by Amy Ayers
“Okay. I’m sure we can arrange something.”
“I want to take him to Spain with me. Today.”
She stood to face him, panic consuming her.
“You can’t just take him, Marco. We can work out some sort of agreement, but he doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
“Fine, Senna. In that case, let me tell you what is going to happen.”
This should be good.
“You will not return to that hovel of an apartment. You will no longer drive him around in that rusting, rattling deathtrap of a car. You will dress appropriately when in public, and you certainly will no longer work as a common barmaid. You will perform family duties as required. You will not—”
“I have one. You will go to hell.”
“Enough!” Marco hadn’t meant to raise his voice as loud as he did, and a startled Max immediately burst into tears and reached anxiously for Senna.
“Happy now?” Senna walked forward to collect Max. In her arms he calmed down quickly. Senna clutched him firmly to her body. Marco wasn’t taking him anywhere without her. That was inviolate.
He moved across the office and stood behind his massive desk. The modern city high-rises of Miami filled the window behind him, gradually giving way to white beach and deep blue ocean. The tone of the room changed instantly, and she’d seen that adversarial look on his face before. It meant he was firmly on the offensive and heaven help whoever was sitting opposite him. “Since you insist on coming with us, we, the three of us, have a plane waiting at the airport. As soon as we arrive, the plane will take off and deliver us to the Medina home in Girona.”
“Right. Have a nice flight. We, Max and I, are heading back to our hovel, as I have to work tonight.”
“Senna, Max is getting on that plane with me whether you choose to accompany us or not.”
His tone was commanding, his words overbearing. Every part of her wanted to spin on her arguably cheap high heels and storm out. But she sensed there was something he wasn’t saying.
“What exactly are you going to do if we choose to leave? Because the last time I checked we were in Florida, one of the United States of America, meaning I have rights. One of which is not being detained against my will by a pompous, arrogant…baby daddy.” While Senna was fairly certain the words “baby daddy” did not appear in the Bill of Rights, she knew they were implied.
“Senna, this doesn’t have to be so combative.” He ran his fingers through his hair then turned toward the windows. He paused and when he spoke again his tone was softer, more conversational than demanding. “Princesa, where is your grandmother right now?”
The blood in her veins turned ice cold. She had to physically will herself not to shiver at his words.
She licked her lips and held Max even closer to her. He squirmed under her firm embrace.
“She’s at the Helping Village Community Care home in Coral Springs.” Senna cocked her head and studied his face in profile. “Or was that a rhetorical question?”
Seemingly finished taking in his million-dollar view, he turned once again to face her. “As of this morning she was moved. She’s now at Blue Haven Memory Care in Oakland Park.”
“Blue Haven? That’s not possible, I just visited her.” Senna’s mind was reeling. Abby had gone with her right after Max was born to tour care facilities in the area. Blue Haven, one of the top five facilities for Alzheimer’s patients nationwide, had been at the top of her list but financially impossible.
Her grandmother’s Alzheimer’s disease had gone from mild to severe almost overnight. One day she was sweetly forgetful, the next day she was wandering the streets of Miami looking for her deceased husband who had passed away when Senna was just a baby. She had no choice but to get her grandmother somewhere safe. Helping Village certainly wasn’t a resort. But it was clean and the business office allowed her to make payments as she could. It was the best Senna could do. “I don’t understand how you just waltzed in to Helping Village and…and…took her—” Senna’s icy blood was boiling again. “Is this how you normally operate, Marco? First the pacifier with Max, and now moving an ill woman because—why?” Do I know this man at all?
“My money isn’t just something I use to intimidate people, Senna. It can be used to help those who are important to me.”
“And my grandmother is important to you?” Up until this point Senna wasn’t even sure that she was important to him.
“She is Max’s great-grandmother. She is family.” Marco said by way of an answer.
He continued. “And because we are family, we do things to help one another. And that includes you getting on a plane with Max and me and accompanying me home to introduce my son to his family.”
“Or what, you’ll put my grandmother on the street? Is this some sort of screwed up blackmail?”
“Not blackmail, family obligation. Get used to it.” His voice lowered, indicating he was rapidly losing patience. Senna didn’t care. She didn’t feel threatened by him physically. But she was threatened by his money, his power.
“So you want to take Max. To Spain. And because Max doesn’t go anywhere without me, you want me to come as well. And in return my grandmother gets the medical care she needs?”
“Not just that, Senna. I’ll make sure you and Max won’t need to worry about finances ever again.”
She took a deep breath and adopted her best businesslike tone. If this was a negotiation, Senna had been taught by the best.
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I’ll buy you and Max a residence here in Miami. Something safe, secure. You won’t have to worry about paying rent or finding money for bills. It will all be taken care of. I want you and Max safe and worry free.”
A sharp retort was about to fly from her mouth, but she didn’t let it. She let his words sink in. Safe. Secure. Worry free. She never wanted anything from Marco financially for herself. But to ensure Max was always cared for? That was priceless. And it sounded so much better than working two jobs and always looking for pennies when she needed dollars. She thought of all the time it would free up for her and Max to spend together.
