“How could you?” I yell, covering my head with the sheets.
“We want you to be happy. You looked so happy with him.”
I impatiently flip the sheet off my head and I sit up in bed. “Yeah, well, now I’m sad all the time and there’s nothing you, Mom or anyone else can do about it. Marna’s child is here to stay.” I hide my head in my hands and weep my heart out.
“Oh, honey, you have to stop crying like this.” My mother sits on the other side of the bed and hugs me, consoling me, rubbing my back and kissing my tears away like she does every time I’m crippled with fear and doubt.
“Ciara, when I was driving you here from the airport, you were crying uncontrollably, but I swear I heard you say Jakob had a copy of the birth certificate and a DNA test showing Nikolaj as the father. Did you see the documents?”
I look at Diego, perplexed, and then I remember I didn’t have the courage to face the truth. “No. I took Jakob’s word for it.”
“A lot of things don’t add up. Nikolaj has assured me this Marna woman never contacted him once since he left Copenhagen for Toronto. The first time he found out about her pregnancy was when you told him about it at the gala after you had bumped into Marna in the bathroom and she confessed to you and that other woman you were with.”
“What? Jakob kept telling me Nikolaj was avoiding Marna and his responsibility as a father. I thought maybe she had alluded to the fact the child was Nikolaj’s but he refused to believe her.”
“I think there’s a lot more than meets the eye here.”
“Honey, I have to agree with your father. I’ve never met this Jakob, but he sounds like a shit-stirrer.”
Did she say shit-stirrer?
I’m not wasting any more tears over a man. I should have stuck to my rules and avoided opening myself up. I wouldn’t be this broken up over a guy. It’s my own damn fault for believing love was possible for me. “I honestly don’t care anymore, Diego,” I lie. “I think Nikolaj wants you to take pity on him, but the reality is when Jakob called him at the restaurant where he was meeting with Marna and put the conversation on speakerphone, Nikolaj never once refuted the facts. He knows in his heart the child is his, he simply wasn’t sure how to break the news to me. I’m done with Nikolaj.”
“Honey—”
“Mom, stop defending him.”
“Ciara, you love him and he loves you. This is simply a misunderstanding.”
“Hmph, Diego. I was better off when I was just sleeping with men without expecting anything in return.”
“For the love of God, Ciara, I don’t want to hear this kind of talk from my daughter.”
“Well, we can’t all be as lucky as you and Mom. Maybe I was never meant to love or to be loved by a man.”
“Sweetheart, you’re so wrong. Nikolaj loves you. I’ve seen it in the way he looked at you. When you talk about him, you’re so enthralled your face lights up like a Christmas tree. I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Mom, it was all a fantasy I foolishly allowed myself to believe in. It’s best to never allow a man to make you this messy. Look at me,” I say before dissolving in tears.
“Ciara, take it from me. I spent my life trying to forget Julia with other women and it was impossible, because your mother was the one. The minute I saw her, I was hers. It took me a lifetime to understand she was the only woman I wanted and the others were a waste of time.”
“Thanks for sharing your story, but Nikolaj is not the one,” I lie.
Diego gives me a sideways look that speaks volumes, but I refuse to let him dissuade me. It’s over with Nikolaj. I don’t want to get involved in his drama. My heart can’t handle seeing him with another woman’s child.
“If you and Mom love me as much as you say you do, you’ll respect my decision and you’ll stop talking about the man who’s destroyed me.”
BOOK 5—SINFUL DESIRES
Chapter Twelve
Six weeks later
I knew the holiday season was going to be hell, but this is worse than I expected.
As a lighting designer, I live for this time of the year. New York comes alive. The edginess of the go-go-go mentality is replaced by a mellow energy. The streets are lined with shops decorated to the hilt and every residential street features a row of homes all decked out to celebrate the holiest holiday of them all. You simply can’t outdo New York at Christmas.
How am I going to survive these holidays alone?
