“Nothing. Enjoy yourself.”
He wanted to see the mouth such a soft, sensual voice could come from. “If nothing’s wrong, why are you dressed like a ninja?” He reached to take off her veil, but she moved away from his touch. “You can’t eat with that thing on.”
“I’ll eat when I return to my room where I can take off this thing in peace.”
“You mean the cellar.” He bit into his pickle. Why she’d wear that cockamamie hood around him and expect him to remain silent was unfathomable. Why she chose to stay in the dark dungeon of a cellar instead of one of the guest suites was beyond consideration. “Why don’t you take over the east wing if you don’t want to be bothered?”
“I like the cellar. Thank you.”
That she wanted to hide was the only answer he could come up with. In a way, he understood why she wanted to hide from the world. She needed time to adjust to everything that had happened to her, but he couldn’t see her walling herself into that cramped, cold cellar. She’d always been a free spirit, and she loved the light. How would she survive in that place?
I’ve got to stop this. I refuse to draw her in.
The soda did nothing to quench his thirst. Only Nefertiti could do that. Clad in black from head to toe, she was even sexier. He wanted to peel each layer of clothing off and touch the fire underneath. Damn. I should have let her leave.
“So you don’t want to eat with me, fine.” He motioned toward the bed. “Let’s get down to the real reason you’re here. Since you’re feeling shy, we can turn off the light.”
“You’re still a pig.”
“And you’re still a prude. We’re not kids anymore. Unless you’re here to take care of business, don’t come into my room. Goodnight, Nefertiti.”
The disappointment he knew would be in her eyes, kept him looking at his plate, but he was doing this for her own good. “Unless you’re undressing, it’s time for you to go.”
“And you’re still scared of me.” She grabbed the food tray and stalked out.
“What a jerk.” Nefertiti leaned against the headboard of her bed and took another bite of her Reuben. Daily fights with Bruce had added spice to her school breaks. When he wasn’t proving what a tremendous jerk he could be, he was fun.
The way his voice always lost its hard edge when he spoke to her had revealed a truth that scared him, scared them both. At first when he’d cut all contact off with her after she graduated, she’d been hurt, but later she became grateful. Life was to live, not hide from.
But now she needed him, needed to learn how to become a deserted island. The reason she covered herself from head to toe was to keep others from seeing the horrible scars the knife attack left behind—at least that’s the story she told herself. If she couldn’t look at herself, how could she expect others to?
As she traced a thin scar that went from just above her eyebrow to below her lower eyelash, tears began to fall. Why did he do this to me? She’d never been vain, but… With shaky hands, she felt the matching scar over her other eye. No matter how tempted she was grab a mirror, she wouldn’t. The fear of what she’d see was too great. The prosecutor had told her not to let the outside world know she’d regained her vision. That would be no problem. She had no intentions on going out for a long, long while.
Shortly after the attack, she’d heard her fiancé come into her hospital room, heard him gasp in horror, heard him throwing up, and heard him run out. More tears fell, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Some things couldn’t be wiped away. Now that she was a hideous monster, she’d have to give up the life she loved for one of seclusion.
Part of her was still upset that Dennis, her fiancé, hadn’t contacted her since the day he’d run out of her hospital room. Seeing her in such a state must have been hard, but she’d needed him, and he was supposedly in love with her. If the circumstances had been reversed, she would have never left his bedside. But when she was honest with herself, she knew she would have stayed only out of obligation, not love.
She picked up her sandwich and took another bite. An artist, she’d always loved her long slender fingers. Now her hands and forearms resembled a slasher movie gone reality TV. The thought of what the rest of the thirty-six wounds looked like had helped her make her decision to go into exile. And whether Bruce liked it or not, he would teach her to adjust to a life of darkness. His room, all black, was perfect. She smiled. Even the spread was black.
When he’d joined her in song and dance, she almost melted in his arms. He’d improved with age, but she knew what he liked. Yes, he was attracted to her emotionally, but he was highly into the physical. Always had been. No longer a complete package, she knew they had no chance.
The point was moot anyway. For some reason beyond her comprehension, years ago he’d decided that they could never have a relationship. He’d even stopped being her friend, which hurt more than anything. She missed her mean, yet loving friend.
The seedier side of town…
“Do you honestly believe I gives a damn ’bout yo’ situation?” Marco snapped. “I only care ’bout two thangs. Keepin’ the heat off my black ass and my damn money.” He nodded at one of his boys. “Rack ’em up.”
“H-here’s another fifteen thousand,” Dennis stammered as he set the cash on the edge of the pool table. “I need more time.”
“Time?” Marco leaned his heavyset body on the nearby bar. “I gave yo’ ass more time. I thought you were supposed to be gettin’ the money from your girl. That was months ago.”
“After the attack…” He trailed off. “We aren’t together anymore, and everything was taken out of her apartment before I had a chance to get the paintings.”
The smoke-filled room became overcrowded with the laughs of Marco and his crew.
“Aw, hell naw!” Marco, still laughing, thumped his pudgy hand on the bar. “You dropped her after she was attacked. That shit’s cold as hell. But yo’ stupid ass should have taken care of your business first.”
