by Zee Monodee
“You understand, don’t you?”
His soft words held more than a question. She heard uncertainty, expectation, and apprehension in them.
How was it that these sorts of things could be coming from him? He who seemed so sure of himself all the time … Could it be that she brought these out in him?
The questions rolled and ebbed, and she could only nod.
He brought his hands up and cradled her face in his palms. She almost closed her eyes when he touched her, the warmth from his slightly calloused palms anchoring her cheeks and diffusing their gentle heat inside her.
“I only want good things to happen to you.”
Tears stung her eyes upon hearing these words, and she blinked them back. What was happening to her? Why was she losing her balance so often?
It was hard to part her lips to speak out, let alone unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
“You want to be part of my baby’s life?”
He stared at her for long seconds. “Yes. If you’ll allow me.”
The Earth stopped moving for a second. Had he just said those words …? And more—the ruthless bully asking for her permission? When did that come about?
“Michael—”
“Hush. We said all that needed to be said.”
He released her face, and the heat from his hands ebbed away. The withdrawal left her softly reeling, her senses and mind a mess. She wouldn’t even dare to check on her heart to see what damage had been wrought there. She couldn’t.
Then he moved aside, heading back towards the kitchen.
“You ought to eat something, you know,” he spoke over his shoulder. “It’s quarter past eleven.”
She had needed a shock to rev up her sluggish system, and his words did the trick.
What? That late? Goodness. She had more than overslept. She’d been in a coma. Half the day had gone by already, and they needed to find a locksmith for her door.
She rushed back into the kitchen. “I need to call a cab, find a locksmith in town, and—”
“We’re going out for lunch ...”
“I beg your pardon?”
“… and we’re leaving in twenty minutes, so you better go get ready. You can have a yogurt shake in the car.”
Would this man never stop bulldozing her? And what with the personality swaps?
Tired all of a sudden, her mind switched to autopilot. It knew the signs—her mother had the same harrowing way of dealing with her. “I have nothing to wear.”
“You’ll find all you need in your room.”
She could recognize when she’d been dismissed, and so, she trudged back upstairs—pick your battles and all that.
The bed she’d left a little while ago was now laden with shopping bags and boxes. She went through them one by one, then popped into the bathroom for a quick shower before coming out to get dressed.
The bags had revealed a treasure stash of garments. A silk camisole and sinful lace panties that fastened at the sides with silky ties, from Victoria’s Secret. Thick, dark grey leggings and a long-sleeved wraparound olive dress that stopped just above the knee, from Burberry. Soft suede flat boots, from Aldo.
Whoever had bought all these had taste, or else, had been guided by competent sales people. The size proved just right, the underwear adjustable. Even the boots moulded themselves to her feet.
Michael had ordered all this for her? And at such short notice? Where was he taking her?
She met him in the foyer. He had slung a casual linen sports jacket over his shirt. Again, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome and elegant he looked.
Get a grip, girl. He wants your baby. Not you.
The thought sobered her. She didn’t miss his perusal of her attire, though. He nodded with something akin to satisfaction on his face, but didn’t make any comment.
She followed him into the garage on the other side of the entrance hall and gasped when the doors slid open and light bathed a shiny red sports car with a horse logo at the front of the bonnet.
“You also own a Ferrari?”
He nodded. “A 458Spider. And an Aston Martin Vanquish S, currently undergoing a paint job at the dealership.”
“What about the Mercedes?”
“Useful around town. This baby is better for the country roads.”
Men and their cars. She shook her head. “So, where are you taking me? Somewhere in the country?”
“Kent.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know any fancy place in Kent, but maybe he did.
Tension stiffened her spine and didn’t leave when they set out on the road. Once they hit the less congested areas on the outskirts of London, she relaxed. She didn’t like the way the little car zipped in the city traffic. Being on wide, empty stretches pacified her. Not that Michael was a careless driver. Reckless, yes, but not careless, if that made sense. She just wasn’t used to such sharp and brisk manoeuvring on the road.
They entered a peaceful, pastoral village, and he slowed the car to adjust to the narrow streets. After passing by the main square, he took a turn into a long, private paved road. A few hundred yards later, they emerged into the courtyard of a well-appointed country mansion that could have graced the setting of a Regency period drama.
He stopped the car and exited before coming to her side to hold the door open. The soft warmth of the sun’s rays tickled her face, and she revelled in the blissful, rose-scented exterior … until one sight shattered the rapture like crystal being hurled against a rock.
Was that her mother on the steps of the house?
“What the hell are we doing here?” She froze beside the open car door. “And what is she doing here?”
Her gaze travelled to the dreadful sight. Oh, yes, that was Marenka Maurel in all her splendour, standing there as if she were the mistress of the place, in a tailored suit that screamed Chanel.
But, wait a second. Was that a frown she had seen on the Botox-ed face? Why? And what on Earth was brewing here?
