by AC Arthur
“Dane,” was all she could manage at the moment.
He was staring at her so intently. There was so much she wanted to say, and more that she knew she could not divulge. She felt trapped. Not by him or his imposing physique. Not by the desire to kiss him, or to wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to take her. But by their world. By everything and everyone around them. By circumstances that she could neither share nor change.
“Do you recall each of those nights we spent together?” His questions continued. “Do you recall how good it felt when we were connected? When I was deep inside you and you were so tight and warm around me?”
Zera licked her lips because that memory had been what got her through on so many of the nights since he’d been gone.
“I remember,” she admitted.
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Do you remember telling me that you had never felt that way before? That there had never been another to bring you to climax the way I did?”
Why was he doing this? Why here? Why now?
She nodded, unable and unwilling to lie about such a simple and yet soul-searing truth.
“I remember it all, Dane. Every night. Every dinner. Every breakfast you burned and every bath you drew for me,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper. “I remember your touch. Your kiss. The way you filled me so completely. I remember it all.”
And the memory had nearly killed her.
“Then tell me why,” he said solemnly. “Tell me why you chose him over me.”
The request caught Zera off guard. She’d expected him to say this four years ago. Not now.
A guard cleared his throat loudly and Zera let her hand fall from Dane’s chest.
Dane waited another few seconds before stepping back and away from her. He turned and was walking before she’d completely gathered herself. In moments, she fell into step behind him, not wanting to get closer. Not wanting him to make that request again.
She didn’t have to worry. Dane did not say another word to her while they were in the museum. And when they were outside, he asked curtly, “Do you need a ride?”
“I have my own,” she replied without thinking.
“Then goodnight,” he said before walking away swiftly.
Zera did not curse. She did not cry. And just like four years ago, she did not go after him. Instead, she watched for a few minutes more, until he disappeared in the crowd of people, before turning in the opposite direction and leaving.
Her steps were heavy as she walked, her heart doing a wild dance that crossed between the happiness of seeing him again, the arousal of him being so close and talking about their time together, and the utter disappointment of being unable to stop the inevitable from happening all over again.
Chapter 2
The second Dane entered his hotel room his cell phone rang. He quickly pulled the phone from his pant pocket, only to sigh with disappointment as he looked at the screen to see who was calling.
It wasn’t Zera.
She did not have his new number, nor did he have hers. They were just two people in this big city who had run into each other at the museum. That somehow did not ring true, but Dane answered his phone rather than continue to think about it.
“Hi, Son. Just checking to make sure you’re settling in alright.”
“Hey,” Dane replied, hesitating at saying the word “dad.” “Just came in from an outing. But other than that, all is well.”
He closed the door behind him and entered the room, taking a seat in the chair closest to the window. Dane enjoyed looking out at Paris lit up at night. Actually, he had a thing for cityscapes. Paris was one of his favorites. New York City’s was another, even though he lived in Upstate New York.
“That’s good. Do you have any plans for your time away?”
Bernard Donovan’s deep gruff voice sounded over the phone. It was a voice Dane had become accustomed to hearing over the past nine months. The voice of his biological father.
“Nothing in particular,” Dane replied. “I have a few business calls to make and the meeting with Roark in a few days.”
“That’s right,” Bernard said. “He’s my cousin Gabe’s oldest son. Roark’s a good one. His father trained him well, so when Gabe passed after the heart attack, Roark was able to step right in and take care of his mother, Maxine. And he made sure Ridge and Suri went to college before joining the company.”
Gabriel Donovan was the son of Aaron Donovan. Aaron was the brother of Isaiah Donovan, Dane’s grandfather. The Donovans had an intricate family tree that started with a patch of land Dane’s great-great grandfather inherited in Gillespie County, Texas in 1908. From there Dane’s grandfather Rowan Donovan, along with his brother Charleston struck oil at the Beaumont Ranch and Donovan Oilwell, Inc. was born. Years later, as the Donovan offspring each went their own way across the world, starting families, some continued to work at Donovan Oilwell while others started their own successful businesses.
Dane knew the Donovan family history well. Now, it was time he got to know the family members too.
“I believe Ridge will also be at the meeting,” Dane said to Bernard.
“That’s good that you’re joining forces with the family. This new business venture should work to solidify your rightful place in the family business.”
His rightful place. Dane’s mother, Roslyn Ausby, used to say that to him in those years that she’d been blackmailing Albert, Henry and Bernard Donovan, over which one of them was Dane’s biological father. Roslyn had insisted that Dane was a Donovan and that part of the family’s massive fortune belonged to him. Dane had made his own fortune, so finding out who his father was had nothing to do with money as far as he was concerned. The reluctantly taken DNA test had revealed Bernard Donovan as Dane’s father. And now they were here, having one of many conversations they’d had in the last nine months. Conversations which were meant to bring father and son closer. Dane was all for making the effort.
