by Pamela Yaye
“This is a onetime gift, so use it wisely,” Rafael said, offering the check.
Cicely plucked it out of his hand. Her eyes darkened and the smile slid off her face. “Five thousand dollars? That’s it? I was expecting six zeroes, not four.”
“Of course you were. You’re never satisfied, and nothing is ever good enough for you.”
Cicely rubbed her hands over her stomach, slowly stroking her belly, and Rafael watched her with growing interest. He was curious about her pregnancy, couldn’t help but be.
“This little one is very active today,” she said, with a girlish laugh. “Give me your hand. The baby’s kicking up a storm right now. It’s the craziest thing.”
Rafael wanted to feel the baby move, but shook his head. He didn’t want to encourage Cicely’s advances or make her think they were one big happy family. In fact, he wanted his ex to leave before his assistant returned from lunch. He didn’t want anyone at Morretti Incorporated to know about Cicely’s pregnancy, and decided it was time to end the visit. “I have to go.” He rose to his feet and slammed his briefcase shut. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Great idea.” Cicely plopped her purse on her lap, unzipped it and whipped out her oversize sunglasses. “I’m starving. How about lunch at the Four Seasons?”
“Not today.” Not ever, he thought to himself, shrugging on his suit jacket.
“What about tomorrow?”
“I’m not available.”
Cicely flinched, as if she’d been slapped, and squirmed in her chair. “Oh, no....”
Rafael grabbed his car keys off his desk and marched toward the open door. He wanted to get to the Women’s Business Expo early, so he could spend a few quiet moments with Paris before she took the stage. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, tapping his foot impatiently. “I have somewhere important to go, so grab your things and get going.”
“I can’t.” Cicely sniffed and raised her gaze to his eyes. “My water just broke.”
Chapter 19
Paris stood on the balcony of her twelfth-floor suite at the W Hotel, clutching her BlackBerry in her sweaty palms. She couldn’t help worrying about Rafael, couldn’t help thinking the worst. He’d been a no-show at the Women’s Business Expo yesterday and didn’t even call to cancel their dinner plans. Paris was hurt that he blew her off, but tried to make light of the situation while having drinks with Cassandra at Dolce Vita Washington last night. But when Rafael didn’t answer any of her calls or texts over the course of the night, panic set in. That was completely out of character for him. He was never too busy for her, always responded to her messages and called her every night before bed. So, why hasn’t he called? she wondered, unable to calm her fears.
Every minute that ticked by felt like an hour. Her instincts told her something was wrong, that Rafael was in danger. And she couldn’t shake the feeling. Has he been in a car accident? Was he seriously injured? Is that why he hasn’t returned my calls?
Memories flooded her mind, but Paris pushed them away. She had to stay positive, had to keep the faith. Just because her mom and her fiancé both died unexpectedly didn’t mean her college sweetheart had suffered the same fate.
Paris hit Rafael’s contact number in her phone and prayed this time he would pick up. But he didn’t. The call went straight to voice mail, and since his message box was full, she couldn’t even leave a message. She tried his home number and listened with a heavy heart as his phone rang. It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth.
Suddenly, her BlackBerry rang, but when Paris saw her father’s number on the screen, her heart filled with despair. She didn’t feel like talking to her dad, not when she was worried sick about the man she loved. She made a mental note to touch base with her father after she tracked Rafael down. “There must be something I can do,” she said aloud.
Paris considered calling both hospitals and police stations in the area, but thought better of it. She couldn’t take the risk. Rafael was one of the most successful businessmen in the country—and a millionaire bachelor who cherished his privacy and hated the paparazzi—and if the press ever got wind of a possible story they’d have a field day.
Ice spread through her veins and a cold sweat drenched her skin. Her vision blurred and a cry escaped her lips. Tears splashed onto her cheeks like raindrops. Thoughts of Rafael and all the good times they’d shared bombarded her mind. Haunted by images of him—feeding her strawberries, massaging her feet and cradling her in his arms—she struggled to control her emotions. She hadn’t seen him in twenty-four hours, but it felt like weeks since she’d heard his voice and felt his tender caress.
Their last conversation played in her mind. Remembering how they’d laughed and joked and teased each other on the phone yesterday afternoon brought a sad smile to her lips.
“Wear your red Chanel suit,” he’d said smoothly. “And leave your panties at home.”
Paris looked at the sky, staring aimlessly at the thick, fluffy clouds. It was another windy, overcast day, and the bleak weather mirrored her crummy mood. Her eyes burned from fatigue, her bottom lip trembled, and it took all her effort not to burst into tears again. Sadness engulfed her heart and mind. Rafael had renewed her faith in love and given her hope for the future, and Paris didn’t know if she could live without him. He was the man of her dreams, her soul mate, and she felt fortunate to have him in her life again. Reuniting with him in Venice had been the best thing to ever happen to her, and she thanked her lucky stars every day for bringing them back together.
