Kanon kept her sane and sober. Kanon. She groaned and sipped some more wine.
Did she really want to get involved with a man who had a child?
She didn’t get to ponder it. Her cell phone rang, vibrating against the glass patio
table.
Scooping it up, she glanced at the number, the ringtone was the one she used for
unknown callers.
Could it be her insurance company? But at this time of night.
“Hello?”
“Is this Charlotte Neal?” the polished voice on the other end asked.
Damn telemarketers.
“I’m not interested.”
“Oh, but you may be. Do you know a Mr. Isamu?” she asked. Yeah, it was a
female for sure to be this darn pushy.
“No,” Charlotte said before her brain could process what she lied about.
“No? It says here that he’s your current employer,” the female words slithered
through the phone. “Has that changed?”
“Yeah, as of today,” Charlotte said, her grip so tight, the water condensation on
the glass seeped between her fingers. Again her mouth shot off answers without
clearance from her mind. “Who the hell is this?”
“I am the assistant to the district attorney Martin Bell,” the woman said.
“Tell me what this is in reference to.” “I am not at liberty to discuss an on-going case, Miss Neal; however, do not be
surprised if you are subpoenaed in the next six months. Is your current address…”
“Subpoenaed? For what?” Charlotte barked, sitting upright in her chair, her feet
flat on the ground. The car accident, the hit and run? They’d never found the driver of
the Mercedes, but why ask her about Ichigo? He was at the scene, but he didn’t witness
it. “I think you owe me some answers. You call my home this late at night and question
me? Do I need to file a complaint?”
“Complaint?”
“Hell yeah. There is a Freedom of Information Act, bitch, so start singing,”
Charlotte snapped, her anger bowled over any ideas of self preservation. This woman
threatened Ichigo and appeared to be trying to get her hooked up in some mess.
“Feisty aren’t you,” the woman remarked. “It seems Mr. Isamu is being sued for
discrimination.”
“What?”
“You may be subpoenaed to testify.”
She shook her head, trying to shake out the dumb shit she’d just heard. Was this
woman serious? No, this was some practical joke. But no one knew about her job with
Ichigo.
“Any other questions will have to wait until your subpoena arrives,” the woman
clucked cheerfully and hung up.
Charlotte stared at her cell phone like it had grown legs.
“Ichigo!” She got up from her seat and ran into her house. The thick, brown envelope from
this morning came tumbling back through her mind. He had no idea what he’d been
given. Discrimination. How could that be possible? Did he just sleep with her to prove
that he wasn’t a racist?
She snatched on her jeans, her mind burning with rage. How dare he use her to
cover his ass! No damn wonder he wanted her to start so soon. No damn wonder he’d
worked so hard to seduce her.
Oh, hell no. If he thought he could do this to her, and she would just melt like
butter on a hot skillet, he’d best think a-damn-gin.
Chapter Ten
The doorbell sounded behind the door in the same rage-filled volume that boiled
inside Charlotte. Or maybe she projected that, but it didn’t matter. The drive to Ichigo’s
house didn’t quell the furious hurt and angry knot lodged in her belly. How dare he use
her to keep from getting the pants sued off him! She brought her fist to the round
button again, but the door suddenly jerked open, spooking her already distressed
nerves.
“Char?” he asked from the doorway, pushing the screen door open to allow her
entry. His chocolate eyes beamed and relief washed over him. “What are you doing
here? I thought you were taking the night off.”
His conversational tone matched his body language, but it served to only piss
her off more.
“You ass!” she choked out, throat burning closed around the words. “How dare
you!”
His face fell, and worry pinched his brow. He held his hand out to her. “What? I
don’t…”
“Oh hell yes you do, don’t start lying. You’ve done that enough.”
He searched her face, puzzled and questioning. She glared back at him, arms
folded. What? Did he think she was going to believe his innocent act? She’d been fooled
by better bluffers and cheaters and liars in her past. He’d best up his game. The pinch of his brow eased and his fall became blank, like he’d put on a mask
over his real face.
“Come inside,” he said, trying to capture her arm again.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand dropped. Stepping back from the door, he waited, the tic in his jaw
working nonstop.
As soon as she crossed into the foyer, she wanted to leave. Too much. It was too
much—the memories of his body pressed against hers, the vanilla musk on his skin, the
feel of his lips across the nape of her neck—oh God.
“Where’s Kanon?” she asked, battling to think of something else.
“Asleep,” he answered matter-of-fact. “Let’s move to the living room.”
She raised an eyebrow. Did he think her naïve too?
He sighed. “If you’re going to rant at me, I don’t want to wake her in the
process.”
So he knew! Bastard.
She followed him down the hallway. Tension grew thick, so much so she kept
clearing her throat. Her fury simmered beneath her wish to honor the little girl, but
once she placed a sneaker into the living room, she put her hands on her hips and her
fury burned its way to the forefront.
“You ass! You think you can just use me?”
