The recliner soon stretched out flat in response to Ari’s repeated thrusts. Maci felt his dick vibrating inside of her and she knew he was about to come. She held on to his broad shoulders for support. Once Ari exploded, he got up and quickly put on his clothes.
She could see the guilt in his face once again. She let her numb legs fall over the side of the arm rest. When she tried to stand, it wasn’t happening. She squirmed around in the chair putting on her shorts and shirt. The buttons were missing from the shirt, so she was forced to hold it closed with her hands. “You can leave now. You got what you wanted,” Maci murmured.
Ari walked to the door. “Call me when the baby is born. I’m not going to be a deadbeat dad. I’ll take care of it if it’s mine.”
“What do you mean if it’s yours?”
“Exactly what I said. I want a paternity test, and if it’s mine you will have no worries.”
* * *
All ten of Maci’s nails were now blank canvasses. She unscrewed the top off the nail polish and started brushing the pink color onto her nails. Ari was across the hall with her daughter, acting like he was the big baller, shot caller. We’ll just see how he feels when he finds out about all the stuff I haven’t told him yet.
Today Maci had conveniently left out that she knew about Taylor before the wedding was ever publicized. When Ari approached her with the idea a year ago about Adrianne accompanying him on his business trips, Maci thought it was a good idea, until she had decided to trail Ari home from the airline once when they had arrived back in Chicago from Japan. Ari assumed she and Adrianne had headed home but she slyly followed him to the estate he shared with Taylor. From that piece of investigative work, Maci also learned what type of car Taylor drove.
She knew about Dynasty Magazine, too. It was no secret that Mayor Briggs’ oldest daughter was establishing her own magazine. Maci just wanted to know her competition, that’s all; to see the woman face-to-face who stole her life. One day she had even gotten lucky enough to follow Taylor to the grocery store and have a conversation with her about how ripe the strawberries looked. Having been that close to Taylor made her feel untouchable.
Maci thought that after Taylor received the letter she sent before the wedding, Taylor would definitely put Ari out and he would come running to her. Well that never happened and Ari never said anything to Maci to insinuate that he knew about her little stunt. She decided to try another scheme to get Taylor’s attention. Maci attended the wedding but only let Taylor see her. This Taylor woman was someone to be wary of. Maci just had to figure out what game Taylor Briggs–Gallagher was playing.
She unbuckled her sandals and kicked them off her feet. I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve. One thing Ari doesn’t know is that as of today, his life with his little wifey will change forever.
Chapter 6
Jittery. That’s how Taylor had felt all day. Yesterday she found out about tonight’s magazine conference, and she had been humping since then to get ready. After work, she had gone straight home and planted herself on the love seat, spending hours on her iPad researching the industry moguls who might be at tonight’s event. She needed to make the most of this networking opportunity.
Fortunately, she hadn’t had to worry about what to wear. A week before, she was in Neiman Marcus when she fell in love with a flowing brown Donna Karan gown covered with rhinestones and pearl beads across the front. It hung low in the back and an inch off the floor in the front. The sweetheart neckline molded to her full breasts, but the waist needed to be taken in just a bit to make it perfect.
Thankfully, she had taken it to Mr. Chow for alterations the day she bought it. It was going to be just right for tonight’s affair. After work she had dashed into the small brown brick building located on Palm Avenue and approached the short man behind the counter. “Hey, Mr. Chow. I’m coming to get that sequined dress I dropped off last week.”
In his Korean accent he spoke, “Hello, Taylor. I got that dress especially ready for you.” He disappeared behind the curtain and came back with it. “For your many years of service, I’m going to give this to you on the house.”
“You’re the best, Mr. Chow. Thanks a million.”
He raised the dress high enough to clear the counter, then gingerly laid it across her two outstretched arms.
“Somebody up there must like me,” she mused as she opened the door and the cowbell above it clanged noisily.
Two feet away from her BMW, she stopped dead in her tracks. The back windshield had been busted out. Damn! Who the fuck busted my car window? Taylor looked up and down the street to see if she saw some kid who might have done it or someone who might have seen what happened. The trunk served as a table to hold her gown while she reached for her Blackberry to call Ari. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, baby. You called to let me hear that sexy voice of yours while I’m out of town?”
“Ari, someone just busted my car window—I mean, they busted it all the way out—while I was in the cleaners.”
“Say what?”
“Yeah, you heard me.” She hit the remote and opened the passenger door, leaning in to examine the damage. “The glass from my back windshield is all over the back seat of my car. And I have the magazine conference tonight.” Preoccupied, she almost caught her finger in the door as she closed it. “Shit,” she shrieked. “Who the hell would want to bust out my car window, Ari?” She had her suspicions but she couldn’t be sure.
It sounded like he dropped his phone. A second later his voice was in her ear. “I don’t know, baby. Just … just settle down.”
“Ari, how am I going to settle down when the conference starts in three hours? And I still have to get home and get dressed, plus find a way to get to the conference.”