Her thoughts momentarily quelled her fears, and that sickening ache in the pit of her stomach subsided. I have to do something, she decided, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. Paris marched back inside her suite and locked the balcony doors. No more sitting around twiddling her thumbs. She was going down to Morretti Incorporated, and she wasn’t leaving until Rafael’s assistant answered all her questions.
Someone banged on the door, interrupting her plan. Palms wet, her heart beating wildly, she raced through the sitting area. God, please let it be Rafael, she pleaded. Please.
Paris yanked open the door, saw her father standing in the hallway and strangled a groan. He glared at her and she glared back. Paris knew her hair and clothes were a mess, but she didn’t care about her disheveled appearance. She’d lain in bed for hours last night thinking about Rafael, so anxious and afraid she couldn’t sleep, and by the time the sun peeked over the horizon she was in the kitchen making coffee. Paris was determined to find Rafael, but first she had to get rid of her father.
“I told you this would happen, but you just wouldn’t listen.” He marched inside her suite and slammed his briefcase down on table. “I hope you’re happy. Thanks to you, I’m the laughingstock of the Washington Country Club.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked, wondering what he was ranting about. It didn’t take much to set him off—a tardy client, slow-moving lines at the bank, rain—but Paris didn’t have time to listen to his grievances. Not today. “Why are you so upset?”
A frown wrinkled his face. “You don’t know?”
“I don’t know what?”
“You’ve gotten yourself into a fine mess....” Mumbling, he snapped his briefcase open and scooped up a stack of newspapers. “Baby Makes Three for Morretti Millionaire!” he read, then flung the paper clear across the floor. “Shipping Heir Delivers his Own Baby! Morretti Secret Love Child! Wedding Bells for Washington Bachelor...”
The room flipped upside down and the walls closed in around her. That’s impossible. It can’t be. Rafael loves me and only me.... Paris couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Her thoughts were jumbled and nothing made sense.
Bending down, she picked up one of the discarded newspapers and stared at the bold black headline. Baby Makes Three for Morretti Millionaire... Her stomach heaved and her heart lurch
ed inside her chest. The story was shocking, impossible to believe. As she read the article a headache pulsed in her temples. Her mouth dried, and for the second time in minutes, tears pricked the backs of her eyes.
Realization dawned, and suddenly everything made sense. Rafael didn’t come to the Women’s Business Expo yesterday because he was with Cicely and the baby—his baby, the child I knew nothing about. A crippling pain stabbed Paris’s heart. Choking back a sob, she willed herself not to break down in front of her father. Her knees buckled under the weight of her sadness, and she dropped down onto the couch when her legs gave way.
How could Rafael be dating me and Cicely at the same time? There are only twenty-fours in a day, and when he’s not at work, he’s with me. They spent every available moment together, and Rafael treated her like his number one priority, as if their relationship was all that mattered. That’s what made his deception all the more shocking. Rafael’s a lying, cheating snake, just like my ex. I’m better off without him.
“We need to release a statement to the press.” Her father glanced at his gold wristwatch. “You can write something up in the limo on the way to the airport.”
“The airport?” Paris raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”
“To Atlanta, of course.”
“Seriously?”
Mr. St. Clair nodded his head. “I want to spend some time with my grandkids, and if Kennedy and Anthony will have me I’d like to attend their anniversary celebration, as well.”
“Dad, I’m glad to hear you say that. That’s great news,” Paris said, mustering a weak smile. “They’re going to be thrilled to see you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kennedy bursts into tears. She talks tough but deep down she’ll always be your little girl.”
“Really?” Hope sparkled in his eyes. “Even though I haven’t been a good father?”
“Your heart is in the right place, and that’s all that matters.”
Mr. St. Clair crossed the room and sat beside Paris on the couch. “I took the rest of the month off work, and I rescheduled the charity gala, as well. It was the right thing to do.”
His announcement blew her mind. Paris was shocked by the news, and for a split second thought he was pulling her leg. Her father lived and breathed work, often slept in his office and hadn’t taken a day off in years. “When did you have a change of heart?”
He sent her a wry smile. “After you walked out on me.”
Feeling ashamed, Paris cast her gaze to the floor and fiddled with the belt on her robe.
“I gave some serious thought to what you said,” he confessed, his tone solemn. “I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, but you were right. If your mother were alive she’d be angry with how I’ve treated you and your brother and sister....”
Paris turned and faced her father. Talking to him helped take her mind off Rafael, and as he spoke she found herself hanging on to every word that came out of his mouth.
“I never expected to be a single father, and I screwed up a lot after your mother passed away.” He blew out a deep breath and dragged a hand down his face. “When your brother dropped out of college and your sister got pregnant, I lost it. I didn’t want you to go down the wrong road. So I shipped you off to Spelman and purposely isolated you from them.”
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sound of morning rush-hour traffic.
“Dad, I’m not a nineteen-year-old girl anymore,” Paris said softly. “I’m a grown woman, and you have to start treating me as such. I have my own hopes and dreams for the future—”
“I know. That’s why I made you my second in command.” Mr. St. Clair gave her a one-arm hug. “When I retire in a few years, Excel Construction will be yours. I’m expecting you to take the company to the next level.”
