelessly losing that battle with myself, over and over again.
I still wanted her like crazy. My nights turned into many sleepless hours staring at the ceiling. I think I now knew the exact number of small scratches and other imperfections that I’d managed to spot while not sleeping. But instead of studying my ceiling, I wanted to find myself in her embrace; I wanted to get drunk by her beauty and her smell, and let it wash over me once more.
I reached out, searching for the soft skin and the fragrance of lilacs, but found nothing but tangled sheets. When I opened my eyes, the cruelty of reality hit me and I wanted to melt into the floor, so I would never feel this miserable again.
When I was with her, everything always felt so easy, and now even breathing felt difficult.
Climbing out of bed, I went to the bathroom, took what felt like the tenth cold shower in one night, and got dressed without the slightest desire to go to work.
I knew that Scarlett’s office was now empty, but I still couldn’t defeat my desire to see it. All of the decorations, including pictures and flowers, were gone now. The room felt so lifeless.
I frowned, feeling a new wave of misery overwhelming me. What the fuck was going on with me? Why couldn’t I let her go? Why couldn’t I move on, and call one of those girls that I knew were dying to spend the night with me, and just be happy with it? After all, that’s what I always did, I never thought about betraying anyone’s feelings. And now, I was suffering because of a woman who didn’t even want to see me, let alone be with me, or love me in return.
Great…
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. A new text message from my brother arrived. “Thought you would like to know that your precious Scarlett is okay.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I texted back.
“Saw her last night in one of SF clubs.”
“Wait, what were you doing in SF?”
“I’m not spying on her, so cool off. I’m here on business.”
So she’s having fun and I’m standing here, in the middle of her former office, thinking about how much I love her? Oh, this is so not going to last forever. It’s time for me to move on, apparently she already has.
“Thanks for the update. Hope you two had a good time,” I texted to Oliver.
“You bet!” He wrote in response.
What an ass…
Apart from my nuisances about Scarlett, I had one more problem to deal with. The DNA test. The results were to be sent over to me today, and I was all nerves, so when I finally saw the envelope lying on my desk, I hesitated. Whatever was written inside was about to change my entire life, and I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for it.
“Okay, I can do this,” I said to myself, grabbing my letter opener from my drawer and carefully opening the envelope.
I missed the part that explained what exactly DNA was, and switched to the paragraph with my name written on the top.
The result…
“Negative,” I read aloud. I stared at the line in disbelief. Negative? How was that possible, considering how much Max and I looked alike?
I took my cell and called Dr. Morrison.
“Dominick, I guess you got the test results.”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling you. Are you sure it’s not a mistake?”
“There can’t be any mistake. We checked the results several times. I’m sorry if it’s not what you were hoping to hear.”
“No, it’s okay. Thank you.”
I hung up the phone and sat in my chair, still holding the letter in my hands.
If I wasn’t Max’s father, then who was? I knew that Pamela would receive the same letter, so I hoped she would be able to explain things.
“We need to talk,” I texted her. Calling her wasn’t an option at the moment, as I was sure I would start shouting at her, and I still needed to get the answers.
I was so pissed; the more I thought about her fabrications, the more I regretted dating and proposing her to begin with. True, men can be so foolishly blind when it comes to boobs and curves, and God knows, the woman has more of those qualities than most women do.
“I’m busy today. Call me tomorrow,” she replied.
There was no way I would wait for tomorrow, and let her get out of explaining herself. She was going to do it right now, today. “Either we meet NOW, or I’ll tell the entire world about how you deceived me and probably every other man you’ve ever been with! I’m sure they would all be glad to know how manipulative you really are! I’ll be at your place in an hour. Make sure the door’s open.”
“Jillian, I need a car,” I said to my secretary.
“Are you leaving, Sir?”
“Yes. I’ll be gone for the rest of the day.”
“Okay.” She nodded, watching me curiously. Knowing Jillian, I was sure she wanted to know what was written in the letter that she left on my table. I bet she knew everything about my failed relationship with her best friend, including my drama with Pamela.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Altier?” She asked, as if reading my mind.
I smiled curtly. “Better than ever.”
Her disappointed expression amused me. She obviously expected a more detailed answer to her question, but since I thought that a little mystery wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially Scarlett, I thought I would keep all the news to myself.
“Your car’s waiting,” she said after a short pause. “Have a good day!
”
“You too, Jill.”
She raised her eyebrows, surprised to hear me use her nickname. Well, at least she and Scarlett will have something to talk about.
***
The closer I got to Pamela’s, the angrier I became. I hoped Max wouldn’t be there, because I seriously doubted I would be able to play it cool.
Wordlessly, she opened the door and let me in.
“Are you alone?” I asked, walking into the living room.
“Yes.”
“Good. ‘Cause I kind of hoped you would be able to explain the fucking games you have been playing with me for the last two weeks.”
“It is not what you think it is.”
“Great. Then I’m dying to hear the whole story.” I took off my jacket and sat on a couch. “I have plenty of time to hear you out.”
She took a deep breath and sat in a chair facing me. “I didn’t know that Max wasn’t your son, I really thought he was yours.”
“For crying out loud, Pam-”
She raised a finger at me that said for me to be quiet. “You said you would hear me out.”
I made a helpless gesture. “Fine, go ahead.”
“So, as I have already said, I didn’t know who Max’s father was. Until today.” She went to the coffee table near the window and took another envelope, identical to the one I received a couple of hours ago.
“When you said you wanted me to prove your fatherhood, I thought I would do two tests. One for you and one for Justin.”
The name sounded familiar. And then I remembered Max mentioning it.
“Is Max’s real father my secret twin or what?” I asked, smirking at the thought.
“Here,” Pamela said, giving me a photo. “This is Justin.”
The guy from the picture wasn’t my twin, of course, but we did have some similar features, like black hair and blue eyes that Max also shared.
“Okay. But I still can’t understand why you thought the child was mine? From what I recall, Max said that you and Justin dated a while ago.”