by Azod, Shara
Pasqual remembered far more than he would like to admit. Rayce had tried to date her for a hot minute, but she refused to take him seriously. It had been hilarious to Pasqual at the time, especially because Pasqual had found her seriously hot himself. He never tried to talk to her, though. Dating any female who was close to one of the cousins (or sisters) was a major no-no. It caused way too many problems.
He had seriously liked Rhonda, though. She had been kind of quiet, almost too sweet. There was something about her that reminded him a little of his mom. There had been some minor dust-up after the death of her parents. The couple had died in a car crash or something about five years ago. The family trust had vanished. Some whispered Mr. MacDaniels had gone broke then committed suicide, taking his wife with him on a small plane in the swamps. It didn’t sound like the man he remembered vaguely. Pasqual had no idea how true any of it was; he hadn’t bothered to look into it. Why would he?
He’d always assumed Rhonda had been all right, though. She had already graduated from college and begun a career. He hadn’t given her much thought over the years. Again, why would he?
“She’s the person in trouble, I’m gathering?” This was not going to be good. If memory served, Pasqual wasn’t the only one who found Rhonda attractive. Rayce used to have it bad for the girl. But he had never talked to her, either. Rayce wouldn’t hear of it when she was younger, claiming Rhonda way too innocent and sweet. Plus she was Chloe’s best friend; Rayce was so fond of pointing out. The whole friend-of-the-family thing, Chloe would have dogged her brother mercilessly, or so he said. What had Rayce been thinking? If Rhonda was off limits for him why was it suddenly okay for the man that was her friend to get very close and personal? “Are you seriously going to try to stand there and tell me the kid isn’t yours? Come on, Rayce, you used to have it bad for that girl.”
“She’s a woman, asshole.” Rayce clenched his jaw, leveling one of his patent glares at him. It was scary on Uncle Rance—it was annoying on Rayce. “But I do feel responsible for her. I’m the one who let...” Rayce stopped, shook his head, then pulled out the chair in front of Pasqual’s desk with a heavy sigh. “Look, I introduced her to the guy. I let the guy take advantage of her although I knew it was a bad idea. She was—is—vulnerable and he is a world-class, arrogant ass.”
“She’s a grown woman. How is it your fault just for introducing her to someone?” This was ridiculous. Pasqual was willing to bet Rayce was the father. Shit was really going to hit the fan when the elders found out. Especially if Rayce wasn’t planning on marrying her. And he would bet his share of the family business Rayce was so not getting married anytime soon. “She made her decision. Why the hell didn’t she use protection? Not like it’s hard to come by. She’s what? Twenty-eight? She doesn’t know how not to get pregnant? Anyway, taking care of her now would be the father of the baby’s responsibility, not yours. I suggest you tell him that.” If it’s not you. Pasqual stopped and waited to see how lover boy would take that. It was senseless not to just come out and confess. It was going to come out sooner or later any damn way.
Rayce half rose out of his seat before seeming to catch himself and sitting back down. For a moment there, Pasqual thought he really might punch him. What the hell was that about? No way the father of this baby could be anyone but Rayce if he was getting all upset about it.
“Look, I need you to look after her. She won’t ask for help. She lives in a crappy house in Treme, she won’t let me move her somewhere nice. If I didn’t pester her she’d barely be eating.”
“Does this girl not have a job?” It came out harsher than Pasqual intended it, but honestly. Couldn’t Rayce see it was probably a ploy to get him to marry her? It was highly possible the baby wasn’t Rayce’s, although Pasqual suspected his cousin thought otherwise.
“She’s a woman, Pasqual.” Rayce’s voice got deadly quiet, making Pasqual pause. Rayce really did care for this gir—woman. So why didn’t he marry her? Something about this was just not adding up. “And not everyone is after the precious Chevalier name or the money. Some people have souls. Some even have pride. One day, when you get your nose out of the air, maybe you’ll see that.” Rayce rose from the chair looking thoroughly disgusted. “You know what? I would much rather have someone, anyone else do this. You are too much of a snob to give a shit. Right about now, I am ashamed to know someone like you.”
