by Qwillia Rain
“Okay. Call me when you’d like me to come home, aba.” She smiled at Lyssa, her amusement at the way Mike wasn’t letting her leave evident. “Have a great night, Miss Lawrence. The gowns are beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Her attempt to force some warmth into her tone failed. With the flash of hurt in his daughter’s golden gaze, Mike signaled his displeasure to Lyssa with a firm squeeze.
Neither of them budged until the outer door’s chime sounded.
Mike glared down at her. “What the hell do you have against Tuma?”
“Nothing.”
Determined to hear the truth, he countered, “Liar. You’ve been colder than a witch’s tit in December since you walked in the damn door this morning.” He slid his hands away from her waist and stepped back. “Considering the way you ignored Charlene’s behavior, you couldn’t possibly be jealous.”
Lyssa stiffened and crossed her arms over her chest. Did she even recognize the jealousy eating her up? Was she afraid it would inflate his ego if she admitted how she felt?
“Since my actions seem to have upset you, why don’t I go home and we’ll get back to work tomorrow when you and your assistant have had a good night’s sleep. And when the models return.”
Mike pounced on the emphasis she’d placed on assistant. “You are jealous!”
“Of Charlene? Ha, not likely.” Lyssa rolled her eyes and started to turn away.
Mike caught her arm and pulled her back to face him. “No, not of Charlene. Of Tuma.”
“I—That’s ridiculous,” Lyssa huffed, avoiding his gaze.
“You are.”
Lyssa tugged free of his hold. “If I’m feeling anything, it’s disgusted.”
“Disgusted?” Mike was surprised. There had been nothing in his behavior with Tuma that could be construed as inappropriate.
“She’s what? Twelve?” Lyssa overexaggerated. “For God’s sake, Michael, I may be pathetic screwing around with a kid six years younger than me, but you! Did you even bother to wait to take a shower after you left my house this morning before crawling into bed with her?”
“Where the hell did you get that thought, Lys?”
Did Lyssa seethe at the thought of him touching another woman in the same way he’d touched her? Maybe she was finally willing to admit to feeling more than just a physical connection to him.
Lyssa moved close to him, her fists propped on her hips as she glared up at him. “She was wearing your shirt, Mike. You and she were chattering away in some language I’ve never heard you speak as you came down the stairs. And you can’t stop whispering to each other.” She shook her head. “It was a mistake to think you’d—”
“If anyone should be pissed, it should be me,” Mike returned. Moving closer, he reached up to grip her chin. “You didn’t bother asking why Tuma was here. You jumped to some asinine conclusion because you want to think I’d cheat on you.”
“Can you honestly tell me, as beautiful as she is, you didn’t sleep with that girl?” Lyssa watched him as if searching for the slightest hint that he lied to her. “That you weren’t sleeping with her four years ago when you left me waiting in that restaurant?” Her expression screamed, Ha, got you there, Mike.
Four years ago? “Four years ago, she was attending university in Scotland,” he explained, baffled how she—A memory floated to the surface.
Lyssa ignored him. The light of triumph shone in her eyes. “If she was in Scotland, how could she have answered your phone while you were in London?”
“It was you! Why were you calling me after you swore you’d never speak to me again?” Mike demanded.
Lyssa paled slightly, seeming to realize she’d given some terrible secret away.
“Answer me, Lys. Why did you call me?”
She seemed to flounder about for an answer before stammering out, “I—Mattie. I was concerned about Mattie.”
Something warned Mike she wasn’t being completely honest. “If you were so concerned about her that you tried to call me, why hang up? Why not leave a message?”
The sneer reappeared on her lips. “I didn’t want to interrupt your ‘sleep.’ Your little friend seemed particularly intent on letting you get your rest. She must have given you a hell of a workout. Just like this morning.”
