by Zee Monodee
At the brush of warm lips against her temple, her heart clenched. So real, exactly like how he would kiss her.
“Sorry I’m late. I know I said I couldn’t attend the ceremony, but I didn’t expect my client would keep me so much that I’d even miss the start of the reception.”
And now he talked! She forced her eyes open, and her jaw slackened.
It really was him. Questions erupted in her head, and she winced again. The reporter stood and left them as if she had the hounds of Hell hot on her trail.
Good riddance, but what to make of the whole situation?
The words that built a storm inside her head evaporated on the tip of her tongue when she allowed herself to take him in. He was dressed in an impeccable olive-green suit with a cream-colored shirt and a green silk tie. Specks of gold flickered in his dark eyes, and she was stumped.
Why hadn’t she ever noticed those flecks in his gaze?
“Michael.” His name rolled out on a breathless rush.
He stared at her for a long time, appraising her, lingering on her swollen middle for a fraction too long before he looked into her face again.
She wanted to jump up and hug him. She wanted to laugh in relief. She wanted to tell him she loved him.
But she couldn’t. She remained frozen to her seat, her vocal chords paralyzed.
“I’m ...” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
He pulled up the chair the reporter had vacated and sat down, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.
“You’re sorry, I know.”
Surprise flooded her, thawing her stiff body.
“How?”
He laughed.
She basked in the lovely sound, until a swift kick inside her belly made her bring her hand up in a hopeless move to try to calm her baby.
Michael’s face grew serious. “How is she?”
“You know it’s a girl?”
He nodded. “Umberto told me.”
Umberto. Right. Since when did he even speak to his father?
“We spoke,” he replied to her unasked question.
That’s it. I’ve fainted, or I’m at the hospital and I’m conjuring up a fantasy.
But something else registered. What did she have to lose?
“Why are you here?”
He reached for the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a Manila envelope. “I needed to give you this.”
She glanced at his hand. “What is it?”
“Legal documents, a renunciation of paternal rights. Wickham brought them last week.”
“Jeremy?” This was getting weirder and weirder. No way could all this be real. “And what does this mean?”
Michael’s jaw clenched, and he lowered his eyes before looking straight at her again.
“It means that another man can legally adopt your daughter when she’s born.”
Tell me this is what you want.
But she didn’t say the words. Too much confusion, too many questions lying unanswered, for her to be able to even contemplate the prospect of a future with him.
“What happened, Michael?” She wrung her hands together with nervousness.
He looked at her for a long time. “Between me and Wickham? Between me and my father? Between you and me?”
She nodded, afraid to ask anything else.
He took a deep breath before sitting up straighter.
“You happened, Jane.”
She shook her head this time, confusion running rife inside her. “I don’t understand.”
“Why did you tell my father you didn’t deserve me?”
Goodness, no. This wasn’t suspended reality any longer, but a full-blown nightmare.
“Answer me.”
He’d used the low voice that would drive her crazy when he whispered in her ear in the throes of passion.
“Don’t you see?” Pain clutched her heart. “Everything that befell you was my fault.”
He reached for her hand then, and at the gentle contact, with the warmth of his skin filtering into hers, Jane was at a loss.
One didn’t feel physical sensations in a dream, right?
So how could she be experiencing the pressure of his fingers on hers? How could she be feeling that soft heat flowing into her bloodstream and thawing out the frozen parts of her heart?
A tear escaped her eye, the liquid cool against her cheek. Her breath squeezed out of her as she kept looking at his handsome face, and she gasped.
“This is real?”
“How do you want me to prove it to you?”
“Michael—”
He brought his finger against her lips. “Don’t say anything.”
With her gaze, she pleaded with him. She felt her eyes go wide, and her lips parted against his touch.
“I’ll show you.” He leaned forward, removing his finger, to replace it with his lips.
Without a doubt, he had thrown all of him in that kiss, just as she knew without a doubt, too, that she offered him all of herself when she opened her mouth and kissed him back.
He smiled against her lips, and she smiled, as well. They touched their foreheads together, and remained like that until she received another hearty kick in her womb.
Michael’s body had been pressed against hers when he kissed her, and he moved away with amazement on his face.
“That was her?” His voice was heavy with awe.
Jane sighed. “Yes. She doesn’t enjoy not being the centre of attention already.”
He looked puzzled, then laughed and kissed her again.
“For God’s sake, get a room, will you?”
They both looked up to find Marenka standing next to them.
“And you’re crying?” The older woman rolled her eyes. “Thank God I made you use that waterproof mascara, or you’d look like a raccoon. To think we haven’t even shot the pictures yet.”
“Marenka—”
But Michael pressed her hand, and she grew quiet.
Her mother turned to Michael.
“Glad you could make it.” She zapped her attention back to her daughter. “Jane, we need you for the pictures.”
With that, she turned and left them.
