by Pamela Yaye
“My, my, my, what do we have here?”
Startled, the spatula fell from Sharleen’s hands. She turned to face the female voice. A brunette, decked out in Louis Vuitton from head to toe, was standing beside the stainless-steel fridge, glaring at her. Sharleen recognized Emilio’s sister from the family portrait hanging in the foyer and marveled at how striking the former model was.
Gathering her bearings, she turned off the stove, scooped up the spatula and dropped it into the sink. Sharleen inwardly chastised herself for leaving the master bedroom in Emilio’s undershirt and shorts. Just because his staff had the day off work didn’t mean they had the house to themselves. Talk about an awkward first meeting, Sharleen thought, combing her fingers through the ends of her disheveled hair. Why didn’t Emilio tell me his sister was joining us for breakfast?
Taking shelter behind the breakfast bar, she crossed her arms to hide her braless state and forced a smile. “You must be Francesca,” she said brightly, refusing to let her nerves get the best of her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual, so get out.”
Sharleen was stunned by her rudeness, but she wisely bit her tongue. She knew Francesca’s story and sympathized with her, but losing a child didn’t give her the right to be disrespectful. Because she loved Emilio, she’d be nice, but if his sister didn’t kill the attitude they were definitely going to have a problem.
“Okay...well. Breakfast is ready. Are you joining us?”
Francesca scoffed and rolled her eyes. “As if. Carbs are, like, so fattening.”
“If you change your mind there’s plenty, so feel free to help yourself.”
“How long has this been going on?” she asked, dumping her handbag on the kitchen counter. “And do you screw all of your male clients, or just the rich ones?”
Pity tempered her anger, made her swallow the stinging retort on the tip of her tongue. Francesca was upset, lashing out at her because Emilio had cut her off financially, but Sharleen refused to be her human punching bag. “It’s obvious you’re upset, so I’ll go get Emilio so the two of you can talk about what’s bothering you.”
“My issue is with you, bitch, not my brother.”
The insult and her icy tone confused Sharleen. On the outside, Sharleen was the picture of calm, but her temples were throbbing in pain, and her heart was pounding violently. She remained silent, and although she was annoyed with Francesca for swearing at her, she didn’t lash back.
“I’m not going to stand by and watch you play my brother for a fool.”
“This conversation is over,” she said calmly, in a tone that disguised her frustration. “My relationship with Emilio is none of your business, and furthermore, we don’t need your permission to date.”
“Emilio will never marry you, so you might as well quit while you’re ahead.” Scowling, her lips pinched with distaste, Francesca tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. “You’re just something cute and young to play with until he finds the right woman.”
Maybe instead of throwing stones, you should examine your own life, you spoiled brat! Not trusting herself to speak, for fear she’d lose her temper, Sharleen swiped her cell phone off the counter and strode past Francesca.
“Does Emilio know about your hefty five-figure bonus?”
Her body went cold, rigid with shock, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
“That’s right. I know all about the money, and I have the proof right here...”
Panic welled inside her chest, caused sweat to drench her skin. Sharleen heard papers ruffle and knew Francesca had evidence to back up her claim. Guilt gnawed at her conscience. I should have ripped up the check instead of giving it to Jocelyn, but what was I supposed to do? She’s out of work, and she desperately needed the money!
Telling herself not to panic, she turned and faced Francesca. The brunette was clutching a piece of paper in her right hand and pointing at her with the other. She stared her down, like a prizefighter consumed with rage, her eyes blazing with anger.
“Antwan paid you ten thousand dollars to seduce my brother, and I can prove it,” she said, her tone so confident, she sounded like a state prosecutor who knew every angle of her case. “Antwan wanted Emilio to come out of retirement, and he used you to make it happen.”
Sharleen opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but she couldn’t get the words out. The truth got stuck in her throat, and her heart was beating so hard she couldn’t think.
“Is it true?”
Her stomach pitched to the floor when she heard Emilio’s voice. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him standing directly behind her and felt the baby-fine hairs on the back of her neck shoot up. He stared at her intently, as if they were strangers, and folded his arms rigidly across his chest.
The room darkened, and the air grew thick with tension.
“Is it true?” he repeated, raising his voice. “Were you paid to seduce me?”
Sharleen felt as if she were drowning, as if someone were holding her head under water. She struggled to catch her breath. She didn’t have it in her to lie—not to Emilio, not after everything he’d done for her—so she opened her mouth and forced her lips to move. “I—I apologize for not telling you about the bonus, but it’s not what you think.”
“Of course it is!” Francesca raged, throwing her hands up in the air. “You’re nothing but a whore, and my brother can do better than you. All you care about is his money—”
“Francesca, that’s enough. Go wait for me in the living room.”
“And leave you here with her? No way. I’m not going anywhere,” she said, adamantly shaking her head. “She’s trouble with a capital T, and I don’t trust her.”