Senna was a proud woman. But she was also tired. Tired of doing everything herself. Always looking for enough nickels to rub together to pay bills, or for Max’s necessities, and take care of her grandmother. She had a college education. Even with a surprise pregnancy, that degree should have led to some financial security. But in reality, she was drowning.
“How long?”
“I’m not sure. At least a week.”
“I have jobs, responsibilities.”
“Wrong, princesa. You have one job. You are Max’s mother. You are no longer a common waitress. I took care of that. Your bookkeeping clients are being managed by our financial services department and by now”—he glanced at his watch, a Rolex that Senna was sure cost as much as an island in the Caribbean—“you have been moved out of your apartment.”
Senna felt the room tilt. She didn’t have a lot, but what she did have she treasured. She also had a roommate and part-time caregiver for Max, Abby. “What did you do with Abby?” Her roommate didn’t have the resources to find somewhere else to live.
As if reading her mind Marco added, “Don’t worry about your friend. She’s taken excellent care of Max, and for that I am grateful. I installed you both in one of our corporate apartments in South Beach. When I find a suitable residence in a more family neighborhood for you and Max, I’ll move you out. She can stay at the apartment as long as she likes.”
Senna didn’t know what to say. Max had Lambie’s ears clutched tightly, one in each fist, and was blissfully sucking on its nose. She turned and set him in the stroller so he could kick his legs and stretch. And because she no longer trusted the strength in her arms to hold him. Everything was changing so fast.
Marco stepped forward from behind the desk, closing the distance between the two of them. Despite feeling manipulated, his confidence and control rolled off of him in waves
, and somehow it worked to calm her. He put his hands on her shoulders, and her eyes were drawn to his and she let her guard down, just for a moment.
“Senna, let me take care of everything. You’ve been sole parent and provider for too long. I have the resources to make everyone safe and comfortable. So please let me do it without any more bothersome discussions.”
She thought about never seeing her apartment again. It wasn’t much, but it was home. The home she’d brought her son to, the place where she learned to be a mother, where she battled the baby blues with lots of Ben & Jerry’s and a liberal dose of trashy reality TV. It was where she learned that she was stronger than she had ever realized. She and Max had become a family in that apartment, just the two of them. They’d made a pact, a commitment to a lifetime of interdependence and pure unconditional love.
“And we’re leaving. Today.” Senna felt the need to clarify.
Again Marco checked his watch. “Yes. My father’s health continues to weaken. And I’d like him to meet Max as soon as possible. It will be a comfort to him knowing there is a Medina heir in place.”
“Well, you’re out of luck. Neither of us have passports.”
“Not a problem, Senna. I’ve already taken care of that.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise her at all. Senna knew she should say something, but words refused to form on her lips.
“Senna, let me take Max today and I’ll make sure his future as the Medina heir is secured. I will acknowledge him legally, meaning the bulk of the Medina fortune will be passed to him. He will immediately be set up with a trust for all his expenses. He’ll worry for nothing for the rest of his life.”
She looked up at Marco and searched his face. Looking for what, she didn’t know. Signs to portend a future of love and security for Max? Something that told her she could trust him, that he was acting in everyone’s best interest?
In her intense scrutiny, she was surprised to find glimpses of the passionate lover she’d had a brief but unforgettable encounter with. He was there in the slight curl of his hair as it strained toward his collar. In the sensual way he held his tall, lean body. He was strength and power personified, born from a mighty and proud lineage that revealed itself in his posture, his stance, his grace. She remembered the feel of his strong embrace. The way he held her firmly to him, like he’d never let her go. Was she thinking clearly or was she under the thrall of a beautiful half-man half-immortal lifted from another time and place?
“The car is ready to take us to the airport now. We will be airborne in under an hour.”
In the last thirty minutes, Marco had relegated her from struggling yet independent single mom who wanted her baby’s father to pay for medical insurance to some sort of kept woman and mother to the Medina heir. Neither persona was completely satisfying.
“Let’s go.”
Senna found herself back in the luxury town car, Max’s car seat buckled securely in place next to her. The temperature of the interior was cool and temperate despite the tropical August heat. Had Marco kept the car running this whole time? His confidence was unsettling. She hated putting Max in the backseat of her hot little Honda on sticky summer days. She never seemed to be able to get the interior cool enough. Marco didn’t seem to have that problem.
She felt numb, drugged. The landscape rushed by as they traveled toward the airport. She’d lived in this city her whole life, but things looked foreign to her now. It’s me. I’m different than who I was when I woke up this morning.
She’d forgotten how persuasive Marco could be. How, when he wanted to, he could charm anyone into doing pretty much anything. She’d seen him do it repeatedly when she worked at his side. By the time he was through with his clients, they were begging for him to take exactly what they said they’d never give, and they were happy to do it. Senna had always admired that skill.
It didn’t seem as admirable when you were on the other side of it.
She could have left. She could have escaped to her crappy car and sped off with Max in tow, but was it worth the fight? Maybe. Maybe not.
Her grandmother was in a safe, caring facility literally receiving the best care money could buy. That was good.
Abby was installed in an oceanfront condo with no more midnight diaper changes to distract her from her studies. Still good.