I’m standing in front of the window in my living room looking at my neighbors putting the finishing touches on their festive decor and wishing I had the heart to get into the spirit of the season. Adele’s Someone Like You is playing in the background. I’ve been listening to the British singer’s smoky, chocolatey voice non-stop since this morning. A part of me knows full well I shouldn’t listen to love songs when my heart is still aching, but no one describes the heart-wrenching reality of losing the one you love like Adele.
As I soak in the lyrics of the song, I can’t help but draw comparisons to my own life and the love I lost since Nikolaj’s brother shattered my world in Copenhagen.
I guess Nikolaj must have started his new life with the mother of his son. Fuck.
It’s four days before Christmas and I have yet to figure out what I’m going to do with myself. I should go out and buy a tree, decorations, food and drinks, but I’m so unmotivated. It’s way too much effort to get out of my sweatpants, faded oversize sweater and big wool socks to fight the crowded stores. I managed to take a shower, but I’m too lazy to do my hair, so I wrapped it like a turban on the top of my head and used a couple pins to hold my mane of curls.
Maybe I should get my meals delivered? Who am I fooling? I love cooking way too much. I’m sure once I start, I’ll get in the spirit of things.
I grab my phone sitting on the dining room table and check the time to decide if I’ll have one more cup of coffee before putting on a brave face and venturing out among the many New Yorkers busy getting ready for the holidays.
Maybe I can sleep right through to the New Year and skip all the madness?
I can’t handle seeing people so festive and happy. Thanksgiving was painful enough; I don’t need to be reminded of the void in my life since leaving Copenhagen. I’ve pretty much refused any holiday party invitations. I made the effort to do something extravagant for my team because business-wise this was a stellar year, but on a personal level, my heart is still broken.
God, I still love him so much. Why isn’t there medicine for heartbreak?
Nikolaj was very persistent for while—and then he stopped trying when he realized I have no intention of returning any of his calls or replying to his text messages. I want nothing more do to with him or his soap-opera life.
Thank God I got out of any family-forced sympathy. Bryce and Sofia were bending over backward to try to fit me into their holiday plans and I nearly had to beg them to go on their ski vacation in St Moritz and stop worrying about me. My mom and Diego are still in the Cayman Islands. Diego sent me a first-class ticket to join them and I promptly returned it to him. Harley insisted on having me join her family for the holidays, but I reminded her she already had enough on her plate, since her sister had unfortunately lost the twin babies she was carrying and she had finally made the life-changing decision to leave her useless husband.
I need time by myself to think. I love them all, but nothing they say or do will fix things. I’d make for the worst guest anyways.
I’m lost in my thoughts when the doorbell rings. I look outside and I see a courier running up the stairs.
I’m not expecting any deliveries on a Saturday morning. I drop my cup of coffee on the dining table, grab the remote to turn off the music and run to the door. I open it and there’s a very tall man dressed in brown from head to toe looking down at me.
“Ms. Ciara Herrera?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Great. I have an envelope for you. Can you sign here, please?”
; “Where does it come from?”
“Ma’am, if I had to know the location of the sender for all the envelopes and parcels I deliver each day, I’d go nuts.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” Okay, not the best question.
“Here’s your envelope and have a great weekend.”
“Thanks. You too,” I say, before closing the door. I look at the address and it’s local, but I don’t recognize the name.
Shit. It’s not Nikolaj.
As angry as I still am with him, I’m more upset at the fact he stopped trying to get in touch with me. I wish he had fought harder for me. I guess he’s too busy building his new life as a family man.
I walk to the kitchen and grab a knife to rip open the envelope. There’s a big orange sticky note that reads, “Please read until the last sentence.”
I peel off the sticky note and my heart stops.
My dearest Ciara,
I miss you more than words can say.