Ignoring the dig, Sharleen approached Emilio, determined to plead her case. “Please, let me explain.” She touched his forearm to remind him of the love they shared and forced him to meet her gaze. “Antwan sent me a check in the mail last week, but I signed it over to my best friend so she could use it to pay her mom’s medical bills.”
“Likely story,” Francesca grumbled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “How noble of you. You’re a modern-day Mother Teresa.”
“I have no reason to lie. It’s the truth.”
“Sure it is. Next you’ll be telling us you didn’t hire a photographer to take pictures of you guys and leak the photographs online.”
Emilio frowned and glanced at his sister. “What are you talking about?”
“I called you yesterday to give you a heads-up, but you never answered your phone.” Francesca took her iPhone out of her purse and tapped the screen. “The press is having a field day with the pictures of you guys kissing on your motorcycle at Centennial Olympic Park...”
Sharleen hung her head and pressed her eyes shut. This can’t be happening. Not today. Feeling herself getting emotional, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. She’d worked hard to keep their relationship secret, hadn’t even told her closest friends. And wondered how the media attention would affect her career.
“Did you have anything to do with this?” His eyes were dark, filled with anger, and he was shouting his words. “Did you leak these pictures to advance your career? Is that what this is about?”
Stunned, Sharleen dropped her hands to her sides and stepped away from Emilio. She felt a sharp, sudden pain in her chest and a cold chill zip down her spine. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, crumbled like rubble. Telling herself not to panic, she willed herself to keep it together despite the weight of her sadness. “No, of course not. I had nothing to do with it.”
“The things you said last night...” He paused to clear his throat. “Were you telling the truth? Or just doing your job?”
His words were a vicious blow, as painful as a slap in the face. Her back was against the wall, and t
here was no way out. She stood there, mute, willing herself to speak, to defend her good name, but her lips wouldn’t work.
A long painful silence followed, and Sharleen knew, deep down, that Emilio didn’t believe her. Doesn’t he know that I’m different? That I’m not like his relatives and ex-lovers who betrayed him in the past? That I’d never do anything to hurt him? Didn’t last night mean anything to him?
Her vision blurred with tears.
“You should go.” His voice broke, but he quickly recovered. “I need to be alone.”
“I understand.” It was a lie, but she decided not to argue. Sharleen was afraid if she challenged him, he’d be gone, out of her life forever. And she couldn’t risk losing him. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through. Emilio made her feel strong and empowered, as if she could do anything she put her mind to, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Her female intuition told her Francesca had something to do with the photographs, but since she didn’t have any proof, Sharleen kept her suspicions to herself.
Pushing her hurt aside, she smiled through her tears and nodded her head. “I’ll wait for you upstairs in the master bedroom, and we can talk whenever you’re ready—”
“No, I think it’s better you leave.”
But I don’t want to go home! I want to stay here with you!
“I’ll ask one of the groundskeepers to drive you back to the city.”
An awkward silence descended over the kitchen. It lasted so long Sharleen thought it would never end. With each passing second her anxiety grew, and she worried about their future together as a couple. Emilio wouldn’t look at her, refused to make eye contact, and his face was twitching as if he was about to sneeze. “I’ll call you.”
Hope surged through her veins. “When?”
“I don’t know.” Emilio turned around and strode out through the back door.
Sharleen peered out of the kitchen window, tracking his movements as the distance between them grew. Her thoughts returned to last night, and her heart ached when she remembered how they’d talked and kissed and danced outside on the deck. Emilio made her feel whole, more comfortable and confident than she’d ever been. He was the only man for her, and—
“Didn’t you hear what my brother said?” Francesca smiled in satisfaction and pointed down the hallway. “Goodbye and good riddance!”
Chapter 18
Every time Sharleen’s cell phone rang, butterflies swarmed her stomach. But when she realized it was another pesky telemarketer calling, and not Emilio, her spirits fell. Why hasn’t he called? Doesn’t he miss me? Doesn’t he want to work things out? She hadn’t seen or heard from him since she left his estate on Memorial Day, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again. For the past four days, guilt had been her constant companion. Sharleen regretted not telling Emilio about the bonus, but she’d feared that if she’d told him the truth he would have broken up with her. Some good that did me, she thought miserably. He found out and dumped me anyway.
Her gaze strayed to her wall calendar, zeroed in on the date. They hadn’t spoken in four days, but it felt like months since she’d heard his voice or seen his face. Emilio had promised to call but hadn’t. She’d sent him text messages, emails and even tropical flowers from his favorite florist shop, but he still hadn’t reached out to her. A troubling thought came to mind, one that made her heart throb in pain. Has Emilio found someone else? Is that why he hasn’t called? Because he’s forgotten all about me?
Driven by fear, Sharleen picked up her desk phone and punched in his cell number. The call went straight to voice mail, but she didn’t hang up. “Hey, it’s me again.” She paused, took a deep breath to calm her nerves and wiped her damp palms along the side of her sleeveless dress. This was the third message she’d left for Emilio today, and this time she was determined to be concise, not emotional and upset. “I haven’t heard from you since Monday, and I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Please call me when you get a chance.”
