But something in the back of her mind was filling her with leaden guilt as she picked up the Mac Book Pro and set it up on the dresser, preparing to make the Skype call. Jon had given her the computer as soon as she had entered his apartment the first day. He had gone ahead, ordering it online after buying her plane ticket and treated it as if it was a welcome present.
“It is your computer to do exactly as you please,” he had told her. “I have several of my own so please be comfortable with this. Put on a passcode and keep in touch with your friends and family back home.”
“Oh! I will message my parents back home! Thank you, Jon!” she had gasped, throwing her arms around him and he had returned her embrace gently, touched by her excitement.
“I will give to you code. You can looking whenever you please,” she added but she had insisted, leaving her password on a scrap of paper taped to the corner of the screen. Of course Jon had never violated her privacy but he appreciated the openness in their relationship.
Dressed in the nightie and convinced she looked ravishing, she opened the computer and steadied her trembling hands as Skype made the connection to Jon. She tried to ignore the little whisper in her mind, the one warning her that she was still a married woman.
“Jon! We didn’t know you were bringing someone!” Mary-Anne stood in the doorway of her home, her mouth slightly open in surprise as her younger son hurried up the stone pathway, Marika in tow. Suddenly Tristan and Jordan’s head also appeared behind her, hearing Mary-Anne’s words. Jon cringed inwardly, watching their eyes widen with interest as they seemed to dangle like body-less faces above his mother. A slow smile met both of their mouths while Jon’s mother’s eyes narrowed, sizing up Marika.
“Sorry, I forgot to mention it,” he said flippantly, trying to brush by the gathering. Addison came flying out of the living room, her freckled face lighting up at the sight of Jon.
“Uncle Jon! I missed you, buddy!” the three-year-old squealed, throwing herself into Jon’s arms. Jon immediately embraced the red headed toddler and set her back to examine her. She had grown substantially in the two months since he had last seen her and she looked more like a child than a baby now.
“Hey Addy! How old are you now? Twenty? Twenty-one?” The toddler scowled angrily.
“No! I am not that old!” she countered and everyone laughed. Then she turned her bright blue eyes on Marika.
“Who are you?”
“Addison, that is not polite. The correct thing to say is ‘hello, my name is Addison. And you are?” Tristan piped up. She turned her gaze toward Marika, curiosity flickering in her gold speckled brown eyes.
Jon stood up, a blush stinging his cheeks.
“Ah yes, sorry. This is Marika Darabos. Marika, this is my mother Mary-Anne, my sister Tristan, my brother-in-law Jordan and their daughter, Addison.”
Everyone hastily held out their hands simultaneously and Marika laughed, awkwardly trying to address everyone at once.
“It is my pleasure to meet you,” Marika told them as Mary-Anne closed the door behind her. Tristan and Jordan exchanged a glance at the sound of her thick accent.
“What a lovely accent you have – Maria?”
“Marika,” Jon corrected immediately. Tristan flushed, embarrassed.
“Of course, I’m sorry, Marika. Are you Russian?”
“Hungarian.” The answer was unexpectedly sharp, causing Tristan to raise a dark eyebrow but Marika smiled quickly to diminish the harshness from her words.
“I am sorry. My people have bad history with Russian people. Vee do not liking confusion with Russian people,” she explained. Jordan nodded understandingly, his face lit up with compassion while his wife continued to look surprised.
“And I thought that was ancient history. Aren’t they allies now?” Tristan asked bluntly. Jon shot her a scathing look and she threw up her hands in mock surrender.
“But what do I know about history. Math was more my thing,” she finished lamely.
“Well get out of the hallway and come into the living room,” Mary-Anne told them, shooing the group inside. “I am waiting for Chris to let me know when they are on their way. The baby was still sleeping when I spoke to him half an hour ago.”
Tristan and Jordan grunted, annoyed.
“I thought babies slept through everything,” Jordan groaned rolling his eyes. “Why can’t they just pack the kid up and get over here already. We’ve been waiting to meet this little brat for a week.”
“As you know, Jordan, she was premature and now they believe she has colic. They dare not move her when she finally sleeps.”
“Oh, it’s always something with Chris, isn’t it?” Jordan muttered. “God forbid we move the sleeping baby.”
“I bet you Elyse is the one sleeping,” Tristan joked and Mary-Anne glared at her. “You had colic, Tristan. I know what kind of hell that can be. Shuffling around a child who is in constant pain is not as pleasant as it sounds. You and Jordan got very lucky with Addison. She was a good baby but I’ll tell you, if she was a quarter the little snot you were at her age, you would be begging for death right now. That being said, if Elyse is sleeping, good for her!”