As much as Pasqual hated to admit it, those words stung. Maybe he was being too harsh. It was just so hard not to get jaded given the number of women out there willing to sell their souls for a piece of their family. From what he remembered of her, she had never been anything but sweet and kind. He really had no idea why he was reacting this way.
“Fuck, Rayce, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Most of it, anyway. “I’m sure Rhonda is every bit as sweet as I remember her. I just—well, shit I don’t know.” Rayce regarded him carefully, like he was weighing the sincerity of Pasqual’s words. “Look, I will take care of her. Drop by, make sure she’s eating, going to the doctor. That kind of thing, right?”
Rayce stopped his exit and nodded slowly, but he didn’t look convinced. “Even if she turns you away, I need you to swear you will take care of her. Like she was a member of your family.”
He was going to regret this. A sense of foreboding washed over Pasqual as he gave his word. “I promise you I will do everything I can to make sure she is well. I promise, okay? Just—just think about coming clean before the elders find out about this. I’ll throw you under the bus in a heartbeat should the mothers descend on me.”
Oddly, Rayce didn’t look concerned in the least about that. Generally, every male in their generation went and hid at the thought of the mothers descending. They were not physically scary like the fathers. No, they used their sweetness and light to make a man feel about an inch tall, then they had you doing all kinds of things just so they wouldn’t look at you all disappointed-like. The only thing worse than his own mother shaking her head sadly at him was Aunt Jade—sweet, soft-spoken Aunt Jade—looking about ready to cry because you fucked up royally. It tore your heart and your guts out. Rayce was in no way immune to that. It was, in fact, worse for him, Aunt Jade being his mother and all.
“All you need to worry about is taking care of Rhonda. Be good to her, Pasqual. Like she was fucking precious.”
Whoa, now that was certainly serious.
“I got you, man. Just remember who’s doing who the favor.”
Rayce shot him the oddest look before walking over and picking up pen and pad from Pasqual’s desk. This was just freaking strange. Maybe he would find out more from the woman herself. He was reasonably good at getting the truth from people. It was a gift of sorts.
“Here’s her address and phone number. But do not under any circumstances call her and let her know you’re coming,” Rayce instructed. “She may not let me move her, but she is pretty sensitive about her current circumstance.”
“What’s the story with that, anyway? Her parents blew their family trust and killed themselves, right? They left her nothing at all?”
Rayce threw him yet another odd look. Seriously, Pasqual was getting damned tired of it. “I am not a gossiping woman, so how should I know?”
“Fuck you, Rayce. I was just asking.” Sensitive bastard.
“No Pasqual, fuck you. And keep that goddamn superior attitude away from her or tell me right now your stuck-up ass can’t handle this.”
“I am not superior. And why didn’t you ask someone else if you don’t like my attitude, because really, man, you are trying my patience.”
“Because you are the most responsible, of course.” Rayce sneered, leaving Pasqual to believe there was a lot not being said in that simple statement.
Still, it did make sense. “I promise you I will be on my very best behavior.”
“You better be, Rayce warned, stalking toward the door. “Anything less and I will fuck you up, cousin or no. Not even the mothers will be able to stop me.”
That certainly sounded ominous.
It was definitely Rayce’s baby. One he was going to have to deal with sooner or later. Pasqual prayed it wouldn’t be later.
Chapter Four
“Mr. Chevalier, your cousin Rayce on line two.”
His secretary disconnected before Pasqual could tell her to take a message. Usually he took calls from family members immediately, but seeing as how he’d forgotten to go babysit the woman having Rayce’s baby, this was not one of the times he wanted to take the call. Shit. He was going to have go see Rhonda today.
“Before you start, no, I haven’t checked in on her yet. Thereze is cracking the whip over this merger thing, but I am planning on going to see her today.” Pasqual hoped like hell to cut off what he knew was coming by fessing up and getting it over with. He would go see her today. Later. He had things to do.
“You will go see her now, Pasqual. It’s been two fucking weeks. And I know you haven’t been to see her. She would’ve mentioned it.” Rayce was furious. His voice frost the phone line. “If I recall correctly, you did promise. I had believed your word was your bond. Was I incorrect?”