“Well, we can’t leave the car in the parking lot like that, babe. Okay, wait a minute. Let me think.” The line went silent, then he blurted out, “I’ve got it. I’ll call AAA and get the car towed to Safelite. It won’t take the tow truck long to get to you ’cause I’ll call Sonny. He owes me a favor.”
“Who’s that?”
“You know Sonny,” he answered.
“Right, but I mean who is Safelite?” She paced around the car.
“The people who do emergency repairs on car windows and windshields.”
“Oh, them. Okay.”
“I can call the insurance company and line up a rental for you to pick up.”
Taylor didn’t have time to wait on a rental. “I need to be headed home quicker than that. I’ll just call Libby to pick me up.” She wiped her hand down her face as she thought about the next problem. “But then, I will still need a ride to the convention.”
“Don’t sweat it, babe. I’ll send a limo to pick you up at home. What time?”
“Uh, 6:30 on the dot.”
“Okay, I’m on it.”
She gave a quick I love you, ended the call, and dialed Libby’s number.
Libby came pulling up an hour later, tooting her horn.
Taylor was standing next to the AAA tow truck, evening gown in hand, talking with Sonny through his driver’s side window. Ari had found a nearby Safelite that could take her car in right away and have it ready for her tomorrow. She was giving Sonny directions to their shop. Moments later, a few shards of broken glass hit the ground as her car, hooked to the tow truck, trailed past her.
Too mad to make eye contact, Taylor glanced at Libby’s white Range Rover. She couldn’t understand why it took Libby a whole hour to get to the cleaners when she only lived fifteen minutes away. A lung-clearing exhale was her attempt to let go of some of her anger. She laid her garment across the spacious back seat, then climbed into the vehicle.
Libby turned up her mix tape jam and started singing along. Taylor looked out the window, still wondering who and why someone attacked her car.
Libby’s bad singing stopped at once when Taylor reached over and turned down the music.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing? That’s my j
am.” The song exploded through the SUV again after Libby thumbed a volume button on her steering wheel.
Taylor punched the off button on the radio.
Libby took her eyes off the road, starred her down as she hissed, “What the hell is wrong with you, Taylor? Why the fuck did you punch my damn button like that? This is a Rover. This shit is expensive if you break it.”
Taylor looked over at Libby, tears rolling down her face.
“Oh my God, girl, why are you crying?” Libby asked pulling up and parking in front of Taylor’s home.
A look of disgust was the answer Libby got, followed by harsh words. “You know what? You are a very insensitive bitch.” Taylor kind of regretted saying that but she was so mad she just kept talking. “My car window just got busted out and you don’t even ask me what happened. On top of that, it took you an hour to get to me when you only live fifteen minutes away from Mr. Chow’s cleaners. I’ve had a long day and all I needed was my friend to be concerned about me.”
“Look here, friend. Did you just call me bitch?” Libby scooted around in her seat to look Taylor squarely in the eye. “In the fifteen years we have been friends, we never called each other names.” She rolled her window down and spit out her gum before continuing. “Okay, Tay, I can see you are really upset about something and I’m not the person you really want to lash out at. So I’m going to act like I didn’t hear you call me a bitch. Get out of my car, go into the house, and calm down. Your head needs to be clear for tonight’s event.”
Taylor jumped out of the SUV without saying goodbye and started storming toward her house. She did an about-face when Libby let the passenger window down and yelled, “Come get this stupid dress before I drive off with it.”
Fuming, Taylor ran back, reached in the back seat, and snatched her gown.
It took three tries before she punched in the right code to get inside the gates. She stormed up her driveway and entered the house.
* * *
Smelling good, looking good, and feeling somewhat calmer in the back of the limo, Taylor pulled her compact mirror out of her Chanel clutch to check her lipstick and eye shadow. She rotated the compact to get a better view of her hair. One of the bobby pins that held her locks in a tight bun was sticking out. With her pinky, she nudged it back into place. Her red nails raked through her Chinese bangs. She looked around, taking in the beauty of the Stan Mansion coming into view.
The limo driver, a young man who looked like he was next in line to be on Newsweek’s sexiest man alive cover, left the engine running while he came around to open her door. His eyes flashed his approval at her appearance.
She gave him a somewhat flirty leer and joined three other women who were walking toward the mansion. Taylor admired the grand façade and the illuminating candles that lined the stairs leading to the foyer. The mansion used to be a Masonic Temple in the early 1900s.
As the group approached a set of double doors, a skinny older man asked for their invitations. “Ma’am,” he informed Taylor, “you are at table ten.” With one bony hand he reached for the next person’s invitation, while raising the other to signal a nearby usher to escort Taylor to her seat.
Wall-to-wall reporters, CEOs, and editors made her feel a little intimidated. These people were highly recognized in the city. Taylor was seated in the last vacant chair at her table for twelve. She looked around and didn’t know anybody. The woman next to her extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Felicia Paris of Paris Magazine, and you are?”
Taylor took her hand and gave a firm handshake. “I’m Taylor Gallagher of Dynasty Magazine.”
The chubby, freckle-faced white woman shook her blonde, curly hair out of her face, raised her eyebrow, and twitched her lip to the side. “Oh honey, I’m sorry but I never heard of your company. Are you new to the magazine industry?”
