by Pamela Yaye
Rafael dropped his pen on his desk and scooped up his phone. I need a break, and I know just who to call. He punched in Paris’s cell number and waited for the call to connect. Just the thought of her excited him, and the moment her bubbly, effervescent voice filled the line his stress evaporated and his spirits lifted.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Rafael sounded more like Kermit the Frog than Rod Stewart, but he sang his favorite song—the one that made him think of his college sweetheart—with great conviction and feeling.
Paris clapped and cheered enthusiastically. “Oh, baby, that was great! Sing it again!”
Chuckling, he shook his head. Leave it to Paris to make him laugh. It didn’t matter how tired or how stressed out he was, talking to his lady love always made him feel a hundred times better. “Today’s the big day,” he said, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “Are you nervous?”
“You have no idea. My hands are shaking so hard I can’t apply my mascara!”
“Baby, you have nothing to worry about. You’re going to knock ’em dead this afternoon at the expo, and I’ll be there to cheer you on.”
Paris groaned. “Now I’m really nervous.”
“Don’t be. You’ve practiced your speech a million times, and it’s one of the best I’ve ever heard. You’ve got this, Paris. You can do it,” he exclaimed. “And after your speech I’m taking you to the Capital Grille for a celebratory dinner.”
“Don’t you have a board meeting tonight?”
“Attending the Women’s Business Expo is important to me, so I gave myself the night off and asked my VP to take my place.”
“Really?” Her tone was one of disbelief. “That’s so unlike you.”
Turning toward the window, he admired the view. The sky was free of clouds and a rich shade of blue. The sun was blinding—much like Paris’s smile—and filled his office with warmth and light. Rafael thought of Venice, of the time he’d spent sightseeing with her at Saint Mark’s Square, and recalled their conversation at the gelato shop.
“A wise young woman once said, ‘The purpose of life is to live it, to taste adventure and excitement to the utmost and to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experiences.’ And I’ve taken her words to heart. I don’t want to work 24/7 anymore, or spend weekends at home with my dogs. I want to experience all that life has to offer.”
Paris gasped. “Wow, I can’t believe it. You really do listen to me!”
“Of course I do. You’re smart, insightful and gorgeous, too.”
“Keep talking,” she quipped, her tone thick and sultry. “I’m listening....”
“You’re special to me, and I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“I feel the same way, Rafael. I’m committed to this relationship. I want us to work.”
“We will,” he said confidently. “I’m certain of it.”
“I love when you sound all macho. It’s such a turn-on.”
Her words made him feel ten feet tall.
“We better get off the phone before things go from PG to X-rated,” she joked with a laugh. “My driver will be here in fifteen minutes and I’m still not dressed.”
“Wear your red Chanel suit.” He added, “And leave your panties at home.”
Paris squealed.
“Okay, bye beautiful. See you in a bit,” he said with a grin.
Chuckling to himself, Rafael hung up the phone. Feeling energized, he flipped open his leather-bound portfolio and scooped up his pen. For the rest of the morning, he worked diligently to finish his paperwork. He blocked out the ringing telephones and the high-pitched laughter outside his office door and focused his energy on the task at hand.
Minutes turned to hours. By the time his executive assistant, Nia Patrick, popped her head inside his office door at noon, he was finished his to-do list and reviewing his agenda for his upcoming business trip to Dubai.
“I’m going to the corner deli to grab lunch,” she said, tapping her long, thin fingers against the wall. “I’ll get you combo number six and those chocolate macadamia nut cookies you love so much. Anything else?”
“No, nothing for me, thanks.”
Frowning, she tilted her head and studied him over the rim of her designer eyeglasses. “But it’s Wednesday. You always have the squash soup and chicken panini.”
Rafael opened his briefcase and put his electronic notebook inside. “I don’t have time. I’m leaving at two o’clock, and I won’t be coming back for the rest of the day.”
“No problem. I’ll forward important calls and emails to your cell phone.”
“No. Don’t.” Rafael saw her eyes widen, and felt guilty for snapping at her. “I’ll be at the Business Women’s Expo this afternoon, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“The Women’s Business Expo?” she repeated, a bewildered expression on her face. Nia entered the office, closed the door behind her and cautiously approached his desk. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but is everything okay?”
Amused, Rafael abandoned his search for his WiFi pen and gave the brunette his undivided attention. “Everything’s great. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’ve been acting strange ever since you returned from Venice eight weeks ago.... I think you should talk to someone.”
“Like a therapist?”
Nia snapped her fingers. “That’s a great idea, and I think it would be most beneficial,” she said, fervently nodding her head. “Do you want me to make some calls?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I’m worried about you.” Her eyes filled with concern. “I’m not trying to scare you, Mr. Morretti, but you’re exhibiting the telltale signs of someone experiencing a nervous breakdown.”