It’s been six weeks since I’ve laid eyes on your beautiful face and until recently, I had never experienced heartache. I’m a wreck without you. You’re still the first thing I think of when I wake up and I still crave to taste you before I fall asleep.
Without Martin, Bryce and Diego’s help, I would have lost you forever. Martin has been on a crusade to get us back together because since we’ve been best friends he’s never seen me fall so hard for a woman.
There are two other documents attached with this letter—a DNA test and a birth certificate. They are both authentic. Jakob got Marna pregnant. The child is not mine. My brother played us all for fools. I can’t tell you how complicated this story turned out to be.
Things aren’t always the way they seem, love.
My heart belongs to you, and I still desperately love you.
Nikolaj
P.S.: I arranged to have this letter delivered to you, but I’m outside your home. I’ll wait sixty minutes after the courier delivers this proof absolving me. If I don’t see you after reading this, I’ll fly back home and you won’t hear from me again.
P.P.S.: I hope with all my heart you’ll open the door.
I glance at the two other papers attached to the letter and I gasp when I read the name listed as the father of Marna’s son—Noah Gustav Jakob von Henningsen.
Oh God, is this true?
I reread Nikolaj’s last sentence in disbelief. He’s outside? I drop the letter and run to the window, unable to believe he’d go to this length to catch my attention.
Oh my God, he’s standing there in front of my house. When he sees me part the curtains, he smiles and waves as casually as if he’s seen me yesterday and I wave back with a giddy smile on my face. I can’t believe he flew here to deliver this letter.
He gestures to see if he can come in and I nod so violently my makeshift turban unravels and my hair cascades in front of my face. When I manage to brush away my hair, I see him laughing and I run to the door to let him in. God, I’ve missed him.
“Hello, my love,” he says when he pops his head inside. His voice is rich and soothing, like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter day.
Six weeks. I can’t believe I’ve been able to survive this long without him. “Nikolaj. You’re here.” I want to jump into his arms and shower him with kisses, but I still have my doubts about the letter I just read. I’m protecting my heart.
“It’s me, baby.”
“Why don’t you get out of the cold,” I say, inviting him in so I can shut the door.
“Wait. Let me grab a few things you forgot in Copenhagen.” He runs back outside and just like magic the truck of his chauffeured Benz pops open and he pulls out the suitcase I left behind. He runs back to me and climbs the stairs two by two.
“You forgot these,” he says, rolling my suitcase inside the entrance.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks for bringing them back.” I was too afraid to ask for my things back because it would mark the end of our relationship and I simply wasn’t prepared to deal with such finality, no matter how many times I assured my mom, my sister and Harley I was over him.
“Hold on, there’s more.”
What? Before I can reply he runs back out and comes back in with a large garment bag and another smaller bag.
“You forget your beautiful gown and I brought back the jewelry you left in Copenhagen. They look far better on you than they do on me,” he mocks.
Fuck, I still love him so much. “Thank you so much for bringing them back,” I say awkwardly. “Come in and close the door behind you. It’s freezing.”
I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him and how flabbergasted I am to see him here, but there’s way too much to take in all at once. Instead, I turn on my heel, walk to my couch and drop everything in my living room before turning back to take him in.
So I’m not dreaming. He’s actually standing there.
“You look like you’ve been keeping well.”
“Thank you,” I answer, suddenly aware of the fact I’m wearing faded baggy clothing and my hair must look like a mess. I wasn’t expecting him.
“Can I take off my coat?”
“Of course. Where are my manners? Give it to me and I’ll hang it.”
The conversation between us is unusually stiff, like two people trying to reconnect after a long time apart.
“I see my timing is off,” he says, removing his shoes. I cock my head to the side, perplexed by his question. “Your curls look damp. A few minutes earlier and I might have been able to sweet-talk you into letting me wash your hair like I used to.”
His words bring back a flood of memories of the first time he insisted on washing my hair in Barcelona and how much I relished the experience. “You always had a way with words, Nikolaj.”
