Pleasure at Midnight ; His Pick for Passion

by Pamela Yaye

  “Canceling the tour was my decision, not yours. There’s nothing you could have said or done to change my mind, so don’t stress about it.”

  “Tell that to my boss. I had a lot riding on this trip, and since I came up short there’s no way in hell I’ll be named senior partner in May...” Seeing her eyes widen, then narrow, Roderick trailed off. “What’s wrong?”

  Tension filled the air as seconds ticked by.

  “Y-y-you used me to get a promotion?” she stammered, dropping her hands to her sides.

  Fear struck his heart, and Roderick struggled to free the truth from his mouth.

  “Now everything makes sense,” she continued. “You didn’t drive to Vielha to check up on me. You drove down here to protect your own interests.”

  Guilt washed over him, filling him with shame and regret. “That’s not true. I came here because I was worried about you.”

  “You don’t give a damn about me. The only person you care about is yourself.”

  “Geneviève, I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I swear. I was just doing my job—”

  Her harsh laugh drowned out the rest of his sentence, and his voice faded.

  “And what about Wednesday?” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. “And last night on the couch? And this morning in the shower? Was that part of your job, too?”

  Turning her accusations over in his mind, he understood her anger, her outrage, and searched his heart for the right words to say to soothe her feelings. From the moment they’d met, they’d had a powerful connection, and Roderick didn’t want their relationship to end on a sour note. He looked forward to seeing Geneviève every day, enjoyed talking and joking with her, and would do anything for her—including keeping her location a secret from her family. Before Roderick could explain himself, Geneviève stepped past him and marched out of the room, grumbling about him being a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  “I was wrong about you,” she raged, tossing a glare over her shoulder. “You’re not thoughtful or considerate or honest. You’re an opportunist, just like everyone else who’s ever worked for me, and I never should have trusted you.”

  His chest deflated. “I’m sorry. Tell me what you want me to do, what you need from me to make this right, and I’ll do it.”

  “Get out.” Geneviève stomped into the kitchen, snatched his car keys off the counter and chucked them at him. “I don’t want you here.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head.

  She pointed at the door. “Yes, I do. Now please leave. You’re not who I thought you were, and I have nothing more to say to you.”

  Roderick reached for her, but she slid behind the breakfast bar, using it as a shield. Glared at him in disgust, as if she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him, and the expression on her face troubled him. Made him think they’d never talk or laugh or kiss again. The thought made his shoulders sag. Her friendship meant everything to him, and he didn’t want to lose her. In his wildest dreams, he never imagined falling for Geneviève and—

  Falling? repeated his inner voice. Is that what you call it? Naw, man, you’re in love!

  The doorbell chimed. In his peripheral vision, he saw Althea standing in front of the window, banging on the glass with her fists. Strangling a groan, Roderick pressed his eyes shut. His morning had just gone from bad to worse.

  * * *

  Geneviève was at a loss for words. Dazed and confused, she glanced from the window to Roderick and back again. Her mom and Demi were standing on the doorstep, staring at her, and if Geneviève thought she could pull it off she’d drop to her knees and crawl out of the kitchen. Dressed in Gucci from head to toe, Althea looked elegant and classy, but her demeanor was sad. Demi’s, too, and seeing the pained expressions on their faces made Geneviève feel guilty for shutting them out.

  Her tongue was numb, and her throat was dry. It would be easier to free herself from handcuffs than form a coherent sentence, and when Geneviève tried to question Roderick, nothing came out of her mouth, not a word, not a sound. Her hands balled into fists. He’d betrayed her trust, and the urge to punch him was so strong it was all she could think about. Geneviève wanted to throw her iPod at him, but shoved it into the pocket of her leggings instead of giving in to her impulse.

  How could Roderick do this to her? How could he break his promise? His word? She’d let his attention go to her head, and instead of protecting her heart, she’d fallen hard for him, and he’d used her gullibility to his advantage. Their relationship had been doomed from the start, and she’d been a fool to think they could ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. “You called my mom? But I asked you not to.”