Marco had plunged headlong into her life, and Max’s. He wanted to be the baby’s father. The joy on his face when he held his son was real. There was no faking that. And now he was taking them home to meet his family. That was good too, right?
Senna glanced over Max’s car seat to where Marco sat, typing furiously on his laptop. Probably issuing orders to have Max’s portrait painted and hung in the grand foyer before they arrived. A nervous snort escaped her, but his typing didn’t slow.
They arrived at the airport and Senna watched as JP drove right by the parking garages and the departures terminal. They headed directly onto the tarmac, coming to a smooth stop next to a sleek jet emblazoned with an ornately crafted M.
Marco looked up when the vehicle stopped. “We’re here.”
“Right.” She’d never been prone to panic attacks, but the butterflies in her stomach were morphing into stampeding elephants, and she thought she might faint. Close enough.
JP helped her out of the car and detached Max’s infant carrier. He led her to the stairs that would take her inside the jet.
She hesitated. JP asked, “Is everything all right, Ms. Callas?”
Marco had already bounded up the stairs and turned around, the doorway to the jet framing his imposing figure. Suddenly she craved something from him, she didn’t even know what. Reassurance?
He’d moved to loosen his tie and collar on his tailored shirt. The slight breeze ruffled his dark brown hair, making him appear a more boyish and less intimidating controller of her destiny. A swath of golden tanned chest peeked out from his shirt. For a moment her confusion and resentment floated away and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and rest her head on his thick, strong chest.
Marco’s eye locked on hers. “Come, Senna.” But this time it wasn’t so much as a command as it was an invitation. That must have been what she needed, because her legs suddenly worked again, and she made her way up the stairs.
She’d heard tales of the Medina family jets during her tenure with Medina Enterprises, and she was convinced most of the details had to have been embellished. Now that she found herself entering one, it was obvious that the opulence had been woefully minimized.
The interior of the jet was as ridiculously palatial as Marco’s office, maybe even more so. With its soft gray leather club chairs, custom skylights, and plush coordinating carpet, it looked like some sort of executive lounge or the VIP section of an exclusive club. Bolstered couches with exquisite silk and satin pillows lined each side of the jet, and Senna noticed a door toward the back that she was sure led to at least one private bedroom and bath.
“Have a seat. Anywhere you like.”
Marco settled himself in an oversized leather chair with a table close by where he set up his laptop. She chose a similar chair across from him near a window and installed a sleeping Max within arm’s reach. She kicked off her heels and tucked her legs under her as she sat, pulling a luxury lap blanket over her. Max barely stirred in his carrier, even when she reached over and pulled up his receiving blanket and tucked it around his body to keep him warm.
She looked up and caught Marco staring at her with a bemused smile.
“I like that you are making yourself right at home. You look like you belong here.” He glanced at Max in his infant seat. “As soon as we’re airborne, I’ll have them serve some lunch. You must be hungry.”
Senna leaned back and swiveled her chair so she was looking directly at him. “I could eat. Although I’ve heard terrible things about airplane food.”
“Dios mio, you’ve never flown before?”
“No. Not all of us can be international jetsetters.” But he
r teasing was gentle. The sharp anger she’d been carrying around seemed to have morphed into something smoother.
Just then the jet engines that had been purring along handily, revved up and the jet began to maneuver itself into place for takeoff. The sudden noise had Senna gripping the arms of the chair.
“Is it going to be that loud the whole flight?” She instinctively put a hand on Max’s chest.
Marco leaned across the aisle, squeezed her hand, and gently patted Max. “No, just for takeoff; it will ease once we are airborne, and then you won’t notice it. It will be like white noise.”
Her hand throbbed from the fire in Marco’s reassuring touch. How could a simple assurance from a man who had just upended her life so dramatically cause such instant heat? Wrapping her arms around herself, she watched out the window as the tarmac rushed by. Senna felt the plane come to a complete stop.
A steward appeared in the cabin and looked directly at Marco. “We’re ready to take off, Mr. Medina. Is there anything you need?”
“As soon as we’re up, please serve a light lunch and a large bottle of champagne. Ms. Callas may need something to relax her.”
“Of course, Mr. Medina.” He turned and disappeared.
“Hang on, princesa.”
Within minutes they were airborne. Ten more minutes passed and they had emerged from the cloud cover and were cruising comfortably. Senna finally loosened her grip on the leather armrests while Max, the little traitor, was still fast asleep.
The steward appeared pushing a small cart loaded with trays. Marco directed him to set the trays next to Senna, and he moved beside her. The steward went to pour two flutes of champagne and Senna waved him off. “No thank you. Just water please.” He scurried away.
“But this is a special occasion and worthy of a toast.”
“Believe me, if I could, I’d be drinking that champagne directly from the bottle, but for now water is fine.” Marco looked confused. “I’m nursing. I can’t drink.”
Marco blinked quickly several times, processing what she had said. It seemed like a small victory that she had managed to fluster him. Sure, he could throw his money around and manipulate her into doing things, but she was feeding their son with her body. Not all the money in the world could give that power to him. She smiled at the thought.