This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Loving Me For Me by Naleighna Kai
Copyright 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying, or stored in a retrieval system without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact Naleighna Kai at www.naleighnakai.com.
Cover designed by: J. L. Woodson www.jlwoodson.com
Interior design by: Lissa Woodson www.naleighnakai.com
Cover Image: www.vikkaszone.com
Models: Vikkas Bhardwaj and Ashley Carter
www.vikkaszone.com
Printed in the United States of America
Acknowledgements:
All praise and honor is due to the Creator always. A special love and respect to my guardian angels, ancestors, teachers, and guides.
To my spiritual mothers: Sandy Spears and Bettye Mason Odom; to my son, Jeremy “J. L.” Woodson, just when I think you can’t up your game, you prove me wrong. I am so proud of you, Number One Son. Much success to you in your graphic design and consulting business. Oh, and I have to add, you put your foot in the cover of this novel!
To the people who continuously have my front and my back: Renee Sesvalah Cobb-Dishman, Debra Mitchell, Martha Kennerson, Marilyn Gill, Liz Hill, Shannan Harper, DeMarco Suggs, Jennifer Addison Cole, Aisha Lusk, Jamyi Joy, and Ehryck F. Gilmore; to Janine Ingram who helped me come up with the title for this book; to Janice Pernell (my developmental editor who also has the best ear and doesn’t mind giving it to me straight, no chaser); to my wonderful Beta Raders (who expanded this book from the novella it was intended to be to a BAB (big a$$ book): Martha Kennerson, Priscilla (Lady PBJ) Jackson, Royce Slade Morton, Anita Roseboro-Wade, Martha Kennerson, Latisha Dewalt, Lu McCoy, Michelle Wright, Marze Scott, Christine Pauls, E. N. Joy, Shannan Harper, Joylynn Jossel Ross, and Brynn Weimer. Many thanks to Vikkas Bhardwaj for the Hindi translations, information on East Indian culture, and that hot cover image; to Suresh Bhasin for his hospitality and insight into East Indian Festivals; to M. Sheena Khatwani for always looking out for me when I come to Tiffin’s. To Sanjay, Kim, and Leo and everyone at India House Chicago who have shown me so much love.
To the book clubs and avid readers who support my work—I love and appreciate each one of you.
To everyone I mentioned (and those that I may have forgotten to type), thank you for everything you are to me.
Wishing you all—peace and love, light and joy.
—Naleighna Kai
Dedication:
My mother, Jean Woodson
My grandmother, Mildred E. Williams
My brother, Eric Harold Spears
My niece, LaKecia Janise Woodson,
a rising star who left us much too soon
To Leslie Esdaile Banks (L.A. Banks)
Octavia M. Butler,
two of the best storytellers the planet had to offer.
To Anthony “Green Eyes” Johnson,
to Derek V. Fields (a fallen Cavalier angel)
About the Author
Naleighna Kai is a national bestselling and award-winning author of several controversial novels, contributor to a New York Times bestseller, and the E. Lynn Harris Author of Distinction. She has penned Every Woman Needs a Wife, Loving Me for Me, Was it Good For You Too?, Open Door Marriage, She Touched My Soul, Rich Woman’s Fetish and other contemporary fiction novels that plumb the depth of unique love triangles and women’s issues.
In addition to successfully cracking the code of getting published and landing a deal with a major publishing house, she continues to “pay it forward” by organizing the annual Cavalcade of Authors which gives readers intimate access to the most accomplished writing talent today. She also serves as CEO of Macro Marketing & Promotions Group which offers aspiring authors help with editing, publishing, marketing, and other services to jump start their writing ambition. Additionally she is Editor-in-Chief for Naleighna Kai’s Literary Café Magazine and Acquisitions editor for NK Recommends—a mail order book service that caters to a select audience. She was born and raised on the Southeast side of Chicago, the setting for most of her novels and where she is currently working on her next books: Slaves of Heaven and Mercury Sunrise.
Find her on the web at
www.naleighnakai.com,
www.thecavalcadeofauthors.com,
www.facebook.com/naleighnakai
twitter.com/NaleighnaKai
Chapter 1
“My God they look like us.”
Reign’s heart took a quantum leap into her throat. The deep timbre of that voice belonged to the one man she never wanted to lay eyes on again. Before she could catch up to the hostess and make it to the nearest exit instead of the reserved table, he spoke again.
“Reign?” Her name carried across Tiffin Restaurant, causing a few heads to turn in his direction.
She nodded slowly, unable to get her vocal cords to produce any sound.
Devesh rose from the table where a group dressed in vibrant East Indian garments had gathered, and sauntered along the path to Reign and the two children he, up to this point, knew nothing about.
One night with him a little more than five years ago had changed her life. Reign had left her soul in that luxury hotel room and walked away with a broken heart—and a pregnancy—neither of which any woman with a grown son would have ever desired.
She had blocked all communication with Devesh that next day and made it her business to stop traveling in circles where they would come in close contact. She had managed to avoid him for so long; yet, a trip with the twins to Disneyland had placed them directly in his path.