“You haven’t changed one bit, love. You’re still as beautiful as the last time I kissed you.”
“Don’t say things like that,” I beg, closing my eyes. I have to keep a cool head. I can’t allow his words to sway me into believing everything is like it used to be.
“Every single night, for the past six weeks, I’ve thought about our last kiss, how you tasted…” He nervously combs his hair with his fingers. “The agony of it all is waking up the next morning without your warm body snuggled against mine.”
He’s so handsome. He’s wearing a grey sweater and tight-fitting dark blue jeans that instantly bring back memories of our raunchy night in London. “Please don’t do this.”
“What else do you want me to say? You want me to keep talking about mundane stuff? Why do you think I’m here, Ciara? You think I flew here to drop off your luggage and the jewelry I gave you? Don’t you think I could have had them delivered?”
“I assume you’re here because of these papers you had delivered,” I say, waving at the documents lying on my coffee table.
I’m not going to go there with him. It’s taken me this long to stop feeling empty. I won’t allow him to swallow me whole again with his words. I need to find out what these documents really mean.
“Fuck, Ciara. I’m here because I love you—I desperately love you. I knew nothing I could say would convince you to listen, but I also knew seeing proof with your own two eyes and understanding all of this was a big fat lie might open your heart to me again.”
“Why should I believe these papers are authentic?”
“Are you serious?” He looks so offended by my question. “If you thought they were fake, I wouldn’t be standing here in your living room, would I?” He lifts his chin defiantly.
Crap, he got me there.
“Why don’t we sit down and I can explain how Jakob created a web of lies and how it’s been devastating to so many people. His ruse caused you to run away and your absence in my life has been an insupportable void. I’ve never felt so broken in my life,” he says, extending his hand out.
I look at it, afraid. I’ve been craving his touch for six long weeks, but now he’s standing in front of me, touching him would mean letting him know he still owns me.
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We lock eyes and he smiles. Fuck. His irresistible smile turns me into putty. I let go of my reservations and I place my hands into his.
My God, I’ve never stopped loving him.
The second our skin touches a flood of suppressed emotions surges and I stumble forward, unable to carry the weight of the realization I’ve wasted six weeks of my life apart from him. I sob, unable to contain the magnitude of my pain. He catches me and wraps me protectively in his arms.
“I’m so sorry Jakob hurt you so much,” he whispers in my ear as he caresses my hair. “I hate my brother for having ripped us apart.” He crushes my lips.
“I’ve desperately missed you. Every day since leaving Copenhagen has been hell. I’ve been walking around New York like a shell without a soul. I prayed you’d fly to New York and reassure me all this was all a bad dream, but you never came.”
“It killed me to have to wait this long, but it was the only way—I needed more time to collect the facts.”
“So it’s true? You’re not the father?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Why did Jakob try to pass the kid off as your own?” I know his brother is a drama king, but this is outrageous even for him.
“Because he’s madly in love.”
“Okay, this is not making any sense.”
“Jakob has been in a steamy affair for the past eighteen months with my cousin Christian’s wife, Lisbet.”
“You’re kidding, right? He was having an affair with a family member at the same time as he got Marna pregnant?”
“My brother is quite the selfish character.”
“How did you find out about all of this? Wait, how do Diego and Bryce fit into this story?”
“Let’s go make some coffee and I’ll explain the sordid details responsible for breaking up my family.”
BOOK 5—SINFUL DESIRES
Chapter Thirteen
It’s only two months ago we were sitting in my kitchen and I forgot how comfortable it feels to have him around. This time we’ve found refuge at the small round bistro table I bought from a local French restaurant on the first day of their going-out-of-business sale. It was the perfect accent for this space and it sits in a little nook overlooking a bay window in the corner of my large kitchen. I usually sit here when I wake up early in the morning to admire the sunrise, but today I’m sharing this space with Nikolaj.
Sinful Desires Page 12