“Your brothers have done an exceptional job bringing Donovan Oilwell into the 21st century. And Roark and Ridge have worked tirelessly to achieve the same results for Donovan Oilwell UK. Expanding into the clean air market with a focus on fostering sustainable cities, is a logical next step for the overall Donovan Oilwell brand,” Dane said.
It was the same pitch Dane delivered to Roark and the same presentation, Dane and his cousin would make to the executives they’d selected to work at the new Donovan International headquarters in London.
“They’re your uncles, Dane,” Bernard stated evenly. I’m your father and the Donovans are your family.”
But only for the last nine months. Before then, Dane’s only family had been Roslyn and Jaydon, his younger sister.
“I know,” he said, because he did know the truth now. It was still hard digesting all of it—the blackmail, his mother’s mental illness which drove her to kill and kidnap in her outrage, his sister’s duplicity, and both of their eventual deaths. Not to mention the three men who had slept with his mother and then cohesively denied the child she’d carried. It was a lot to take in. And another reason for the semi-vacation.
“How’s Keysa and Madison?” Dane asked in an effort to shift the topic.
Keysa was Bernard’s daughter with his first wife Mary Lee Donovan and Madison was Keysa’s one year-old daughter.
“They’re doing really well. I was in Detroit just last weekend visiting with them. Keysa and Ian are planning a huge Labor Day cookout to make up for everyone who missed Madison’s first birthday party. So be sure to keep some time free on your calendar so you won’t miss it. I know she’ll want you to be there.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dane said. While he was still adjusting to being part of such a large family, the thought of seeing his niece again made Dane smile.
She was a precious little girl who knew nothing about his past or the wrongs his mother or the Senior Donovan men had done. She was innocent and pure and each time she looked up a
t Dane it was with unconditional love. Something he’d never known in his life.
“Brynne and Wade will travel for the party as well, I presume,” Dane said. One thing he’d learned about the Donovan family, even before he’d been accepted into the fold, was that they were a loyal bunch. They supported each other in everything from business ventures outside of the family oilwell, to weddings, baby showers, and now with the 4th generation marrying and having children, birthday parties.
“Yeah, they’ll be out. Your youngest sister is doing really well with her new job running the San Francisco branch of the Lakefield Galleries,” Bernard said proudly.
Brynne was Bernard’s daughter from his second, and now ex-wife, Jocelyn.
“I talked to her just before I left the States,” Dane said. “She’s looking into a few paintings I was interested in.”
“Good. Good,” Bernard said. “I’m so glad my children are all coming together.”
Dane did not respond.
“You know I’ve been thinking a lot in these past months,” Bernard continued. “Not about the mistakes I’ve made, because I’ve apologized for them and I’m dedicated to doing whatever I need to do to make things right in the present. But instead I’ve been thinking about the future.”
Dane held the phone to his ear as he looked out to the evening sky. He slipped a hand into his front pant pocket while he waited for whatever else his father wanted to say.
“I’m thinking about asking Mary Lee out on a date,” Bernard said. “I know it’s been more than twenty years since we were married. But to be honest, I was always confused by why she left me in the first place. And since Keysa had the baby, I’ve been going to Detroit more frequently and you know Mary Lee lives there. So I’ve been seeing her more frequently. Of course, you know, we’re connected by our daughter and our grandbaby. But I don’t know, the last few times I’ve been feeling like there may be something more to it.”
Was his father asking for his advice? Dane never had any close guy friends to exchange advice on dating or women in general before. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“It’s silly, huh? Thinking about asking out a woman you were once married to.” Bernard chuckled. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Ask her,” Dane said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he continued with a slight grin. “You like her. You want to take her out on a date. Ask her. What’s the worst that can happen?
Bernard chuckled. “She can say no.”
Dane shrugged. “Well, she married you once. She had your daughter. Then she left you. Now, you’re sharing an adorable granddaughter. Even if she turns down your offer of a date, you still have all that history together.”
“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there, Son. “
As he listened to his advice to Bernard, Dane thought of a particular woman that he had history with.
The phone call ended a few minutes later with Dane promising to touch base with Bernard again next week. It was weird to type a date and time to call his father into the calendar on his phone. He’d never had a father to call before. Now, he could admit it felt kind of good.
What didn’t feel good was showering and sitting down heavily on the bed with thoughts of Zera Kennedy plaguing him. He’d been successful in keeping her out of his mind—for the most part—over the past years. He’d decided when he boarded that plane and left Paris four years ago that there was no going back. Dane never liked to look back. The future was forward. Always. So he’d tried to forget the betrayal that had cut through his chest like a hot blade. He tried to tamp down the hurt that threatened to take over his every action in those days following her decision to stay with Emmet. And he’d told himself that he would get over it, that it was no big deal.
Seeing her today, Dane had proven himself wrong.
Finding out that Zera was involved with Emmet Parks had been a huge deal. It had crushed any ideas that Dane had about being in a personal relationship with a woman. But today he’d touched her. He’d been so close to her that he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. He’d listened to her speak, her tone heavy with the African accent that was her heritage. He’d looked at her and remembered every time he’d touched or tasted her.
