by Azod, Shara
“You know, for an intelligent man, you’re kind of stupid.”
“What?” Pasqual jerked his gaze back toward his older cousin. “That I’m apparently trying to win a woman who’s always belonged to Rayce? Or that I was too stupid to see how much she meant to him?”
Thereze shook her head, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “And that statement makes my point. Rayce has always thought of Rhonda as a sister. She and Chloe were very close, you know. They’ve never been romantic.”
But they had. At least once. And obviously Rayce had forgotten all about Rhonda being like a sister long enough to get her pregnant.
“Get out of here, and good luck. Like I would ever fire you. Uncle Thierry terrifies me. No way I’m explaining to him why I fired his son. Besides, you own part of the company—you would only hire yourself back.”
With that, he was dismissed in typical Thereze fashion.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t dismiss thoughts of Rhonda and Rayce. He was going to have to get to the bottom of this. No longer could he accept the denials or evasions. He needed to know the feelings of both of the people in question. Knowing how long Rayce had been looking after Rhonda had been a serious blow. He’d never dreamed Rayce had it in him. And if Rayce had been doing this for six years, that screamed seriousness.
Pasqual called Rayce as soon as he climbed in his car, unwilling to let it wait until he drove home. Something like this couldn’t wait. He had to know if Rayce really wanted her. Now, before he had gone too far to turn back.
“Do you love her?” Pasqual demanded as soon as Rayce answered.
“Not like you’re thinking.” Rayce didn’t even sound surprised by the abrupt question. “She and Chloe have always been close. Even though Chloe was older, they were inseparable as kids. She is really like a sister to me.” There was a pause. Pasqual supposed Rayce was putting two and two together. “You talked to Thereze.”
It wasn’t a question, so Pasqual didn’t answer the statement. “Is her baby a Chevalier?”
He was tired of the denials. That baby was a part of him, Pasqual knew it down to his soul. There was a connection he couldn’t explain which screamed family to him.
“The baby is a Chevalier, all right.”
Pasqual should’ve been relieved at Rayce’s words. Should’ve been glad to know the truth. Instead he felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Deflated, he sank down in the seat fighting the urge to punch the steering wheel. He couldn’t remember crying after puberty except on two occasions. Once when Grandmere Vivi had died and the second when Grandpa Baptiste had followed just a month later. He felt like crying now. His eyes burned as he fought like hell to hold on to his man card.
“The child deserves a real father, Rayce. And Rhonda deserves a man who will love and care for her.” Man card revoked. Hot, scalding tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes despite every effort to hold him back.
He had no idea when it had happened, couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but Pasqual knew he loved Rhonda. With every fiber of his being he adored and revered the woman. He hadn’t had to sleep with her for his feeling to intensify. Hell, he’d never even kissed her. But he knew it was going to kill him not to have her in his life every day for the rest of his life.
“Pasqual, the child is not mine.” Rayce spoke the words with such force, it finally gave him pause. “I tried to get her to marry me, for the baby’s sake, and she wouldn’t. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt the baby is a Chevalier, but I swear to you, it isn’t mine. Sometimes I wish it were. It would make it easier.”
“But it isn’t?” It was too good to be true. Not that it mattered who the father was, as long as it wasn’t Rayce. It didn’t matter because the baby was his, as was the mother.
“No, Pas, it isn’t. But if you want to know who, you’re going to have to ask her.”
“I don’t care.” And he really didn’t. “Thank you, Rayce. I mean it.” His man card was firmly back in place. Feeling about a thousand pounds lighter, he started the car to go home to the woman he loved.
“Pas, take good care of her,” Rayce warned, as if he really needed to be told.
“Don’t worry about Rhonda. From now on, she’s my responsibility.”
“No, Pasqual. I mean it. No matter what, don’t hurt her. Don’t—just don’t hurt her, okay?”
Something in Rayce’s tone held a warning, but Pasqual blew it off. He wasn’t the type with play with people’s emotions. Never had been. And there was no way he was going to blow the chance he now found he had.
“I won’t hurt her,” Pasqual assured him, anxious to get off the phone and back to Rhonda. “I’m going to marry her.”
Chapter Eight
There was no point in giving in to despair, because the useless emotion wouldn’t do her a damn bit of good. However, when Rhonda checked her back-up savings account, it was seriously hard to feel anything but desperate. Sitting here in Pasqual’s opulent townhouse, it was easy to start to feel a false sense of security. The last three weeks had led her to believe maybe she could save precious resources to prepare for life after the birth of the baby. She had even taken Pasqual’s advice and found tenants for her home.
Unfortunately, the bubble burst this morning when the director of the the Rising Sun Center for Girls fired her this afternoon. Waiting until after her shift, Ms. Prune-Face Rodney had called her into the office to snidely suggest because of her pregnancy and current unmarried state, she was a bad influence on girls already at risk. Because Louisiana was a right-to-work state, her employers could fire her without cause[1]. Her savings were next to nothing, and even with the added income from her tenants, that would only cover the mortgage. There would be no way she could save up for a place of her own in time for the baby’s birth. No way she could get her car fixed, or even get the things she would need for the baby.
She was fucked.
