P.O Box 301095
Brooklyn, New York 11230
TROPICAL STORM
Copyright © 2013 by Stefanie Graham
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under international and federal copyright laws and treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher with the subject line: “permissions” at the email address below.
2S Publishing
[email protected]
www.2SPublishing.com
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales are purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
Cover Design by Tammy Luke
Edited by Carol Taylor
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-9858189-2-0 (eBook)
978-0-9858189-3-7 (pbk)
Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2013941710
About The Author
STEFANIE GRAHAM made her first attempt at writing romances at sixteen. She spent her proceeding years dreaming of ways to create the essence of passion and desire between pages filled with sultry and exciting text. She is a voracious reader, a fan of the written word in all forms and is happiest when curled up in a corner with a good book. Her goal is to create quality multi-genre titles that will capture the imagination of her readers. Stefanie enjoys traveling above all else and plans to visit every corner of the earth. Until then, she calls the East Coast her home. Stefanie would love to hear from you. Visit her at www.StefanieGraham.com
Acknowledgment
This book is dedicated to my mother, Maureen.
How could I write about love if you
hadn’t shown me what love was?
I am forever in your debt and
I plan to repay you with hugs and kisses.
And to my fellow writer and friend, Yvonne;
thanks for refusing to let me rest until I wrote a
romance novel up to your exacting standards.
I did it! Hope you’re happy now.
Contents
About The Author
Acknowledgment
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Prologue
The door swung open and hit the wall. The sound rattled the windows of the eighty-dollar a night motel room. Cairo Kane bolted naked out of bed. He landed on his feet with his fists raised. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that despite the noise his new bride still slept. Positioning his body between the bed and the open door, Cairo crept silently toward it, his heart beat wildly against his ribcage with every step. He froze seconds later as a cleaning woman stuck her head into the room. With wide eyes she took one look at his tall, naked body then quickly snatched the key out of the door and scurried away. Cairo lowered his fists to his sides. His heart was just resuming its normal rhythm when the silhouettes of an older couple filled the doorway. They entered quietly and paused only a moment to take in their surroundings before the man turned and closed the door behind him locking them all inside. The woman swept her gaze over his nakedness then breezed by him heading straight for the bed. Cairo watched in shock as she reached down and dragged away the faded red silk comforter. The tousled head of a sleepy young woman emerged from beneath a sea of twisted sheets.
“Jessica Storm! Get up and get dressed this instant, do you hear me!” The woman’s voice was shrill enough to burst eardrums. “I could just kill you.” She slapped the bed for emphasis. “If you think you’ve won this little battle then you’ve made a grave mistake. This changes nothing. Get up!” Without waiting for her to comply, the woman stomped around the side of the bed and roughly hauled his bride to her feet. The minute she was standing, the woman shrugged off her floor-length fur coat and roughly bundled his wife into it. She then pointed to the crumpled wedding dress that lay discarded on the floor. “Put that on and let’s get the hell out of here. This room smells like piss and poor taste.”
Jessica Storm, lovingly called Storm by her new husband, looked like a sleepy child jerked from a dream. With platinum strands of hair in her face and emerald green eyes still heavy with sleep, she seemed disoriented, uncertain if she were awake or still asleep. The stern face and the crossed arms of the woman in the room confirmed that she was wide awake.
Cairo didn’t know what to do. Since strangers had invaded the room, he stood frozen in place. He watched in a helpless daze as his wife bent to pick up her belongings while casting worried glances in his direction. He didn’t move the whole time. He felt as if all his insecurities had cemented his feet to the ground and robbed him of his ability to speak. He felt young, awkward and ill-equipped to deal with whatever was happening. His moment of paralysis cost him. The man guarding the door walked into the room with purpose. He grasped Storm’s arm and then without a word he turned and dragged her out of the room.
That’s when Cairo came to his senses. “Wait!” He yelled as he yanked on his boxers and ran to the door. The woman slammed it shut and turned to him. She placed her delicate manicured hand covered with expensive diamond jewelry in the middle of his chest. He stopped and looked down at the woman in front of him.
“Come near my daughter again and we will have you arrested.” Pamela Storm said wiping the hand that had touched him on her skirt.
“You can’t stop me from seeing her. She’s my wife.” The words were forceful but the inadequacy of youth and the strain of so unexpectedly coming face-to-face with his new mother in-law made his voice crack.
“Your wife? You must be joking.” Her smile was a mere twisting of the mouth. “First thing tomorrow morning my husband and I will get this travesty annulled. I hope you enjoyed your one night with my daughter,” she said glancing at the rumpled bed. “That’s all you will ever have.” Then she turned on her stiletto heels and walked out.