Laughter exploded from Rafael’s mouth. His executive assistant was a riot. As with Paris, Rafael could always count on Nia to make him laugh. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Great, actually.” He smiled at her, attempting to put her overactive mind at ease. “I’m taking Paris out for dinner after the conference and if I eat a big lunch it will ruin my appetite.”
“You’re seeing Paris St. Clair again?” Nia looked awestruck. Her hazel eyes were big and bright. “You’ve seen her every day this week. Wow, you must really like her!”
“You better get going or you’ll get stuck in the lunch rush.”
His assistant spun on her heels. “Danica Lyons will be here at one o’clock, but I should be back before she gets here,” she said as she breezed through the door.
To kill time, Rafael logged in to his email account. He looked at the pictures from the Backstreet Boys concert and smiled as the images filled his computer screen. In some photographs, Paris was making faces; in others she was laughing or blowing him kisses.
“Hi, Rafael. It’s been a long time.”
The hairs on the back of his neck shot up. His eyes slid to his office door, and when his gaze landed on Cicely, a curse fell from his mouth. His ex-girlfriend was standing beside the bamboo plant, wearing a tentative smile and fussing with her white ruffled scarf. Her face was fuller than he remembered, and her pixie hairstyle suited her nicely. Cicely did whatever it took to look like a VIP, regardless of the staggering cost.
Rafael hadn’t seen her in months. Not since she gave that tell-all interview to Celebrity Scoop and he had no desire to speak to her. Especially not after all the malicious lies she’d said about him. “Leave or I’ll call security.”
“Don’t be like that,” she said, as if she were admonishing an errant child. “After dating for almost a year I’d like to think we could have a civil conversation about our future.”
“What future?” he asked, shooting her a disgusted look. The aspiring actress was delusional, so he adopted a no-nonsense tone and gave it to her straight. “I’ve moved on
, and you should, too.”
“You’ll never find someone who loves you as much as I do.”
“Thank God for that,” he mumbled, logging off of his computer.
“Can I come in? We really need to talk.”
“No, you can’t. We’re over, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking you back, so—”
“You might after you hear what I have to say.”
Rafael gave his ex-girlfriend a bewildered look. The notion of him reuniting with Cicely was laughable. He wanted to be with someone loyal and trustworthy, not an immature, attention-seeking girl. He had no desire to rekindle their flame. He had Paris now, and he didn’t need or want anyone else. “Please leave,” he said, struggling to control his temper. “I need to prepare for my next meeting, and my client should be here any minute now.”
“Danica Lyons isn’t coming.”
“What do you know about Ms. Lyons?”
“I knew you’d never agree to see me, so I asked Danica to call on my behalf,” she said, inspecting her manicure. “Danica is in my acting class, and we’ve become good friends over the past few months. When I told her my story, she agreed to help.”
Rafael felt his eyelids thin and his nostrils flare. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“What was I supposed to do? I was trying to be reasonable, but you left me no choice.” Cicely’s voice was strained, and she flailed her hands in the air. “You won’t return my calls. And the last time I was here you refused to see me.”
“I don’t need this.” Rafael scooped up the phone, pressed 9 and put the receiver to his ear. The sooner he got rid of Cicely, the better. His patience was growing thin, and he worried about doing something he’d regret. “I’m calling security. You can tell them your sob story while they escort you out of the building.”
Rafael expected Cicely to turn around and storm out of his office, but she didn’t move. She unbuttoned her jacket and when Rafael saw her burgeoning belly, the phone slipped from his grasp and dropped to his desk with a clang.
“That’s right,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m eight months pregnant with your child.”
Chapter 18
Rafael stared at Cicely with hard-eyed scrutiny. Disgust seeped into his pores, filled him with anger. Her words haunted him, echoed over and over in his mind.
Pressing his eyes shut, he shook his head. Rafael didn’t believe Cicely knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the father of her child. And as he listened to her complain about how awful her pregnancy was, he wondered if she’d concocted this scheme with her crafty mother.
Rafael heard a male voice fill the air and snatched up the phone.
“Hello? Mr. Morretti? Can you hear me?”
He quickly assured the security guard that everything was okay and hung up.
“Congratulations on your pregnancy,” Rafael said. “I wish you nothing but the best.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
He gave her a blank stare. What did I ever see in her? How could I have ever dated this scheming, manipulative woman for nearly a year? They’d met at the dog park, and while walking along the trails with their pets, discovered they had shared interests and hobbies. He’d been drawn to her bold personality, and in many ways she had reminded him of his old college sweetheart. Both women were strong, outgoing beauties who could light up any room. But that was where the similarities ended. Paris put her friends and family first—above anything else—but Cicely didn’t have a loyal bone in her body. All she cared about was being famous, and she’d con—or betray—anyone to make it happen.
“We were never exclusive,” he reminded her. “And you started dating an NFL player a few days after we broke up, remember?”
Cicely shrugged. “I’m a single girl with needs. I’ll do what I have to do.”
“Then I suggest you contact your ex, because I am not your baby’s father.”