He had him there. There was no real excuse. He’d simply let it slip his mind. On purpose. Rayce was right; he needed to go see her now. He had promised.
“On my way.” No point in arguing about it. He could’ve told Rayce no at the outset.
Maybe he should’ve said no, Pasqual thought, driving to the address Rayce had provided. The neighborhood was certainly not the safest. There was a multitude of boarded-up houses. Of the ones that weren’t, about sixty percent sported cast iron bars on the doors and windows. It was certainly sad. Rhonda had grown up in the Garden District, not far from Rayce. This was not what she was used to, he was sure. The issue of her family’s money disappearing was certainly worth looking into. Pasqual was going to have to talk to his cousin when he got back from wherever the hell he was.
Driving up to the house, Pasqual cringed at the condition of the place. The small, blue-and-white shotgun house had no real front yard to speak of. There was a little patch of what appeared to be lovingly tended dirt out front. The paint was peeling a bit, but it looked clean. There was a small, clean, but old Toyota in the driveway. At least he knew she was home.
Walking up to the door caused the neighbors’ dogs to bark in a frenzy behind a chain link fence. Rottweilers. Drug-house early warning system. This was bad. Rayce should’ve thrown the woman over his shoulders and forcibly removed her from the area. Pasqual didn’t give a damn what the circumstances of the birth was, no Chevalier was going to live like this while there was family to assist. Squaring his jaw, he pounded on the front door, prepared to do whatever the hell he had to in order to get Rhonda to see she couldn’t possibly live here any longer.
When the door swung open abruptly, Pasqual momentarily forgot to breathe. As a young adult, Rhonda had been cute, pretty even. As a full grown woman, she was beautiful. Not stunning in a model kind of way. Just, well, just beautiful. With her almond-shaped brown eyes all round with anxiety, she looked like a scared little doe, ready to run. Shit, he had scared her with his he-man act. She probably thought it was the cops at her door, given the way he’d damn near knocked it down.
“Pasqual? What are you doing here?”
Her voice had changed slightly too. It was still sweet, laced with that unique New Orleans accent, but it was slightly huskier, having shed the too-young pitch so common in young girls. That voice seemed vaguely familiar, as if he had heard it recently. But that wasn’t possible. He hadn’t seen Rhonda in years. She’d all but dropped out of sight after the death of her parents. They had never been more than passing acquaintances, so there was no reason he would’ve sought her out. Still, an internal alert went off deep in the recesses of his brain.
Perhaps he could’ve reasoned it out if his attention hadn’t been snagged by her unexpected beauty. He could clearly see the attraction Rayce must’ve felt. In fact, a twinge of jealousy rose as the slight breeze molded the thin cotton of a oversized dress to her frame. For a minute, he forgot why he was standing on her doorstep. Until he saw the small baby bump where her hand was now massaging gently.
Oh, right. She was pregnant.
For the first time since Rayce had come to him and asked him for this crazy favor, Pasqual felt animosity toward his cousin. Rayce wasn’t exactly a playboy, but he didn’t exactly take relationships seriously. To be more precise, Rayce didn’t have serious relationships. Obviously his cousin cared enough to attempt to take care of this woman. But that could just be because of the baby. In any event, she couldn’t live here. Swallowing the lump of jealousy in his throat, he took an involuntary step back. He needed to convince her to leave, but the words just wouldn’t come.
Like an idiot he stood there staring, completely at a loss at what to do or say. Not a good move. The more he looked at her, the more alluring he found her. Her deep chestnut skin looked so clear, so full of vitality, so very kissable. There were no cosmetics to mar the freshness of her natural winsomeness. So many women in his sphere piled on the artifice, attempting a kind of perfection that eludes most humans, family members aside. Not Rhonda, though. Those plump lips were free of gloss and paint, those eyes framed with nothing but natural lashes. God, but her lips looked as if they had been formed into a bow shape just to tempt him. Pasqual found himself fighting the urge to lean forward to pay proper homage to her lips’ perfection. At his side, his hand itched to just reach out and touch her, pull her much smaller frame into his own.
“Pasqual?” The movement of her hand against her belly stilled, her worried voice reaching through the fog in his mind to bring him back to matters at hand.
