A Case For Love (Royals Series Book 3)

by Nicole Taylor

  “Truth is, I was never really much of a rebel. I’ve made some mistakes in my life, but I’ve always known where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be. I’ve never done anything foolish enough to derail the course of my life. I think I generally use good judgment, even when the temptation to do otherwise is so strong I struggle to breathe.”

  He looked at her with an intensity in his eyes that was so strong, she struggled to breathe. He almost looked as though a battle was happening right then. She had the strange sensation that his words somehow applied to her. With effort, she looked away.

  Ronnie gulped. “Any regrets?”

  “About following the rules?”

  “Not attending Howard.”

  David took a deep breath and released it as he rotated his shoulders. He resumed walking.

  “No. I enjoyed campus life at both Columbia and Harvard. I was one of those people who would party hard and still found it possible to study hard.”

  She laughed lightly as they headed into his office.

  “I hope you don’t still party hard.”

  “Nah, I left that foolishness behind me a long time ago. Looking back, it was an empty life, pointless, joyless. These days, my Saturday nights find me addressing a fundraising event. Before that, I was often attending some function or another associated with my business or community work. Very occasionally, I hang out with my friends, but we don’t go partying. If we go to a sports bar, we don’t drink to excess. We know our limits. When I am free, rare these days, I stay at home, watch a game, practice my music, read, or some such thing. When I find moments of solitude, I grab them with both hands.”

  Ronnie took a seat and filed away this precious peep into David’s life.

  “Sounds like you need a long vacay.”

  “Way overdue. Maybe I’ll take a few days off at the end of the year. Fly down to the Caribbean. Sit on the beach, sip a colada, stare out at the ocean and just vegetate.”

  She laughed. “Somehow I can’t see you vegetating.”

  “When you become a lawyer, there’ll come a time when just vegetating will become your deepest desire.”

  “You keep saying stuff like that. Why do you want me to be a lawyer so badly?”

  He leaned back as he observed her.

  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a legal assistant, Ronnie. Don’t get me wrong. I just think that you’re destined for more. I believe you have tremendous potential.”

  He captured her with his intense gaze.

  “In my law classes, I can tell by the first semester which students will make mediocre lawyers, those who will make good lawyers, and those who will make brilliant lawyers. You would make a brilliant lawyer.”

  Ronnie glanced away. He had no idea, of course, the insecurities she battled. Most days she moved through life with confidence born of the knowledge that she was a child of God, that she was loved completely by Him, and that He would equip her for whatever task lay before her. But there were days when something threw her off. When someone said something or did something that made her doubt who she was. And at those times, when waves of insecurities washed over her, she felt as though she was on the verge of drowning as the devil whispered that she wasn’t good enough, that she would never be good enough.

  She would be taken back to junior high when kids would say that they didn’t believe her sister was really Dana Dickson. In a family of blondes, she had to have been adopted. Or the shame when she had tried out for the high school play and been told she didn’t make the grade and have the other kids make snide remarks that obviously the acting gene had stopped at Barbara. But he didn’t stop there.

  The devil told her she wasn’t even a good photographer, certainly not in her father’s league. His was serious photography. It told a story. What she did was light weight, inconsequential, irrelevant. And even when she got good grades in photography, he told her it was all an illusion, that soon everyone would know she was just a charlatan. She was just little Ronalda, who lived in the shadow of her larger-than-life siblings.

  But what David was saying now made her feel so accepted, so precious. It was a lot like she’d felt the day she’d invited Jesus into her heart. Here was someone who appreciated her for who she was, someone who didn’t compare her to anyone else or even care about her connections. He called her brilliant and sought ways to advance her career. He admired her, Ronnie. Not Dana’s sister. Not Barbara’s sister. Just her...Ronnie.