Sharleen lowered the phone, remembered something else she wanted to say and put it back to her ear. “I miss you, Emilio. I know you think the worst of me right now, but I want you to know that I love you and always will, no matter what.”
Hanging up the phone, she dropped her face in her hands and released a deep sigh. At the office, she put on a brave face, acted as if everything was okay, but inside she was an emotional wreck. She wasn’t eating much, had skipped her Stiletto Aerobics three days in a row and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since she’d left Emilio’s estate. Last night, she’d dreamed Francesca was chasing her around his kitchen with a butter knife, and she’d woken up drenched in sweat.
Determined not to spend the entire day fretting about her problems, she logged on to her computer, typed in her password and opened her file on Rashad J. The R&B superstar was a handful, but rereading her session notes was the perfect distraction. Hard at work, despite the thoughts of Emilio crowding her mind, she didn’t hear Antwan enter her office and yelped when he touched her shoulder. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death,” she said, resting a hand on her pounding, thundering chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard about your showdown with Francesca on Monday and thought you might need to see a friendly face. And since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to drop by.”
Sharleen evaded his gaze by rearranging the pictures on her desk. “That was very sweet of you, but you shouldn’t have wasted your time. I’m fine.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Did you give Francesca a copy of the check you mailed me?”
“No, of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “I hired her to help me around the office for a few weeks, but when I found out she was snooping through my personal files, I fired her.”
Antwan leaned against her desk and gave her a slow appraising glance. “In all the years we’ve been friends I’ve never seen you in a dress.” He winked and grinned like a leprechaun who’d found a pot of gold. “You look amazing, Sharleen. Love definitely agrees with you.”
Sharleen started to dismiss his compliment with a wave of her hand, then remembered what Emilio had said to her last week at the Exotic Car Show and nodded her thanks.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
She asked the question at the forefront of her mind. “How is Emilio doing?”
Antwan pointed at her desk phone. “Why don’t you call him and find out?”
“I tried, but he won’t take my calls.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to throw in the towel?”
You don’t understand. Being rejected hurts, and I’m scared of putting myself out there—
“Emilio’s crazy about you, so hurry over to his estate before he leaves for Milan.”
Sharleen shot straight up in her chair. “How long will he be gone for?”
“He’s attending the Classic Car Show in Milan this weekend, then spending some time with his friends and family. He’ll be back in town a couple days before the All-Star Race.”
Her head spun, and her heart thumped. He’ll be gone for the entire summer? But doesn’t he know I’ll miss him terribly? Does he even care?
“I can’t go to his house. What if he won’t talk to me? Or walks out on me again?”
“He won’t. Emilio loves you, and he’s miserable without you.”
“Then why hasn’t he returned any of my calls? Why hasn’t he reached out to me?”
“Because he feels guilty,” Antwan explained, wearing a thoughtful expression on his face. “Emilio knows he messed up, but he’s scared to make the first move. He’s worried you’ll reject him.”
I’m so confused. I don’t know what to think.
“Give some serious thought to what I said.” Antwan kissed her on the cheek an
d stood. “You don’t have much time, though. Emilio leaves for Milan at six o’clock.”
Sharleen gasped. “Tonight? And you’re just telling me now? Some friend you are!”
Antwan chuckled and slipped on his sunglasses. “How are things going with Rashad J?”
“Terrible. He’s spoiled and cocky, and he treats everyone around him like crap.”
“I know, that’s why I advised Urban Beats Records to hire you. If you can’t save the Bedroom Maestro from himself, no one can.”
For the first time that day, Sharleen laughed. But when Antwan left her office seconds later, the heaviness in her chest returned. The only place she felt safe and loved was with Emilio, and she longed to be back in his arms. She thought about their romantic weekend in Miami, the night they’d made love, their whispered promises and declarations. They were more than just lovers—they were best friends, and Sharleen missed having him to talk to. He was warm and affectionate, always made her feel good about herself and never failed to make her laugh. Emilio was the kind of man a woman didn’t forget, and Sharleen feared she never would.
* * *
“I want you both to know I thought long and hard about this decision.” Mrs. Fontaine clasped her hands on her desk and glanced from Brad to Sharleen. “After serious deliberation, I decided to choose the person I feel embodies all of the traits and characteristics I’m looking for in a vice president.”
Sharleen nodded, as if she were listening, but her thoughts were a million miles away. This meeting was just a formality, and the only reason she’d come to her boss’s office that afternoon was because Mrs. Fontaine had personally summoned her. On Monday, as she was leaving Emilio’s estate, her boss had called her cell phone and interrogated her like a homicide detective. Their thirty-minute conversation had been tense, plagued with sighs and long bouts of silence, and when the call ended, Sharleen knew there was no way in hell she was getting the VP job. But she had bigger problems to deal with than losing the promotion to Brad. What was she going to do about Emilio? Should she cut her losses and move on or drive to his estate and force him to talk to her?
