by Amy Ayers
Marco took in a deep breath and addressed his brother. “Marcellus, we need to talk about our executive structure. I’ve spoken with the board, and we’re in agreement that we need to source a new CFO for Medina Enterprises.”
His brother’s eyes grew wide, and Marco could see flashes of anger dance across his face. “You’re firing me?”
“No, of course not. But you are changing positions, if you’re willing. You’re getting a promotion. Congratulations. You’re now CEO.”
Marcellus sat motionless, and he waited until the words sunk in.
“If this is about the money laundering, that wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s not about that completely. I should have caught that, yes. We both can take some blame there. It’s about doing what’s best for me, what’s best for my son.”
“Please God, tell me you’re going to Miami to get your family.”
“Well, I am planning to go to Miami but—”
“But nothing. You’ve been working yourself into an early grave. The company is in a good place. It’s time you took care of your own business and got your family back.”
“You make it sound so easy, Marcellus.” He could hear the weariness in his own voice. When did he become this defeated? When had he ever let anything stand in the way of getting what he wanted?
“You won’t know if it’s easy or hard until you try.”
“Well, little brother, like I was saying, I need to go to Miami. I need to try.”
“I’ll get the jet ready. I’m coming with you. You can brief me on the plane.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He stood up. “We can also use the time to discuss my new role. I’ll email you the prospectus for our newest venture. Consider it my last executive action before stepping down.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I, brother.”
Marcellus smiled. “The only thing you need to worry about is your son and your lady. Leave the rest to me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Senna sensed him before she saw him. Her body was still fine-tuned to some invisible frequency only the two of them shared. She squeezed Abby’s hand, and her friend scooted out of the pew and headed to the back of the church.
It was amazing how big of a hole remained in your soul when someone you loved was gone.
She was burying one of those loved ones today. A few days ago, her grandmother went to sleep in her comfortable, warm bed and never woke up. The doctors told Senna that she had felt no pain, and she knew that her grandmother was now at peace and free of the prison of her disease. But losing her still hurt. And it was at times like these she missed Marco the most. Not his money or his power. Just his comfort, the assured way he possessed a room upon entering and made her feel like the only one who mattered.
As if pulled directly from her thoughts, another loved one slipped silently into the spot vacated by her best friend. Once again they were alone in a chapel.
“Hello, princesa.”
“Marco.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.
She knew he’d come back to Miami in person at some point, even if it was just to see Max. They’d Skyped a few times so Marco could see Max, but Senna had asked Abby to sit with Max while Marco would read him a story. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to talk to him directly. She knew it would have to happen eventually, but everything was too raw, too fresh.
His magnetism hadn’t changed, that physicality that threatened to lure her back under his spell. Her breath was shallow, and her eyes tried to land anywhere except on those magical warm brown eyes. She couldn’t think straight if she fell into that intense gaze.
Instead, she pulled her black shawl tighter around her body, as if the flimsy material would somehow stand as a barrier between the two of them. A barrier she wasn’t sure she wanted breached.
“Senna, I’m so sorry for your loss.” His voice was low and held a keening quality. Gone was the flirty façade, and Senna knew she was talking with her Marco. Her lover, her friend. The man she’d had to convince herself she didn’t love.
“Thank you.” Her words were stiff, unyielding.
“I met Abby in the courtyard with Max. Our son seems to be doing well.”
“He is. He is. Happy and healthy and all that.” Inside her, a war of emotions raged. Being close to him again was as intoxicating as ever. But nothing had changed. “Did Brynn come with you?”
“No, she’s still in Girona.”
“Leaving the bride at home alone so soon doesn’t bode well for a successful marriage.” She knew she sounded petty, but she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“We’re not married, Senna.”
She turned to look him in the eyes. His honey-hued depths were currently churning like a murky sea.
“I thought—”
“We’re not married, and we’re not getting married.”
To her annoyance, her heart leaped at the words, an unwelcome thrill zipping through her.
“What? Why?”
“It’s a long, rather complicated story. And as much as I want to tell you everything, today is not the time, and this is not the place.”
Senna wanted to disagree. Suddenly, she very much wanted a detailed explanation. But a quick glance to the front of the chapel, where several sprays of flowers flanked the altar that held her grandmother’s ashes, pulled her back to the purpose of the day. This day was about honoring the woman who’d raised her. Who was the only real mother she’d ever known. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes.
“It was so hard at the end, Marco. She didn’t know me, she didn’t know Max.” Senna felt his heavy arm snake around the back of the pew and hold her tightly. Her first thought was to shake him off. But it felt too good, too right. His comfort and support in the face of her grief seemed like the only balm she needed. And when he left again she’d have to mourn that loss as well. But for now, it was exactly what she needed.
Marco held her, for how long exactly Senna didn’t know, but she didn’t shrug him off. She grieved not only for the loss of her grandmother, but also what might have been, what she and Max and Marco could have had, together. She wanted to hear his explanation for his now unclear future with Brynn. But she couldn’t pin her hopes on what that might mean. She’d learned that the hard way while at the estate.