Shifting weight from one foot to the other did nothing to relieve the pressure Dennis was under. Sweat had beaded on his head, but he didn’t dare wipe it. He didn’t want to draw more attention to himself. Things had gone wrong, terribly wrong, and he didn’t know how or if he could set them right again. “I didn’t drop her. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t…”
The way that bastard had mutilated Nefertiti sickened him. But not half as much as admitting that he’d actually been responsible. The six hundred thousand dollar gambling debt he owed to Marco was increasing so quickly Dennis could barely keep up with the interest payments. The paintings Nefertiti owned were worth over a million. She could have collected the insurance on the stolen paintings and no one would have been the wiser. What have I done?
“I don’t give a damn ’bout your relationship issues either. The only reason I’ve tolerated yo’ ass this long is because you my dawg Redman’s boy.” He nodded in the direction of a light-skinned male with intricate cornrows. “Interest has just been raised to eighteen thousand a month. That ought to give yo’ ass enough incentive to come up with my money. Now get yo’ trick ass out of here before I change my mind.”
After Dennis left Marco’s crib, he sat behind the wheel of his car and stared into the night. Upon meeting Nefertiti, his life had turned for the better. He’d even quit gambling until they became engaged. He loved Nefertiti and could see spending the rest of his life with her, but after she’d accepted his proposal, something changed within him.
She’d declined his proposal on three separate occasions, and each refusal had raised the stakes and excitement of the game for him. When she finally said yes, he was euphoric. When the euphoria wore off, his cravings for high-stakes excitement returned with a vengeance.
A month after their engagement, he found himself at the blackjack tables. A day later, he’d been a hundred grand ahead. Two more days later, he was only seventeen grand behind. By the end of his second month as an engaged man, he had borrowed his first seventy g
rand from Marco. He just knew his luck would swing back to where it belonged.
I’m so sorry, Nefertiti. After he finally cranked up the car, the drive to his cousin’s apartment went by in a blur. Between visions of Nefertiti’s battered body, threats from Marco, and his tricky dealings with clients, he was shocked the stress hadn’t crushed him.
He let himself into his cousin’s apartment and tossed his briefcase and the spare key to the side. “Marco increased the interest. How am I supposed to come up with an extra three grand a month? Hell, I can’t even make the fifteen grand he’s draining from me now.” He slouched onto the raggedy, filthy couch.
Jay glanced from the television at Dennis. “He doesn’t expect you to be able to pay him back. Hell man, he’s worse than a rent-to-own. You’d best get your butt back with Nefertiti and get those paintin’s.” The easy chair creaked as he leaned forward and grabbed his bottle of beer off the coffee table.
“I can’t do that. I can’t even look at her.”
Jay kicked his cousin’s foot off the table. “Stop actin’ like a punk, man. She’s blind. She can’t even see you ain’t lookin’ at her.”
“How could you send that… that… monster after her?”
“Don’t put that shit on me. You said she wouldn’t be home.”
“But he sliced her eyes! How the…” Nausea overtook him. “Nefertiti is not an option.” Moisture dripped from his brow. “Are you sure Butch doesn’t know I actually hired him?” He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat away.
“I’m sure.”
“But if he rolls over on you to get out of jail, it won’t take long for the cops to put two and two together.”
Jay tipped his beer toward Dennis. “Another reason why you need to get those paintin’s. Forget Marco. We need money to skip town. Only one witness can place Butch at the scene of the crime—or should I say who can say they saw him at the scene of the crime. Nefertiti’s blind, so she can’t really testify to shit that matters. Butch said he’d keep his mouth shut as long as I took care of business out here, but I still don’t trust his crazy ass. He’s a sick motha to do some shit like that. We’ll take care of that witness shortly. Then when Butch is released, we’ll finish cleaning up this mess.”
“We!” Dennis sprung to the edge of the sofa. “No, not we.” He shook his head. “No.”
“Oh yes you will.” He pointed his beer at Dennis. “This shit is all your fault. I was trying to help your ass out.”
“I didn’t tell you to hire a psycho! Nefertiti wasn’t supposed to be hurt.”
“You’re the one who couldn’t wait for me to check him out…” He pushed himself back into the easy chair. “Why the hell am I arguing about shit that don’t matter? We have to take care of this goober before he rats out Butch to that jury. This is your life, not one of your damn card games.”
“I don’t know, man.” Dennis ran his dark hands over his bald head. “Let’s just leave now.”
“Don’t flake out on me, man. We have to go into hiding. We need money for that. I don’t know how you gonna do it, but you gotta work your way back into Nefertiti’s life or find us another mark.”
Chapter Two
“No away!” Today was an angry day. No rhyme, no reason, just anger. The usual depressed blues that accompanied Bruce’s mood had shifted to furious purples. As long as the fury didn’t turn to rage, he was fine. The rage he feared hadn’t touched him since he was a child. Thank God. Thoughts of his enraged mood sent a chill down his spine. In those times, he had little to no control. When Nefertiti had been attacked, he’d been so close to rage he’d started praying again.