  ~*~*~*~

  “They received the letter of intent today. I’m awaiting their feedback. I don’t predict it will be a problem, though. We did discuss it with them first. Unless anything has changed since then, it should be a go. Ronnie Dickson will follow up in a couple days to get feedback,” David said to Mike Orbitz, the CEO of United Airlines.

  “Your project manager?”

  “Yes.”

  As David squeezed a stress ball and rocked back in his chair, Mike continued with observations about Ronnie.

  “She seems really efficient and on top of the situation.”

  David felt pride rise in his chest.

  “She is. Definitely.”

  “Pretty too.”

  David rolled his eyes.

  Orbitz cleared his throat.

  “So, I’ll wait to hear from you with respect to the management presentation meeting.”

  Shaking his head, David disconnected the call. What was it with men and Ronnie? Fabrizi, then Gershon, now Orbitz. It was like they couldn’t get over her looks. Not that he had been immune to them, but at least he knew how to control himself.

  He opened the top right-hand desk drawer and pulled out his Bible. He held it gently and swept his hand over it, removing a thin layer of dust. He’d brought it with him that morning. The chat with Ronnie a few days earlier had convinced him that he needed to be more purposeful in his faith walk.

  He remembered the day he’d gotten saved at a youth rally in college. All he’d want to do at that moment was follow God. No matter where he was leading him.

  Sure, he was very active in church now, worked with the youth, all those nice things. On the outside, he was the perfect Christian man. But only he and God knew the truth. He did not have the depth of relationship with his Savior he should have. Prayer was when he remembered or when there was an issue. He did not have a dedicated time to commune with his Father, and it was manifesting itself now in all the issues he was grappling with and all the doubts he was experiencing. He didn’t feel peace about his decisions, primarily because he wasn’t seeking God’s direction.

  He sighed and rotated his shoulders. He needed to do better. No use just talking about it. He reached for his phone and set the alarm for 5:00 a.m. He needed to get up early and have that quiet time with God. But he realized a talk with his heavenly Father was long overdue, so he needed to meet with him now.

  He leaned over and pressed the intercom.

  “Joan, hold all my calls for the next half an hour, please. Even urgent ones. Don’t disturb me unless the building is on fire.”

  David walked over to the couch and knelt in front of it, and then he met with his Savior.

  Chapter 12

  Los Angeles, California

  Ronnie was having dinner with her sisters at Delilah, a hybrid restaurant and lounge located along Santa Monica Boulevard, West Hollywood. It paid homage to the roaring twenties with its moody lighting, plush furniture, hanging crystal chandeliers and mixed wood that truly took diners back to the prohibition era.

  She had traveled to Los Angeles for the weekend and was staying at Dana’s home in Beverly Hills. It was their quarterly Girl’s Night Out. It had become their ritual three years ago. With the commitments her sisters had, it was their purposeful attempt to stay connected. Over the course of that year, however, they had not met at the regular time due to Robert’s accident. This was their first Girl’s Night Out for the year.

  Barbara had given birth in March that year to a beautiful baby boy. It was hard to believe.
Six months later, she was back to her pre-pregnancy figure and looking as though she had just walked off the cover of Vogue in an ecru colored, spaghetti-strap, knit dress. Her honey-blonde hair was styled to perfection and gently framed a perfectly made-up fine-boned face. Bvlgari diamonds were at her throat and ears. Thanks to her marriage to British Billionaire Lord William Lamport III, she looked every bit the lady whose title she carried.

  Dana’s beauty was legendary. She had at one time been the highest paid supermodel in the world but had mostly left that life behind. In addition to being an actress, she was focused on her role as wife and mother to her and Robert’s three children. She was stunning with her aquamarine eyes and thick, long, blonde hair, which she now wore in a relaxed pinned up style. Her flawless face was devoid of makeup, save mascara and lip-gloss and she was dressed in a black Spanish-style lace dress that did nothing to hide her pregnant belly. Her only jewelry was a pair of hanging gold earrings.