The slamming door propelled Cairo into action. They’d taken his wife. He took off in pursuit and was almost at the stairs before he realized he was still half-naked. He ran back to the room and with shaking hands slipped on his borrowed black tuxedo and shoes. He knew where they were taking Storm. He knew the Upper East Side Manhattan home where she lived, he’d just never been allowed inside. People like him never were.
Her mother gave her a shove that sent her stumbling through the doorway. Storm caught herself just before she fell on her face in the main foyer. She straightened with as much dignity as she could summon while clutching her mother’s fur coat to her chest. With her chin held high, she turned to face her adversaries: her parents. Anyone who tried to keep her away from Cairo she considered the enemy. Her mother’s look was as cold as the black and white marble that graced their opulent home.
“Look at you; nothing but dirty, damaged goods!” Her mother meant to draw blood with her wo
rds.
Storm flinched as if struck but didn’t respond. Cairo was her first.
“What’s this?” Her mother’s gaze raked over her from head to toe. “Nothing to say? That’s a first. Go upstairs and get rid of that ridiculous dress. We’ll call Briggs in the morning and get this thing annulled.” She then turned her back on her only child; as far as she was concerned the conversation was over.
“I won’t do it.” Storm clenched her hands into fists.
“What did you say?” This time it was her father who spoke.
She squared her shoulders. “I won’t do it. He’s my husband and I love him. I won’t give him up and you can’t make me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong little girl.” Her father’s gaze cut like jagged shards of dark glass. “We can make you.”
“Daddy, please.” Storm begged, reaching out to him. They had never been close, but she didn’t want them to be enemies. The look he gave her convinced her to keep her hands to herself. Storm braced herself for the fight to come. “I’m not annulling anything. I’m legally old enough to make my own decisions. I’m going up to my room now but don’t be surprised if I’m not there in the morning.”
She was halfway up the stairs before her mother’s words stopped her in her tracks.
“Nigel, darling, doesn’t Jessica’s new husband work as a bellboy in one of your hotels?” The trap was being set.
Her father mumbled a response.
“Didn’t you say you were thinking of laying some people off?” The softness of her words hid their venom.
“Yes, I did say that.” Her father caught on quickly.
Her mother placed a bejeweled hand against her cheek. “Weren’t you told that Jessica’s new husband lives with an old man who also works for you in one of your factories in the Bronx?”
“Yes, he does. It seems that when it comes to information, a hundred dollars buys a lot.”
Her mother watched her like a cat toying with a mouse. “Aren’t you planning on making cuts there too?”
Storm walked back down the stairs. She stared at the people who called themselves her parents. “Don’t do this. Blackmailing me won’t get you what you want. I love him and he loves me. We’re going to be a family. If you do anything to hurt Cairo or his godfather, I’ll make you both very sorry. Please, let me go, I’m eighteen and we’re married.”
“You’re married when I say you’re married.” A vein started to throb in her father’s forehead. “I didn’t waste a fortune on the best schools, the best clothes and the best things that money can buy just for you to throw your life away on the first street thug you meet. If you marry anyone it will be James Montague. He likes you, and he comes from a good family. This is the plan we have for your future. If you do anything to ruin it, I’ll break that old man. I will strip him of his job, throw him out of his home and then start on that foolish boy you had the nerve to marry. If you think that I’m joking, test my goodwill little girl and you will see.”
“I hate you.” Storm said her lips trembling.
Her father nodded curtly. “Maybe so, but you will do exactly as I say. Now go up to your room and don’t come out until I say so. Your mother and I have some talking to do.”
A violent banging on the front door interrupted their conversation.
Cairo heard someone approaching the closed door and ran a shaking hand through his dark brown curls. He knelt down to tie the laces of his shoes, adjusted his suit, which was two sizes too big, and had just enough time to straighten his shirt before the door opened. A man with white gloves and the stiffest posture that Cairo had ever seen stood staring at him.
“Can I help you?” The man asked peering haughtily down his nose at him.
Cairo squared his shoulders and swallowed hard. “I’ve come for my wife.”
The man raised his eyebrow. “And whom would that be?”
“Storm.” Cairo answered. “Jessica.” He added having never called his wife by anything other than her last name.
“Miss Jessica?” The man stiffened and Cairo got the distinct impression that the door was about to be slammed in his face, if not for a voice from inside the house.
“Salvador, show the young man into the library.”
Salvador immediately opened the door and stepped aside. “This way, please.” The butler led him through an ornate foyer into an equally daunting library decorated with dark wood and stacks of books almost as high as the ceiling.
Cairo looked around for Storm and for the first time since her parents burst into their room, he felt like he could breathe again. When he saw her, she was looking down, her white-blond curls loose around her shoulders. She was still dressed in her rumpled wedding finery.