Eventually he broke the silence. “I’m here in Miami indefinitely. I have a new business project we’re launching next week. Next Saturday there’s a benefit downtown hosted by our North American arm of Helping Hands. I’d like you to come.”
“Me?” Senna was genuinely surprised.
“Yes, Senna. You. You were actually a key architect in the early stages of development.”
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke about business. You know that.”
“Well if it’s about the charity, of course I’ll come.” Senna had thoroughly enjoyed working with the charity arm of Medina Enterprises while she was an intern. She’d always felt that was where her skills and passion would be best used.
“Good. I’ll send you the details.” Gently he cupped her jaw with his warm, firm grip and turned her head to face him. “I’m looking forward to it, very much, princesa.” He leaned over, kissing her softly on the forehead. His lips lingered longer than just a friendly peck, and the close proximity and quiet intimacy were equal parts scary and thrilling.
“Me, too.” And the terrifying truth was that she meant it.
…
Senna had expected Marco to be in the back seat of the town car as JP helped her inside, but only empty seats greeted her. JP closed the door firmly behind her and within seconds was behind the wheel and pulling away.
“Mr. Medina is speaking tonight, so he’s already at the venue.”
“JP, where did you learn to read minds like that?” It took only a beat for Senna to answer the question herself. Goon School. “Never mind.”
“We’ll be there shortly, Ms. Callas,” he said
with clipped efficiency.
They spent the ride in silence, and Senna was grateful for the peace and quiet. The last week had been surreal. She still keenly felt the loss of her grandmother, but now that Nona was out of pain and free from the harrowing dementia that she’d been suffering, Senna knew she was in a better place. The fact that Marco had arranged for her to have such amazing care right up to the end was just one more reason she couldn’t tamp down and control her feelings for the man who haunted her thoughts.
He’d been sketchy on the details of the charity event, other than to tell her what time to be ready for pickup. A couple days after her grandmother’s funeral a large box arrived at the corporate apartment where they were staying. It contained an exquisite formal gown in navy blue with a beaded strapless sweetheart neckline and a mermaid silhouette. She didn’t want to know how much the thing cost, probably as much as one of her semesters of college tuition. Mila had obviously picked it out, as it came with a sinful pair of strappy stilettos and matching bag.
Senna had been looking for more substantial work and had a few interviews lined up for the next week. She didn’t want to infringe on Marco’s generosity forever. With a good job and the monetary support he provided for Max’s bills and expenses she should be able to find a nicer place for not just her and Max, but for Abby as well.
Occasionally, her mind wandered back to her suite of rooms at the Medina estate. They were beautiful and large for sure, but it wasn’t so much what they looked like that made her wistful. No, it was the constant barrage of memories that haunted her night and day. Memories of the nights she and Marco had spent there wrapped up with each other, blissfully ignoring the fact that Marco’s future wasn’t his own, childishly wishing for a reality they could create themselves, not the one dictated by Marco’s birthright – those memories were what made her a weepy wreck. When the sadness was too much, white hot anger seemed to replace it. Marco could have chosen me. But he hadn’t. And the sting from that still burned hotly.
When they arrived, the door opened even before JP put the car in park.
“You look beautiful tonight, princesa.” Marco leaned down and kissed her cheek.
The heat in his low voice sent vibrations humming across every nerve. Would she ever be able to speak with him and not have her body stand rapt in attention?
“Forgive me for sending the car and not being able to escort you in myself. There were a few arrangements yet to be made.”
Senna took his proffered arm as they made their way into one of Miami’s most opulent hotels. They followed the well-dressed crowd toward a large ballroom. They went through the double doors, and she took in the elegantly appointed room.
Miami’s elite mingled, dressed in elegant black tie and sparkly gowns bright enough to assist in airplane landings. Tables dotted the room, and a small orchestra played quietly in the corner.
“This is quite the party. Medina Enterprises has outdone itself.” She focused her attention on Marco once again. His tailored tuxedo hugged his rugged frame, and she had to hold her hands firmly at her side to prevent herself from exploring the muscled chest she knew resided just underneath the exquisite fabric. “I’m still not clear on what exactly is being celebrated.”
“Patience. I think it will all make sense soon. Now, I’ve saved a seat for you at the front table next to me. Come, I wouldn’t want you to miss even the smallest morsel of dinner. I hear it’s quite tasty.”
Senna wasn’t sure if she should be offended at the reminder of her healthy appetite. She’d been so nervous her stomach had been unsettled all day. Suddenly with Marco by her side and a glass of champagne in her hand, her stomach decided to stop rebelling and let out a healthy growl.
Marco laughed but he was laughing with her, not at her. “Yes, let’s find you some food, Senna, before you start gnawing on my arm.”
