BIG DADDY SINATRA 2: IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, Book 2

by Mallory Monroe

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “I hate it,” Denise said when Norm came down from his room upstairs at the Jericho Inn, and asked how was she enjoying working the front desk on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon.

  “Hate is such a strong word,” Norm said.

  “I don’t enjoy it,” she responded. “How’s that?”

  “I don’t know what’s not to enjoy. Jenay has already laid down the law. Either you shape up, or ship out, and you know she’s not playing, girl.”

  “But it’s so not fair, Norm! I’m supposed to be her assistant, not some lowly desk clerk. I shouldn’t have to fill in until they hire somebody.”

  “You are so full of it,” Norm said. “You were fine being a lowly waitress when you first got to town. Now that you’ve met Brent Sinatra, and have a thing going with him, you’re suddenly too good to even stand behind this desk. You’re only twenty-two years old, and I understand you’re young, but you have an awful lot of growing up to do. You’re a long way from where even a twenty-two year old should be.”

  But she dismissed Norm, as she always did, as an old fogie who didn’t know squat. And she was about to tell him exactly that, when the lobby doors slid open, and a tall, handsome white man walked in.

  Denise’s heart began to hammer. She had been texting him. She had been phoning him. She had been begging him to at least talk to her, but she received nothing from him. Not a peep. Now he was in the flesh, walking toward the front desk, staring at her unblinkingly with his beautiful blue eyes.

  “Mark?” she asked, still too stunned to believe it.

  Norm was stunned too, when he realized who it was. Mark, however, smiled. “You miss me, baby?” he asked.

  Denise didn’t wait to answer. She ran from behind the counter like the childish girl she was, and threw herself into his arms. Norm couldn’t believe it. The same man who cheated on her and cheated on her and then dumped her like a nasty habit, was being treated by her as if he was returning home from war. She was kissing him and gushing over him and allowing him to feel her ass even in this public place. Norm was no prude by any stretch of the imagination, but even he found it all disgusting.

  When they finally stopped all of the kissing and feeling, she allowed him to talk. “I want you back, Denise.”

  Norm realized Denise was crying. “You do?” she asked, as if it would be her honor to go back to that cheater.

  “I do,” Mark said. And then he shocked even Norm. “I want to marry you,” he added.

  Denise was so thrown that she threw herself in his arms again. “Oh, Mark!” she screamed. “Marriage?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Marriage.”

  But what about Brent, Norm wondered. He thought she wanted to someday marry gorgeous Brent! He certainly looked better than this Mark, and he treated her a damn sight better.

  But Denise wasn’t thinking about Brent. He was nice and fine and great in bed, but Mark was the love of her life. She wasn’t about to give him up for Brent or anybody else. She closed her eyes and held onto her man. This was a dream come true for her. This was what she had wanted when she first met him. He cheated on her, and broke her heart, but all was forgiven right now.

  “I missed you so much,” Mark was saying as he held her. “I realized that no other woman could fulfill me the way you do, Denise.” Denise held him tighter, and closed her eyes tighter. She didn’t want to wake up and realize it was only a dream.

  But Mark kept her hope alive. “I want you to come back to Boston with me, and start planning our wedding. I want you, and only you to be my wife, and the mother of my children. I want you, Denise.”

  But Denise’s eyes flew open as soon as he mentioned that he wanted her to be the mother of his children. His children, not somebody else’s child! And her heart sank. She was already pregnant. She took numerous tests, and every one confirmed that she was pregnant. But not with Mark’s child. She was pregnant with Brent’s child! And she knew Mark. He could cheat all day long, but as soon as he found out she was carrying another man’s baby, he’d dump her again. He’d leave her and never return. And there was no guarantee Brent, who was a playboy himself, would want her either.

  She had to act. She had to act now. She had to exchange her fate, but she had to do it right now. She’d been with Brent for over four months, sleeping with him almost every night. Based on her calculations she was already three weeks pregnant. She knew she had no time to waste.

  She grabbed Mark by the hand and began to hurry toward the elevators.