“Not now. Not four years ago. Tuma is gorgeous and sweet and loving, Lyssa, but I’d no sooner sleep with her than I’d sleep with Maggie when she grows up.” Mike left no time for her to respond before he added, “She’s my daughter, Lyssa.”
Lyssa blinked, her eyes wide and unfocused as she stared up at him. “Your daughter? How? When?”
Mike lowered his hold from her face. He settled his hands at her waist, keeping her still as he explained. “Remember the job I did during the revolt in Central Africa?”
Lyssa nodded, confusion in her eyes, even as she relaxed into his arms.
“Some bastard tried to sell her to me for five hundred American dollars.” Mike shook his head, remembering the stench surrounding the man who’d approached him in the bar. “I gave him the money. He gave me Tuma. I’ve been taking care of her since she was twelve.”
“Do Bryce and Jacob know? Where has she been all this time?” Lyssa frowned.
Mike shook his head. “No, Dad and Bryce don’t know about her.” He led her to the small sofa against the wall and sat next to her. “A friend of mine knew someone, who knew people in the governments of Central Africa and Britain. Tuma had no one. Her entire family had been killed. Everyone in her village. I was able to get her into a boarding school, first in England, then in Scotland. She could speak some English, so communication was difficult but not impossible.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why keep her a secret from your family?”
He couldn’t tell her the entire truth, but he could tell her a version of it. “To keep her safe. The man who sold her to me didn’t know me from Adam. But the friend who helped me with Tuma, suspected the guy had been part of a larger white slavery ring. If I suddenly showed up with a daughter after leaving Africa at the same time one of their pieces of merchandise went missing—”
Lyssa filled in the rest rather accurately. “Then not only Tuma but your brother and father would be in danger.”
“Not to mention Dad and Bryce would have raised hell until the people behind Tuma’s kidnapping and abuse were buried in a cell for the rest of their lives.”
Lyssa went pale. “They didn’t—” She couldn’t say the horrible things he could see she was thinking.
He shook his head. “No, hon, they didn’t rape her. She was more valuable because of her virginity.”
“Then what?”
“You saw the scar on Tuma’s cheek?” It still incensed him all these years later when he thought of the damage done to his daughter’s face.
“Uh-huh.”
“The man who sold her did that to her because she fought him. Fought the drugs he tried to use to quiet her. She was able to get free of his bindings most of the time.” Mike smiled at the memory of Tuma’s determination not to give up. “When beating her didn’t stop her screaming and her attempts to escape, he used a knife on her face. The second he did that, he knew he was dead. So he found the first scum-filled bar in that war zone and tried to sell her.”
“And that’s where he ran into you?”
“Yes.”
“If she’s safer in England than here, why is she in San Diablo?”
Mike laughed. “Did I tell you how stubborn she is? She finished her courses at Stirling University and is intent on getting my studio organized.”
“Those trips during the holidays?” Lyssa seemed to be putting the clues together.
“To see her.”
“Even the hurried trip four years ago? After the incident with Mattie at the Club?”
“After you kicked me out of your house, I needed some time, and Tuma’s birthday was coming up. I was going to tell you about her during our date, but a friend had a job he needed help with and I had to canc
el.” He looked down at her. “She told me some woman called but hung up without leaving a message or a name.”
For a moment, Lyssa looked like she intended to explain why. Then she closed down; her expression went blank, telling him nothing.
It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and shaking her. Just when he thought he was making progress, she shut down, slapped up one of her walls, and dug in. Frustration was becoming a familiar feeling, and he was getting tired of it.
She changed the subject. “Now that she’s here, when are you going to introduce her to your family?”
That distracted Mike temporarily. He grimaced. “I was thinking Thanksgiving. It’s only a couple of weeks away,” Mike admitted.
“Why not sooner? I think you should call Tuma and tell her to come back here, then—”
Ah, so that was her plan! “Oh no you don’t. You aren’t weaseling out of our agreement.” Mike rose and tugged her to her feet. “There’s plenty of time later to tell my family about Tuma. Right now you have a wedding dress to model,” Mike determined, pressing her toward the door.
