A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5)
Page 14
“We’ve already begun without you,” Charlotte interrupted him. “Actually, before you loudly made your way into the room, Ms. Barnes was enlightening the staff on the Creative Team’s plan for the August cover.” Tilting her chin up at him, she said, “Now, if you’re finished interrupting, I’m sure she would like to continue.” It was a clear challenge for authority. “Chravynn, if you wouldn’t mind continuing?”
“Uh, sure. Well−”
“No!” Dean shouted, his pale blue eyes glistening with anger. His gaze moved from Charlotte to the other woman and back again. “Ms. Barnes, I appreciate what you were going to share with the group, but I would like to start with the sales team.”
The tension in the room was palpable. Sitting back in her chair, Charlotte met his gaze unflinchingly. “Dean, you seem a bit on edge today. Perhaps, you should take the day off . . . maybe the pressure of being in command is becoming too much for you,” she said softly.
Without answering her, Dean turned his attention to his staff. “It seems that Ms. Toutant and I need some time to discuss strategy. I apologize for wasting your time this morning. I understand how vital every moment is in this business,” he offered a sincere smile. “Please get back to work.”
The staff spoke in hushed voices as they left the conference room. Gathering her belongings, Charlotte started for the door when Dean quickly grabbed her wrist. Squeezing with a vicelike grip, he shook his head at her. “We’re not finished,” he bit through clenched teeth.
“Dean, what are you doing?” Santiago asked as he crossed the room to stand beside Charlotte. “Let go of her.”
Dean immediately released his hold on her, and staring up at the other man, he offered him a reassuring smile. “I was simply trying to get Ms. Toutant’s attention, that’s all,” he said. Turning his cold eyes back on Charlotte, he held his smile. “We’ll talk later. You can be sure of it.”
Charlotte waited until Dean was out of the room before she exhaled deeply. Dropping her belongings onto the table, she caressed her wrist with gentle fingers. “I can take care of myself,” she told Santiago, her dark gaze on the mahogany table. “You didn’t need to get involved.”
“He shouldn’t be putting his hands on you . . . that type of behavior is beyond unacceptable. You should file a complaint, or−”
Her almond browns met his chestnuts. “It’s being handled,” she said.
Santiago stared down at Charlotte, his tan face impassive. “The man is becoming unhinged . . . that’s very clear. I don’t think your taunting him is going to end well for either of you.”
“Becoming unhinged?” she laughed, the sound was dismal to both their ears. “He’s been unhinged. That man is a lunatic. A raging lunatic.”
“My point exactly. He’s clearly going off the handle, and your antagonizing him is just plain stupid. When you see a wild animal, you don’t provoke it . . . you stay away from it, you keep your distance.” Taking a step closer to Charlotte, Santiago took her small wrist in his large hand for a closer examination. “You’re going to have a bruise,” he told her. “What are you going to tell your husband?”
Snatching out of his grip, Charlotte snapped, “Why do you care?”
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t care?”
Charlotte snorted rudely. “So, were friends now?”
“For now,” he smirked at her. His tone was suggestive− seductive even. “You better think of something to tell that husband of yours . . . he doesn’t seem like the type that would take well to another man touching you.”
There was something behind his words that gave Charlotte reason to pause, but she didn’t have the energy to go another round with him, or anyone else for that matter. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, quickly making her way around Santiago and heading for the door. Charlotte felt the weight of Santiago’s eyes on her back as she walked toward the exit, but instinctively she knew that turning around to meet his gaze would be a mistake, and so, she didn’t. Keeping a steady pace, she made her way across the conference room, leaving him to stare after her.
Chapter Twenty
MAY 1997
Santiago sat in the waiting room of St. Peter’s Hospital, holding the still full cup of Black Tea that one of the nurses had kindly given to him. Resting his head against the cheaply painted wall, the seventeen- year- old closed his tired eyes as exhaustion clawed away at him. It had been a little over an hour since his mother was taken back for her surgery, and it would be sometime before he heard word that she was in recovery. Santiago knew the procedure, well. This wasn’t their first time at St. Peter’s and according to his mother’s surgical oncologist it wouldn’t be their last. Just when he thought that the worst was over, that he could go to sleep and wake-up with the fear of hearing the terrible word, cancer, again, his mother had gotten the report that her breast cancer had returned. Stage 3 breast cancer was the diagnosis . . . after so many surgeries, after chemotherapy and radiation treatments, it felt like a slap in the face to learn that not only did the cancer return, but that it returned worse than before. Sighing, Santiago opened his eyes to find a man in a black suit and tie sitting across from him, staring at him intently. Looking away from the stranger, Santiago took a small sip of his tea before closing his eyes once more.