“Come on.” Michael pulled her away so he could close the door. “Can’t be so bad.”
“Why, you.” She sputtered.
Can’t be any worse, she wanted to scream. Her wrath went on temporary pause when she caught sight of the man who’d just come out on the front porch.
Tall, reed-thin, with a lean, tanned face and a shock of grey hair, he was dressed for the country club in dark brown trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. And goodness, was it pink?
And then, the pieces of the puzzle clicked, and she figured it out. This was her future stepfather.
“I see you made it.” The man came down the steps and put his hand out for Michael to shake.
These two knew each other? How? And since when? What crazy coincidence had brought her here today?
Too many questions, too many possibilities. Her head began to spin, and she reached for the first thing near her to try and maintain her balance, ending up clutching Michael’s jacket sleeve.
“Jane? Are you okay?” He snaked an arm out and circled her waist, pulling her against him.
She dropped her head into the crook of his shoulder.
“We need to go in. I think the sun isn’t good for her right now,” she heard him say.
“I … I’ll be fine,” she managed to croak.
He moved as if he were about to sweep her in his arms, but she lay a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. “I’m fine. The dizziness has gone.”
He stared at her. “If you say so.”
He kept his arm firmly around her waist, though, and as much as a part of her wanted him to let go, another part, one that was rapidly gaining ground, wanted the security of his embrace. In the current setting, his presence was the only reassuring thread she could cling to.
How could this man she’d loathed at first be getting under her skin so quickly and with such ease?
“I am really sorry, my dear. What a first meeting.” The silver-haired man appeared at a loss as to how to deal with the situation.
Jane smiled at him. His solicitude wove its way around her heart, and she was certain this man was a good sort. Her mother always knew how to pick them. Just like good girls were always attracted to the jerks, good men were always lured by cunning bitches like Marenka.
She reached out and grabbed his hand. “They say relationships that start on a wrong footing have no more scope to get worse.”
He brought his other hand up to clasp hers warmly. “Then I am glad ours started thus.”
The three of them walked up the steps to reach Marenka’s side. In all this time, she hadn’t even deigned to acknowledge her daughter.
“Marenka.” Jane nodded.
“Darrrling.” Her mother offered her cheek for a dutiful kiss. “Let’s go in. We wouldn’t want you to be plagued by another spell now, do we?”
Jane bit down a scathing retort.
“Well, in her condition, that’s nothing unusual.” Marenka’s fiancé fell in step beside her.
“I suppose,” Marenka conceded as she led the way towards the back of the house into a sun-filled conservatory that overlooked the expansive gardens.
Jane threw a quick glance at Michael; his jaw was clamped shut. There was also that nerve beating in his cheek. Not at all a good sign.
He drew her chair, and just before she sat, he bent and whispered in her ear. “I bet you didn’t eat anything. Didn’t I tell you to grab a shake from the fridge?”
Shame crept up her. She’d been remiss in providing her body with even a little sugar, and look what had befallen her. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“From now on, we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” With that, he released her waist and allowed her to sit.
Jane gulped. She knew full well he would act upon his words in all circumstances. And loathe as she was to admit it, he was right, and thus perfectly allowed to boss her regarding this matter.
“So, my dear, after our unfortunate first meeting, formal introductions are of the order, don’t you think?”
She turned her attention to the man who sat opposite her. She’d wager from his smooth face that he wasn’t a day over fifty, but then again, he would still be younger than Marenka.
“I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name when Marenka told me about your engagement.”
Bollocks. Her mother hadn’t even told her who she was marrying.
He laughed. “Damian Dalton. And you are Jane. Marenka has told me a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope?” She shot a glance at her mother.
“Of course.”
“And who is this young man with you?” Marenka tilted her head towards Michael.
Jane was about to answer when Michael cut her short.
“Jane’s friend. My name is Michael.”
“Charming.” Marenka gave them a fake smile.
She detected a touch of strain in her mother’s tone, but then again, she’d never brought a man home. She’d never had a man to bring home. This was a first, something which should’ve happened when she’d been sixteen or so.
“And what do you do, Michael?”
The dreaded question. She didn’t miss the frost in her mother’s voice. How could these two already have had a rough start? They hadn’t met for more than five minutes.
She opened her mouth to jump to Michael’s defence, but he beat her to it.
“I’m a lawyer.”
“And a damn good one at that,” Damian cut in. “Michael here handled a merger for me last year. Damn impressive work, too. Never had a chance to tell him in person, though. My legal team handled all that for me.”
So these two do know each other. Small world.
“You’ll accept my heartfelt thanks now, won’t you, mate?” Damian nodded at Michael.
Michael gave a rare smile. “I was simply at the right place at the right time.”
“Modest of you. Do you know that …?”
Jane tuned out of their conversation, her attention going to Michael’s profile. Would this man never cease to amaze her? Many in his current position would gloat and puff their chest with the compliments being ladled on him. He even seemed embarrassed, steering the talk to business and other related topics.