“I’m due next month, which means I conceived sometime last summer before we broke up,” she explained, her voice filled with pride. “Do the math. You’ll see that I’m right.”
“I don’t believe you, and don’t think for a second that your pregnancy changes things. It doesn’t. I’m dating someone and I won’t let you come between us.”
A sneer claimed her lips. “I almost fell over when I saw pictures of you and that woman in The Washington Post.” Jealousy showed on her face and seeped into her tone. “I don’t know what you see in her. She’s fake and pretentious, and from what I’ve heard a real—”
Rafael silenced her with a glare. “Don’t go there.”
“All I’m saying is she’s not all that.”
“She. Is.” Arguing with Cicely was beneath him, but he felt compelled to defend the woman he loved. Paris was his world, his everything, and he wasn’t going to let Cicely bash her. “Paris St. Clair is more woman than you’ll ever be,” he said, bursting with pride “She’s smart, successful, beautiful and loyal.”
“Oh, please. Get your head out of the clouds. No one’s that great.”
“Paris is.” Talking about his girlfriend made him feel on top of the world. “You know what I admire most about her? She’s an independent woman who doesn’t need me or anyone else to take care of her. That’s damn sexy if you ask me.”
“Good for her,” Cicely mumbled, making herself comfortable in one of the armchairs in front of his desk. “I didn’t come down here to listen to you gush about how great your new girlfriend is. I came down here to talk about the well-being of our child.”
“I’m not the father,” he said, tired of repeating himself. “I always use protection.”
As the words left his mouth, his mind flashed back to New Year’s Eve. He’d had unprotected sex only once in his life—with Paris—and as the memories of that night washed over him his temperature soared. His desire for her was insatiable.
“The only surefire protection against unwanted pregnancies is abstinence,” Cicely preached. “I’m 100 percent certain you’re the father. A DNA test will prove it.”
The thought froze in his brain, obliterating every other one in his mind. Cicely sounded confident, looked it, too. Damn, what if I am the father? Panic rose inside the walls of his chest, and fear spread through his veins. His throat closed up, making it impossible to speak, to breathe. How would Paris feel about me being a father? Would a baby be a deal breaker?
Hell, yeah, his conscience answered. There’s no way in hell she’d stay with you!
Rafael pressed his eyes shut and pushed the thought to the furthest corner of his mind. He wasn’t losing Paris again, and since he wasn’t the father of Cicely’s baby he had nothing to worry about. His heart quit pounding in his ears and his breathing slowed.
“I’ve been too sick to go on auditions, and my savings are running out....” She paused. “As the baby’s father, it’s your responsibility to take care of my financial needs. If you don’t, I’ll go public with my story.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“I am doing what’s best for me, and our baby.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped. “This conversation is over. Please leave. From now on you can reach me through my attorney.”
“Rafael, please, I’m...desperate,” Cicely whined. “I only have a couple hundred dollars left in my bank account.”
“Then ask your mother or one of your boyfriends for help.”
“I can’t. I’m too embarrassed.”
Convinced she was giving an Oscar-worthy performance to gain his sympathy, he asked the question on the tip of his tongue. “What happened to the money you got from Celebrity Scoop magazine? I heard they paid you very well for the interview you gave about me.”
Shame clouded her eyes. “Rafael, I never meant to hurt you.”
&n
bsp; “Then why did you slander my family in a national magazine?” he demanded, giving a voice to his anger. “I trusted you, Cicely, and you made me look like a fool.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” she argued, her tone a desperate plea. “My mom contacted the magazine and gave the interview on my behalf.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t expect you to, but it’s the truth.”
Rafael narrowed his eyes. “How did the magazine get all those pictures of us if you had nothing to do with the interview?”
“My mom must have gotten them from my cell phone when I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
Her teardrop earrings tinkled when she shook her head. “It’s not like that, Rafael. I’m not the monster you think I am. I had nothing to do with the exposé, I swear.”
Rafael didn’t know what to think, what to believe. He released a deep sigh and raked a hand over his hair. Cicely was a liar, a master manipulator, but his immediate gut feeling was that she was telling the truth. She wasn’t a bad person, just misguided. Her screwed-up relationship with her mother had everything to do with her selfish, materialistic ways.
“I don’t want there to be any animosity between us,” she said in a soft tone. “We’re having a baby, and I want to raise our child in a two-parent home....”
Rafael gripped his armrest, clutching it so tightly his knuckles throbbed. He wanted to yell at Cicely, to call her every name in the book, but realizing there was nothing to gain from being petty and vindictive, he swallowed his retort.
“Are you willing to take a paternity test?”
The question caught him off guard. He could do the DNA test on Friday, before he left with Paris for Miami, but he didn’t share his thoughts with Cicely quite yet. He didn’t trust her. He worried if he told her about his plan, she’d show up at the hospital. Rafael couldn’t let his ex-girlfriend worm her way back into his life. He’d take the test alone, on his terms, or not at all.