Her children, Leena and Kamran, were unaware of the turmoil warring within her. They released their hold on her hands and ran to Devesh, offering an embrace. Though Reign had kept knowledge of their existence from Devesh, she’d made sure Leena and Kamran knew about him. For some reason, they’d been asking about him more and more lately. She showed them current images of him so that in the case of her untimely or accidental death, they would know exactly who their father was. She had even braced herself for the possibility that they might seek him out when they became teenagers if not before. She certainly wasn’t prepared for a chance meeting like this. How could fate be so cruel?
Devesh lowered to his knees so he was at their eye level before glancing over Leena’s shoulder as he asked, “Are these your children?”
Reign nodded, her voice still failing. She’d never imagined seeing her twins with Devesh, but in this moment, their resemblance to him was nothing short of astounding. Leena and Kamran carried Devesh’s olive skin, raven hair, well-defined cheekbones—a combination that made him a highly sought after spokesperson in media and print advertising. They even had dimples on the right cheek. The same almond-shaped eyes. The same pert nose. Only the slight fullness of their lips, the curliness of their hair, and eyes the color of emeralds hinted that Reign gave them half of their DNA.
“They are absolutely beautiful.” Devesh said, tweaking Leena’s nose and ruffling Kamran’s hair. The twins’ hearty giggles caused Devesh to laugh in kind.
His family and the other patrons of Tiffin suddenly became more interested in this unlikely reunion than in the fine cuisine the place offered.
“So, you’re married?” he asked, picking the children up as he stood, with absolute no protest from the twins. If the gleam in their
eyes told anything—they were elated to be near him.
“No,” Reign whispered. She closed the distance between them, intent on extracting her babies from his hold. “I’ve never been married.”
“I didn’t realize you were dating back when we …”
Reign witnessed a range of expressions flitter across his face, signaling that he was trying to sync up timelines and possibilities. He glanced at the children in his arms, inspecting their features before he frowned. No doubt he was recalling the night the two of them had shared a little over five years ago. Her mind followed suit.
A week before the Advertising Age Convention, Devesh had injured his leg during an accident caused by another member during a workout at a fitness center. He was ordered to stay off his feet for at least two weeks. Devesh had a commitment to the companies that sponsored his appearance. Backing out at the last minute wasn’t something he would do. Friends and acquaintances, including Reign, banded together to assist him during that week. She arrived at the convention with the Intellectual Property attorneys from the law firm where she worked, but managed to inform the woman putting Devesh’s schedule together that she could help at night. All of the friends took turns, whenever time permitted, to make sure Devesh let his body heal from the day’s efforts and strengthen enough so he could carry out his duties for the next day.
Reign pulled the “night shift” and brought him some meds, several ice packs for his leg, then massaged those aches when needed. Devesh had asked her to stay a while so they could talk about the things that transpired over the two years after Vegas when they hadn’t been in contact. Getting reacquainted led to a host of conversations that lasted well into the night. Time slipped away from them, and when the clock struck midnight, Devesh said, “Why don’t you stay here with me.” He gestured to the opposite side of his bed.
“Oh, that’s pretty slick trying to get me in the sack,” she replied with a laugh. “Are we doing that one leg on top of the covers thing?”
“Woman, I don’t have to play games when it comes to my feelings for you,” Devesh countered and his tone was dead serious. “I want you in the best and worst way. But I have control and so do you. It’s late. Having someone see you tip out of here might cause a few tongues to make something out of nothing. The lawyers you work for are here.”
She hesitated a long moment. Truthfully, it wasn’t him she was worried about. She had fallen for him before because he had shown her more love, compassion, and consideration than any man before. Finally, he ended her confusion and misgivings by saying, “Go on, Reign. I’ll call you if I need anything. I promise.” She knew he wouldn’t. The others had already let her know he was stubborn, overexerting himself and not taking the injury seriously. She opted to stay.
On night two, when he asked her to stay again, she woke when he touched her, beckoning for her to move toward him. He slept with his arms around her, spooning her in an intimate embrace that made her feel safer and more loved than she had ever been. She also watched him as he slept, noticing he was resting better than he had the night before.
Night three and four were more of the same. Night five was a mind-blowing, next-level sensual experience neither one of them could have foreseen, but Reign welcomed it with everything she had to give. Yet, the next morning Devesh’s expression was solid and purposeful as not a word passed between them about that love-making or how close they’d become. Actually, he seemed to forget everything that had happened. She laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. The rejection was so profound, she vowed no one would ever have that power over her again.
“You have to come back to the house,” Devesh said, snapping her back to the present. “We need to talk.”
The children had a vice grip on his neck. Two identical pairs of green eyes pleaded with her to say yes, then Leena, the more talkative of the twins took things a step further. “Please, Mommy. Please …” while Kamran nodded his support of that request.
“I’ll see if I can make time to come,” she whispered.
The twins’ joy spilled over in the form of chuckles that brought smiles to the lips of the few family members who circled Devesh, fascinated by the children. Especially delighted was Devesh’s twin Anaya, whose beauty matched his handsomeness measure for measure. Reign remembered the family member’s faces as Devesh consistently posted photos of all Indian holiday celebrations, birthdays, and family gatherings on social media. She also remembered that each of them had been extremely vocal in their opposition to Devesh’s desire to pursue a relationship with her.
