I put down my suitcases and jumped into our bed so I could make love to my man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We hit the ground running for September. Not only were we moving into our new home, but we had to prepare for Fashion Week. This meant bringing Darcy back to L.A. so that Dev could give her a crash course on public relations.
I didn’t realize until she arrived just how gargantuan that task would prove to be. Darcy was an intensely private person, for good reason, and she shunned the spotlight–and other people–whenever she could.
Since I was ready to ditch that apartment as quickly as possible, I moved into our house on September 1st, happily turning over my key to her and giving Darcy her very own place to stay while she was in town. This worked out perfectly for everyone, especially since Devlin made it clear he didn’t want Caz and Darcy to cross paths during our bogus “training” sessions.
After hearing how Caz felt about her, I agreed.
Caz showed up on my doorstep on September 2nd, the first Wednesday after I returned from France, just like clockwork. He brought with him a present: a punching bag of my very own. “What can I say?” he grinned. “I look forward to you kicking my ass on New Year’s Eve.”
He then spent most of our time together setting up the punching bag, giving me a welcome reprieve from his normal lecherous behavior. Instead I worked on the gym equipment that Devlin had already purchased for one of the spare bedrooms we had designated as our gym. It was a large, bright room with patio doors that opened up onto the massive backyard, so I was able to concentrate on our beautiful oasis as I worked hard on the treadmill. Despite the fact that Caz silently assembled the stand for the punching bag, I kept waiting for him to say or do something inappropriate. The longer he remained silent, the more nervous I got.
I thought maybe he’d found religion or something in all the time we’d been gone, but true to form, he finally pulled a golden nugget out of his hat about a half-hour before Devlin was due home. Although, looking back, it was probably my fault.
“So tell me. How was France?”
“You should know,” I panted as I performed the reps like he had instructed. “You liked all the photos.”
He chuckled. “So I did. I guess I really am a romantic deep down.”
“Is Suzanne a romantic, too?”
He chuckled as he hung the bag. “Nope. Just a cunt. Why do you think she made sure to call Dev back early?”
“At least one of you admits it,” I muttered as I moved to the next machine.
“I’ll always tell you the truth, CC. Count on that.” I sent him a scowl, since I trusted him about as much as any scorpion I’d carry on my back across the river. “I have to say, though. You definitely have her running scared. Good on ya, pussycat.”
“According to you, that’s going to make her want to fuck him even more.”
“Of course. You’ve introduced another never. Told you about those.”
I sighed before I stood up and faced off with my new bag. Just like before, I unleashed my fury with kicks and punches, and Caz watched me closely as he held the bag for me, taking the abuse by proxy.
I didn’t even realize I was crying again until I felt the tears splash against my chest. I stepped back with a gasp as I wiped the moisture from my face. “Sorry,” I muttered before I grabbed a towel and turned away. “I must be hormonal or something.”
I kept my back to him, but I could hear him walk up behind me. “Here,” he said softly as he guided me towards the stationary bike. He studied me after he had me safely seated. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant, Coralie.”
“What difference would it make if I were?” I challenged.
His gaze never wavered. “Because that would be the worst thing you could do.”
“Why? So you can’t pretend you want to get me into bed?”
He made sure I was looking right in his eyes before he said, “Because she would destroy you.”
My stomach dropped. “Why?” He sighed as he looked away. “Spit it out, Caz. Don’t stop now.”
“Before Lydia, before… me,” he admitted, “Devlin really did love her. As much as a guy like that can love anyone. He thought they were going to have a future together. Maybe she led him on with fairytale dreams of her own. Sounds like something she’d do. Whether on purpose or by accident, she got pregnant, but Suzanne doesn’t exactly do the mother thing. She decided to get rid of it.” He stopped again. I held my breath as I recalled a very familiar story that Dev once shared.
“You’ve wanted children before?”
“Once.”
“So you’ve been in love before?”