Fucking Rayce.
“May I come in?” One thing he’d learned at a very early age was to never have private conversations in public. Too many ears. Growing up Chevalier was a challenge in itself; add the city’s fascination with his family and it added up to nothing ever being sacred. They had all been taught to protect family business at all costs.
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Why don’t you just state your business and leave?”
Okay. He hadn’t expected that one at all. Although Rhonda hadn’t sounded upset or even prickly, she was extremely wary and for some reason really didn’t want him in her home. Why would that be, he wondered. Rayce had obviously been inside. What was she hiding?
“I’m afraid I must insist.”
Pushing her aside wasn’t necessary. Rhonda moved as soon as Pasqual moved forward. After no more than two steps into the house, he paused. The furniture was sparse, but the quality of the few pieces in the tiny living room was obvious at a glance. A rather plush couch, a high-backed, armless vintage rocking chair, and a small antique table were all that graced the small space. No television, no phone, no computer. Looking to the left, Pasqual saw there was no dinette despite a miniscule alcove that looked to be the designated dining area. It was right next to the kitchen, which held nothing more than a few cabinets, an old refrigerator, an equally old electric range/stove combo with a hot plate on top of it, and a sink.
Wait. Hot plate?
“The stove is broken,” Rhonda volunteered, still standing next to the open door. “And if you’re quite finished inspecting my home, you can leave now.”
There was a touch of embarrassment in her voice, but the anger he could detect in her tone far outweighed it. He was being a dick, probably, just barging into her home and inspecting it as if he had every right. Knowing he was wrong wasn’t going to stop him, however. This place was unacceptable. Maybe Rayce had thought Pasqual would have a better chance of getting her into a home more suitable.
“Rayce tells me you refuse to allow him to move you into better accommodations despite carrying his child. Is this true?” Normally Pasqual didn’t talk like this. The pompous, overbearing attitude was not only feigned, but a protection of sorts. Rhonda affected him more than he liked to admit. Seeing her—well, blos
soming would be a word—threw him off kilter. Not prepared to deal with all the different emotions running through him, he chose to hide behind the family name and the prestige it brought with it. It was just too complicated to try to untangle his feelings here and now.
“Rayce told you no such lie. Get out. Now.”
Okaaaay. He’d expected denial. But the sudden frost coming from her was nothing less than shocking. Swiveling his head in her direction was a mistake. If looks could kill, hell, she was skewering him where he stood. Her eyes had narrowed into little slits of pure disgust, her full upper lip curled as if she were looking at a pile of dog shit on her rug. He had gone too far. Not only was she fully aware he was lying, she was not going to let him live this down.
Time to regroup, but how?
“You’re right, he didn’t.” He turned back to face her fully. So now he knew Rhonda was positive Rayce wouldn’t announce to his family he was about to become a father. Had Rayce asked her not to tell anyone? Pasqual could almost understand it if he had, but he certainly didn’t approve. Plus, that really didn’t sound like Rayce. This entire situation was getting odder and odder. “But there’s no one here but you and me. Can’t we be honest with one another? You’re about to give birth to a Chevalier. Why wait to cash in?”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but your precious family name doesn’t give you the right to come barging into my home and making demands—or insinuations.” Rhonda stormed over to where he stood, slamming the door closed with enough force it actually shook on the hinges. “I am not having Rayce’s child. Your precious name and your precious family are safe from me. Now get the hell out before I call the police.”
This was a Rhonda Pasqual had never seen before. He had memories of a sweet, albeit too quiet and maybe even bookish younger woman. Everything about her back then represented the kind of girl you married, not the kind of girl a young man wanted when he had no intentions of settling down. Not the kind of woman you wanted to have hot, nasty, sweaty sex with. This woman was not only more mature, with the kind of beauty only time could bring, she was feisty and defiant. And pissed. Standing toe to toe with him, although he was several inches taller than she, Rhonda looked as though she just might punch him in the face. And he would deserve it too. And damned if it didn’t turn him on. If she knew he was mentally thinking of taking her ten ways from Sunday she’d probably slap the crap out of him.