“Um, yes, we have only been up and running for a year now.”
“Well, always glad to meet my competition. I wish you great success.”
Taylor smiled at the older woman and turned her attention to the speaker who had just approached the podium. Even from eight feet away, he had captured her attention. The way he moved when he spoke, his mannerisms, his dark, deep-set eyes, and the way his six-foot frame looked in that gray pinstriped, double-breasted suit bewitched her. She let her eyes roam around the other tables. He had mesmerized the entire audience. All Taylor could do was zoom in on his full, chocolate lips and muscular build. This man was beyond handsome; he was gorgeous. His wavy, low-cut hair emphasized his dark brown eyes.
There was applause after his speech ended. Taylor had no idea what he had talked about. The announcer came back on stage. “Everyone, Mr. Kalon Knight.” As the speaker took a bow and left the stage, the announcer was still singing his praises. “We would like to thank him for the generous donation on behalf of his company, Angel Kids, to ensure that we continue to have this great function. Mr. Knight’s organization helps kids across the world buy reading materials. So please enroll on his company website. For every magazine that you sell through his website, ten cents will go toward a child receiving reading materials in his or her home to enhance reading skills.”
Taylor was impressed with Kalon Knight’s mission. She made a mental note to check out his website later. A small crowd had gathered across the room, women throwing themselves at Kalon, no doubt under the guise of being interested in his work. He might as well have been the pied piper, the way they followed along after him as he glided across the room in long strides, stopping every few steps to shake hands or engage in conversation.
Taylor took a few sips of her wine and tried to look interested in the small talk going on around her. Inwardly, she was trying to understand the intense enchantment she felt toward this man. For Pete’s sake, I’m a married woman.
“Look, I pulled up his website,” a barrel-chested man two seats away called out. “Here,” he said handing his smart phone to the brunette next to him, “pass this around the table.” The table came alive with activity. Some searched for their own smart phones to pull up the website. An older lady peered over the shoulder of the brunette, her elbow swiping a couple of cocktail napkins to the floor as she repositioned herself to see the small screen. Taylor bent down to pick them up, and raised her head just in time to lock eyes with the hunk, who was preparing to take a seat at the next table.
“I really enjoyed your speech,” one of the groupies surrounding him gushed. “Can you tell me more about your company goal?”
No response. Kalon was focused on Taylor.
The woman repeated her question.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry,” Kalon responded absently. “Here’s my business card. Please call my office if you have any questions.” The tall, slim, dark-haired lady was smiling from ear to ear as she leaned toward him cleavage first and plucked the card from his hand.
Instead of sitting down, Kalon pushed his chair back in and cleared the few feet between his table and table ten. He was amused when the older lady beside Taylor divulged that she had just seen his website. “You need to change your picture on it,” she said, “because you look way better in person.”
He promised her that he would take that into consideration, then turned to greet everyone else at the table, saving Taylor for last.
“Hello, I’m Mr. Knight, Kalon Knight. And you are?”
Taylor detected nervousness in his voice. Taylor’s internal antenna went up. He didn’t come off as a man who was shaky about talking to women. “I’m Taylor. Nice to meet you.”
Kalon extended his hand and when Taylor put her hand in his he turned her palm over and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine. Would you like to dance?”
Up until this point, she hadn’t even realized that there was a dance floor and people were dancing. She knew this man could make her lose her sensibility so she opted out. “No, thank you. I think I’ll sit this one out.”
Kalon rubbed his chin then took a different approach. “Well, Ms. Taylor with no last name, can I
get you something to drink?”
Again Taylor wanted him to just go away. She couldn’t breathe with him being so close. “No, thank you. Excuse me, Mr. Knight.” Taylor stood and walked off toward the lady’s room.
Once inside the bathroom, she let out a long breath. Get a grip, Taylor. No man besides Ari ever had this type of control over her body. All I have to do is go back out there, connect with these reporters, avoid Mr. Knight, and get out of here.
Her hands felt sweaty, probably a side effect from her encounter with Mr. Gorgeous. She washed her hands and applied more fire red lipstick to her luscious lips. When she walked back to her table, Mr. Knight was gone.
* * *
Kalon had never been turned down. Here he was, the most eligible bachelor in Chicago, and he’d had to gather up his confidence before he approached table ten. When he finally approached the beauty that had him spellbound since he first laid eyes on her from the podium, she seemed to stare straight through his womanizing soul. His mouth had become dry and he couldn’t deliver his usual smooth rap. This had never happened to him. He bedded a different woman every night. He would have to take a different approach.
Just the sound of her name aroused him. This woman was like no other. When she walked past his table, he had been immediately drawn to her scent. She smelled like she bathed in peaches. How such a full, petite frame could walk with such confidence fascinated him. That extra bounce in her backside didn’t hurt either. Her features made him think she had to be from Barbados or the Hawaiian islands.
“Well, Kalon,” he asked himself, “What are you going to do about this Ms. Taylor with no last name?”
Chapter 7
His Betrayal Her Lies Page 5