“I thought I was. When she missed a period, I thought for sure that was fate telling us we could have it all, even though every moment we had was stolen. She was married.”
“What happened?”
“Ultimately there was no baby. But it was the scare she needed to put an end to our affair, before it seriously complicated everything for her.”
“What happened, Caz?” I asked, suddenly needing those blanks to be filled.
“She went into septic shock and ended up having to get a hysterectomy. Not sure how she ever explained it all to Harvey, but like he ever cared what she did. Their marriage has always been more of a business arrangement, and she was already crazy to begin with. This sort of just tipped her over the edge. She became… cruel. The way she taunted Dev after that. Like she blamed him. Like it was his fault. That’s when she started fooling around with me. To get even, he picked the most wholesome girl in the whole casino to chase after.”
“Lydia,” I surmised.
“Lydia,” he confirmed. “Suzanne knew she needed to bury her before she could ever become a threat. Look at you,” he said softly, his hands sliding up my legs gently. “You’re turning into this perfect girl, just the right mix of sexy and sweet. You could be a freak in the bedroom, or you could be a mom driving carpool. You can do everything that she can’t do. And you’re his wife?” He took a deep breath. “We know what she did to Lydia. And that’s not even the worst of it. She’s done horrible things. If you got pregnant with Dev’s baby,” he warned, but before he could say anything else, we heard Devlin’s voice boom in the crowded space.
“What’s going on here?”
Caz practically jumped right through the ceiling. He shot to his feet and faced off with a very angry Devlin. Though he was clearly intimidated, he tried to play it off like usual. “Just finishing up, boss.”
Devlin’s icy glare slid towards me. “Finishing up what?”
I stood and stepped apart from Caz, almost guiltily. There was a reason that he didn’t share this type of information, so my hearing about it from someone else felt strangely like a betrayal. “Just… working out,” I shrugged.
He looked between us, before his possessive gaze landed on me. “Workout’s over,” he decided. He didn’t bother to look Caz’s direction, and Caz hastily made his retreat around the massive, and angry, man who stood right in the doorway.
That he didn’t taunt Dev only proved how volatile this whole situation was proving to be.
Even Caz Bixby was running scared.
Dev stared at me for a good long moment, letting enough time pass to ensure that Caz was long gone. “Dinner’s ready,” he finally said softly, as he waited for me to react. Like Caz, I was a little more cautious as I approached him. He kept me captive in his gaze until I stood right in front of him. “Dev,” I started, but he simply grabbed my arm in his and led me back into the hallway.
The closer I got to our formal dining room, the more I could smell the wonderful aroma of sausages. I pulled from his grasp to burst through the swinging door to the kitchen, to find Gretchen preparing her famous bratwurst.
“I thought you could use some help with dinner on Wednesday nights, since you have so much on your plate,” Devlin said. “She’s agreed to come every week.”
I squealed happily before I ran to hug my dear old friend, wh
o chuckled softly as she hugged me right back.
“You are too skinny!” she admonished at once.
I laughed. I only had about ten extra pounds on me these days, shrinking somewhere around a size 10, thanks to my enormous boobs. “You can fix that,” I assured her.
“And I will,” she decided. She sent Devlin a pointed glare. “You want to have babies, you need to keep your wife healthy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned. “Now you see why we need your help.”
We all laughed, but I suspected there was another reason we needed her help. Dev didn’t want me alone with Caz in our brand new home. I called him on it by the time we crawled into bed that night.
He tucked the covers around his hips. “After what I saw this evening, I rather think I made the right choice.”
“Nothing is going to happen with Caz,” I assured him. I touched his arm. “I love you. I’m here with you.”
Now that I knew more details about what happened with Suzanne, I realized why that validation was important to him.
He cradled me in his arms as he sank down beside me. We didn’t speak about the matter again.
