by Pamela Yaye
Listening to Nicco berate the head of his security division was not only upsetting, it was infuriating. The ex-navy SEAL was a quiet, soft-spoken man with a genial demeanor. Available day and night, he worked tirelessly for Morretti Incorporated and seemed to genuinely love his job.
“Meet me back at the office in an hour. We’ll drive to Jackson Memorial together.”
Nicco ended the call. “Grab your things. We have to go.”
Quickly, Jariah retrieved her purse. “What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you in the car.”
At the entrance of the boutique, Nicco apologized to the owner for his hasty departure and promised to return next week to place his order.
Inside the car, as they sped up the block, Nicco explained what happened that morning when his security team and the Portuguese businessman were leaving the Beach Bentley Hotel.
“An armed gunman surprised them as they were boarding the private elevator, and during the scuffle, Mr. Sarmento was shot.”
“Oh, my goodness, that’s terrible. Is Gerald okay? Did he get hurt?”
“Who the hell cares?” Nicco spat, his eyes blazing with fire. “If Gerald had done his job, Mr. Sarmento wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound to the chest. I have half a mind to fire him, and the two idiots working with him, too.”
“Nicco, you’re being unreasonable. You don’t even know what happened.”
“I never asked your opinion.”
Instead of lashing back, Jariah crossed her arms and stared out the windshield.
“Stay out of this,” Nicco warned, his voice a harsh, grating tone. Stepping on the gas, he shot onto the freeway and switched lanes with the skill of a championship-winning race-car driver. “Gerald’s a big boy. He can take it.”
“That still doesn’t make it right. He’s dealing with a lot right now and you’re—”
“How the hell do you know? Do you have the hots for the guy? Is that why you’re sticking up for him?” Jaw clenched and nostrils flaring, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Just so you know, Gerald’s married, and his wife is pregnant.”
“I know. She was hospitalized last week, and he’s worried sick.”
“What?” Nicco shot her a puzzled look. “Who told you that?”
“No one. I overheard him talking to Mrs. Reddick in the staff room a couple days ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s none of my business,” Jariah said, suddenly feeling like a hypocrite.
Exhaling a deep breath, Nicco sank back in his seat. They drove in silence for several minutes, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow and his eyes were filled with regret. “I had no idea Gerald’s wife was in the hospital. Now I feel like an ass for going off on him.”
As you should, she thought, but wisely held her tongue. Making Nicco feel worse than he already did wasn’t going to help matters. To lighten the mood, she said, “Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of time for you to apologize to Gerald later.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to hold me to that?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll tell your brothers you play ‘Dance Dance Revolution’ on your Wii!”
* * *
“I know you’re in a rush to pick up Ava from day camp, but if it’s not too much trouble can you cancel all of my afternoon meetings before you take off?” Nicco asked, marching briskly through the reception area. “I’d do it myself, but I’m anxious to get to the hospital.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” Jariah promised.
“And make sure you speak directly to Claudia Jeffries-Medina. Tell her there’s been an emergency and that I’m sorry for canceling at the last minute.”
“Will do, and to be on the safe side, I’ll also notify your contacts by email.”
“Thanks, babe, I really appreciate it.”
“Nicco, don’t call me that,” she hissed. “Not here.”
He wore an amused face. “You know I own the company, right?”
“Nothing’s changed. I’m still your employee and you’re still my boss.”
“And?”
“And when we’re at the office it’s business as usual.”
Nicco grabbed her around the waist and kissed her cheek. “That sounds boring.”
“It wouldn’t look good if a potential client or staff member walked in and saw us like this,” Jariah said, breaking free of his grasp and smoothing a hand over her dress. The tenth floor was deserted, but she glanced around, convinced Mrs. Reddick was going to burst out of the washroom, screaming at her. “Let’s get down to work. Gerald’s going to be here any minute, and I don’t want him to catch us slacking off.”
Chuckling, Nicco pushed open his office door and strode inside.
“I’ve been a really bad girl this week, and I want you to spank me.”
Frowning, Jariah peered over Nicco’s shoulder in search of the female with the sultry voice. A half-naked beauty was sitting on the middle of his desk, holding a black leather paddle, purring like a Siamese kitten. She had silky hair, hot pink lips and a body that could tempt a man of the cloth. Jariah stared at the light-skinned temptress, stunned by the woman’s audacity. Doesn’t she see me standing here? Isn’t she embarrassed about me—a perfect stranger—seeing her in her bra and G-string?
“Estelle, what are you doing here?” Nicco asked. “You’re supposed to be in St. Lucia.”
“I know how much you love surprises, so after my Penthouse shoot wrapped up, I decided to come pay you a visit.” The woman spoke with a heavy Caribbean accent, and crossed her legs with more flair than an exotic dancer. “Do you like my new paddle?”
Licking her lips, she leaped off the desk and sashayed provocatively across the room. “I’m anxious to try it out, so get rid of that girl and let’s get down and dirty...”
Jariah swiveled her neck and propped a hand on her waist.