  Ronnie could remember that awkward period in her teenage years when she felt like she was the odd man out in a family of blonde beauties. Suddenly, the physical traits she had previously delighted in because she shared them with her father, her dark hair, tawny skin and deep brown eyes, became a reason to lament. She remembered the time she had bleached her hair blonde and received an hour-long lecture from her mother about how she had been fearfully and wonderfully made by God, and how she should never compare herself to anyone else, but rather be content in how He had made her. That had humbled Ronnie, and she had repented. With God’s help, she had come to accept and appreciate her looks. Now, all she felt was tremendous pride that these two women, beautiful on the inside and out, were her sisters, without having any desire to look like them.

  “Are you going to sell your home?” Ronnie asked Dana who had just revealed that she and Robert were looking to simplify their lives and sell some of their possessions.

  “We are. With all of our investments, we can still afford to keep it, but Robert suggests that not having to maintain a house that size would free up our cash flow considerably and enable us to help more people. I agree with him. So, we’ve been looking at this five-bedroom house a few streets away. It only costs $5 million.”

  Ronnie laughed and picked up a French fry.

  “‘Only $5 million,’ she says.” She shook her head. “If ordinary folk heard you they’d probably wonder if you were for real.”

  Dana gave her the hairy eyeball.

  “You know what I mean. Our home is valued at fifty something million dollars, Ronnie. We really are cutting back. Besides you’re not going to find houses a whole lot cheaper in Beverly Hills and we don’t want to move too far away from Robert’s parents. The kids are really close to their grandparents.”

  Ronnie rubbed Dana’s arm.

  “Don’t get all defensive. I was just playing with you. I know what you guys are doing, and I admire your desire to dial back the excess. I understand Robert has also sold a few of the cars.”

  Dana cast a side glance at Ronnie, perhaps checking to see if she was making fun of her.

  “Yes, we’ve only kept the Maserati, the Audi, the Range Rover, and the limo.”

  Ronnie nodded and tried to keep a straight face lest her sister throw something at her. She looked over at Barbara.

  “What about you, milady? Bought any islands lately or are you cutting back too?”

  Barbara made a face at her.

  “Lay off me, Che Guevara.”

  “Che Guevara? Did Che drive an Audi R8?” Dana asked Barbara.

  “Don’t think so,” Barbara said pressing a forefinger on her chin thoughtfully. “He didn’t wear Chanel dresses and Piaget diamond watches either, from what I read.”

  “You need to call her a Che Guevara-wanna-be then,” Dana, said sipping her tonic water.

  “I’ll get her a beret and Cuban cigar for Christmas.”

  Ronnie waved her white napkin in front of her sister’s faces.

  “I surrender. Show mercy, please.”

  Dana and Barbara exchanged smirks.

  The conversation moved on to a number of things – Dana’s children and what they were up to, Robert’s movie, The List, released that summer to rave reviews, William’s latest business venture, Barbara’s newfound role of mother, and the book of photographs Ronnie was working on.

  Ronnie took a bite of her cheeseburger and washed it down with her soft drink.

  “Dana, I have been planning to tell you for a little while. I need you to do the prose for the photos.”

  Barbara lowered her cutlery to her plate.

  “You’ve chosen the photos already?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “But I thought we would have helped you to choose them,” Barbara said.

  She pushed her salad slightly away and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

  Ronnie sat up straighter in her chair.

  “You never asked to. Why are you asking this now when I’m finalizing things?”

  Placing her forearms on the table, Barbara glanced at Dana then back at Ronnie.

  “When you told us last year that you were thinking of doing this I just assumed we would be a part of this project. Now I’m learning you’ve already chosen the photos.”

  Ronnie took a deep breath. She decided to ignore Barbara since she could feel tension brewing. She wondered what qualified Barbara Dickson to think she should choose the photographs for her book. After all, did she tell Barbara what movie scripts to choose? She redirected her gaze at Dana.