“Bruce, it’s your Auntie Vic. We need to discuss Nefertiti.”
“I didn’t do anything to her.” The clock on the nightstand indicated he still had an hour to try to regain control over his emotions.
“I’m coming in, so cover yourself.”
Protesting would do no good. Thus, he remained silent.
The door creaked as she opened it. “What’s wrong with you? Turn on some light before I break my blame neck.” After Nefertiti left his room last night, he’d drawn the drapes so the sunlight wouldn’t invade his room the next morning.
“Blame?” He turned on the lamp to its lowest setting. “That’s a new one.”
“What happened with Nefertiti last night?” She sat on the edge of his bed. Dressed in a floral pattern summer top, matching shorts, and wood clogs that couldn’t be as comfortable as she claimed, Victoria looked a lot more innocent than Bruce knew her to be.
“Cut straight to the chase, huh?”
“Don’t play with me. What happened?”
Mischievous brown eyes narrowed, he said, “I offered to let her share my bed.” The amused look on Victoria’s face was the last thing he expected.
“I’m serious, Bruce. What happened?”
A laugh rumbled in his belly for a few seconds before escaping. He could always count on his Auntie Vic to help swing his mood in the direction he wanted it to go. Nefertiti was the only other person with this ability.
With her hands covering her mouth and her eyes open wide, she giggled. “Oh my, darling. You were serious. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re murder on a guy’s ego.” He glanced at the clock. “I’m not trying to rush you, but I have a meeting in fifty minutes and still need to shower.”
“Okay, darling, I’ll make this fast. It’s time for you to act on your feelings for Nefertiti.”
“I don’t have any—”
“I thought you were in a hurry. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”
He didn’t answer; she raised a brow.
“The easy way.” Uncomfortable with this conversation, the mood swing toward the light side was in quick retreat to the dark.
“You two need each other. I don’t know what happened when she graduated, but whatever it was scared you half to death.”
“I’m not afraid of anything!”
“Yeah, right,” she said, her voice laden with sarcasm.
“I just don’t want to get involved with Nefertiti. She’s your goddaughter, for Christ’s sake. What if things didn’t work out? That would put a rift in our relationship.”
The incredulous smirk that marred her delicate, dark features told him this line of reasoning wouldn’t float with Victoria.
Arms folded over her chest, she calmly said, “I thought you were in a hurry. Shall we waste time in denial or get this going?”
The attractive, dainty, middle-aged woman who had raised him had the whole world fooled. Below that loving, genteel exterior lived a barracuda. One he admired.
“Okay, you win. Yes, I would like to have more with Nefertiti, but I’m not relationship material. She would have given all of her heart just to have it broken.” That was another reason he’d stayed away. If anyone broke her heart, he knew he’d lose it. Only a miracle from God had prevented him from going after Dennis. Truth be told, he was still contemplating paying the coward a visit.
“What about now?”
“I’m still not relationship material.”
“I’m worried about you, darling.” She rested her hand on his. “I’m worried about you both.”
Head cocked to the side, brows furrowed, he said, “Worried about me?” He motioned around the opulent suite. “Come on, we live in the lap of luxury. I have a multimillion-dollar business that is thriving. People would kill to have my life.”
“They don’t know your life. The only time you leave this suite is on the rare occasion you can’t conduct business from it. When was the last time you actually went to your office?” Bruce owned one of the skyscrapers in downtown Chicago. His office was on the top floor.
“Everything I need is in here.”
“No, it isn’t.” She snatched the remote off the nightstand and pointed it toward the windows. “Life is out there.” With a touch of a button, the drapes drew back and allowed the sunlight to pour in. “You have an eleven hundred
square foot prison cell with all of the latest and greatest, but at the end of the day, it’s still a prison cell. And now I’m afraid that Nefertiti…” Choked up, she fanned herself. “There’s something terribly wrong, Bruce, and I can’t help her.”
Tears welled in Victoria’s eyes. He’d never seen her cry, and this hurt his soul. All he wanted was to make her feel better. “Try not to worry, Auntie. She just needs time to adjust. After the trial is over, I’m sure she’ll be dragging me to the Art Institute like she used to do when we were kids. And yes, I choose to spend my time in here, but this is the life I’m comfortable with. I’m not hurting anyone, and I’m content.”
She placed her hands in her lap. “I know you’d survive if you never left this suite. I don’t like it, but I can accept it. But Nefertiti is different. She’s always been outgoing. She’s a people person. A free spirit. How long do you think she’ll survive caged in that cellar?”
“She’s been traumatized. You have to give her time to recover.”
“Last night was the first time since she’s been here that she’s ventured further than the study, that she actually sought someone out. And she’s only been in the study a few times. Otherwise, she remains in the old service quarters in the cellar. Why? She’s always felt comfortable within the walls of this house, so why has she walled herself into a small section like you have?”
Unable to provide the answers, he remained silent.
“She loves the sun. Why won’t she go outside or take one of the suites?” She sighed. “I’m afraid she’s trying to live like you.”
He reeled back. “I know you aren’t saying she wants to be me when she grows up.”
“In a way, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Beauty and the Beast Page 2