“Get going.” The woman flapped her hands in the air as if she was swatting a pesky fly. “You’re messing up our groove.”
Her dismissal was like a slap in the face.
“Are you hard of hearing or just stupid?”
“Estelle, don’t talk to my girl like that.”
“Your girl?” Raising her eyebrows sky-high, she wrinkled her nose. “You’re kidding, right?”
Shame and embarrassment burned Jariah’s skin. Despite standing eye-to-eye with the leggy model, she couldn’t help feeling small and insignificant. Trembling, her eyes burning with tears, she turned and fled the office.
“Jariah, don’t go! I can explain. It’s not as bad as it looks....”
You’re right, Nicco. It’s worse!
As Jariah rushed through the reception area, she heard the elevator ping. The doors slid open, and Gerald stepped off, looking haggard and spent. “Hello, Ms. Brooks.”
Too choked up to speak, Jariah hurled herself inside the small metal box and frantically jabbed the down button. The doors closed, sealing her inside the elevator with her hurt and frustration. She was angry at herself for running out of Nicco’s office like a scared little girl, and furious at Nicco for trying to play her like a fool.
Slumping against the wall, she closed her eyes and dropped her face in her hands. Fighting back tears, she inwardly chastised herself for the way she’d acted back at the wine boutique. How could I have been so foolish? How could I actually believe that Nicco could be interested in me when he has Penthouse models throwing themselves at him? And why in the world did I let him kiss me?
Her cell phone rang from inside her purse. Jariah decided to let her voice mail take the call then remembered she was still technically on the clock and whipped her BlackBerry out of her purse.
&n
bsp; The phone had stopped ringing, but started up again seconds later.
“Yes?” she snapped, reluctantly putting her cell to her ear. “What do you want?”
“Come back. I got rid of her.”
“Was that before or after you broke in her new paddle?”
“Jariah, I haven’t looked at another woman since the day we met.”
“Right,” she said sourly.
“Estelle’s gone, and she’s not coming back.”
“How long have you guys been lovers?”
Nicco paused, and then released a heavy sigh. “It’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
“We used to hook up whenever she came to town, but now we’re over. I told her that you’re my girl, and she left.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that. Please come back. We need to talk.”
He couldn’t see her, but she shook her head, refusing to entertain the idea. “You have to go to Jackson Memorial, and I have calls to make,” she said, checking the time on her watch. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll work from home for the rest of the day.”
Silence descended on the line.
“Hello? Nicco? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, but I really wish you’d come back so we can talk about us.”
There is no us. “Nicco, I’m fine.”
“That you are,” he said smoothly, his voice regaining its warmth, its cheer. “Fine, I’ll cool my heels for now, but tomorrow you’re mine, all mine, no excuses.”
Jariah wanted to argue, but she didn’t have the energy. She was emotionally spent, so drained she had no fight left in her. It was all too much—Nicco’s heartfelt confession, the kiss, his old flame popping up in his office—and the only place Jariah wanted to be tomorrow night was at home in bed. She’d had enough excitement today to last her a lifetime, and decided instead of beating around the bush, to be straight-up with Nicco. “I don’t think we should date. It’s a bad idea, and there could be serious repercussions for both of us.”
“I’m sorry about what just went down, but nothing’s changed. I still want to spend time with you this weekend, and I won’t let you blow me off.”
“I have to go. I, ah, have another call coming through, and it could be Ava. Bye.”
* * *
Click. Nicco dropped the phone back in the cradle and slumped in his chair, thinking about the mess he’d gotten himself into. He only had himself to blame—he should have cut ties with Estelle weeks ago. If he had, he wouldn’t be beating himself up now.
Why hadn’t Estelle just stayed in St. Lucia? Why did she have to show up today of all days? Finally, after weeks of sweating Jariah, she was opening up to him, even letting her guard down, but in the space of an hour, all of his hard work had gone up in smoke. Now her wall was back up, firmly erected around her heart, and that sucked, because he had plans for her. Big plans that would prove how much he cared for her.
Needing something to calm his nerves, Nicco opened his bottom drawer in search of his Cuban cigars. He reached for the yellow box bearing the Romeo Y Julieta logo, but he quickly remembered his promise to Jariah and slammed the drawer shut. He hadn’t had a cigar in weeks but he refused to go back on his word. He didn’t want to disappoint her. Not now. Not when they were on the verge of something special.
Shaking his head, he wore a rueful smile. His parents were going to love Jariah and not just because she was a spirited young woman who freely spoke her mind. She’d succeeded in getting him to quit smoking, and once his mom found out, she’d probably propose to Jariah on his behalf. The thought should have terrified Nicco, but it didn’t. In fact, the idea of sleeping with Jariah nestled in his arms every night filled his heart with joy.
“I’m here, boss. Sorry it took me so long. Traffic was crazy on the 1-95.”