“Mike, be reasonable; you need to let the family know about your daughter. Besides, Upscale will never approve pictures with me as the model. Why don’t we just—”
“The pictures aren’t for the magazine, pet; they’re for me.”
“I didn’t bring the gown with me—”
Mike moved to the closet and opened the door. He pulled out the padded satin hanger with the dress in question. “I had a feeling you might conveniently forget it, so I took it with me when I left this morning.”
When Vance and Ben had learned of Lyssa’s agreement to pose for Mike, they’d suggested she wear this particular dress. Lyssa had protested, but the thought of her in this wedding dress had taken Mike’s breath away. He’d insisted.
“What about makeup? And my hair?” Lyssa continued to argue as he guided her into the empty studio.
“I haven’t spent the last twelve years in the industry without learning some tricks. And I’m sure the same could be said for you.” Mike smirked as he settled her at the table and turned on the bar of lights over the mirror.
While she watched his reflection, Mike retrieved her tote bag from the floor near the standing screens and held it out to her.
“I’m sure you’ve got some makeup and a brush in here. I usually have some of the basic necessities.” He pulled open one of the drawers on the vanity. “Yeah, here you go.” Mike pointed to the few brushes, hair bands, decorative sticks, and top-of-the-line makeup neatly arranged in the drawer.
“Mike—” Lyssa grimaced.
“Get changed and ready. I’ll get the cameras set up.” He allowed her no time to argue or wheedle her way out of their bargain before he walked away.
Chapter Eleven
Lyssa applied gloss over her lipstick as she watched in the mirror as Mike arranged tripods. An area of the studio resembled a bedroom suite. Two horseshoe chairs sat on either side of a small round table. A colorful rug covered the polished hardwood floor in front of a huge four-poster bed. When she’d first seen it that morning, her belly had developed knots, imagining one of the models draped over the ivory sheets, or worse—Tuma curled in Mike’s arms and snuggled beneath the plush comforter. After learning the truth of Tuma’s relationship with Mike, the mistaken impression that had plagued Lyssa since the phone call four years ago had subsided. It also prodded her with the realization that her own insecurity had sabotaged any potential happiness she might have had with Mike.
“How do you get them all to take pictures at different intervals?”
“Autotimers.” He tapped a knob on one of the cameras. “Once I’ve set them, all I have to do is press the button and they’ll start.”
Finished with the light layer of makeup, Lyssa took the dress Mike had hung nearby and headed for the changing area. “I suppose you brought the matching shoes?”
“Nope, you can go barefoot. And wear your hair up with the stick things in it.”
Lyssa shook her head but hung the gown behind the screen. She had already twisted her hair up into a simple roll; adding a couple of decorative ivory-colored hair sticks wouldn’t require any more work.
“You know, Ben and Vance were wrong,” Lyssa told him as she carefully removed her shirt and jeans.
“About what?” Mike asked.
“Last night, when they compared me to Marilyn Monroe and Bettie Page. They were wrong.”
“I disagree. Gil Elvgren would have worshipped you. You would have made a beautiful pinup girl. You’re just upset they spilled the beans about that dress.” Mike laughed. “If they hadn’t mentioned it, you would have picked another outfit to dress in.”
Lyssa remained mute as she heard the scrape of the partitioning wall being locked into place. The lighting dimmed, casting shadows behind the dressing screen as she reached for the gown.
“Get the dress on, pet,” he ordered.
“I am.” Lyssa grimaced, the nerves jumping in her belly as she removed the dress from the padded hanger. “You know, when I designed this dress, I never actually intended for anyone to wear it.”
“Why?”