  “But what about the desk, Denise?” Norm asked. “You can’t leave the front desk unmanned!”

  “Then man it,” Denise responded, got on the elevator with Mark, and jumped into his arms.

  He was fucking her before the elevator doors opened again. Her panties were hanging off of one feet, and her feet were wrapped around his body. His dick was in her pussy, and he was banging her hard as they stepped off the elevator and made their way into her hotel suite.

  By the time the door closed, he dropped her to the floor and began banging her the way a man interested only in his own satisfaction banged a woman. But Denise didn’t care. She just needed him to bang.

  After church, while Jenay made her way to Mary’s house to review more fabric choices for the lobby redesign, and Brent went his own separate way, Charles made his way to Chief Joffee’s office to find out why he would let his feud with him spill over and contaminate his son. But he didn’t arrive empty handed. He went by his bank first, the largest bank in town. The bank Charles himself owned.

  But when Charles arrived at the police station, and was allowed into the chief’s office, Joffee was unrepentant. He stood behind his desk and declared Brent to be a lousy cop who deserved to be terminated.

  “A lousy cop?” Charles asked with incredulity in his voice. “Are you kidding me? Brent is the best cop you have in this department! He’s the one who crack the big cases. He’s the one who work his ass off day and night to make sure this place runs efficiently. Brent virtually runs this place because your ass is too drunk half the time. That’s why you had no choice but to promote him to sergeant. So don’t you dare accuse my son of dereliction of duty. Every human being in this town knows better than that.”

  “But I’m the only human being in this town with the power to fire a police officer. I didn’t hire him, the mayor forced that decision on me, but I can fire him. Not even the mayor can take that authority away from me. I can fire any cop I choose to fire. Which I have done.”

  “Why did you do it?” Charles asked. “And don’t give me that bullshit about him being a bad cop. Why did you fire my son? Because you dislike me?”

  “I did it because I can,” Joffee said as if he was some petulant child. “Now he can go back and be the rich kid he is and stop playing cops and robbers with us. The rest of us aren’t cops because we want to be. We’re cops because we have to be if we want a decent salary to feed our families. It turns my stomach when I see a rich kid like Brent invading our space, taking the job some poor kid could have had. And I’ve had enough of it. When that other boy of yours, that Donald, was released because of your power and pull in this town, that was the last straw. But I waited. I gave Brent a chance to prove me wrong. But I’m not wrong. I wanted him off of my force. So I fired him.”

  “Reverse it,” Charles ordered.

  Joffee laughed. “In your dreams, Sinatra!”

  Charles tossed a thick file on top of Joffee’s desk. “Reverse it,” he said.

  Joffee looked at the file. “What the hell is that?”

  “Your account with my bank.”

  “You have no right to access my account like that!” Joffee yelled.

  “I can when it’s been flagged,” Charles responded. “And it was flagged months ago. I was sidetracked when somebody tried to harm my wife and child, but I’m no longer distracted. Now I can act on this information the same way you could fire my son: because I can.”

  It was obvious that Joffee wa
sn’t as gun ho as he had been. “What information?” he asked.

  “Every time a rich kid blueblood or one of their family members gets into legal trouble around here, you suddenly get a nice deposit into your account. And then suddenly, my investigator discovered, the blueblood goes free and no charges are filed. And it’s a pattern that dates back years. A blueblood maimed a poor child while driving drunk. He was arrested. Money was deposited in your account, and suddenly you had the wrong guy. It wasn’t him after all. It’s been a familiar pattern of yours for years. And you have the nerve to tell me that my son’s presence on your force turns your stomach? A rich kid maiming a poor kid does nothing for you, if the price is right. But a rich kid, my kid, trying to work and help the poor, now that’s a problem. Because there’s nothing in it for you. Because you know it’ll be a cold day in hell before I pay you a dime!”

