by Azod, Shara
Wow, that was characteristic Chloe too, but it was still a little startling. Rhonda was all prepared with a long explanation and excuses, but Chloe being Chloe, she cut through the bullshit and went straight to the heart of the matter.
“When I tell him about the baby, there will be no coming to his senses, Chloe.” Rhonda sighed sadly. “I should have told him long before now but...” But I was a wuss. But I was terrified. But I was pissed he didn’t remember me. Ahhh, that last thought was the one that cut bone-deep. He didn’t remember anything about the night that had created the life inside her. She hadn’t been important enough to remember. Drunk or not, how could he have so casually forgotten? It had been everything to her, and nothing to him.
“B.S.,” Chloe cut her off. “Pack your crap. I’m on my way, and we will talk. I happen to know Pas had to go into the office. I’ll simply call Thereze and tell her to keep him until I have you safely hidden away.”
Chevaliers were really terrifying sometimes. The network of inside family info they all seemed to have on each other was nothing less than spooky. But Rhonda would gladly take it at this point. Especially as Chloe drove out of the city deeper into the isolated country.
“We’re going to Uncle Remy’s house out in the boonies,” Chloe explained as she sped her little BMW down the lonely country road. “It’s in the opposite direction of the family spread, and Pas would never think to look there. Bet you dollars to doughnuts he’ll be camping out at Rayce’s place, as my darling brother just blew back into town last night.”
“Not after he reads my note he won’t,” Rhonda muttered morosely. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Except maybe to sue for custody. Oh, God, what would she do if Pas decided he wanted custody of her baby? He had money, connections, and what did she have? Debt, a sad home in a questionable neighborhood and—well, that was about it. At this point she didn’t even know how she was going to provide for her baby. Looking for a job on the sly was hard; Pas was all over her, making sure she felt okay, making sure she didn’t worry, taking her shopping for the baby. All the things they’d purchased she’d left right there. She had no right to it.
“You and Pas are the two most rock-headed, obstinate, blind people I have ever met,” Chloe mumbled, driving right up to the front door. “Come on. Leave your stuff. I’ll have someone come get it.”
Rhonda forgot what it was like to have someone blithely state someone would “come get your stuff.” It made her faintly uncomfortable.
“Stop acting new, Rhonnie. You will get used to it when you become Mrs. Pasqual—oh, gawd I am going to gag—Chevalier.”
“Why don’t you like Pas?” Rhonda demanded, nonetheless trailing Chloe as she blew into the mansion. And it was a freaking mansion. They didn’t build houses like this anymore. This used to be someone’s plantation, which again was odd given most of the Chevalier kids—no, wait—all the Chevalier kids were mixed.
“I love my cousin. I love all my cousins. That doesn’t make me blind to their faults.” Chloe led the way straight into a cheery den that didn’t look as if it belonged in a house of such grandeur. The room was all done in contemporary yellows, oranges, and tans, looking like a middle-class family room more than anything else. “Sit, let me enlighten you to some basic facts.” And of course, Chloe didn’t bother pausing to take a breath. “For one thing, Pas has been into you for-like-ever. Don’t give me that look. He has. I just threatened him with death and dismemberment if he pressed you before you were ready, and you were so not ready at twenty-two. Pas is a pompous jerk at times, yes, but he is tres intense. Way too intense for the innocent you were. Then you pushed us all away so I figured that was that. Rayce told me he recognized you immediately the night of Marie’s wedding. Rayce wanted to stop it, but you were into it, and although Pas was drunk off his butt, he was way into it too.” Chloe finally paused, leveling her “mama” look. “I know you don’t believe me. Save your arguments. You will need them soon enough, but not for me. Just know Remy the Saint is working out your wedding ceremony already. I give it two days tops. Just trust me. Old Clo will take care of everything.”
That was exactly what Rhonda was afraid of.
*****
Pasqual let Thereze drone on and on about something. His mind was just not on it. Besides, if it were serious she would’ve thrown something at him by now. Something was nagging him; something he felt he should know, but whatever it was just escaped him. It was like a dream that vanished into the mist as he woke. And he’d had this feeling every freaking day since...since the day he brought Rhonda home, where she belonged.