And now he was damned. Again.
Switching off the lights he lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. But even that didn’t work. He still saw her, still heard her voice. And when he inhaled deeply, he could smell her once again. His body hardened, his mind blocking out everything but her and the glorious two months they’d spent together.
He wanted Zera Kennedy. Again.
He still wasn’t sure if she wanted him.
Zera drove through the wet streets of the city, turning and detouring, making her ride home last much longer than it needed to. Rain splashed against the windshield and rolled down the side windows. It was a torrential drenching, one which seemed to fit well with the stormy mood brewing inside of her.
She still couldn’t believe she’d run into Dane, after all this time. The decision to visit The Louvre this evening had been an impulsive one. She’d spent the day inside her apartment as she had so many days before. But as the afternoon dragged on and the pity party she’d been deeply ensconced in since January became repugnant, she’d decided that some fresh air was a good idea. Did she somehow know that he was going to be there? Of course that was ridiculous. She could not have known. She hadn’t spoken to Dane since the day he’d left her standing beside Emmet at Emmet’s New Year’s Eve party.
Emmet had reserved the entire Four Seasons George V resort—meaning he was able to transform every event space in the resort into a private celebratory oasis for New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Zera recalled the amount of money it had taken to secure the venue, catering and transportation for most of Emmet’s more important associates. It had been exorbitant, but then she’d expected nothing less of him.
She wore the off-the-shoulder form-fitting red dress, with its sheer train hanging down to the floor that Emmet had delivered to her the night before. The dress barely skimmed her upper thighs and made her feel way more exposed than if everyone in the room had known where she’d come from and why she was truly there. Revealing dresses weren’t her favorite, but she’d known Emmet for almost three months at that time, and already she’d surmised that he did not like being disappointed. And the people who were foolish enough to disappoint him didn’t care for Emmet’s reaction to whatever they’d done to displease them. Probably because they ended up injured, maimed, or dead.
The ballroom she was in had been decorated in gold, silver and black. Lavish centerpieces of gold candles dangling off the ends of black branches that had been stuffed into tall crystal vases on each table. On black linen covered tables, paper top hats were stacked in pyramids and ropes of beads lay haphazardly. Flutes full of champagne filled silver trays that were carried by servers who walked around the room for easy access. A DJ played everything from Hip Hop to Pop, and during dinner, Jazz. Zera stood near the doors leading to the patio, one arm crossing her waist as she held her nearly empty glass of champagne in the other hand.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Emmet had said from behind her.
She hadn’t heard him approach and wouldn’t berate herself for the lapse in attention either. There were at least three hundred people in this ballroom and the music was blasting. That was a justifiable excuse, but the real reason she hadn’t heard Emmet was because she’d been too busy thinking of another man.
“I’m right here,” she’d replied in a voice void of her African accent. “I figured you would be making your rounds and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
That had been partially true.
“You could never be a disturbance,” Emmet had continued as he trailed the tips of his fingers along the bare skin of her shoulder.
His touch made her feel weird. It hadn’t when she’d first met him, but in the past two months another man’s touch had brought
new life to Zera’s body. There was no comparison, so enduring Emmet’s touch was a little harder to stand. But she did. There was no other choice.
“And I’d actually like you to meet someone,” Emmet had continued.
Zera relaxed enough to smile as she finally turned completely toward where Emmet stood. The action caused his hand to fall from her shoulder, but Emmet immediately turned so that he was now standing beside her. His arm went around her waist as he pulled her close to his side. Then she saw the man Emmet wanted her to meet and her smile faltered.
Her body tensed and dread instantly filled her stomach.
“Here she is, Dane. The woman who has me caught under her seductive spell,” Emmet said, his hand moving lower so that his fingers were now splayed over her hip. “Zera, my sweet, this is Dane Donovan. He’s an old college friend from America, spending the holidays in our beautiful city.”
She’d swallowed and then cleared her throat, stalling for time to figure out what she was going to say. What could she say?
The night before she’d been naked and in bed with Dane. Tonight she was wearing a barely-there dress and standing next to Emmet. She knew how bad it looked, and if she wasn’t smart enough to figure that out, the look of disappointment followed by disgust on Dane’s face confirmed it.
Dane had spoken first.
“Hello, Zera. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he’d said. “Emmet hasn’t been able to stop talking about you.”
Her heart thumped wildly against her chest as her fingers clenched the stem of the glass she held. Say something! Her mind screamed those two words over and over again, until she felt like an idiot for remaining silent.
“It’s very nice to meet a longtime friend of Emmet’s,” she finally managed. “How long will you be staying in Paris, Dane?”
What she really wanted to know was if she’d be able to meet up with him later to explain what was happening. She desperately needed to talk to Dane alone, to tell him…what? How was she going to explain this to him without jeopardizing her and Hiari’s life?