“How is Jay?” Devesh asked, referring to her older son.
“He just graduated from Columbia,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “He’s building his portfolio.”
Devesh and Jay had become close during those first two years of Reign’s and Devesh’s friendship. Though her son was loyal to her, she told Jay that she didn’t see a reason for his relationship with Devesh to end simply because she wasn’t having anything to do with him. Her son was careful to keep any information about Devesh to himself, although there were many times when she wanted to ask. The twins were a huge secret for Jay to keep, which said more about her son’s need to keep the relationship with Reign intact, than to jeopardize it by breaking his promise to her.
Now she would be unable to take the coward’s way out. And if the pointed looks Devesh’s family shot their way were any indication, the members of the Maharaj family were going to give voice to the main question long before Devesh could demand answers he was fast becoming aware he should ask.
The twins had inherited Reign’s uncanny sense of observation early on. They now eyed her with keen interest, as though they sensed that her present anxiety was related to Devesh.
“Can I put you down for a moment?” he asked the children.
The twins shook their heads and tightened their hold, causing Devesh to put an intense focus on Reign, blinking as though still trying to get an understanding. His lips parted to speak and Reign braced herself. Then Devesh grimaced, clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.
Devesh’s mother, Jasinder, had an eagle-eyed gaze locked on Reign. She lifted her left eyebrow, posing a question of sorts or giving Reign the opportunity to confess.
She knows. My God, she knows.
Reign transferred her focus to Anaya, who peered at the children, apparently summing up things on her own.
Devesh’s father, Suresh, leaned in to his wife, eyebrows drawn in, his face registering his concern at the intensity of the unspoken exchanges taking place around them.
Jasinder formed the sounds slowly enough for Reign to make out five distinct words, “They belong to our son.”
Suresh blanched, eyes flashing with fire before a scowl descended on his wide mouth. Then he shook his head as though to rid himself of what those words meant. Both Jasinder and Suresh focused on the children again, who were now holding an animated conversation with Devesh about their day at the amusement park. The accusation behind the curious glances from Jasinder, Suresh, and Anaya galloped Reign’s way.
“I’ll text you my address,” Devesh said to Reign.
Her children. No—his children gave Reign a look so intense her knees almost gave out.
Kamran tilted his head as he studied her, probably taking in the tense lines of her face. Leena’s lips pursed into a thin line, but it was her eyes that said everything. They knew Reign had no intention of showing up, even at Devesh’s insistence.
Devesh leaned down with Kamran in his arm and said, “Hand that to me, little guy.”
Kamran quickly plucked the cell from Reign’s hand before she could protest. He passed it to Devesh, who manuevered to use the pad of his thumb to scroll down the contact list. “My number’s not in your phone?”
Reign parted her lips to defend herself, but shut it because he wasn’t done.
“And you blocked me on Facebook too? I don’t understand any of that. We
definitely need to talk.” He looked down at the children, who were so comfortable they still wouldn’t let him go. “I thought we were friends, Reign,” he whispered so his family wouldn’t hear. “That we were close. How could you disappear on me like that? How could you …”
The unspoken words “not tell me that you had my children” hung in the air.
Reign reached for Leena, and her daughter shrank back, and laid her head on Devesh’s chest instead.
An unexpected pain seared Reign’s heart. “I had my reasons.”
“You should ride with them, Devesh,” a voice behind them encouraged. “Make sure they arrive safely.”
Reign turned, upset that Jasinder would try to box her in by voicing such a suggestion. A petite woman with a salt-and-pepper braid flowing down her back, came forward to stand next to Jasinder. The woman gave Reign a calming smile and a slight bow of her head as if Reign was royalty; the only one standing with Devesh’s family who wasn’t glaring at Reign as though she had committed a crime.
“Would you like for me to ride with you?” Devesh asked the children. They approved vehemently.
“Looks like they agree,” he said with a victorious lift of his chin as he studied Reign’s face.
“Papa.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. No. No. No.
Devesh’s attention snapped to Leena with that one word before he peered at Reign. “Wow, I must look a lot like their father for her to say that.”
“Imagine that,” his mother said, and her tone was every bit sarcastic as Devesh’s had been. “He definitely must be East Indian, yes?”
Reign paused, tamping down a weary sigh. “Yes, he is.”
“They look like they might have some Maharaj blood somewhere along the line,” she mused, stroking a weathered finger across Leena’s cheek.
Reign saw the seed taking root deeper in Devesh’s mind. He was silent as he put his focus on the children.
“Reign,” Devesh said, taking her attention from his mother’s hard glare. “Come. Let’s go.”
“I won’t be able to stay long.”
Devesh exchanged a speaking glance with his mother, possibly alarmed by the change in her demeanor. Jasinder’s stony expression was a sure sign of displeasure. Whether it was in response to Reign’s statement or because she was well aware that some major deception was going on remained to be seen.
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