“You won’t mind if Jane and I excuse ourselves for a few minutes, do you, gentlemen?” Marenka’s tone now dripped sweet and thick as syrup.
“Certainly not.” Damian waved them off.
Michael turned to her. “You feeling better?”
His concern soothed her, and she smiled, nodding. Then she stood and allowed her mother to link arms with her as the older woman led her to the door that opened into the garden.
Once they were out of earshot, Marenka gripped her upper arm tight and squeezed. “Now, what are you doing with Michael Rinaldi? Or, better yet, what is he doing with you?”
She winced at the rude question. Her mother never took any gloves with her, always aiming for the swift punch. Why did she keep hoping for some consideration?
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t take me for an idiot, Jane. That man is one of the most eligible bachelors of the country, of Europe even, the biggest catch of the haute society after William and Harry. What was he doing answering your phone this morning?”
“What?”
Colour her flabbergasted here. When and how had this happened?
“I called to ask you to lunch, and he answered. Even had the gall to tell me he didn’t want to disturb you.”
“He did that?” Jane was aware she sounded like a dimwit, but she didn’t care. She wanted some light shed on this episode. That’s what happened when she slept too much—the world rolled on without her in the loop. “You asked him to lunch, then? Why?”
“Not I. Damian did.”
She was now completely lost. What else had happened while she’d been sleeping?
“Damian implied something. As to how you’re expecting Michael Rinaldi’s child. I told him this sounds absurd, but—”
“Absurd? How so?” Michael asked from behind, startling them both.
How long had he been there, and how much had he heard?
He stopped behind Jane, bringing his arms around her sides and pulling her to rest snug against his torso.
So much like her fantasy earlier, save for the many layers of clothes between them. She dipped her head back so it nestled at the side of his neck. How good this felt ... If only she could let herself go like this every time. But that would be dreaming, right? Still, better keep up the pretences here to get one up on her mother.
Marenka gave a small laugh. “Not absurd, darrrling, but somewhat … unexpected, shall we say?”
“I don’t see how.” He pressed his fresh-shaved cheek against her head.
She could almost hear the smile in his words. He was taking the mickey out of her mother. On her behalf, maybe?
Jane watched with rapt fascination as her mother’s carefully composed facade threatened to crumple before her eyes.
“Strange. Jane hasn’t even mentioned you before today.”
“Oh, yes, she is very intent on keeping things under wraps. Aren’t you, luv?” He dropped a light kiss on her temple.
Marenka frowned again. Botox wasn’t all it was hailed to be if her features could crinkle so easily. Unless the emotions were so violent, they could even overcome the power of the snake venom.
“You really should come eat something, Jane.” Michael turned her around to face him.
Aware of her mother’s rapacious glare, she smiled at her companion. “I’ll be right there. You go ahead.”
He released her, and she held on to his hand until he moved away and the touch was broken. Then, she turned to face Marenka.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a bit ...” she paused. “Green.”
Marenka huffed. “How did you land such a guy? Got inseminated by his sperm at the donor bank?”
If only she knew. Still, Jane was enjoying herself too much to not shoot a barb back. Rarely did she
feel on even footing around her bitchy mother, and this occasion, she would relish.
“You watch too many soaps. I got pregnant the good old way.”
Another huff. “I didn’t think you even knew how to seduce a man.”
“How did you seduce Damian? Faked your birth certificate so it reads you’re forty-nine?”
The bitch in her was rearing its unsightly head, and she’d better leave this tête-à-tête before things got ugly. She always lost her cool around her mother. It wouldn’t do to shatter all the good work Michael had already put into the quest to unsettle her mum. At least someone was on her side.
Better make an exit now. She started towards the conservatory.
“His kind never lasts, Jane.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to face her mother.
She’d had to go there, hadn’t she? Nothing good could ever be allowed to grace Jane’s life without her mother casting her malevolent shadow over it.
“With you as model, there’s no way I really can believe in love, is there?”
“You think you’re living a dream. What will you do when it all comes crashing down?”
That was what she didn’t want to contemplate. But Marenka need not know that.
“One thing’s for sure. I won’t come running to you.”
With that, she turned on her heel and went to Michael’s side. How she yearned to leave, but with Damian’s warm and outgoing ways, she didn’t have the heart to inflict him with the kind of blow their sudden departure would deal.
It was back to this very fact now—she always cared about others without pausing to think of herself.
How could she have thought this would ever change? This lunch in the country would prove to be a very tedious affair.
Chapter Seven
Michael snuck a glance at Jane as the car sped back to London. Her head rested against the back of the seat, her eyes closed, features drawn. She seemed tired, and he wondered what else could have transpired between her and her mother today after he’d overheard their conversation.
As if she’d felt his eyes on her, she blinked and turned to look at him. Her gaze appeared unfocused.
“Lunch was that bad?” He peered out the windshield at the road, keeping the question casual.