Mending Walls With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 3)

by Lorin Grace

  The men conversed for a moment, then pointed to the gap in the blockade.

  “Go!” said the man who’d required the kiss.

  In French, another called, “Enjoy your honeymoon.” His statement was met with laughter.

  Aselòm inched the car past the roadblock. Neither of them spoke until they crossed the bridge.

  “I must apologize for my lie. One of them wanted to . . .” Aselòm paused as if searching for the right word “ . . . to detain you.”

  A shiver ran down her spine and settled in her stomach, threating to dislodge every morsel of food she’d eaten. She closed her eyes against the nausea, glad she had not fully understood the danger. “Thank you. I am happy you lied and told him I was your stupid American green-card bride.”

  “You understood enough. I hoped you would. But please know I am not looking for an American bride. I have a girlfriend. Mechelle works at the guesthouse. We are going to be married soon. She will not be happy to know I kissed you, even to save your life. But I must tell her.”

  “You can tell her it was like CPR.”

  “What means CPR?”

  “It is a way to help someone to breathe and get their heart working in an emergency situation.”

  “Oh, I remember now. I shall use that.”

  The sun had sunk into the horizon when they finally turned onto the dirt road leading to the orphanage. “Mr. Kyle is not going to be very happy. We are late.”

  Araceli dismissed his words. Somehow, being a single white female in a car with a native after dark seemed a small danger compared to that of the past hour.

  Aselòm slowed at the drainage pipe. “Stay in the car. It will scrape, but better than you walking in the dark.”

  Good. She wasn’t sure she could walk yet.

  The first gate rolled open before Aselòm could honk. Kyle stood in the center of the headlight beam, arms crossed.

  “Please don’t let him fire me.”

  The car inched forward, following Kyle and several other men to the second gate.

  Araceli patted Aselòm’s arm. “He won’t fire you for saving my life, though he might send me back to the United States.”

  Thankfully the car appeared to be unscathed, the occupants unharmed. Kyle vacillated between wanting to hug both Aselòm and Araceli and shaking them both hard. A quarter hour had passed since he’d read on his phone that the police had disbanded the manifestation and cleared the roads. A dozen employees, mostly guards and kitchen workers, now crowded around them.

  Aselòm got out of the car first, a look of pleading on his face. “Mr. Kyle, please don’t fire me.”

  Araceli hurried around the car to join them. “Aselòm saved my life. You cannot let him go.”

  “I have no intention of firing anyone, but I am curious to know why you disobeyed the rules and went to town alone.” Kyle crossed his arms and waited for an explanation.

  “I did not go alone. I went with Aselòm, just as you told me to.” Her voice trembled slightly.

  “I told you to tell Aselòm what you needed. I never gave you permission to go into PAP.” He spoke in English, knowing only about a third of those gathered would understand. Fortunately the children were in the dormitories.

  “You told me to hurry so I could catch him. When I tried to explain what I needed, it was frustrating to both of us, and he said to come along. Since I wasn’t alone, I figured going would be okay. I sent word.” Araceli’s words rushed out.

  “Obviously, Miss Williams, you don’t understand the gravity of what happened.”

  Araceli held her hand up. “What I understand is I faked being one of those American green-card brides to help get us through the roadblock. If it hadn’t been for Aselòm’s fast thinking, something much worse than being called a stupid woman would have happened.”

  Kyle stared at the ring.

  As if reading his mind, Araceli moved the ring to her other hand, both hands shaking. “Obviously we suffered a major miscommunication, and I’ll understand if you want to put me on the next flight out of here. But whatever you decide, Aselòm should not be blamed for any of this.”

  He kept his gaze on the ring. “You could have been seriously injured or—”

  Araceli shoved her shaking hands in her pockets, but the rest of her continued to shiver. It may have been the mix of the headlights and the light cast from the lamps, but she looked paler than she did a moment ago.

  Shock.

  He’d seen the warning signs often enough during counseling and had avoided pushing patients too far. How had he missed them? The slight sheen of sweat on her face wasn’t from anger or defensiveness or even the humidity, as he’d assumed. He needed to get her lying down, or at least sitting, before she fainted. “You both look like you can use some water. Come into the office while the director sets up the generators.” Kyle held out his hand, but Araceli didn’t move.

  “There is only one generator. They didn’t have any more and charged me double for the one.”

  Kyle nodded to Aselòm and replied in Haitian. “You were lucky to get it. The city announced the planned blackouts shortly after you left.”

  The driver headed for the rear of the SUV.

  “Aselòm, let the others set the generator up while you get something to eat.”

  Kyle reached for Araceli’s elbow. Thankfully she didn’t fight him as he led her to the door at the side of the porch and into the office. The single light bulb did little to illuminate the corners of the room. At his guidance, Araceli sat on the worn couch. Kyle pulled up a folding chair and sat opposite her.

  “Do you feel like you are going to faint?”

  Slowly she shook her head. “Not anymore. Thanks for finding me a place to sit.”