“Storm?” He whispered, but she didn’t look up.
“What can I do for you Mr . . . ?” His mother in-law let the words trail off.
“Kane.” Cairo said and straightened his posture so that he rose to his full height. “There’s nothing you can do for me except give me back my wife. I know you don’t want us together but it’s a done deal. Storm is my wife and nothing can change that. Not even you. Come on Storm, let’s go.” He held out his hand but Storm didn’t take it. Her mother spoke.
“I’m sorry you came all this way but Jessica isn’t going anywhere. I’m afraid there’s been terrible misunderstanding. Jessica should not have married you; she’s committed to someone else.”
“You’re lying.” Cairo rejected the statement immediately. “Storm and I are in love and she would never betray me.”
Pamela Storm twisted her mouth into a smile. “Foolish boy,” she laughed mirthlessly. “And here I thought you project kids were supposed to be street smart. If you don’t believe me, ask your wife.” She said the last word like it was something distasteful in her mouth.
Cairo went to Storm, slid into the seat beside her and gathered her close. “They’ll say just about anything, won’t they?” When she greeted his remark with silence, he picked up the hand that wore his ring and rubbed it against his cheek. “Don’t be afraid of your parents, Storm, trust in me. I’m your family now.”
To this she opened her mouth to speak, but only a sob came out.
“It’s okay,” he said as much to himself now as to her. “C’mon love, let’s get out of here. It’s our wedding night.”
This finally got her attention. Eyes the color of a wind tossed sea focused on him. For the first time he felt the sharp edge of fear. He watched as she took a deep shuddering breath. She then gave her parents a hard look before she pulled her hand out of his.
“I never meant to hurt you but my parents are right. I shouldn’t have married you.” Her voice was unrecognizable, hard, and stiff, almost like she was a different person. “I’ve been seeing someone else and we have plans to get married when I’m older. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
A red haze clouded Cairo eyes. Every fear, insecurity and feeling of not being good enough now descended on him. He fought the feelings back but his body shook with the effort. “I don’t believe you. What did your parents say to make you do this?”
“They didn’t say anything. It’s the truth.” She held his gaze as she said it.
When Cairo grabbed her arms and shook her, Storm’s father took a step forward but her mother held him back.
“Don’t lie. I know they put you up to this. I know you love me. You can’t deny that you do.”
“I don’t deny it. You were different. You made me feel special.” Then the dam burst and her words came out in a tearful flood. “But it takes more than love to make a marriage work. I care about you but I made a mistake tonight. I want out.”
“You lying snake!” He hissed.
His wife of one day flinched as if he’d struck her and raised wounded eyes to his face.
The express
ion enraged him. “Damn! You didn’t have to marry me if all you wanted was to slum it for a night or two with a boy from the Bronx.” He lapsed back into the inner-city accent he’d worked so hard to stamp out. “I get it now. You were slumming. Is that what this was all about?” The pain was sharp. Physical.
“Forget what I just said, Cairo. I’m sorry, I can explain. I . . . ” The words trailed away as Storm’s mother walked over and squeezed her hand.
Cairo saw their linked hands as bonds of conspiracy. “Explain? What can you tell me that I don’t already know?” He asked as tears of humiliation gathered in his eyes. “I should’ve known your love was a lie. What would a girl like you do with someone like me? It had to be a trick. Well playtime is over, back to reality.”
Without looking away from Storm, he drew the folded marriage certificate from his pocket and held it up.
“You want an annulment? It’s yours. You never existed as far as I’m concerned.” Then he tore to pieces the only proof he had that Storm had ever belonged to him. He threw the pieces of their marriage contract on the floor at her feet, turned on his heel and walked out, ignoring the sound of Storm screaming his name.
Chapter One
Cairo rounded the side of The Victory Hotel and stepped up onto the wide veranda that spanned the front of the building. Storm clouds were gathering in the morning sky and he heard a distant clap of thunder. Later, when the Jamaican island was fresh and rain-washed, he would climb into the mountains up to the summit and survey his property. He would breathe in the fragrance of the flowers blooming in the lush, tropical forest and savor the pride and sense of accomplishment that always came over him. The majestic hillside hotel wasn’t the house he had promised to build his godfather and guardian when he’d packed up and left New York with him years ago; it was so much more. He could still remember the tears that had come to Papa Joseph’s eyes when he’d first shown him the elegant suite of rooms that were his and his alone. How grateful he was that he’d been able to repay the old man he considered his grandfather, in some way, for standing by him. Cairo missed him. He would probably miss him for the rest of his life. He sighed deeply and stepped into the hotel lobby.
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