“Rayce is back, by the way. He’s decided to get into the family business so I’m going to put him in charge of Acquisitions, which should lift your burdens a bit.”
“Rayce is back?” Pasqual demanded. “When? And when did he tell you he wanted to settle down?” Damn it, it was too late for Rayce to come back and try to be part of Rhonda’s life. He had taken off when Rhonda had needed someone the most.
“Why?” Thereze pressed, sitting forward in her chair all of a sudden. Good Lord, she looked like a fifth-grade school teacher who’d just stumbled across a genius in her class. What the hell was that about?
“Because he—” Shit. What could he say? “Because he left town.” So very lame. Rayce left town all the time. The man had a wandering disease. Pas was always shocked when he returned from whatever adventure he’d gone on. One day they all expected Rayce to take off and never come back.
“And? Are you worried about Rayce going to see your precious little Rhonda?” Thereze sounded absolutely thrilled by the prospect. “I know they have always been close, but I don’t think that baby is his. Rayce has never been careless.”
“It’s not Rayce’s baby!” Pas rarely raised his voice, but damn it, Thereze had a way of getting under his skin. Especially when she looked at him the way she was now. Like she knew something he should. And she wouldn’t tell him, either.
Wait—Rayce was never careless. And Rayce didn’t lie. It really wasn’t his baby, it simply did not make sense. For some reason, Pas had hung on to that excuse, maybe because he wanted so very much for the child Rhonda carried to be a part of him by blood in some way. When Rayce had first come to him, he knew exactly who Rhonda was. He hadn’t know that members of his family had been taking care of her in whatever little ways they could. That was something he really should have known; especially given how close Rhonda had been to Chloe and Rayce for basically their entire lives.
So whose baby was it? Some kind of sixth sense insisted that child was definitely a Chevalier. Pas knew it down to his soul. So whose…?
It came to him like a freight train slamming into his brain; images of Rhonda under him, over him, beside him bombarded his consciousness. Her skin, her taste, the way she moaned...
Holy shit, he was the father! The night of Marie’s wedding, it had been Rhonda in his bed. How could he have possibly forgotten that? You are so obstinate and stubborn, that’s how. Not to mention off-your-ass drunk. But why hadn’t she told him? Before Rayce had to come to him and ask him to look after her? Why the hell hadn’t Rayce told him? Or Chloe? Or...
“Well, good morning, Pas. Are you done sleeping?” Or Thereze.
“How the hell did you know?” Pas demanded, vaulting to his feet, but not really upset with her. Pissed as hell with Chloe and Rayce, who both should have told him. Confused with Rhonda.
“I know all, son.” Thereze sat back, waving her hand to shoo him away. “Go take care of your business. Hope it’s not too late.”
Bullshit. Yeah, he should have known, but damn it, someone should have told him. Rhonda, Chloe, and Rayce had a lot to answer for. He was fuming by the time he stormed into his home, but stopped short as soon as the door slammed behind him. There was no need to go from room to room looking for Rhonda. She wasn’t there. He could feel the difference immediately. She’d run.
Fuck!
Calling Rayce would be pointless. Chloe probably wouldn’t answer h
er phone. What the hell was he supposed to do now? God, he wanted to be mad at Rhonda—as pissed as he was with his cousins—but he couldn’t. Rhonda was not deliberately deceitful. She just wasn’t the kind of woman to try to get something out of him, or lead him on. There was a reason for this, a reason she never told him she was carrying his child. His child. Could he have been any more dense? And how many times had he accused her of having slept with Rayce?
Not knowing what else to do, he went into his now too-empty bedroom and threw himself on the bed. Gawd, he was a grown-ass man, but all he wanted to do was to curl up into a little ball. That or call his parents which—hell, no. Somehow, some way, he had to figure this out for himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a plain piece of paper, neatly folded in two lying on the pillow beside him. He’d almost missed it—it blended with the white bedding far too well.