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out, and she quit shaking. Kyle went over to one of the high cupboards and unlocked it. A bottle of water, albeit warm, and a granola bar would help. He also grabbed a small bag of fruit snacks before relocking the cupboard. He handed them to Araceli. “Not the best dinner, but it will help to keep you from fainting.”

  She unscrewed the water bottle cap and took a long drink. “Why do you have food locked up in here?”

  “So the little monkeys won’t run off with it. I also council incoming children, transitioning children, and prospective adoptive parents. Sometimes I find having a snack on hand helps the situation. But treats like the fruit snacks are not a daily occurrence for the children here, so I lock them up.” Kyle sat back down in the folding chair. “So, what happened at the manifestation?”

  Between bites, Araceli described the mob scene and Aselòm’s ruse. “It wasn’t until we were almost here that I realized how much danger I was in. If the men had taken me from the car, at the very least they would have used me as a punching bag. I guess I lost it for a moment out there.”

  Kyle ripped open the fruit snacks and extended the bag to her. “If you are referring to near fainting, you didn’t lose it, because that is a perfectly normal reaction to the type of emotional trauma you experienced. If you are talking about yelling back at me, that isn’t losing it, either.”

  “Are you going to send me back?” A puppy dog’s brown eyes couldn’t have pled her case any better than Araceli’s did.

  “Normally, maybe. But Marci did point out I may not have been very explicit in my instructions, making this partially my fault. I think if you leave after what happened today, it will only give you nightmares of the country I love, and I want you to see the good here. Do you want to stay?”

  “Very much. I should have thought through my actions better. Please don’t fire Aselòm.”

  “Aselòm is one of my favorite drivers. Some might not have tried to protect you or even the SUV. I don’t want to scare you further, but had you been with ano
ther driver, it could have been worse than being alone. I suppose we need to be clearer in the future that going off alone means taking another one of the volunteers with you. Although, in this case, if you had taken a second volunteer, I am not sure what tale Aselòm could have spun to diffuse the situation.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “It’s best if we go back to the guesthouse. The orphanage is not equipped for overnight guests, and there is already speculation among the workers as to what happened tonight.” Kyle didn’t add that Araceli flashing her ring may have added fuel to the poorly translated conversation. “I’ll go see if one of the other drivers can take us to the guesthouse in a different vehicle.”

  twelve

  The creaking bunk beds and the click-clack of the fan woke Araceli. EmilyAnne, fresh from the shower, wore a towel wrapped around her head, her flip-flops slapping a rhythm against the tile floor proclaiming “Wake-up, wake-up!” Araceli sat up and moved the mosquito netting out of the way.

  Marci hopped down from the top bunk. “How did you sleep? I was caught with my Mom and Dad in a manifestation a couple years ago. Our driver lied and said we were expected back at the embassy, implying we were in charge of getting more funds from the government. I don’t think I slept well for two weeks.”

  “I didn’t have any nightmares.” But she’d hardly slept. Between the images floating in front of her eyes, the stupid mosquito that had found his way inside of the netting, and a rooster who thought it was an alarm clock, there hadn’t been time for nightmares.

  Jade shook out a lavender shirt and matching capris. “So, when is your flight?”

  “What flight?” Araceli paused, unzipping her case.

  “Back to Illinois or wherever you’re from. I’m surprised Kyle even brought you back to the guesthouse instead of dropping you off at the airport.”

  Madison pulled a pair of socks on. “Weren’t you there when they got back last night? Kyle said he wasn’t sending her home because the misunderstanding was partially his fault.”

  “But she still should have known being with a driver was the same as leaving alone. She put others in danger.” Jade put her hand on her hip and glared at Araceli.

  Araceli slipped into the bathroom, leaving the conversation behind. Getting into a fight with Jade would serve no purpose and might get her sent back after all. Kyle may have been kind last night, but that kindness didn’t change the fact he was put out with her. After the forty-minute drive back to the guesthouse, his terse explanation to the group playing card games around the kitchen table had left even Marci staring in shock.

  No one dared leave the orphanage compound without explicit instructions for the rest of this trip.

  Araceli made quick work of her shower and twisted her hair into a messy bun. The rest of the women had gone down to breakfast before she emerged from the bathroom. As she sat on the edge of her bed to change her flip-flops for shoes and socks, the sound of crumpling paper startled her.

  She moved to the side and found a note written on a torn piece of paper. She recognized only a few words. Bringing up her Haitian Creole dictionary on her phone, she began to translate. By the time she’d read the second line, it was evident the author meant to insult her using words she wouldn’t repeat in English. The third line even contained a possible death threat. Araceli bit her lip. Her misspelled name at the top of the page left no doubt that the placement on her bed was not a mistake. Should she show the note to Marci? Would the teen even know the words she’d looked up on her phone?

  She was walking into the hallway, studying the paper in her hand, when a wall stopped her progress and the paper fluttered to the floor. Not a wall—Kyle. He bent to pick up the paper before she could.

  As he read the note, his eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

  “It was on my bed.”

  Kyle studied her as if trying to read her thoughts. “How much of this do you understand?”