  “I didn’t. I swear.” His cell phone rang but he ignored it. “I spoke to her yesterday, and Demi, too, but I never revealed your location.”

  “Then how did she find me? You’re the only one who knew I was here—”

  “I didn’t say anything to your mom,” he insisted, his voice strong and convincing. “I know you think the worst of me right now, but I’m a loyal person. I would never betray you.”

  Her intuition told her Roderick was lying—again—but the sound of her mother’s shrill voice made Geneviève lose her train of thought.

  “Open this door right now,” Althea demanded, stomping her foot. “Or I’ll break it down.”

  Afraid her mom would make good on her threat, Geneviève forced her legs to move and dragged herself into the foyer. Her mom had a Mike Tyson-like temper, and she feared Althea would kick the door in with her high-heeled leather boots and storm inside, spoiling for a fight.

  Sighing, Geneviève reluctantly unlocked the dead bolt, then stepped aside. “Hi, Mom.”

  “My baby!” Althea threw her arms around Geneviève and rocked her vigorously from side to side. “Gigi, are you okay? Tell Mom what’s wrong I’m here now. I’ll make everything better.”

  “Hey, sis.” Demi sniffed, but her smile was bright. “I missed you so much.”

  To make her sister laugh, Geneviève joked, “Yeah, right. You probably didn’t even notice I was gone. You have your beloved iPhone, your followers, and Warner, of course.”

  “N-n-not anymore,” she stammered, fiddling with the silver ring on her thumb. “Warner dumped me a couple days ago.”

  Geneviève gave Demi a hug, and slowly rubbed her back. “Sweetie, what happened?”

  “He’s embarrassed of me. He says my YouTube page is silly, and that he’s sick of his colleagues at city hall teasing him about my frivolous posts.”

  Straightening, Geneviève wore a sympathetic expression on her face. She’d been surprised when her sister started dating the budget analyst months earlier, but Warner was a great catch and Geneviève thought they made a cute couple. “Demi, I’m sorry to hear that. I know how much you love Warner and how much he means to you—”

  “The worst part about the breakup is that you weren’t around to talk to. You’re not just my sister, Gigi, you’re my best friend and I need you...”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Geneviève dropped her gaze to the floor. The outpouring of love from her family touched her deeply, making her realize how fortunate she was to have people in her life who were 100 percent loyal to her.

  “Why did you run off?” Demi asked. “You had to know we’d be worried about you. We love you, Gigi, and life sucks when you’re not around.”

  Overcome with emotion, Geneviève felt tears spill down her cheeks. Geneviève didn’t know why she was crying, but once she started she couldn’t stop. Her mom held her tight, whispering words of comfort in her ear. Looking back, she recognized that hooking up with Roderick was one of the worst mistakes she’d ever made, and Geneviève wished she’d listened to her mom. Althea said attorneys were cutthroat, manipulative and sneaky, and had warned her not to trust him. If I had listened to my mom I wouldn’t be in thi
s predicament now. Her gaze drifted across the room, landing on Roderick, and her heart ached inside her chest. Their eyes met, but Geneviève turned to her family, giving him her back.

  “Oh great, we have company,” Demi drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Moving quickly, she rushed around the main floor closing blinds and drapes. “The photogs just pulled up, so if you don’t want to be on the cover of the National Enquirer avoid the windows...”

  At first, Geneviève thought Demi was joking, but when she heard car doors slam and footsteps on the porch, she realized her sister was telling the truth. She straightened her shoulders and wiped her face with her hands.

  Someone pounded on the door, then the bell chimed repeatedly.

  “Geneviève, open up!” said a male voice.

  “I want to interview you...”

  A woman shouted, “Let me tell the world your side of the story!”