  Joffee was in a state of disbelief. He was staring at the file. He looked back up at Charles. He knew he was dealing with a man who kept his word. He knew he was dealing with a man who could utterly destroy him. “Okay,” he said. “Perhaps I was a little hasty. So this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to reinstate your son, and you, in turn, are going to un-flag my account and forget it even exists.”

  “I have a better solution,” Charles said. “You’re going to reinstate my son, and tell me who paid you to fire him.”

  “I told you why I fired him.”

  “You told me bullshit,” Charles said. “I want the real story. Why did you all of a sudden feel a need to fire him? Why did you receive another one of your big deposits just before you fired him? I want to know who gave you that money. And I want to know now.”

  Joffee was nervous now. It went from past allegations to a new one, a direct connection. He knew he had to cut a deal. “What’s in for me?” he asked him.

  “You’ll live and not die,” Charles said.

  “And I won’t be implicated in any of this?”

  “You’ll live and not die,” Charles said again. “Who paid you to fire my son?”

  Joffee looked as if the weight of the world was suddenly on his shoulders. And then he sat down. “Will,” he said.

  Charles frowned. “Will who?”

  “Your property manager. Will Horton. He’s the one who paid me.”

  Charles was stunned. Why would Will, his friend for twenty years and the manager of his rental properties, want his son fired? He looked again at Joffee to ensure he wasn’t lying to him. But he knew bullshit when he saw it. That wasn’t bullshit.

  Norm had been working the desk for only a few minutes when Brent Sinatra entered the lobby. His first instinct was to run and hide. He didn’t want to have any parts in Denise’s foolishness. But his better instinct kept him where he stood. Brent was a good guy. He didn’t deserve what Denise was doing behind his back.

  “Hey, Norm,” Brent said lively as he walked up to the desk. He wore a suit and looked as if he had just come out of church.

  “Hi there, Brent.”

  “You look out of place.”

  “I am out of place,” Norm agreed. “The café is closed on Sundays. That’s the only reason I’m doing this. And because of Denise of course.”

  Brent smiled. “This is supposed to be her gig?”

  “You are correct, sir.”

  He laughed. “She’s still young.”

  “You’re young and a sergeant on the police force. She’s only three years younger than you. What’s her excuse?”

  “I used to be a sergeant on the police force,” Brent said, “and she’s twenty-two in age only. She’s more like eighteen in actuality,” he added. Then he added with a note of regret: “Unfortunately.”

  Norm considered Brent. “She’s my friend,” he said, “and I love her to death. But you can do better than her. She’s not ready for a real man. Nowhere near it. And I know it sounds strange coming from a gay guy like me,” Norm added and Brent laughed. “But it’s true,” Norm said. “Denise Donahue is not ready for primetime and I can’t envision a scenario when she ever will be. Maybe when she’s sixty. That’s the only scenario I see.”

  “Where is she? Upstairs?”

  Norm could only imagine what she was doing upstairs, but the kid had to find out for himself. “Yes,” he said.

  And Brent headed that way.

  Instead of the elevator, he took the stairs. He was actually anxious to see her again. And to do her again, if he would be honest with himself. He enjoyed doing it with Denise. Whether or not that was going to lead to anything more permanent, he couldn’t say. Denise had to grow up first. That was going to take time.

  But when he arrived at the door of her suite, and heard what sounded like odd noises coming from the room, noises that sounded like sex sounds to him, his anxiousness turned into something different. He looked down the corridor, saw a maid cart in the hall, and hurried to that room. He told the maid that there might be an intruder in Denise’s room. He wanted her to open the door. Since Brent was well-respected around the Inn, not only as a cop but also as Big Daddy Sinatra’s oldest son, the maid didn’t hesitate in following him down the hall, and unlocking the door.

  When the door was unlocked, the maid immediately headed back to her station. Brent hesitated too, but then he went inside.

  Clothes were practically blocking the entrance as he walked in. And the noises he heard in the hall, and were loud as thunder inside the room, were undeniably of a sexual nature. He rounded the corner from the living area to the bedroom area and saw Denise on the bed, with her ass in the air, allowing some tall white guy to fuck the shit out of her. He was pounding her so hard that her brown butt was red. He was fucking her so mercilessly that Brent could see tears in her eyes. And they weren’t tears of joy.