“It is very upsetting, what’s going on with your mother,” the man said, his voice low. “And for you to be so young . . . for you to have to go through all of this alone, it’s disheartening.”
Opening his eyes once more, Santiago met the older man’s sapphire gaze. “Who are you?” he asked, a deep frown covering his deeply tan face.
“A friend of a friend,” the stranger returned. “You look uncomfortable sitting, sleeping in that terrible chair.”
“I make do.”
“Making do, hm. If only your father gave half a damn about you and your mother’s predicament . . . you wouldn’t have to make do.”
Straightening his back against the worn chair, Santiago inclined his head, his chestnut brown eyes alive with annoyance. “My father passed away before I was born. Any friend of a friend would know that, so who are you really?”
“Is that the story your mother has sold you? Boy, your father is very much alive, and is living quite well− I must add. He, along with his wife and three children.”
“You’re wrong. My mother would never lie to me. My father was an electrical engineer back in Columbia . . . there was an accident at the site he was working . . .”
Standing, the older man walked over to Santiago, and holding out a brown leather portfolio he said, “Inside of this binder is proof that everything your mother has ever told you about your father, about yourself is a lie. Your father has the power to change your life, to help you and your mother in ways that you would never even think of . . . but instead he has opted to leave you hopeless and destitute. Really, I do find it quite upsetting to see a boy so young have to endure so much.”
Santiago took the leather folder but didn’t open it. “Who are you, really?” he asked, his chestnuts lost in the stranger’s deep sapphires. The man had the bluest eyes he had ever seen, they were bottomless− frightening.
“Ask your mother about the people inside of that binding,” the man returned and then with a grim smile, he turned and walked away, leaving Santiago alone once more.
Staring after the man until he was no longer in sight, Santiago then looked down at the thick leather folder in his hands. Caressing the cover with his fingertips, his mind began to race. The strange man’s words echoing in his thoughts, ‘Inside of this binder is proof that everything your mother has ever told you about your father, about yourself is a lie.’ Sighing, Santiago glanced at the door that the nurses had taken his mother through. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother could ever, would ever deceive him, but for curiosity sake, he thought that little harm would come from looking inside of the expensive casing. Opening the portfolio, Santiago flipped through paperwork that meant nothing to him, with quick finge
rs he turned page after page, stopping when the picture of his mother kissing a man on a balcony caught his attention.. His beautiful eyes widened at the surprising image. From the angle the man and his mother was standing, it was hard to make out his identity. Continuing to flip through the folder, he snatched out a thick stack of images, allowing the rest of the files to fall to the floor. His thick brows knitted together as he flipped through one picture after another. The same man with another woman, with two boys about his age and a girl who looked to be a few years younger. Pictures of his mother and the children. Narrowing his gaze, Santiago’s mouth hardened. He knew those kids− he knew that family. His thoughts became unsteady at the possibility of the stranger’s words being true . . . at the possibility of his mother lying to him about who he was . . . about who his father was . . . staring down at the image of his mother and the three children once more, Santiago squeezed the picture in a tight fist. “The Elliot’s,” he whispered to himself. “Mr. Elliot is my . . . father.”
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed A Winter’s Seduction. Writing this novel was interesting due to its multiple layers. The new characters were fun to write, and so, I hope you enjoyed their introductions into the story. Lastly, while I have your attention, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. One of the many joys of being a writer is hearing feedback from readers. So, please do not be shy!
Passionately Yours,
Kristi Tailor
Contact Kristi Tailor @
www.kristitailor.com
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Other Novels By Kristi Tailor:
Being Yours
Loving You
A Winter’s Kiss
A Winter’s Promise
A Winter’s Vow
A Winter’s Secret
Coming Soon
A Winter’s Deception
Spring 2020
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristi Tailor, born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland earned her Bachelor’s degree in English from Notre Dame of Maryland University. Her greatest joy in life is her young daughter Madison, who like her mother enjoys the art of storytelling. With a love for education and a passion for writing, Kristi spends her time combining the two with the hope of positively touching others with her life’s work.