She hedged on her answer, knowing it wasn’t the complete truth. She had intended only one person wear it. Her. “Because it was an experiment.” Lyssa rubbed the soft satin, her mind wandering to the underlying reason she’d created a design meant to entice a man, but not just any man. Against everything she’d known, every instinct that warned her not to care—not to love—after the first night at the Club, she’d wanted Mike to look at her, to desire her with the same intensity she’d seen in Bryce’s eyes when he watched Mattie.
“An experiment?”
Mike’s question pulled her from her musings.
Sighing, she tugged the gown over her hips and fastened the three hooks at the back. “Yes, an experiment. I wanted to see how this material would drape. What kind of tucks and folds could be a natural part of the fabric and which ones would have to be constructed by stitching.” She adjusted the swath of satin that swept around from the back to cross over her breasts, then drape over her shoulders in a soft U shape along her back. Reaching beneath her skirt, she slipped off the panties she wore since the design of the front and back of the skirt didn’t allow for undergarments.
Her fingers rubbed the soft fabric again, and her mind wandered, conjuring images of what might happen if she revealed her secret. Though it had been over a week, Lyssa was coming to see that Ben and Vance were right. Mike had a right to know about the baby she’d lost four years earlier. The voice inside her that argued against it hissed that since there was nothing he could do about it now, nothing either of them could have done about it when it had happened, there was no point in telling him. The submissive inside her urged her to cede all control to Mike. To let him know everything in order to determine how best to protect and heal her.
Telling him might actually drive him away and, reluctant as she was to admit it, the thought of Mike actually turning his back on her again hurt. Even more than she’d realized.
“Lyssa? You okay back there?” Mike called out.
The clear plastic strap securing the bodice stretched from the outside edges of the crossed panels of satin and across her back, right below her shoulder blades. She fumbled with it as she assured him, “I’m fine.”
Built into the top were lightly padded underwire cups. The dress fit perfectly, with the skirt riding the top edge of her hips before dipping into a wide v-shape in the front and back. Gathered fabric along the skirt yoke repeated the crisscross design of the bodice at the center front and back of the skirt. At the intersection, a cluster of pearls and clear crystals formed a small rose design, with short strands dangling beneath the flower. Rows of strung pearls and crystals winked in the folds of the bodice and skirt sash.
“Come on.”
Adjusting her breasts so they settled more comfortably in the cups sewn into the bodice, she blew out her breath and steppe
d out from behind the screen. “I swear, Halsey, if you laugh, I’ll slap you.” The threat was weak and she knew it, but considering how much she’d dreamed of using this gown to capture his attention, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he made an amusing remark about it.
Heat suffused her cheeks as she watched the play of emotions flicker across his face when he caught sight of her for the first time.
Steal his breath didn’t even come close to explaining what seeing her in that dress did to him. “You’re wearing that when we get married, Lyssa.” The idea of her wearing the dress when she married anyone other than him went against Mike’s every instinct.
She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t think so. By the time you get ready to settle down, I’ll be in a retirement home, kid.”
“Ready to retire already, are you, love?” Mike retorted. “Either that or you have me confused with my brother.”
Lyssa’s expression grew befuddled. “How so?”
“I won’t be waiting until I’m forty to tie the knot. Once you realize I’m not walking away and that I’m not letting you walk away, I won’t be wasting any time. I’ll be getting you properly married to me with a baby on the way. Now step a little closer.” Mike wondered if the sudden flush in her cheeks had actually happened or was simply wishful thinking on his part.
“Said the spider to the fly.” Her gaze held his as she moved across the room to him, the skirt of the dress carefully gathered up to keep from dragging on the ground.
“And what a yummy fly you are, pet.” Teasing her seemed the safer solution. If he gave in to the heat suffusing his body after his first sight of her, he’d never get the photos done. Although the way she looked and the design of her gown perfectly suited the role-play theme he’d devised.
Motioning with his finger, he directed her to make a single turn so he could see the dress from all sides. His cock pressed against his zipper, making him doubt the sense in changing into the black leather pants and losing the roomier fit of his comfortable jeans.