And Pasqual wasn’t making things any easier. Since bringing her here, he had been nothing but solicitous, in his way. It had been wonderful to wake to a freshly cooked breakfast, even nicer not to have to take public transit. But this wasn’t real, and it couldn’t last; especially after she confessed the truth, which she was going to have to do. She had to give him props, though. She imagined it was difficult for him to tamp down on that natural arrogance of his. As much as she hated to admit it, it was starting to be an endearing quality, which simply convinced her she must be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.
Rhonda supposed it had to be growing up in a family with centuries of wealth and privilege behind it that made a man believe he could fix anything. There were times when she was beginning to wonder if he would go outside and banish the rain if he suddenly took it in his head to do so. Because he disliked the quality of prenatal care she was getting, he had taken it upon himself to find the very best OB/GYN in New Orleans and demand they see her. Yes, she should’ve put her foot down, but she really didn’t care for her former doctor, either; and it was for the baby’s health, so she had given in. Besides, he had every right to insist on what kind of care she received, even if he didn’t know it.
The sound of Pasqual returning from wherever he’d gone earlier made Rhonda jump up from the desk. Not that he would mind her using his computer. In fact he’d insisted when he saw the ancient laptop she’d been working with. It had mysteriously disappeared, supposedly to be repaired. She was expecting a new one any day now, which she would keep even though she knew she shouldn’t. Saying no to Pasqual was proving to be a Herculean task.
What she didn’t want was to explain to him why she was home at noon on a Tuesday. Or how she had gotten here. The man seriously had something against public transportation. Rushing out the side door, she skidded into the guest room (she couldn’t start calling it her room, not even to herself) and softly clicked the door closed. It was only then she remembered she forgot to log out of her bank account.
Damn it! Through the door she could hear him enter his study then
leave again; taking the same route she had just hurried down. There was no doubt in her mind he had seen her sad little bank account. No doubt he was going to come in her room and demand she allow him to help out. He’d probably even try to get her job back, or worse, tell her she didn’t need to work; that he would take care of her. She didn’t think she could stand hearing that right now. Bu the footsteps were getting closer. She was going to have to steal herself against what she knew was coming.
Cue the entry of the man who thought he could rearrange the world to his liking in three, two...
“They fired you.” Certainly hadn’t taken him long to put two and two together, at least not in this case. “What’s the name of your supervisor? Moreover, do you think you can handle her job duties? You’ve been crying. Is it about your job or your bank account?”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did he even realize he was like a freaking force of nature when he got like this? The fire in those gorgeous turquoise eyes would have terrified her if she hadn’t known him.
“You are not going to say anything to my boss. And you are not going to get me her job. I can find something else.” While noticeably pregnant. Yeah, right. No employer in their right mind would even consider it. As soon as she was trained anyplace new, she would be forced to go on maternity leave.
Then there would be finding daycare, paying for it...the multitude of her dire circumstances crashed into her all over again. Inspite of her best efforts, she just couldn’t stand there and be strong right now. She was so damn tired of being strong all on her own. It was so wrong to take the comfort he offered knowing it was temporary. Pasqual would never love her, not how she desired, craved to be loved. Settling for less would be doing herself a huge disservice.
Knowing what the right thing to do was and then doing it were two totally different things. As soon as Pasqual came forward, his arms open, she stepped right into his embrace, allowing her tension and tears to flow freely. God, what she wouldn’t give for this every day. Just someone to hold her when life got to be too much, a strong shoulder that could take on her woes and make them better for a tiny while.
“Let me take care of this for you, Rhonnie. Please.” The low timbre of his voice not only sounded good, it felt heavenly. The vibrations from the sonorous tone caressed her cheek as it lay on his chest, the heat coming from him burned through the simple cotton shirt he wore. Combined, both sensations soothed her from the inside out. “I can make it right if you just let me.”
The thing was, she couldn’t let him. Depending on a temporary man would only hurt her in the long run. Pasqual wanted to do the right thing, he really did, but in the end, he would be driven to find a woman he loved totally. Seeing the way his parents were together, the way the whole damn family was, it was impossible to see any of the Chevaliers settling for anything less. Their family myths were the stuff of legends in a city full of the infamous. But none of that meant she couldn’t take the solace he offered, only that she couldn’t keep it.
“Just be with me for right now.” The sobs kept coming, probably because she was no longer attempting to keep them at bay. It was too hard to keep it together. And damn it, she was tired.
“I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
God, the man was a rock. Stubborn and headstrong to the core, but with a sweetness that was magnetic to a woman who’d had enough of being strong all alone.
“That’s not what I mean.” Taking a deep breath, Rhonda pulled back just a little to be able to look up at him. Pasqual wasn’t giving her much room to maneuver; his arms were like steel bands around her, and he wasn’t letting go. Having someone to hold her like that felt like an answer to a prayer she had been too terrified to utter on her own. A man who wouldn’t let her go. Wasn’t that every woman’s dream? But that wasn’t what she was asking for right now. “I need you.” Too blunt. Too forward. Her face burned as she struggled to come up with a better way to say it. But how exactly did you express you wanted jump a man’s bones but didn’t expect anything more? “No, I mean, I just... I need you. Just for today, just for right now.” God, that was worse.
