Romance: The Bad Boy Affair: A Second Chance Romance

by Veronica Cross

  “It’s spectacular,” Cara breathed truthfully. The display was truly amazing.

  “And happy birthday, Mr. Lamoreaux,” she smiled.

  “You are spectacular.” Without warning, Connor leaned in and planted a hot kiss on her neck, the tip of his tongue teasing her soft flesh. A small explosion erupted from within her and she looked shocked at him. It was uncharacteristic of him to show affection outside of the bedroom. It was unheard of for him to do it in front of people.

  “You belong to me,” he whispered hotly into her ear. Cara felt the familiar sense of helplessness wash over her as she nodded. She knew he was right. She lifted her emerald eyes and noticed that the kiss had been witnessed by several people. Some looked on appreciatively while others had pursed lips and gossiped angrily among themselves. Can you blame them? Cara asked herself as she tried to read their rapidly flapping tongues. You’re a maid who snatched up the most eligible bachelor on the east coast. And suddenly, that feeling of self-assuredness overcame her once more as she realized she did not care what anyone thought. She only cared that Connor Lamoreaux wanted her and that she was meant to be with him, mind, body and soul. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

  Just as quickly as he had appeared at her side, Connor was up on stage, interrupting the final notes of the band’s ballad and grabbing the microphone in his usual “play for the crowd” fashion. The horde hushed in expectation and leaned in expectantly to hear his words.

  “Thank you all for coming to my roast!” he declared. His announcement was met with chuckles and raised glasses.

  “As you know, I am now twenty-one years old – “more laughter followed and Connor winked before continuing.

  “I have been very fortunate in my life. I have an amazing family – my parents couldn’t be here tonight. Apparently there is a very intense bridge tournament at the home that they couldn’t miss.” The crowd roared. “But my brothers Aiden and Ryland, their lovely wives, Anette and Jessica and my four nephews made the trip from various parts of God forsaken America to revel in my aging process. So cheers to you and thank you for coming!” He raised a glass in the direction of his siblings and their respective families. A pantomime and a jester returned his gesture, smiling. Cara felt a smidgen of sadness. She knew that Connor had desperately wanted his father and mother present but his father was suffering from dementia and his mother was reluctant to leave him while he was not lucid.

  “She never really got used to strangers taking care of her family,” Connor had explained to Cara. “I think she has a lot of residual issues because of what happened to me when I was out of her sight.”

  “I really do appreciate all of you coming tonight and I confess, this gala has an ulterior motive.” The people looked on, puzzled.

  “I want presents, of course.” There were more appreciative laughs and clapping.

  “I got you something, Connor!” a gorgeous blonde in a tight, black dress yelled from the back of the ballroom. He raised an eye expectantly.

  “Did you now, Amanda?”

  The woman smiled suggestively and slunk forward, her dress almost painted on and making her gait incredibly sensual, accenting a flat stomach and huge, manmade breasts. She stopped in front of the stage and smiled, her bleached teeth an almost offensive contrast to her scarlet lipstick.

  “Yes,” she purred. With that, she reached behind her pinned up hair, releasing the strap tied around her neck and let her ample bosom fall from her dress. The crowd whooped and cheered and Cara felt her cheeks grow hot with anger and humiliation. Connor’s pupils grew small and his full mouth pursed into an angry line.

  “Put those away, Amanda. That’s nothing that everyone in this room hasn’t seen before on pay per view. If you can’t contain yourself, my staff can help you find any number of exits off the property,” he snarled coldly. The guest guffawed and booed at Connor as she pouted and stuffed herself back into the garment. Then she turned and smirked at Cara purposefully. That little tramp did that for my benefit! Cara realized, dumbfounded at the childishness of the act. Cara refused to acknowledge the gesture and instead focused on Connor, forcing the sick feeling of jealousy from her stomach.

  “Actually, I’m glad Amanda had the indecency to do that. I was just about to introduce you to the most decent, modest woman I have ever had the honor of meeting. This woman has turned my world upside down in a very short period of time,” Lamoreaux continued, unfazed by the busty blonde’s antics. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet my partner in crime, Cara Castillo.”