“I don’t want to be a senior executive for the rest of my life. I want to start a beauty salon franchise.” The truth fell easily from her mouth, shocking them both. But as she spoke, her confidence grew and her fears dissipated.
“Why? You opened a shop several years back, and it failed miserably, remember?”
How can I forget when you keep reminding me?
“It’s too risky, and besides, doing beauty treatments is beneath you. You’re a college graduate with a great mind for business. Not a lowly nail technician.”
“But I love doing it,” she argued. “I’m damn good at it, too.”
“What makes you think this time around will be different?”
His tone was filled with doubt, but Paris didn’t let his response dampen her spirits. It was time to spread her wings, to live her passion, and she refused to let anyone—even her father—kill her dreams. She believed in herself. “I’m older and wiser now, and I have twelve years of management experience under my belt.” Paris lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “I have what it takes to be a success.”
Mr. St. Clair stroked his chin reflectively. After several moments he slowly nodded. “Send me your business proposal, and I’ll look it over next week.”
“Really?” Paris raised an eyebrow and dropped a hand on her hip. “Who are you and what have you done with my father?”
Throwing his head back, he laughed long and hard. “I’m always looking for exciting new ventures to invest in, and if you have a well-thought-out plan, I’ll be your first backer.”
“Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate your support.”
Paris settled back into the cushions. Her gaze fell on The Washington Post and she again zeroed in on the salacious headline. She wanted to call Stefano to find out if he’d heard from Rafael but knew better than to do so when her dad was around. For the first time in years they were having an honest-to-goodness talk. She wouldn’t dare ruin the moment.
“The charity gala has been rescheduled for June, and I want the entire family to be there.” Mr. St. Clair patted her hands. “It’s a big night for Excel Construction and the Soldiers’ Angels organization, and I want us to present a strong, united front.”
“Speaking of family, I would like you to consider hiring Anthony to work in our IT department. He’s a hard worker with a wealth of experience, and I think he would be a great asset to our Atlanta office.”
“Good idea. I’ll discuss it with him this weekend.”
Mr. St. Clair stood and pulled his cell phone out of his suit jacket. “You better get cleaned up. Our flight leaves at noon and it’s almost nine o’clock.”
Paris didn’t know what to do. She was supposed to fly to Miami with Rafael first thing tomorrow morning. But now that he had Cicely and the— Paris’s mind tripped over the word baby, and tears stung her eyes once again. She had believed with all her heart, with every fiber of her being, that her old college sweetheart was The One. Rafael understood her, knew her inside and out and brought out the very best in her. Paris often dreamed of them being together forever. But how...when he has a new family?
Deep in thought, she failed to hear the door open, but when a spicy, piquant scent of cologne filled the air, her eyes widened in surprise. Rafael! She glanced over her shoulder, spotting him standing beside the end table, and blinked back tears. Relief flowed through her body, and all the stress and tension of the past twenty-four hours evaporated into thin air.
Paris stared at him, studying his face. Dark circles lined his eyes, and stubble covered his chin. His blue dress shirt was open at the collar, the sleeves were rolled up and his black pants were creased with wrinkles. He looked weary, as if he’d just gone twelve rounds in a boxing match. Paris wanted to wrap him in her arms, but stayed put on the couch. He’d lied to her about his relationship with Cicely, and she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him.
“Good morning,” Rafael said quietly. “I apologize for interrupting.”
Curses quickly fell from Mr. St. Clair’s lips. “You have some nerve, showing
your face here.”
“I understand your anger, sir, but this is a private matter between me and—”
“Like hell it is,” he seethed. “I won’t let you humiliate my daughter again.”
“Paris, please let me explain. The situation is not what you think.”
Her father snarled like a pit bull. “Save it. She has nothing to say to you.”
Rafael stared at her, pleading with his eyes. “Paris, is that true?”
Yes... No... I don’t know! I’m angry and confused, and I don’t know what to think anymore. You promised not to hurt me, Rafael, but you have!
“You have no business being here,” Mr. St. Clair said. “Go back to your baby’s mother.”
“I came here to speak to Paris, and I’m not leaving until I do.”
“Keep dreaming, Morretti!” Paris’s father marched to the door, yanked it open and pointed outside. “Get out before I toss you out.”
Chapter 20
The silence was deafening, loud enough to shatter Paris’s eardrums. Conflicting feelings flooded her heart, but the strongest emotion she felt was love. It consumed her, conquered her anger. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, she still loved Rafael and didn’t want her father to physically hurt him. And it was obvious he wanted to.
“Dad, can you give us a moment alone?” Paris asked, rising to her feet. “Please?”
Mr. St. Clair wrinkled his nose.
“All I need is a few minutes.”
“We have a flight to catch at noon.”
Seconds dragged by. Paris knew her father was disappointed in her, but she needed to hear what Rafael had to say. However, once he answered her questions he’d be out of her suite and out of her life forever.
“Paris, are you sure about this?”