  Frowning, Geneviève slanted her head to the right. My side of the story? What in the world is she talking about? She moved over to the window, parted the curtains behind the chaise sectional and peered outside. Chills flooded her body. Photographers, reporters and camera crews jockeyed for position on the wraparound porch, clutching electronic devices in their hands.

  “I can’t believe this,” she grumbled. “There’s paparazzi everywhere.”

  “You tipped the press off about Geneviève’s whereabouts, didn’t you?” Althea spoke in a clipped tone of voice. “You’ll do anything to draw attention to yourself and your fancy law firm, won’t you, Roderick?”

  “That’s not true,” Roderick argued. “I only want what’s best for Geneviève.”

  Scowling, Althea slowly clapped her hands. “I have to give it to you, Roderick. You’re one hell of an actor. You tricked my daughter into believing you were a stand-up guy, but I knew you were a fraud from day one.”

  Speaking through clenched teeth, Roderick vehemently defended his name. “I’ve never spoken to the media about any of my clients and I never will.”

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Geneviève asked.

  “Sis, I’ll show you, but you have to promise you won’t get upset.”

  Too late, she thought, her body vibrating with anger. I’m so mad I could scream!

  Demi took her cell phone out of her leather Dior purse, swiped her finger across the screen then typed for several seconds. Wearing an apologetic smile, she raised her iPhone in the air with one hand and squeezed Geneviève’s shoulder with the other. “This bogus story is all over the internet, and several of the local TV stations have picked it up as well...”

  The room spun, flipping upside down on its head, but she read the damning headline on the popular gossip site out loud. “‘American Pop Star Geneviève Has Mental Breakdown and Escapes to Baqueira-Beret with Her Dashing New York Attorney.’”

  Her heart ached. Seeing the online story not only raised more questions about Roderick’s character, it reopened old wounds. Since she’d signed her first deal with Urban Beats Records, it had been one betrayal after another. Employees often took advantage of her kindness, relatives helped themselves to items from her house when she was out of town and so-called friends leaked personal information to the tabloids instead of keeping her secrets. A terrifying realization struck her as she stared at Roderick. He’d done it, sold her out to the press, and now that Geneviève knew the truth she’d have to sever all ties with him.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself. You used my daughter to advance your career—”

  Roderick reached for her, but Geneviève pushed his hand away. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t,” he pleaded in a desperate voice. “You have to believe me. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Leave, or I’ll put you out,” Althea snapped. “And if you ever contact Gigi again, I’ll file an official complaint with Welker, Bradford and Davidson and the New York City Bar Association.”

  The muscles around his eyes tightened, and Geneviève knew he was angry. Good. She wanted Roderick to hurt, just as much as she was hurting, and didn’t mind her mother threatening him. Geneviève recognized she was being petty and spiteful, but she couldn’t control her feelings—or forgive Roderick for deceiving her.

  “Geneviève, I’ll call you when my flight lands in New York.” He picked up his suitcase then exited the cabin.

  “Good riddance,” Althea said, slamming the front door. “Gosh, I thought he’d never leave.”

  Geneviève peered out the window. The paparazzi pounced on Roderick like sharks circling their prey, but he strode through the crowd as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Typical Roderick. No matter the situation, he was always cool, always collected, and his calm, unflappable nature was one of the things she loved most about him.

  Geneviève pressed her eyes shut. Deleted the thought from her mind. Told herself to stop thinking about him. They were over, and the sooner she forgot about him the better off she’d be.

  “Gigi, we have to return to Madrid.” Althea opened her vintage-style purse, took out her leather-bound calendar and tapped her finger against it. “If we’re going to salvage the rest of the tour we’ll have to meet with concert promoters ASAP.”

  “Mom, there’s nothing to salvage. I’m taking a break, and there’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind, so please let this go.”

  “Honey, you can’t be serious. You can’t cancel the second half of the European tour—”

  “I already did.” Her limbs felt heavy, as if they weighed hundreds of pounds, and moving required every ounce of her strength Geneviève had, but she walked across the room. “I’m going to lie down.”