For a moment he simply stared at it. He didn’t want to open it. The simple missive had the power to tear him apart. Something hard and heavy settled deep in his chest. Fuck, what the hell was this feeling? His hand actually shook as he reached out to pick up the letter. Flipping it open with one hand, he tried like hell to prepare himself.
Pas,
I know this is the coward’s way out, but I didn’t know how I
could face you with this. When I told you I wasn’t carrying
Rayce’s baby, I meant it. I’m not. I am carrying yours. I know
you are going to have a hard time believing this—after all,
you don’t even remember the night we spent together—but it
is true, I swear to you. We ran into one another at a club the
night of your sister Marie’s wedding. You brought me here, and I
guess we were less than careful. Originally I didn’t tell you because
I really didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to trap
you. Then, well, it got easier to hide. I don’t blame you for hating
me or doubting me. I swear I didn’t use you. I will never try to
keep your child away from you. After the baby is born, I will send
word and we can work out visitation then.
I wish you love,
Rhonda MacDaniels
Pas reread the letter over and over again, each time making less sense than the last. There was a hell of a lot not said, questions left unanswered. And didn’t he deserve to have those answers? He still didn’t understand why she didn’t just tell him as soon as she knew. Even if he didn’t believe her right away, there were ways to be sure.
Vaulting to his feet, Pas headed directly to Rayce’s. For some reason Rhonda seemed to trust his cousin a hell of a lot more than she did him. That just fucking burned. Nothing about his cousin screamed responsibility. Nothing about Rayce screamed dependable, while he, Pas, was a veritable goddamn rock. This was all bullshit. And as soon as the door opened, Pas swung, connecting with Rayce’s jaw. Damned fucker barely moved but took the hit straight on, then raised a brow.
“I guess she finally told you?” At least Pas had the satisfaction of Rayce rubbing the area where his punch had landed. That, and it had begun to take on a deep rose hue on Rayce’s too-golden skin. Fucking peacock. Pas ought to punch him again. “One would think you’d be thanking me.”
“She left,” Pas threw back at his cousin. “And I am willing to bet you know where.”
Rayce looked beyond Pas to the street behind him, reminding him he was in public. Well, hell. He had just broken one of the cardinal rules. Never air dirty laundry in public.
“Come in before you cause a scene, cuz.” Pas wasn’t fooled by Rayce’s tone. His cousin was pissed.
Well, good, cause Pas was hopping mad.
“I may know where Rhonnie is, but I’m not going to tell you. You had three fucking months, and you apparently screwed it up.” Rayce’s entire demeanor changed as soon as the front door clicked shut. “If she left, she did so for a good reason. You don’t deserve her.”
“What the hell did I do?” Pas thundered back. “I had no idea she was pregnant with my child. YOU could have informed me of that and saved us all a shitload of grief.”
“Would you have believed me?” Rayce countered.
Probably not. Not at first. But that was not the point here.
“None of you thought I had the right to know I fathered a child? What were you all planning on doing, having me raise it thinking it was yours?” This was getting really ridiculous. He was the only one who hadn’t known, apparently. There was no reason for any of them to keep it from him, so why the fuck had they? They were his goddamn family, they were supposed to stick together, and yet they had deliberately left him completely in the dark.
“You really are an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?” The anger seemed to have left Rayce, but that only made Pas angier.
“Are you saying I didn’t have the right to know I was going to be a father?” This was bordering on the ridiculous. Pas felt as if he were arguing with someone seriously insane.
“I’m saying Rhonda deserved more than a man who would forget he even slept with her.” Rayce answered sadly. “How do you think that made her feel? Carrying a child fathered by an asshole who forgot all about her the moment conception was over. What was she supposed to do, beg you to think real hard to loosen that granite skull of yours? Was she supposed to fucking remind you? You looked at her and saw someone else’s child growing inside her. How fucking humiliating do you think that must have been for her?”