  “Are you willing to do the prose, Dana?”

  “I’d be happy to do the prose, Ronnie. Barbara does have a point, though. We would like to have some input in the final product,” Dana said gently, as she shifted her back and lightly rubbed her pregnant belly.

  “He was our dad too,” Barbara added plaintively.

  Ronnie closed her eyes briefly, feeling like she had had it with them, Barbara in particular.

  “But this isn’t your project now, is it? It’s mine.”

  “So that’s what this is about? Because you came up with the idea, you think you should exclude us,” Barbara asked, incredulous, looking to Dana for support.

  “I’m not doing that,” Ronnie said throwing up her hands.

  “I have my favorite photographs too,” Barbara said.

  Ronnie took a deep breath and fixed her eyes, unseeing, past several celebrity diners at the other tables and at the bar.

  Barbara pouted. “Look, if you don’t want me involved, that’s fine. Whatever.”

  She squared her shoulders and crossed her hands over her chest.

  Dana stayed silent. Blue eyes thoughtful.

  Ronnie felt angry, hot tears burn the back of her eyes.

  “The two of you knew Dad. I never had the privilege. This one thing I get to share with him and you want to…intrude. I think that’s very unreasonable of you. Dana, I invited you to write the prose. I could have done that myself but that was my way of including you and, Barbara, you can look at the layout and make suggestions. But this is my project. I have the final say.”

  Barbara was about to respond when Dana grasped her arm to silence her.

  After a minute Dana said softly, “If that’s how you feel about it, Ronnie, we’ll respect your wishes. Let’s not fight. Life is too precious to waste fighting over such things.”

  She released Barbara’s arm and reached for the menu.

  “Anyone for dessert…?”

  ~*~*~*~

  “I’ve scheduled Saturday morning to do your portrait. Is that okay?”

  David’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he read the message on his phone. When he had told Ronnie to go ahead and arrange to have his portrait done it hadn’t even crossed his mind that she was offering to do it. What had he gotten himself into? How did he back out of this without hurting her feelings?

  He picked up the phone. “Ronnie, can I see you in my office for a minute, please?”

  A minute la
ter, Ronnie gave a brief knock on the open door and walked in. “Yes, David.”

  “I didn’t realize you would be the one taking my photo.”

  “It’s better that I do it.”

  He raised his brows. “And why is that?”

  “I’ve got a vision of how it should look, and I’m not sure I could adequately convey that to another photographer.”

  She had a vision of how his portrait should look? He was all at once flattered and petrified. That statement suggested that a level of intimacy had developed between them without him even realizing it. When had that happened? And how did he undo it?

  Ronnie apparently perceived he wasn’t comfortable with the idea because she said hurriedly, “Please give me a try. If you hate it, no hard feelings and I’ll hire a professional to do a new one.”

  What could he say to that? Any rejection now would seem fastidious and odd, particularly since she knew he really hadn’t cared about having his portrait done in the first place. Worse yet, she might assume he didn’t think she was sufficiently skilled to take his photograph.

  “Fine.”

  “Terrific! Oh, I’ve also invited a representative of Ralph Lauren to the shoot.”

  “A who? What for?” he asked incredulously.

  “You dress great. I just wanted to make you look even more amazing. You know, like you were posing for the cover of GQ or something.”

  “No.”

  “David…”

  “No, Ronnie. I’m wearing my own clothes or no deal.”

  She looked down at her hands and pouted like a little girl.

  He stared at her for a full minute. Then sighed in defeat. What was it about her that made him want to give in to her every request?

  “Just out of curiosity what would you have me wear?”

  She sat forward excitedly.

  “I’m thinking maybe a plaid suit, with a bow tie…or a three-piece suit and a tie with a Windsor knot…or…”

  “Fine. Let the Ralph Lauren person come.”

  Her face lit up. “Excellent.” She started to get up, then sat back down. “Did I ever tell you my dad was a photographer?”