  There was a brief silence as all eyes turned to Cara. She slowly made her way up to the podium and allowed Connor to help her on stage. A sprinkling of applause broke out, but Cara could not help but notice that people were all talking amongst themselves, some of them attempting to take covert pictures while others brashly whipped out their cellphones and shamelessly shot, their flashes almost blinding her and Connor alike. She had not been expecting an introduction and she wondered if he had intended to do that before Amanda’s little show or if he was doing it simply to appease her because he thought her feelings were hurt. It didn’t matter. Now the world knew that she was with Connor Lamoreaux and the peace and quiet she had taken sanctuary within was going to become an obscure idea. She sighed inwardly, wishing he had not put her on display without warning. But Connor was not finished yet.

  “Cara is the most compassionate, righteous person any of you can hope to know and it’s for this reason that I am introducing Cara to you. As of tomorrow morning, Cara is officially the chairman of the Sunstain Foundation.” Cara blinked, completely taken aback by the announcement. There was a collective gasp in the crowd. The statement was not one that anyone could dismiss lightly. People who claimed to know Lamoreaux also knew that Sunstain was his pride and joy. His own business wasn’t as important to him as the charity. In fact, it would have made more sense for him to bequeath Lamoreaux International to her than the Sunstain Foundation. Before Cara could say a word, an angry voice floated forth

  “Connor, you can’t be serious!” someone yelled suddenly over the din which had erupted. The couple looked up at the angry voice and recognized Eli Sucar irately fighting his way to the front. Connor’s accountant was furious.

  “Is there a problem, Eli?” Connor’s charismatic smile had faded into a look of cracked concrete as he narrowed his eyes.

  “You know how much work Genevieve has put into the foundation over the years and you go and hand off years of hard work to, what? Your midlife crisis?”

  Cara’s sense of security seemed to evaporate with the man’s possibly accurate question.

  “Your wife has done a lot of work for the foundation, Eli, that is true,” Connor conceded but Cara knew that he was about to put his long-time acquaintance in a very uncomfortable place.

  “She has been the best secretary the foundation has ever had!” Connor continued. Eli’s tan face went explosively red.

  “Secretary?” he almost screamed. “She has been your right hand since day one of the foundation!”

  “Eli, this may be hard to hear but I’m going to say this; Genevieve is a lovely woman. She makes excellent coffee and she can read a cold call script like no one I know but honestly, I never needed a right hand. Mine works fairly damn well…if I do say so myself.” The crowd tittered nervously but Connor was not finished.

  “Gen likes to think that she is qualified to handle millions of dollars but sincerely, and I mean this with the utmost affection, she can’t even balance a check book. I know this because she invariably spent all the money in your accounts and then ‘borrowed’ money from my foundation so you wouldn’t find out. This has been going on for five years or so. She didn’t think that I would find out what she was doing, you know, being my right hand and all but somehow I managed to figure it out.” There was a shocked, dead silence in the ballroom. Eli’s mouth dropped open and he turned to stare at his bleach blonde wife. She had paled to the color of printer paper and began shaking her
head.

  “No hard feelings, Gen. I’ve been keeping this under my hat out of respect for your husband but since he can’t seem to respect my choice in partner in my own house, Eli, please take your thieving Stepford Wife and get the fuck out. I’d rather have two left hands, honestly.”

  After that spectacle, Cara could not get off the stage fast enough. The animosity in the room seemed to be consuming her and she was met with sly and dirty looks everywhere she looked. She could not fathom why Connor would have ever thought it was a good idea to make such a shattering declaration. Although she would never have admitted it to anyone, she was beyond flattered by the chance to be a part of the charity. She knew how important the foundation was to Connor and she silently vowed that she would find ways to improve it every day. I can start by getting back the money that Genevieve Sucar stole, Cara thought, grimly. The fact that anyone could skim money from starving children was sickening. The fact that the person was doing it to hide their own Gucci and Prada addiction was an absolute atrocity. She wondered how much money the woman had pilfered in total from the foundation. As the music picked back up, filling the somewhat uncomfortable din in the ballroom, Cara looked around for Connor but he had disappeared, leaving her to fend for herself against the wagging tongues and strange, sidelong glances.