Jane glanced at Michael, and he shrugged. Then she recalled his words when he’d just burst onto the scene a few minutes earlier. “What was that about missing the ceremony?”
He shrugged again. “I was taken up by a client. Bloke couldn’t get it that I needed him to leave. I had to call Damian and tell him I’d be late.”
“Call Damian. Right ... Next thing you’ll tell me is that Marenka invited you.” She paused. “How did you get an invitation?”
“Actually, Marenka is the one who invited me. Said I needed to come talk to you. Now, stop being so hard on her, okay?”
She gasped, from surprise or disbelief, or both. “You’re joking. Marenka told you that?”
“Maybe her maternal instincts kicked in for one insane moment.”
Jane gazed at her mother with a new perspective. Not wanting to leave Michael, but desperate to confirm that her mother had actually shown some caring for her, she hesitated.
“Go talk to her.” He pressed a kiss on the back of her hand and gently pushed her towards where Marenka stood with Damian.
“Michael says you went to see him.” A tinge of apprehension rang in her voice.
“So I did.” Her mother refused to meet her eyes.
“Why?”
Marenka sighed and turned to her. “Because I was tired of seeing you wallow in your misery after you threw away the best thing that ever happened to you.”
She hitched a breath. Her mother did care, after all. Before she could realize what she was doing, she reached out and hugged Marenka to her, as much as her pregnant belly would allow.
“What was that for?” Her mother brushed an imaginary wrinkle in her dress when Jane released her.
Jane looked up into her face, seeing the soft smile that played on the painted red lips.
“Thanks.”<
br />
“No need for that.” Marenka shrugged out of the embrace, placing at least a foot between them as her gaze stared right in front of her and away from Jane. “Now stop crying. I swear I will throttle you if you end up looking like a poor soul in my wedding pictures. The photographer’s coming.”
Before she could realize, Jane was being directed for one shot after the other.
When the photo shoot was finally over, she frantically searched the premises for Michael.
He wasn’t there, and she gasped.
“I’m not leaving you.” He came up behind her, and she whirled around and threw herself into his arms.
“Don’t ever do that again.” She closed her eyes.
“Jaaaane! Mikol! You’re back together!”
Two pairs of arms closed around them, and they were engulfed in a group hug with the twins.
“Girls, she needs to breathe.” Damian laughed as he joined them.
In a flurry of giggles, Ileana and Ilyanka released them and turned to Marenka. “Marenka, it’s time for you to throw the bouquet.”
“What do you say we give it right away to Jane?” Her new stepfather winked. “We already know who’s next on the wedding list, don’t we?” He then threw a pointed glance at Michael.
Jane stifled a chuckle at the same time butterflies rose in her stomach.
Michael cleared his throat. “I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Well, what are you waiting for, then?”
He clasped her arm. “Excuse us, will you?”
This had to be a dream …
He winked before whisking her out of the marquee and onto the lawn, finally stopping under an arch covered in blooming climbing roses on the edge of the garden.
He came to stand before her, and she lifted her eyes to his. The depth of emotion she saw swirling there made her bring her hand up to his cheek.
His skin was smooth and warm under her touch, and the tick of the muscle in his jaw when he clamped it in tension beat against her palm.
Silence fell over them as the din of the noise from the reception faded from their consciousness. All that existed then was the two of them.
“I want you to always remember one thing.” He stroked his strong palm over the back of her hand.
She licked her dry lips. “What?”
He brought his other hand up and cupped her face in his palms.
“You, Jane Smithers, are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She swallowed, hard, as much from grasping what he said as from the emotion that made a thick ball clog her throat and brought tears to her eyes.
“You’re my dream come true.” Her confession came on a whisper.
“Marry me, Jane.”
As she stared at him with what she was sure must look like stars in her eyes, Jane finally laid all her demons to rest.
Good things did happen to people like her. If only they allowed them.
She took a deep breath. “Yes, I will.”
He bridged the gap between them, settling his lips upon hers.
In the distance, she heard whoops and cheers, but she didn’t bother. From here on, only the doors to happiness and peace would open in the life she would live with the man she loved and who loved her equally.
A flurry of kicks started in her belly, and she broke away from the kiss, laughing.
“My daughter’s definitely awake, all right.” She laughed.
“Our daughter, Jane.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Our daughter.”
Epilogue
Seen on the front page of Viewstand in late September:
She’s here!
Aurora Regina Rinaldi was born on Thursday afternoon at an exclusive private hospital on the outskirts of London. The statement issued by the family states both mother and daughter are in perfect health.
The story behind this little girl’s existence rocked the world during last summer when a scandal erupted around her parents. We were told the identity of her biological father wasn’t what the world had been led to believe. But it turns out Jane Smithers was already pregnant when Michael Rinaldi met her and fell in love with her. The unfortunate debacle was all the work of an unscrupulous reporter, Connie Burton, who has since been barred from ever working in the press again. The couple was seriously tried when the scandal erupted, even separating before finding themselves again shortly after.