The rest of the week we worked closely with Darcy, who remained quite reluctant to put her own face on her designs. “It should be Coralie,” she would insist again and again, citing my much publicized ‘transformation’ as the reason. Finally I called in the big guns. I called Jorge Navarro.
We drove Darcy to the studio lot where the hit reality show Fierce taped. It was yet another singing show, but one that promised any singer from any walk of life, with any kind of face or image, could be a superstar if the talent and the attitude were there. Several major music stars judged the show, including Giovanni Carnevale, the lead singer of the mega rock band, Dreaming in Blue.
Graham Baxter of Baxter Mega-Worldwide Media Corporation produced the show, and he was quite receptive to the plan that we had in mind to coax Darcy right out of her shell. We decided to do a media package introducing Darcy, showing her bloom into her own designs. That was the promise we planned to make to every woman of every size who walked through our doors, and what better way to show it than with the designer’s very own journey? This would endear her to the public… a very specific public that was already used to looking between the covers to find the most interesting books.
This media cross promotion would be televised during their show, since Youniquely Cabot was Fierce’s brand new sponsor. Devlin had worked closely with Graham to arrange everything, from the initial pitch to closing the deal. Father had given him a big bonus as a result.
We arrived to tape this media package on Friday afternoon, when many of the current contestants were rehearsing their songs for the upcoming week ahead. I ushered Darcy back to Jorge’s magic kingdom, which was draped in black lace and silk, the entire room hazy with patchouli incense. “There you are,” he greeted Darcy right away with a powerful hug. “So good to meet another fairy godmother. Or whatever,” he grinned, referring to his ambiguous sexuality. Most assumed he was gay. Some lucky few knew how straight he was. Either way he was talented and beautiful… with a true knack for making everyone else feel likewise.
We stayed in his lair for most of the afternoon. He cut Darcy’s wiry rusty tresses so that they hung straight, rather than fly in all sorts of directions in haphazard curls. He then gave her bright copper highlights, to brighten her complexion and give her face a softer, sweetheart shape.
While her hair color set, he went through the clothing options she had brought. “Too safe,” he told her. “You need to be as visible as your clothes, honey. Don’t be afraid of any of it. Always do you. The world will find a way to accommodate. Simply don’t give them a choice.” He took one of the dresses and held it up. He nodded decisively before he took his scissor and pins from the counter and fashioned a more daring design on the fly. He handed it off to a seamstress while he turned Darcy around to face him so he could work on her makeup.
He applied subtle pinks to her eyelids, to bring out her green eyes. He shaped her eyebrows. He lined her lips and her eyes. He even applied a hint of blush to her cheeks, which made them look more slender. Jorge was very pleased with himself as he announced, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
When he turned her around to the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. The ever-present camera recorded everything, including her happy gasp when she realized that pretty girl looking back at her from the mirror was her.
I knew how that felt, so I couldn’t help but shed a tear of happiness for her.
We then were ushered out to the auditorium where all the performances were taped. It was empty, which meant that Darcy and I could walk right down to the front row for the best seats in the house. The stage was dark. We couldn’t make out a thing. Then, out of nowhere, someone began to play Pretty Woman on an electric guitar.
A spotlight landed on Yael Satterlee, the lead guitarist of Dreaming in Blue. He improvised a bit, extending the intro, drawing out the anticipation until finally Giovanni Carnevale–or Vanni, as he was commonly known–jumped out of the shadows wearing nothing but skin-tight leather pants to launch into the song.
His feet were bare. His hair was long. He wore rings on every finger and cuffs on either wrist. He, too, had perfected his smirk, which he employed liberally as he sang to his captive audience of two. He stalked the stage with swagger. I bought the rock star act completely. I knew it because the minute he hopped down from the stage and approached us, my heart began to race and I nearly squealed in spite of myself.
He pulled Darcy up to him, so he could croon to her personally. She blushed and looked away, the perfect picture of innocence. I knew the camera would be kind and the viewing audience would be smitten.