  “Come in here,” a voice in her ear growled gruffly, grabbing her by the arm. Maurice was at her side, herding her into the kitchen out of the prying eyes of the guests. Cara welcomed the diversion and allowed him to steer her into the hustle of the bright room. As usual, the kitchen seemed to have a calming effect on her. At least until Maurice spoke again.

  “Are you regretting banging the boss now?” he asked, smirking as the swinging door closed behind them. The momentary sense of relief she had felt faded and she tensed up at his words.

  “Did you call me back here to rub in my discomfort, Maurice?” she answered, tiredly. She didn’t have the defenses to combat his crass abuse that night. Maurice shrugged indifferently and turned back to watch the staff before speaking.

  “The day you came to the house, there was a change,” he said so quietly that Cara had to strain to hear him.

  “I don’t know if you have noticed, but Mr. Lam’s place isn’t exactly warm and cozy. There has always been some strange undercurrent, something I could never figure out. I’ve been here for ten years and I never felt comfortable here.”

  Cara didn’t know how to answer him, knowing exactly what he was speaking of but not sure where he was going with his speech.

  “Everyone could feel it, sense something amiss but no one ever really mentioned it or dug into its origins. I always suspected that Tabitha knows what is happening but her and I aren’t exactly best buds.

  Over the years, staff members have come and gone mysteriously, faring well in their work and then abruptly disappearing. It became obvious that asking questions was the fastest way to get canned. Kippy, your predecessor was an example of that. She had many wild theories about our boss; he was a vampire, a werewolf or some other bullshit. She read too many Ann Rice books or something. Needless to say, despite warnings to shut her giant trap, she got her ass fired. I think Tabitha kept the opening unfilled for so long because she was getting tired of all the assholes we kept getting stuck with. Anyway, most of us learned to shut up and simply go about our jobs without questioning. It’s really not that hard if you don’t have the mind of a twelve-year-old, really.”

  Maurice turned to look at Cara and for the first time, she saw some warmth in his dark eyes.

  “When you came to the house, that dark cloud seemed to lift a bit. No one felt like shadows were chasing them. The little, odd, indescribable sensations which would plague us suddenly disappeared as if we had dreamed them. The house actually seemed sunnier somehow. I didn’t clue into the timing until after you started doing Mr. Lam.”

  “Maurice, can you please stop saying it like that!” Cara pleaded. The chef sneered at her.

  “I’m sorry…I didn’t clue into the timing until after you started ‘making love’ to Mr. Lamoreaux. Is that better?” Cara sighed and allowed him to continue.

  “Anyway, now that you’re with Mr. Lam, the house is a lot lighter. Maybe Mr. Lam just needed someone to love…or bang. I don’t know.” Cara couldn’t contain herself anymore.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she blurted out.

  Maurice glared at her, annoyed by her question.

  “I’m telling you this because you look like a deer in headlights out there with the buzzards, flocking around, waiting to pick at your flesh. You look like you’re about to run screaming any minute and I need you to understand that you won’t just be hurting yourself if you do that. You’ll affect everyone in this place if you do. So grow a pair, ignore the rich, snobby dickheads out there and focus on what’s important. If you care about Mr. Lam, you’ll find a way to ignore the gossip and dirty looks. We have all made sacrifices because we care about Mr. Lam and we’re still standing. It won’t kill you to grin and bear it. ”

  Cara nodded with understanding and suddenly broke into a broad smile.

  “Don’t worry, Maurice, I don’t care what people say. I’m not going anywhere,” she informed him and as the words flowed forth, she knew she was speaking the truth. But the chunky man did not look convinced.

  “You say that now,” he muttered. Cara reached out and patted his arm reassuringly.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she repeated.