Again, Tristan threw up her arms.
“First of all, I was not that bad, stop exaggerating. And secondly, I am not judging. It sucks being a new mom. Why is everyone so sensitive today?”
Christopher and Elyse had welcomed Chantal Christine Hewson to the world three weeks early. The rest of the Hewson family had been biding their time, waiting for their chance to meet the tiny new addition. Finally, Mary-Anne had to lay down the law and ordered a family dinner since Chris continued to put off the introduction, citing myriad excuses. Chris had tried to reschedule but Mary-Anne was very difficult to oppose once she had committed to something.
Grudgingly, both Christopher and Jon had agreed to attend the function. For two and a half hours, Jon did his best to prepare Marika for his family.
“They will ask you a lot of unnecessary questions,” he warned her as they made the trek from Burlington to Long Island. “Don’t feel like you have to answer anything you’re not comfortable answering.
Marika had smiled, secretly touched by his protectiveness. She patted his arm comfortingly.
“You don’t having vorry about me,” she told him reassuringly. “I can taking care of myself.” Yet as Jon slowly pulled up to his mother’s house just outside Fire Island, he felt anything but confident. Chris is going to have a field day with this, he thought mournfully and then was embarrassed by his own worry. You are such an egomaniac. Chris will have other things on his mind, like his newborn baby. He won’t pay any attention to Marika or to you. Just keep your head down and focus on your new niece. Jon proved to be a poor prophet.
The family moved into the front room and Jon sat with Marika on the loveseat but Addison soon climbed to sit between them. She turned her bright green eyes on the new person amongst them.
“Wow! You’re as pretty as my mommy!” the child declared staring at her with star-like wonder. “Are you a princess?”
Marika smiled sweetly at her and pressed her index finger to her lips before affectionately stroking Addison’s curly mop of unruly hair.
“Shh…I am but no one is supposed to know,” she whispered. Addison’s eyes widened and she nodded solemnly.
“I won’t tell anybody!” she promised earnestly. Tristan grinned and shot Jon an approving look. Anyone who won over her daughter was okay in Tristan’s books. Jordan leaned forward, also captivated by Marika’s beauty.
“So, how did you two kids meet?” he asked and Jon thought he heard a sly note in his voice. Heat exploded through Jon’s body, perspiration dampening his underarms. He was partially gleeful that Jordan was finally looking at his woman the way he looked at all of Chris’ wives. Another part of him, however, flew into a panic at the question.
“He is vorking for me,” Marika answered smoothly without pause. “He has been making vebsite for my company.” There
was a murmur of surprise in the room and Jon stared at her in disbelief. Obviously, she had been prepared for the question and she could not have developed a more fitting answer. It made perfect sense as Jon had clients worldwide. It also explained her expensive wardrobe and elegant demeanor. She was a foreign business owner. He exhaled slowly as he realized his family easily accepted the story.
“Well how about that,” Jordan said. “You can find love on the internet after all!”
Tristan smacked him on the back of the head, ignoring his gasp and turned back to the blonde.
“How long have you been in America, Marika?”
“One year.” Again, the response flowed from her lips as she took a sip of coffee. Jon was exceedingly grateful that Marika was such a consummate actress. If it had been up to him to reply, the reception from his family would have been much colder and filled with skepticism.
“How long have you two been together?” Mary-Anne this time. She had not lost her steely gaze, overtly looking Marika up and down without shame. Mom thinks she is too beautiful to be with me, Jon realized and a bolt of disappointment shot through his gut.
“Three months,” Jon finally forced himself to intercept. Marika shot him a quick look but averted her eyes.
“Three months? Are you sure, Jon? You didn’t mention anything at Christmas,” his mother said skeptically. “I would have think you would have said something when Tristan was cursing like a trucker at your brother.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Jon told her, shifting his stare to Addison. The child smiled up toothily.
“Anyway, I don’t have to share every bit of information with you, mother.”
“Yeah, grandma. Uncle Jon has secrets too. Like his friend is a princess!” Immediately, she slapped a small palm over her mouth and looked up horrified at Marika. The blonde grinned and winked.
“It’s okay,” she whispered to the little girl. “You can always share secrets with your family.”
“Well I am happy for you both,” Tristan jumped in, a beam lighting up her pixie-like face. “Welcome, Marika!”
“Thank you, Tristan. Jon say you to be having baby, Tristan?” Marika asked, expertly changing the topic of conversation away from her as if sensing Jon’s rising discomfort. Tristan nodded happily but before she could answer, the front door opened and Elyse walked inside, carrying an infant car seat in her hands. Christopher was close on her heels, a scowl scarring his face.