  But Brent didn’t care. He didn’t see her pain. All he saw was red.

  He ran into the room, grabbed the guy off of her, and the fight was on.

  Denise was stunned when the pain of Mark’s harsh penetration was replaced with sudden movement and then an out-and-out brawl. She screamed for Brent to stop. But Brent wasn’t about to stop. He was beating Mark down as if it were the easiest opponent he’d ever fought. He was beating Mark so decisively that it seemed unfair. But he didn’t stop. He put a beating on Denise’s ex that Mark would never forget.

  Denise knew it too. And she also knew she had to stop him. She jumped on Brent’s back and began beating him down. It was enough. Mark course-corrected and ended up with Brent on the floor. And he began his own beat down.

  “Who is he?” Mark was asking as he fought back.

  “Some fool who think I like him,” Jenay responded. “His daddy owns this hotel.”

  “You want my woman?” Mark asked Brent as he fought. “Well you can’t have her. She’s mine. Nobody’s getting her. And if you already had her, that gravy train ends today.”

  Denise wanted to jump for joy when she heard those words. Mark believed her! She was lying, but Mark believed her lies! She looked at Brent, and was sorry that it had to come to this, but she was already in love with Mark before she knew Brent’s name. She was with Brent on the rebound. Now that Mark was back, she didn’t need him anymore.

  Brent regained control over Mark. He was the bigger man and the stronger man and he easily had Mark pinned down again. But when he saw Denise holding onto the guy, and coddling him, and begging Brent to stop hitting him, he stopped all action. What was he thinking? His father would have told him he was the fool of fools for fighting over a girl who was caught, red handed, fucking another man.

  He pushed the guy away from him, and stood up.

  Denise saw the hurt in Brent’s eyes. She looked at him with sorrow in her own eyes. She even mouthed “I’m sorry” as if Brent was stupid enough to believe her.

  “Kiss my ass,” he said to her. “He can have you.”

  But he continued to look at her as if he was still kind of stunned. He thought her problem all along was immaturity, not malice. He never dreamed that she cou
ld be so calculating. Now he knew better.

  He left. He left her to that man she was fawning all over, and to her own devices.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sinatra Management was a property office near the edge of town. They remained open on Sundays, mainly to collect rents and catch up on paperwork, but occasionally Will or Nester showed property too.

  Charles parked his Jaguar in front of the small office and walked briskly inside. Nester Hamilton, his property agent, and Will Horton, his longtime property manager, were both sitting in the office. Four months ago, Will had attempted to have Nester fired for what he called her dishonesty and her penchant for overhyping properties to potential renters. Now Charles was there to confront Will himself about his own underhandedness. A man Charles considered a friend. It was unpleasant business.

  Will looked up from behind his desk as soon as Charles walked in. But he was smiling, as if he didn’t have a clue. Nester was glad to see the boss also.

  “Hello, Mr. Sinatra,” she said gaily. “We finally got Obadiah Puck’s property rented.”

  “When?” Charles asked.

  “Yesterday. I’m finalizing the paperwork now.”

  “Good,” Charles said. Then he exhaled. “Could you excuse us, Nest?”

  It was only then did Will show any kind of change in his bland expression. Charles saw the sudden fear in his eyes.

  Nester was confused too. He usually discussed property matters with both of them present, not one. This was unusual. But Charles was in charge. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just pop over to Maylene’s and grab a coke.” She grabbed her purse out of her desk drawer, and left the storefront office.

  Charles then turned his attention to Will. “Why did you pay Joffee to fire my son?”

  Will, at first, smiled. But when he saw just how serious Charles was, that smile quickly evaporated. “What are you talking about? Why would I pay Joffee anything?”

  “I didn’t come here on a whim,” Charles made clear. “I’m not asking you this question because I think I know something. I came here and I’m asking this question because I know something. Why did you pay Joffee to fire my son?”