Gerald stood in the doorway, his expression grim. Nicco wondered if the ex-navy SEAL looked pitiful because he felt guilty about what happened at the Beach Bentley Hotel, or because he was worried about his pregnant wife. Nicco remembered what Jariah had said in the car, and knew, deep down, that she was right—he shouldn’t have berated Gerald—but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Later, when Mr. Sarmento was discharged from the hospital and the police found the crook behind the brazen early-morning attack, he’d make things right with Gerald. And Jariah, too, because after the drama Estelle had just caused he owed her big-time.
Up on his feet, he pushed back his chair and scooped up his car keys. Thoughts of Jariah filled his mind as he drove to Jackson Memorial Hospital. Smoothing things over with Gerald would be easy, but Nicco suspected it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a steak entrée and a round of beers to convince Jariah to give him another chance.
Chapter 13
Teeming with mansions and luxury vehicles with personalized license plates, Coconut Grove had long been home to Miami’s richest, most esteemed residents. But no couple was more revered than Lee and Stella Covington. The plastic surgeon and his socialite wife proudly flaunted their wealth and routinely entertained celebrities and politicians in their mansion. “We’re here.” Jariah drove through the wrought-iron gates and parked in front of the bronze Zeus fountain. She turned around to remind Ava to be on her best behavior, but before she could get a word out, her daughter threw open the back door and took off running up the driveway. “Ava Faith Covington, get back here.”
“Bye, Mom!” she yelled, with a quick wave over her shoulder. “I love you!”
By the time Jariah grabbed her daughter’s overnight bag and made the trek up the winding cobblestone walkway, Ms. Covington was standing on her doorstep.
“Hello, Stella. How are you?
“Ava, why don’t you go around back and say hello to Grandpa Lee?” Mrs. Covington kissed her granddaughter on the top of her head, then steered her toward the backyard. “He is playing with the poodles, but if you ask nicely he might take you for a ride on his golf cart.”
“Yippee!” Ava cheered. “Maybe he’ll even let me drive.”
Before she could take off again, Jariah gave her daughter a hug. “Call me before you go to bed, and be a good girl for Grandma and Grandpa.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, I will. See you on Sunday!”
Once Ava left, the smile slid off Mrs. Covington’s face. “Do you have to buy my granddaughter bargain basement clothes?” she asked, folding her long, bony arms across her chest. “A couple washes and that pink Dora dress will be a tattered, frizzy mess.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the clothes at. J. C. Penney. They’re cute and affordable.”
“And cheap.”
“It doesn’t make sense buying expensive designer outfits for Ava when she’s just going to ruin them playing outside with her friends.”
“It’s no wonder! What do you expect when you shop at thrift stores?”
“The clothes at Target are every bit as good as the clothes in Nordstrom.”
“And I suppose you think Jack in the Box is a fine dining establishment,” she scoffed. “But you would. You were raised in Overtown.”
Jariah warned herself to keep a cool head. Every time she did something Mrs. Covington didn’t like, she insulted her old neighborhood. Overtown was an impoverished community, overrun with crime, drugs and poverty, but Jariah wouldn’t trade her humble beginnings for anything in the world. At a very early age, her parents had taught her the value of self-respect and hard work, and all of the struggles and hardships she’d witnessed in their housing project had made her the woman she was today. And for that reason alone, she refused to take any of Stella Covington’s crap. “I’m proud of where I come from.”
“Of course you are, dear,” she said, her tone dripp
ing with sarcasm. “It must be very exciting to see your old neighborhood featured on the evening news every single night.”
Her words hit a nerve. Thankfully, Jariah didn’t see Mrs. Covington often, because whenever she did, the witch of the south made a point of insulting her. But Jariah wasn’t ashamed that she’d been raised in the inner city, or that her parents had factory jobs.
“You should thank your lucky stars you won that scholarship to the University of Miami, or you never would have met my sweet Wesley.”
Sweet? Ha! “I didn’t win anything,” Jariah said, feeling her temperature rise. “I had the highest GPA in my high school, and I worked damn hard to earn that academic scholarship.”
“I have to give it to you, Jariah. You’re much smarter than you look,” Mrs. Covington continued. “You met my son, got knocked up and moved into his apartment all in one semester. If that isn’t ingenuity, I don’t know what is...”
Jariah wore a blank face, but inside she was on fire. She imagined herself snatching the curly wig off Mrs. Covington’s head and flinging it into the infinity pond, but took a deep breath instead. Any other day, she would’ve fired back with a zinger of her own, but she wasn’t trading insults with the crotchety housewife today. She had a two o’clock appointment at Glamour Girlz Salon. If she was late her beautician would give her slot to someone else, and she wanted to look extraspecial for her date with Nicco.
At the thought of him, her frown morphed into a smile. Jariah could hardly wait for six o’clock to roll around. Nicco had called that morning while she was making breakfast, and the moment she heard his voice her spirits soared. They’d talked and laughed for over an hour, but as Jariah listened to Nicco describe the plans he’d made for their date, her fears returned with a vengeance.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” she’d said, unable to shake free of her doubts, or images of Mrs. Reddick chasing her around the offices of Morretti Incorporated with a letter opener. “What if we run into someone we know during dinner?”