Pas opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he say? Rayce was right. A sharp pain pierced his chest, making him almost breathless. He was an idiot. And, yes, a pompous ass. Not once had he considered what it had been like for her, living with him, sleeping with him, and all this time he hadn’t remembered. Had blocked it out because—well, no other reason than stubbornness. He thought he had all the answers.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Rayce asked softly. “Tell me, cuz, is this the first time you’ve experienced emotional pain? Has no one ever shown you what a prick you can be?”
Rayce’s words punched him back in the face twice as hard as Pasqual’s physical blow had been on the other man’s jaw. No, no one had ever hurt him before. He’d never been emotionally invested. This pain was foreign to him, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal. Only Rhonda hadn’t hurt him. This was all his own doing, and he had to make it right.
Chapter Eleven
Heart lodged firmly in her throat, Rhonda emerged from the luxurious guest suite she had been given to slowly make her way toward what Chloe had gleefully told her was a “receiving room.” Of course she knew what a receiving room was; her own mother had had one once, long ago. It was just that what Chevaliers called a house was usually a mansion, so what they called a room was often bigger than most apartments. And they managed to say these things with a straight face without seeming the least bit snobbish or entitled.
Still, her feet felt as if they were made of concrete blocks as she carefully made her way down the curving staircase to a closed door farther down from the room where she had spoken with Chloe the first day she was here. Her gait was awkward, but only partially from her growing belly. It had been a little more than a week since she had last seen Pasqual. She was beginning to think maybe she wouldn’t hear from him, not until the baby was born. Until Chloe gleefully announced she had a “visitor” waiting for her.
Rhonda knew she wasn’t ready to face Pas just yet. She had played the probably scenarios over and over again in her head. None of them came out good for her. She took her time, not knowing what to expect and too afraid to find out. Knowing she deserved his anger wasn’t making this any easier. Everything within her cried out for his presence no matter how often she told herself she couldn’t have him. Sleeping had proven impossible; she missed the warmth and security of his body next to her own. Even the baby seemed to miss him. They’d opted not to know the sex of the baby, wanting to be surprised. Actually, Pas had insisted, and she f
ound his excitement over the possibilities contagious. Sometimes Pas would rub her belly, speaking softly to the child inside her, calming the baby’s powerful kicks at night so she could sleep. Nothing she did seemed to calm the baby now, like he or she knew what she’d done and was punishing her for it.
The thought of seeing Pasqual now terrified her. Accepting responsibility for what she had done was one thing; accepting the fallout was something altogether different. Hand trembling, she reached out to grasp the doorknob and paused. Oh, God, this was really happening. The truth was out there now, and she was out of excuses. She hadn’t told Pas because she was scared and hurt, and that was no real excuse. Swallowing back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes, Rhonda took a deep breath and haltingly pushed the door open. Unable to look up, she focused on the decor of the room first, trying to find her equilibrium.
The room was certainly opulent—staggeringly so. All the furniture looked like fragile antiques. Done in a delicate blue and silver, the entire space was decorated with china, porcelain, and silver knickknacks, making Rhonda wary of waddling deeper inside. All she needed was to break some priceless item with her increasing clumsiness.
“Come in and sit down next to me, Rhonnie.” The soft, cultured voice startled her out of inspecting the room. Definitely not the voice she’d been expecting. “May I call you Rhonnie? I hope it’s all right—you’re about to become my daughter, after all.” Rhonda stared at the woman in dumb shock. Daughter? Did she know about the baby? “You don’t have to worry about anything in this stuffy room. Nothing in here is more precious than my first grandchild.”
Yep, she knew.
The elegant woman sat perched on the edge of an equally elegant looking, sky blue and cream sofa with carved mahogany accents. No way that could be Pas’ mother, Angelique Dubois Chevalier, yet Rhonda knew it was. It may have been a while, but Mrs. Chevalier hadn’t seemed to have aged a minute, much less six years. Undeniably Creole even if she was several shades darker than most, Angelique looked the very essence of old, aristocratic New Orleans. The streaks of gray in her hair were the only indication she might be older than Rhonda. She would have looked intimidating as hell if it weren’t for the genuine smile, as if she was glad to see the woman carrying her eldest child’s bastard.