Never one to leave anyone hanging, Vanni grabbed my hand as well, pulling me up to sing to me, before he returned to a stage full of models of every shape and size, all wearing Darcy’s designs, all working the stage like a runway.
By the time the song ended, we knew that we had cashed our golden ticket. Graham joined us after the lights went up. “That was perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
We nodded. We felt that way too, even Darcy. I looked around for Dev, sorry that he had missed so much of it. “Where’s Devlin?” I finally asked.
Graham chuckled as he pointed behind me towards the darkened stage. A spotlight fell on a grand piano, where Dev sat straight and proud in his Cabot suit, which was open at the collar. He began playing Pretty Woman on the piano, but this time the tempo was slowed dramatically, to turn the peppy rock song into a heartbreaking ballad. I gasped when I felt two arms lift me up onto the stage. Vanni had virtually picked me up like a rag doll, to boost me the three steps separating me from Devlin. I walked to the edge of the piano, where I stood as he crooned to me. He begged me to give my love to him so earnestly, I wondered momentarily what kind of message he was sending.
After the last notes echoed away into nothingness, the rest of the audience exploded into riotous applause for his amazing performance. Graham joined us on stage to clap him on the back. “I really wish you’d let me produce your album, Dev. You’re outstanding. Charismatic. Talented. You belong on the world’s biggest stages, not some boardroom.”
Dev rose from the piano to join me at my side. “Maybe someday,” he dismissed as he wrapped an arm around me. “I’d never want to leave my beautiful bride.”
Graham smiled warmly at me. “I can certainly see why.” He turned back to Dev. “But if you ever change your mind, all it would take is a phone call.”
They shook hands and Devlin escorted both Darcy and I out to dinner to celebrate our victories. Though she was stunning, Darcy still gathered into herself as we sat in the Hollywood hot spot on Sunset Boulevard. It was as if every single person that walked past her frightened her, like they posed a new threat.
I hated to think what her past must have been like, to paralyze her with that kind of fear.
She ran back to Vegas the next day, claiming
that she didn’t want to leave her mother for more than a week at a time.
I wanted to reach out to her, but Devlin, as always, discouraged it. “Some skeletons deserved to stay buried,” was all he would say. As it turned out, her backstory was just as off-limits as his own.
How I wished that Devlin would have shared her story with me, but he always managed to change the subject, usually distracting me with sex. My newest ovulation cycle was nearly upon us, and Devlin was sure that this was the month that we could conceive our child.
Despite Caz’s dire warning, I couldn’t help but get caught up in Devlin’s excitement. He wanted a baby. My baby.
If that wasn’t enough to convince me, the new cycle showed that showed should we conceive that Sunday, on the 6th, it would give me a brand new due date: May 29.
Our anniversary.
Screw Caz and Suzanne. Not only would we get past New Year’s Eve, we’d make it all the way to our first anniversary–where I would bear our firstborn child.
That Sunday I woke up to breakfast in bed and roses all over the room, with our favorite songs playing on a loop while we stayed in bed all day, making love and planning our future. He made it special and romantic, like he made almost everything in my life. We even made love in our back yard that night under the stars, where we cuddled in a sleeping bag under our stately sycamore trees, daydreaming about a May baby. He still insisted it was a girl. I didn’t care either way. I just wanted to have his baby.
Then, no matter what anyone ever tried to do again, we would be bonded for life. Linked together like an unbreakable chain. Despite Caz’s warnings, I knew that Suzanne was much too smart to risk her entire future in politics, particularly one that possibly included the White House, on an old grudge. She wouldn’t cause harm to our child. The stakes were just too high, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought.
And I wouldn’t let Caz go on about it either.
Thankfully, with Gretch there on Wednesday afternoons, there was little he could do. He did try his best to manipulate me, insisting we needed to do laps in the pool rather than simply work out in the house, to ‘fully utilize our resources.’
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