“What?” he spun around to face her fully. “Use you?” “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” she grounded out between clenched teeth.
The muscles in her face ached from trying to contain her hurt and anger.
He spread his hands wide as if to say he didn’t get it. Confusion spilled over his
features, turning them in on each other. He shook his head and stepped closer to her.
“You’re being sued. So, you think you can just fuck some black chic and it’ll
prove you aren’t a racist.”
That did it. Her resolve broke, but only one tear managed to escape. The others
she swallowed.
Ichigo’s face burned scarlet. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip bit into
her biceps. He scowled. “What nonsense is this?”
“Let go of me!” she barked.
“You believe that? You think I’m a racist?” he asked, eyes softening into hurt.
No, he doesn’t get to have his feelings hurt. Not after what he’d done to her.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” she spat and kicked out. He blocked her efforts
to knee him in the nuts with his thigh. Backing her up, Ichigo pressed her against the
wall. To do so, he let go of her hands, and she slapped him across the face, temporarily
halting his efforts.
“Bastard!”
She hated the hurt and watery tears in her voice. She had to get out of here.
Squirming against him, she fought, hands punching and slapping a
gainst the stone
hard body in front of her.
“Get the hell off me!” she yelled. She bucked against his solid frame, her hands a whirl, and then she squealed as
Ichigo’s wide hands succeeded in snaring both her wrists into one of his hands. He
secured them above her head. His powerful thighs pinned her to the wall, spread eagle.
She could move, but not in the ways she wanted and she couldn’t get out of his hold.
All she could do was glare at him.
“You think I’m a racist?” he seethed against her face. “Are you nuts?”
“You used me,” she repeated, but without the heat of her earlier outburst. How
could he do this? She liked him so much, enjoyed him even more, and yeah she didn’t
know if she wanted to see him again, but deep inside she already had fallen for him. If
she didn’t care about him at all, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much.
The hard glint in his eyes softened.
“I made love to you, Char, because I’m in love with you.”
“Whatever.”
“God! I’m not a racist! Hell, Kanon is half black! To hate anyone of color would
make me a poor ass father, wouldn’t you think? I didn’t get expelled from my family,
disowned, and mocked because I hate people of color!”
Charlotte stopped fighting. “Kanon’s half black?”
“Yeah. Where’d you think she got that hair,” he said, releasing her and stepping
back. He went over to one of the bookshelves and removed an album. He opened it to
the first page and thrust it into Charlotte’s hands. “Here.”
He plopped down into one of the two stiff, ebony wingback chairs. She stared down at the black, crushed velvet photo album. An emblazed date in
silver and a quote told her this album had only one purpose—memories of a wedding.
“That’s Sybil.”
She didn’t want to see his ex-wife, but curiosity pounced. She had to see the
competition, the other woman that had managed to snare Ichigo’s heart and cause him
to lose his family and his heritage. Who would make him do all those things? With her
stomach in a flutter, Char looked down at the page. The lithe woman beamed in her
blinding white wedding grown. Light caramel skin—a red bone, Sybil had been
decorated in skillful makeup and ornate jewelry. The woman was breathtakingly
beautiful. Charlotte could make out Kanon’s lips and chin in the woman’s face. Of
course, Kanon’s hair came from her mother too. He didn’t lie. Sybil was surely Kanon’s
mother.
“She’s uh, beautiful.”
Ichigo shrugged. “Only on the outside.”
Charlotte handed the album back to him. He threw it with disgust onto the coffee
table. Papers fluttered up in its wake. She looked at the coffee table, only just seeing it.
A flurry of papers were scattered across its oval surface.
“Even if the suit was about discrimination, I wouldn’t use you like that,” he said
from the chair.
“It’s not about discrimination?”
He smiled over to her, but it seemed cold.
“It’s about reverse discrimination.” Charlotte frowned. What? She could still see the crimson mark on his cheek from
where she’d slapped him. Swallowing her embarrassment, she shoved her hands into
her pockets.
“My former nanny, Ms. Avery, filed the suit. She believes I fired her because
she’s white. Hiring you actually adds some validity to that claim.”
Charlotte gaped at him. “Huh?”
He got up and came to her as if she’d beckoned him. Sick with shame, her cheeks
were aflame. Thankful for her cocoa-toned skin, she couldn’t meet his eyes. She closed
her eyes and released a slow breath. She didn’t even ask for him an explanation about
the suit. Foolish—she’d been rash, rage-filled, and wrong.
A kiss made her eyes flap open and she found herself lost in the liquid pools of
his eyes. She looked away. Damn her stupidity.
He lifted her chin up. She struggled to hold his gaze, but instead of anger she
found arousal. The scarlet handprint on his face mocked her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Kiss me and make it better.”
She did, barely giving him more than a friendly peck on the mouth.
“Hmmmm. It still hurts,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her
close.
“Where?” she asked, thinking he meant his injured cheek. How could he just
accept what she’d done? “Here,” he said, tapping his lips. “And here.” He tapped his chest, where his
heart resided.