  Althea dumped her things on the love seat. “I’ll come with you. We have a lot to discuss and there’s no better time than the present, so we can catch up while you rest.”

  “Not now, later.” Geneviève hurried down the hallway before her mom could protest, ducked inside the master bedroom and locked the door. The room was sunny and bright, but the faint scent of Roderick’s cologne filled her with despair. Her eyes wide, she inclined her head to the right and inspected the sleigh bed. A bouquet of carnations, a box of luxury chocolates tied with gold ribbon and a red heart-shaped envelope were propped against her pillow. Her first thought was to toss everything out the window, but her curiosity got the best of her and she ripped open the card. Reading it, her legs gave way and she sank onto the bed.

  You asked when we’re going to see each other again and the answer is simple: anytime you want. I’m just a phone call away.

  Love always, Roderick

  Choking back tears, Geneviève held the card to her chest. She told herself not to cry, willed herself to keep it together, but for the second time in minutes her vision blurred and her heart throbbed in pain. Remembering all the times they’d talked and laughed, their romantic dates and late-night conversations cuddled up in front of the fireplace, Geneviève couldn’t believe he’d betrayed her trust.

  Geneviève vacillated over what to do with the gifts. Keep them, or dump them? It was a thoughtful gesture, but she didn’t want any reminders of Roderick, wanted to forget they’d ever met. To prove it, she surged to her feet, scooped the presents up in her arms then marched across the room. Second thoughts rose in her mind, but Geneviève pushed them aside and dumped the unwanted gifts into the wicker wastebasket.

  Chapter 19

  On Saturday afternoon, Geneviève unlocked the front door of her mother’s Southampton estate, dropped the spare key on the raised, marble table in the entryway then ambled through the foyer. Yawning, Geneviève struggled to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since returning to the States last week and if she didn’t have to talk some sense into her mother, she’d still be at home in bed. Demi had a condo nearby, and she’d spent the past few days relaxing at her sister’s bachelorette pad. Demi said she was over Warner, and acted as if th
eir breakup was no big deal on her social media pages, but Geneviève could see through her sister’s facade. Demi loved Warner with all her heart, and was devastated by his rejection. To cheer her up, Geneviève baked her favorite desserts and took her shopping, but nothing she did made Demi smile.

  Geneviève heard her mother’s voice in the distance, guessed she was relaxing in the den and strode through the main floor. Her iPhone rang, and she checked the number on the screen. Her producer was blowing up her cell—again—but Geneviève let the call go to voice mail. Executives at Urban Beats Records wanted her back in the studio, and even though she’d told them numerous times that she was taking a break they hounded her at every turn, and Althea was no better. Her mom texted her nonstop about lucrative business opportunities, but Geneviève turned down every offer. Wouldn’t reconsider, even though her mother begged her to.

  The air smelled sweet, like a rose garden, and the fragrant scent instantly calmed her. Obsessed with Afrocentric art, her mom had decorated the mansion with espresso furnishings, zebra-printed ottomans and pillow cushions, carved masks and eye-catching ceramics. Framed photographs covered the ivory-painted walls, but seeing the pictures they’d taken in Madrid weeks earlier made her heart ache.

  Geneviève thought about the last time she’d seen Roderick, and wondered if she’d overreacted. Was he telling the truth? Had someone else on her team contacted the press about her whereabouts? Did it even matter? Breaking things off with Roderick was the smart thing to do. He wasn’t ready to settle down, didn’t know if he wanted a family, and that was reason enough to stay away from him.

  That was easier said than done, Geneviève thought, pocketing her cell phone. All week, she’d thought of Roderick and nothing else, and being in the Hamptons made her long to see him. He called and texted her every day, sent her hilarious messages and had even arranged to have carnations delivered to her sister’s condo. Geneviève had a sneaking suspicion that Demi was helping Roderick, but her sister denied it. Getting over Roderick was going to be harder than anything she’d ever done, but Geneviève was determined to move on with her life.