“Ellie, give me the baby,” he was grumbling but she seemed not to hear him as she beamed warmly at the group who had rushed to greet her.
“Close the door, Christopher,” Mary-Anne demanded. “Chantal will catch a chill!”
Obediently, Chris quickly obeyed and followed his wife inside the house. She slowly removed the blanket from around the top of the carrier and everyone flocked to coo at the baby girl inside. She was a strange, prune-like creature, strange looking as week old infants tend to be. She had gained some weight, putting her within normal range for a full-term baby and she was cute in a jerky, drooling sort of way. Still, the Hewsons filled Chris and Elyse’s ears with praise and compliments, marveling at the odd faces and wide-eyed looks Chantal bestowed upon them. There were gentle rounds of “Oh she has your nose, Chris!” and “There’s her mommy’s smile!”
The infant captivated the group for several minutes until suddenly, Elyse’s head whipped up as she realized there was a stranger in her mother-in-law’s house. She glanced around at her extended family for an explanation but everyone seemed focused on her new daughter. All except Jon who watched her out of the corner of his eye, his heart thudding dangerously. Elyse stepped forward.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Elyse. Elyse Hewson, Christopher’s wife.” The striking brunette extended a hand toward the stunning blonde who stood slightly back from the circle enveloping the baby. Tentatively, Marika accepted her outstretched palm.
“I am Marika,” she offered, adding nothing else in spite of Elyse’s expectant look. Elyse looked around again and finally rested on Tristan’s grinning face. Her sister-in-law nodded her head toward Jon, an idiotic smile plastered on her face. Elyse’s eyes widened in understanding.
“Oh. Oh!” she said, a slow smile of her own overcoming her face. “It is lovely to meet you, Marika. I love your accent. You are Ukrainian?”
Jon cringed as Marika’s eyes turned dark but she forced a smile onto her face and shook her head.
“No. I am from Hungary. Budapest,” Marika answered but she shifted her eyes toward Jon and he could feel a strange tension as their gazes locked.
“Oh, how strange. I studied linguistics in college. I have an ear for accents. I could have sworn you were Ukrainian. Szép, hogy itt. Hogyan van akkor ínyére ez itt eddig?”
Marika paled and she nodded, averting her eyes. Elyse’s eyes narrowed.
“Is my Hungarian that off? I haven’t spoken it since college,” Elyse confessed but she knew her Hungarian was flawless. Jon knew his sister-in-law spoke seven languages fluently and could write three in three others.
“No, it is fine. I – I like to speaking in English only so I can become more better.” Elyse nodded understandingly, her eyes lingering on Marika for a moment. Then turned to her husband who had not yet clued into Marika’s significance.
“Chris, have you met Marika?” Elyse asked purposefully. Chris was fixated on his baby daughter, still seemingly oblivious to the stranger in their midst.
“Hi,” he said without looking up. To Jon’s horror, Elyse cleared her throat and demanded his brother’s attention.
“Chris. This is Marika. Jon’s friend.”
These words made the oldest Hewson male look up. His face changed several times as if trying to decide on the proper reaction. Finally, it settled on a smirk.
“Oh yeah? You’re a friend of Jon’s huh?” Chris drawled without extending a greeting. Marika nodded and Jon sensed danger well before his brother opened his mouth to speak again.
“What kind of friend? A rent-a-friend?”
Everyone gasped at his crass remark and Tristan’s face turned into a mask of fury. Jon felt himself get weak at the knees but before Tristan could say a word, Marika spoke.
“I do not understanding this term, rent-a-friend,” she said slowly, uncertain of the dynamic but her well-honed sixth sense could feel a tightness in the air. Chris guffawed.
“I bet you don’t. Perfect, she doesn’t even speak English. You brought a Russian prostitute to meet my baby daughter, Jon? That’s pretty weird and a new low, lardo.”
The silence in the room needed to be sliced with a machete.
“You asshole – “Tristan hissed, lunging toward him but Jordan caught her arm.
“You can’t punch him. You’re pregnant,” Jordan told her dryly as Tristan struggled against his grip. Christopher howled with laughter and winked at his sister. Marika cocked her head to the side, her eyes taking on an intense, hypnotic glow. Her blue-green eyes seemed to be alight with fire as she suddenly comprehended the foe in her face. Her gaze was fixed on Chris who slowly allowed the smile to slip off his face under her scrutiny.
“I am Hungarian,” she told him. “I own multi-million-dollar company in Budapest. Yes, my English is poor but I making more money than most of Russian prostitutes.” Chris went pale as he began to take in her pricey attire and glittering jewelry.
Romance: The Bad Boy Affair: A Second Chance Romance Page 17