They went on to get married in August in a private ceremony at a secluded castle in the South of France. The wedding was organized by former models turned successful wedding planners, Ileana and Ilyanka Petrova. Close family were present, with Jane’s grandmother, Veronica Arana, of the Arana empire of Venezuela, as well as the whole of the Arana clan, making the trip to witness the joining of their kin with millionaire tycoon and corporate lawyer Michael Rinaldi, the son of banking magnate Umberto Rinaldi and socialite Olivia Whitmore. The father and son were estranged for many years, before Jane, who happened to be Umberto Rinaldi’s personal assistant, stepped into the picture and started the two men down the road to reconciliation. Jane is also the daughter of Marenka Dalton, the famous socialite. The bride was given away by her former stepfather, Sir Charles Carlton.
Today, we are pleased to bring you the first pictures of the Rinaldi couple with their daughter. Seen right here is Jane Smithers-Rinaldi coming out of the hospital with Aurora in her arms. Her husband stands right beside her as they exit the front door on the way to their car.
The statement didn’t mention anything about the delivery, but seeing as Jane was walking easily less than forty-eight hours after giving birth, it can be ventured to say she had a normal delivery without any complications. Aurora was also born at full term.
We wish the couple all the best in their new life as young parents.
Stay tuned for more on this story as we shall bring you the very first pictures of Aurora Rinaldi very soon.
THE END
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
This book was the third I had ever written—my files show me it was back in 2008. LOL, the first one surprised is me. I hadn’t realized so much time had gone between now and the first time I ‘met’ Jane and Michael. At the time, I had written two Mauritius-based, Indian-culture-centric interracial romances, and this had been my first foray into non-culture-based romance. Of course, it had to be set in London, my home away from home.
Now, I’ve always loved chick-lit. I know some will think I need to say this as a shameful admission, but I take complete responsibility—I love chick-lit! And since I was trying my hand at something new, pretty much, well, I tried to go chick-lit with this one. Until five false starts (yes, you read that right!) showed me that I couldn’t for the life of me write 1st Person or even write it to save my life!
Plus, there was the tiny detail of a character called Michael Rinaldi. He wanted—no, he demanded—to have his say, and frankly, who can resist such a determined man? It’s notorious that chick-lit doesn’t have the hero’s POV, so there went my aspirations again. It would have to be contemporary romance … and in a way, Michael Rinaldi helped me find what/how I’m good at as a romance author—I can write a proper hero, so why deny him his chance to tell his side of the tale?
While chatting with a friend back then, we came to the conclusion that children, especially little kids and babies, could brew more than a tempest in a teacup. In fact, they could create a storm in a shot glass … and thus came into being the original title for this story. I rather liked it—it summed up pretty much what the plot was about. But then I realized I could do a better job summarizing this for my readers, and when the chance came up to redo this story, the title changed, to the one you have now. Much more concise, I believe, and more pertinent to the genre, letting you know at one glance what sort of story you’ll be getting.
I still hope I managed to put enough twists and spins in this tale to surprise you as you read along. I absolutely loved the journey I took with Jane, Michael, and their crazy
entourages, and I hope it proved as much fun for you to navigate through their topsy-turvy world.
As always, I would love to hear your feedback (email me anytime at [email protected]) and your ratings & reviews are always welcome and much appreciated (please leave a review on Amazon when you finish. Just 1-2 lines will work! Thanks!)
From Mauritius with love,
Zee Monodee
Acknowledgements
There are a lot (and I mean, a lot!) of people I have to thank, who have helped in one way or the other over the years with this story.
For the absolute best brainstorming ever, answering that lovely question (for authors!) of ‘what else can we make go wrong, and how much worse?’, my thanks to the amazing Cait Reynolds and Britt Behm.
For critiques, whether of the whole book or of just one chapter (and in no particular order): Romy Sommer, Chicki Brown, Rebecca Royce, Erin Kern, Rae Lori, Jenna McFarland, Sandy Marshall, Chelle Sandell, Theresa Stillwagon, Chiron O’Keefe, Empi, Bella, Agnes, AJ, Donna, Henry, Georgia, Nadia, Tina, Amy, Barb, Gina, Monique, Steph, Dawn, Rasmey, Kate, Andrea …
… and early readers Kathy Bosman & Rachelle Carter-Edmund.
To Natalie, for being there for me ever since those early, early, very early days! We’ve come a long way, sis, each day making us stronger and more steadfast in our amazing, blessed friendship!
To my family—hubby, kiddo, Mum, & Dad. For believing me in me. Always.
You, my readers. You are my blessing, the best any author could ask for!
And all my thanks to God. For everything …
About The Author
From always choosing the storytelling option in English & French classes to sneaking a Mills&Boon romance under the desk at school, Zee went on to make a career out of writing the kind of emotional romances all young girls junk on.