  “Enough to be more than slightly shaken.” Araceli tried to smile.

  “Have you eaten breakfast?”

  She shook her head. “I was going down.”

  “Bring your food up here to the terrace. We need to talk.” Kyle opened the door leading to the empty terrace.

  A private breakfast with Kyle wasn’t going to make her morning any better. Although she’d lost her appetite, Araceli hurried to get a plate of food. She didn’t dare disobey him.

  Marci was the only other American besides Mrs. Delino, the guesthouse owner, with enough knowledge of Haitian to have written the note. However, the handwriting didn’t belong to either woman. Kyle suspected it must be Aselòm’s girlfriend, Mechelle, who had written it. Yet the venom spewed across the page did not seem in proportion to what he knew of the driver’s ruse yesterday to get them safely out of the manifestation. Had Aselòm and Araceli left something out of their story?

  He’d heard Mrs. Delino tell her story of marrying a Haitian and choosing to stay. As a white female, she’d suffered a number of threats and rumors, some of which had been life-threatening, before she married.

  He knew the threats on the paper in his hand were not entirely idle. And since Mechelle worked here at the guesthouse, she would have the means to carry out any number of unpleasant retaliations.

  The door to the terrace opened, and Araceli stepped onto the porch, balancing a plate on top of her juice glass. Kyle stood from the table and pulled out a chair opposite him. “I need to know if something else happened during the manifestation yesterday other than you switching your ring from one hand to the other.”

  Araceli used her fork to move the scrambled eggs around her plate, not looking up as she answered. “They told us to kiss.”

  Aselòm must’ve given his girlfriend a more detailed version of the story than Kyle received. “I take it you obeyed their direction.”

  Araceli did not look up, but he could see the pink that flooded her face. “It seemed like the best thing to do at the moment.”

  “Most likely it was.” A tiny jealous monster somewhere in Kyle’s brain gave out a little whine. At least she didn’t seem the type who ran around kissing every guy who asked. “I’m going to assume Aselòm told Mechelle about the kiss when he was trying to explain the encounter. I can’t speak for all Haitian women, but I have heard stories before of over-the-top jealousy. We need her to see and understand that whatever happened in the car during the manifestation was done to safely extract yourselves from the situation.”

  Araceli continued playing with her food.

  “You really should eat.”

  “I seem to have lost most of my appetite.”

  Wanting to reassure her, he said, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just managed to get yourself in a bit of a mess.”

  “How am I supposed to get myself out?”

  Kyle leaned back in his chair and swirled the last of his mango juice in his cup. “I have an idea you probably aren’t going to like, but hear me out. If we can show Aselòm’s girlfriend you are in a relationship with another man and have no designs on Aselòm, I think she will back off.”

  “So you’re telling me I need to choose one of the guys and pretend to be his girlfriend for the rest of the trip?”

  “Pretty much. But not just one of the guys. Me.”

  “I can’t do that.” Araceli pushed back from the table and walked over to the wrought-iron railing overlooking the yard.

  Kyle followed her. “Why not?”

  She studied the tall palm trees in the yard, not turning toward him. “I’m not that great of an actress.”

  “You must’ve done a convincing job yesterday.”

  She blushed again. “It was only for a few minutes. And I just pretended to be a famous actress. You’re asking me to pretend to be your girlfriend for a whole week, and I don’t know how to
be that person.”

  “Be my girlfriend? Or anyone’s girlfriend?”

  Araceli finally turned to look at him. “Both, I guess. I spent most of my life disliking you. It took me years to shed that stupid nickname, and my older brother still calls me by it sometimes when he is teasing me and he is married now. I haven’t had much experience with the real-girlfriend thing to even know what to fake.”

  He cupped her elbow. “I hadn’t thought of the name I called you until the other day when I saw you on the plane. I hoped you had forgotten. I owe you a long-overdue apology, but there really hasn’t been a moment to give it. Can you forgive me for being a stupid fourteen-year-old boy?”

  “My brother’s friends overheard you calling me Celi-Belly and teased me with the stupid song for the next three years. Not until I started running track and they’d graduated from high school did the nickname die.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  One spilled over.

  Kyle reached over to wipe it away with his thumb. “I had no idea I hurt you so much. Can you forgive me?” He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms to try to erase everything with a hug.

  Araceli turned away and started searching her pockets. Kyle pulled a clean tissue out of his own pocket and handed it to her.

  “I can forgive you. But I can’t play Meg Ryan to your Tom Hanks or Emma Stone to your Ryan Gosling. I’m not saying—” Araceli waved her hands as if they could help her search for words. “I’m not saying I don’t find you attractive. I’m saying I don’t know how to pretend a relationship for a week.”

  Kyle’s heart sped up at her admission. What if? “It shouldn’t be too hard. Most of the time we’ll be with other people and fairly busy. We need to take the time to talk and perhaps hold hands when we are together. And perhaps a kiss or two for show.” He stepped closer.

  She didn’t back away, but she lowered her eyes. “I’m not very good at physical stuff.”