“How can you just forgive me?” she said, voice wavering. God she was going to
cry.
“Why? I love you,” he explained softly. “Loving you means taking that feisty
personality of yours. It’s the thing I love best about you. You’re passionate and open.
So, let me in.”
“Ichigo…” She shook her head, smiling despite herself. He loved her?
“Kiss me, damn it, Char!”
She rose on her toes to meet his warm mouth.
Hungry probes of his tongue scoured the recesses of her mouth, stirring her to
passion. She broke the kiss before it deepened into something more. She wanted him,
but her emotions clashed inside her. Then she met his stare, and lowered her heart to
his chest. There, beating out its declaration, his heart’s thump, thump fell into cadence
with her own. Together. In sync. One.
“Hmm, that’s better,” he said, kissing her forehead. His dark slumberous eyes
seemed to glow. His hands continued rubbing over her back. “Come to bed, baby. You
can make it up to me there.”
“I’m still going to end up on the sofa,” she replied, smiling as he laced his fingers
with hers.
“Not tonight.”
Epilogue
Seven Months later
The seven people seated around the rectangular glossy board table didn’t seem
nearly as happy or giddy as Charlotte did inside. All right, maybe happy wasn’t the
best way to describe it, but she did feel a strong sense of relief mixed with anxiousness
as Ichigo took her hand and sat down beside her at the table. Dressed in an ebony suit
and sapphire blue tie, he looked like a model, and every other male in the room paled
by comparison. His ink-jet hair had been pulled back and cinched at his neck with an
equally dark tie. The pale blue shirt and sapphire tie made him look scrumptious, and
she wanted to hurry and get him home. Maybe they’d get in a quickie in the elevator.
Seated directly across from her, a frumpy, red-faced woman glared. Charlotte
shot her a smile, full of teeth and no warmth. She’d seen the woman before, at the court
hearing, and knew Ms. Avery disliked her. Hell, the woman probably didn’t like
anyone and should be legally barred from being around children.
“Let’s get underway, shall we,” Aaron Yang, Ichigo’s lawyer said, opening one
of the folders in front of him. He cleared his throat at the other two attorneys for Ms.
Avery. “You called this meeting, and my client has a daughter and a job to get to…”
“And a whore,” Ms. Avery spat out. “A whore who took my job!”
Charlotte’s whole body went still. She caught herself as her mouth opened to say
something but the squeeze of Ichigo’s hand made her smile instead. Crossing her legs,
she smi
rked at the woman. “Don’t call her that again,” Ichigo said coldly. “You will refer to her as Miss
Neal.”
“As I told your lawyers, Ms. Avery, Mr. Isamu did not employee Ms. Neal,”
Aaron explained coolly, adjusting his suit’s jacket and forcing everyone’s attention to
him. “Mr. Isamu did not pay her for service, did not file a 1099, or in any way give her a
job.”
Charlotte didn’t fight the grin now wide and bright on her face. The first night on
the job, when she and Ichigo made love had thrown them both for a loop, and after
talking about it they both decided that Charlotte working for him, and being his lover,
didn’t gel. So, she opted for being his lover instead of his nanny. He didn’t even pay her
a wage, but instead took her shopping for clothes for her job interviews. She found an
elementary school with an emergency opening and she took it.
“We have Miss Neal’s sworn testimony that Mr. Isamu fully intended to hire her
as his nanny,” said Mr. Beer Belly, one of Avery’s lawyers. His gravelly voice rolled
over Aaron’s polished one. “The intent is proof of discrimination.”
“The intent is debatable,” Aaron said. “Intent doesn’t prove anything, which is
why you are here. I have at minimum four former employers who have signed
testimonies of your client’s incompetence, negligence, and overbearing disregard for
children. You are lucky they didn’t press charges or sue. You have no case.”
“We knew nothing of this,” Mr. Beer Belly bellowed. “Let me see them!”
Aaron swept his hand over his pants’ leg, removing invisible lint. “They are
court documents, filed with the case.” Ms. Avery gaped at Ichigo and then her beady eyes zipped to Aaron. “You’re
lying! You damn chinks are always lying! Stealing!”
Aaron’s eyebrows rose and a soft flush came to his cheek. “Chinks?”
“Shush, Ms. Avery, let us handle this,” Mr. Beer Belly said, shooting an anxious
look at Aaron and then Ichigo. “She’s frustrated, Mr. Yang.”
“Frustrated?” Aaron said, and leaned back in his chair.
“Get your hands off me!” she barked. “You stupid, ignorant chinks!”
“I told you once, Ms. Avery,” Ichigo said again, voice like an ice dagger. “I’m
Japanese.”
“Clearly, your client is the one with racist tendencies,” Aaron said calmly, but
even Charlotte could see the flush of heat on his face. He was pissed just like Ichigo at
Naughty Nanny Series- Accidentally in Love Page 7