She may be twenty-eight, but it wasn’t like she had ever been wild. Talking about being bold with a man, reading about it, was entirely different from being bold yourself.
Rhonda wasn’t sure what she had expected Pasqual’s reaction to be; shock wouldn’t have been surprising. Doubt or pity were also things she considered. The flash of raw, naked desire that flashed in his eyes and stayed there threw her completely off guard. Yes, he had looked at her like that once before, but not since showing up at her door demanding she move. The breath in her lungs seemed frozen as he consumed her with those rare, turquoise eyes. Those things really were lethal. What had started as an emotional need suddenly blazed into a physical one, so strong her knees threatened to buckle.
Oh, yes, this was the Pasqual cherished in her memories, the one that kept her up at night, wanting to feel him again so much it hurt.
“Rhonnie, I—” Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a low moan. She could feel his cock jump against her stomach. Her core quivered in response, moistening so much her panties became wet. “God, baby, don’t look at me like that. I’m trying so fucking hard to be the better man here.”
“Don’t.”
“Rhonnie—”
Whatever he was about to saw, he must’ve thought the better of. His mouth slammed down on hers as soon as he said her name, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head as if he were afraid she would move. Fat chance of that. His lips moved in a sensual dance, demanding she open for him, which she did without the slightest hesitation. This Pasqual wasn’t gentle; there was no slow seduction. He claimed her, drugging her with kisses so deep they reached her soul, branding her as his for all time. She was so screwed.
The spicy sweetness of his kiss was addictive. Her hands clawed at his shirt as she rose on her toes, anxious to fit her body as close to his as she could. Pasqual’s hands began to travel, cupping, rubbing, pulling her ever closer. If she could’ve ripped his clothes off she would have, but she didn’t want to put any distance between them, not even an inch.
Without ceasing the mind-numbing lip lock, he reached down and lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all, carrying her toward the door. Rhonda instinctively wrapped her legs around him before it dawned on her—he was moving out of the guest room that was hers for the time being. Oh, Lord, he was going to take her to his bedroom. That could not happen. She had no defenses there. At least here she could pretend she wasn’t in his home, that she hadn’t returned to the scene of the crime like some guilty felon wanting to see the fallout from what she had done.
“Pas, wait, where are you going? I want to stay here. Please? I need you.” She wasn’t lying—she did need him. And God, how she burned to be a part of him, to have him be a part of her. But what was more, she wanted the relative safety of a neutral place.
Thinking to entice him to go no farther than the tastefully appointed queen-size bed right here, she dug her heels into his backside and ground her pussy down on his bulge, keeping a tight grip on his shoulders to hold her steady. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Sweet heaven and the saints above, she needed this man inside her so badly it hurt.
“Ummmm, baby, slow down. I promise I will take care of you.”
Slow down? He had to be kidding. It had been so long since she’d had intimate contact. Five months, to be exact. And he felt so damn good, it almost made her forget her ulterior motive. As much as she tried to tell herself otherwise, it wasn’t just the basic need for human contact. For reasons she’d shied away from examining, he was touching the wounded woman deep inside her, and she was lying to herself by thinking this was just a need to make her troubles go away for a little while.
Through the frantic grinding of her hips she could feel his granite-like hardness. His body told her he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Without insight into his heart, there was no way she could tell if it was just physic
al for him, and right now she didn’t want to know.
“Stop.” Abruptly, she found herself on her feet, her chin in his hand as he tilted her face up to face him directly. “I will take care of your needs All of them. Tell me you know that.”
Rhonda swallowed harshly, held captive by a gaze that would not let her hide. “I know,” she agreed. She knew he would try. But how much could she afford to let him?
“I want you in my bed, which will be our bed.” Again, it wasn’t a question; there wasn’t room for negotiation.
The thing was, she wasn’t sure her heart could take it. Sooner or later this would end, and where would she be then? She was already compromised, having been head over heels for Pasqual Chevalier for years. Already he was breaking down her barriers.
She should stop this now.
“How many women have you invited to your bed, Pas?” Most men would stop right there. That or lie. Really it was none of her business, but she needed to throw cold water on this situation. What better way to do that than talk about his other conquests.
Crossing her arms in front of her, she rubbed up and down the limbs in an effort to ward off the sudden chill. It was partially so she wouldn’t fall back into his arms. God, but she wanted to be held again.
“I haven’t been with anyone, here or anywhere else, since the night of my sister’s wedding. That night I went out with...a cousin and drank way more than I should have.” The candid way he said it was startling. And he wasn’t done. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. I allowed myself to get into a situation that is inexcusable for a grown man, but I won’t apologize, and I don’t regret it. I can only hope the woman in question doesn’t regret it either, but she was gone when I woke up.”
Okay, that was just—wow. Staring at him, she had to admit what he’d just said was bold, mature, and incredibly stupid. The sad thing was, he had no idea why he was being incredibly stupid. What—he couldn’t count? His sister’s wedding was five months ago. He knew she was five months pregnant, he knew he was with Rayce five months ago, and he was utterly convinced Rayce was the father. Just wow.