Senna should have felt out of place. Being around people like this, people with wealth, with means, always made her feel every inch the poor kid she had been growing up. But the last few weeks had been a gift in that regard. For once, she wasn’t scrambling to pay the bills or deciding whether to buy diapers or medicine because buying both was out of the question.
Having those basic needs met freed up places in her mind that had previously been focused only on survival. Now she enjoyed Sunday afternoons at the beach with Max, letting him dip his toes in the surf and run his chubby fingers through the sand. Those golden afternoons didn’t come at a cost she couldn’t afford. They didn’t mean there were tips out there she hadn’t earned because she gave up a shift at the bar.
Since she’d buckled down on her job search, several opportunities had presented themselves. She now had the luxury of being choosy, something for which she was grateful to Marco, since he paid for housing and daycare and basically all of Max’s needs.
The only thing missing was Marco.
Their dinner conversation was light, and Senna was thrilled to see Mila seated at their table. Always the life of the party, she regaled them with stories. Senna found herself laughing harder than she’d managed to in a long time. Even Marco chimed in, and she was surprised at his flirting with all the women at the table and his charming demeanor. He’s happy, she realized with some measure of surprise. She really needed the story about what was going on with Brynn. He’d said they weren’t married yet. Could that have something to do with his mood?
Right after dessert was served, Marco squeezed Senna’s knee under the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” he announced to the table. “It’s time for me to get ready for my speech.” He turned and locked eyes with Senna, his thumb moving with lazy heat down her jawline from ear to chin.
“This is for us, Senna. For you, for me, and for Max.” All she could do was nod and, without another breath, he was gone, making his way back behind the raised dais.
Like all good little sisters, Mila took the opportunity of Marco’s absence to fill Senna in on his mood since she’d left.
“He wants to make things right with you. Right with Max. In his mind, this is how he can start.” She grabbed her hand and clutched it in hers. “Don’t worry. It will all make sense in a minute.”
“And now please welcome a man who needs no introduction. His family has championed the causes of the underrepresented and the downtrodden across the globe. Tonight he is here to announce an exciting new venture for the Helping Hands cause, a venture that will be headquartered right here in Miami.”
A new charity venture? Marco was generous, and their foundation helped people worldwide, but it was never something Senna sensed was a passion of his. Marco strode onto the stage with the confidence that Senna had always admired. He smiled at the woman who had introduced him, and a frisson of jealousy stabbed at her from out of nowhere. He wasn’t hers. He never had been. The right to be jealous belonged to someone else.
Marco began with pleasantries and welcomes, and his warm, powerful voice filled the room. Senna took the opportunity to look at him, to study him. It would be easy to focus on the obvious—his handsome face, the effortless way his tuxedo draped and highlighted his athletic form. But the longer he spoke the more the real Marco emerged. The Marco who loved his family. The Marco who called her princesa not because he was a flirt but because Senna held a place in his heart that was unique to Senna alone.
The last few weeks had been pure torture, made worse because it was torture she imposed on herself by leaving. With both time and distance on her side, the idea of living her life without him, living as a duo instead of the trio they truly were, made her shiver with dread. Suddenly it was very difficult to remember why she had pushed him away with such force. Why their situation was so hopeless.
But he’d made his choice. He couldn’t have been any clearer.
She felt a heat of something akin to embarrassment rolling up from her ankles, through her entire core, and inching its way onto her face. Here she was, sitting in a dress he bought her, mooning over him like a teenager, and he’d already made it c
lear they had no hope of a future. What am I doing here? Of course it was at that moment that she heard Marco saying her name.
“Senna, like the Medina family, knows what it’s like to watch a loved one be taken slowly by a degenerative disease. Instead of stroke, her grandmother suffered with the crippling effects of early onset Alzheimer’s disease. Rosa Callas battled valiantly but ultimately lost her life to the complications of that disease last week. Senna represents the vast majority of family members recruited into providing sometimes round-the-clock care to declining loved ones. Affordable options for inpatient care are rare, and rarer still are the facilities that are truly equipped to handle the crushing demands these patients require. Families all over the world are buckling, crumbling under the burdens, financial and otherwise.
“With these caregivers in mind, as well as the loved ones they tend, Helping Hands is indeed extending the offer of support.
“We ask you to give generously to this cause. Our outreach programs will start here in the Miami area, but eventually funding will be made available to communities across the United States. As you can imagine, this is a grand undertaking. And because it means so much to me as well as my family, I will be relocating permanently to Miami and giving this charity my full attention. My hope is that the architect of this foundation, Senna Callas, will agree to come on board as executive director. Maybe if you all give her a round of applause she’ll stand up and forgive me for putting her on the spot like this.”
Senna felt glued to her seat. His words had her reeling. He was moving here for good? He wants me to be in charge of what?
Mila leaned over and patted her knee. “Stand up, Senna. It’s just applause.”
With more strength than she felt, she pushed her chair back and stood, smoothing her dress nervously, even more grateful that Mila insisted on dressing her. She looked up and found Marco’s eyes locked on hers.