  Chapter Nine

  Cara had been searching for her lover for over an hour. He had completely vanished after the ill received announcement and after Cara had left the boisterous kitchen, she had been unable to find him anywhere. As she searched the ballroom among the demons and animal costumes, she stopped to ask guests in her wake if they had seen him but either no one had or they were not interested in helping her. She found her way to the gardens and they were eerily deserted. Half of the party had retired after the anticlimax earlier and other guests were finding their coats inside the grand glass room. Cara felt a smidgen of guilt at the sudden wind down in the party. Connor had so badly wanted to enjoy his birthday but his “friends” had turned on him. Months of detailed planning had been ruined by pettiness. Cara wasn’t sure if she was angrier or hurt by the turn of events. She wandered further into the gardens, hoping Connor had gone out there to clear his head. There was no lighting in this area of the maze and she had passed the last heat lamp moments before. It was only her thoughts, the cold and frozen shrubbery under the stars. She realized that Connor was not there and turned back to the security of the party before she ventured too far off the beaten path. Someone stepped out of the shadows and Cara gasped. It was Genevieve Sucar. Alarmed, Cara stepped back at the platinum blonde walked directly toward her, unspeaking. Her mouth, a compilation of Botox and pink Elizabeth Arden lipstick was pursed into an unnaturally thin line and as she drew closer, Cara felt herself backing into bushes. Her heart leapt into her throat and she tried to stare confidently at the woman but her hands were trembling in fear.

  “What – what are you doing here?” Cara tried to sound commanding but her voice wavered. Genevieve stopped abruptly in front of her and Cara forced herself to meet the woman’s eye. As she looked into the ice blue irises, Cara had an uncanny feeling of familiarity but before she could place it, Genevieve shoved something at her.

  “Repayment,” she growled. She turned and walked back into the cold, dark area of the maze, leaving Cara to stare down at the cashier check in her hand. It was made out to the Sunstain Foundation for three million dollars. Cara choked and then realized what it was about Genevieve which had been tickling at her. The look in her eyes, it had been the same void, lifeless expression which those other people had held at the first charity event she had attended. Gone was the outrage, the fire sparking from her blue orbs which had sprayed out when Eli and Connor had gone head to head. Instead, she had appeared almost stoned, hypnotized and unaware of her surroundings as she stood, w
ithout a coat in the freezing cold in a strapless, short dress and stilettos. Cara raised her head to stare after Genevieve but she had disappeared around one of the endless turns. Shivering, more from unease than coolness, Cara turned back to the warmth of the party. She clutched the check in her hand, determined to find Connor and as she made her way back into the building, she found Tabitha standing by the bar.

  “I need to find Connor,” she told her urgently. “Do you know where he went?”

  Tabitha barely glanced at her but smiled mirthlessly.

  “No idea,” she responded, flippantly, purposely turning her back to Cara. Infuriated, Cara grabbed her by the arms and spun her around, forcing the older woman to look at her.

  “I must find him,” she told her with firmness. “Take me back to the house.” Tabitha looked taken aback by Cara’s tone and wrenched her arms back.

  “If you need to find your way back to the house, Ms. Castillo,” she told her from between clenched teeth. “I’m sure Mr. Lamoreaux’s drivers are outside. Please don’t ever touch me again.”

  As she turned away, Cara saw tears in the older woman’s eyes and like a bolt of lightning, she realized why Tabitha was so upset. She was in love with Connor! Guilt flooded her but it did not override her need to find Lamoreaux. I will talk to Tabitha later, she promised herself and headed out into the parking lot, searching for Frank or Bruce. She did not see either driver nor did she see the Aston Martin in which she and Connor had arrived. He’s gone back to the main house, Cara decided. She looked around, unsure of what to do next. She was filled with a sense that something was wrong, the encounter with Genevieve Sucar simply solidifying what she was feeling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Van and Andrew standing by the curb. Andrew was smoking a cigarette and deliberately blowing smoke into the teenager’s guileless hazel eyes. Van simply stood there, enduring the hazing. Cara hurried over to them.